Harry and Ron don’t believe her. She sees it in their accusing glares and scowls, in the way Ron clenches his good hand, and in the way Harry taps his foot impatiently. They let her go, though, and, for that, she loves them. When she returns, she’ll apologize and give some excuse of being a girl and needing time to herself. Anytime she mentions ‘being a girl’, they suddenly find many other things interesting.

She Apparates and finds herself near a greenhouse. It’s dark and the air is thick with the scent of flowers. She shivers as she scans the silent gardens, the trees taking on a different life in the shadows of the night. It seems that she’s alone, which makes her wonder if this was some sort of trap. She grips her wand tightly and stays alert as she slowly makes her way to the greenhouse.

When she gets closer, she can see a pale light through the windows. It flickers like candles and she sees a shape silhouetted against the glass. Hermione reaches the door and pushes it open, hearing it squeak to break the calm silence that is giving her goosebumps. Her steps sound heavy as she walks inside, her gaze scanning the greenhouse for the person who caused the silhouette.

“Are you alone?”

The voice breaks the quiet and she turns quickly to find Percy Weasley standing behind her. Her heart races as she realizes that he could have killed her without her even being aware. So focused on what she could see that she didn’t even think about looking behind her. Her hand shakes as she holds her wand and she nods. “Yes.”

She can’t see him well in the shadows. The candlelight casts a pale glow on the immediate area of the greenhouse, but the walls are shaded. He steps forward and she takes a step back. It looks like Percy. His curly hair is disheveled, though, and his spectacles are barely balanced on the end of his nose. His tie is crooked and his robes aren’t buttoned. She remembers Percy with his neat robes and tidy clothes, always anal and perfect with not a single thing out of place. This man is rumpled and different than the boy she remembers.

“Good,” he says simply before he closes the door to the greenhouse. She hears him whisper something in Latin but can’t hear enough to identify the charm. She’s more scared now, she realizes, because this man isn’t familiar. For some foolish reason, she thought he’d be the same as he’d been when he was Head Boy but now she’s trapped, apparently, with an untidy man and no one knows where she is.

“Why did you owl me?” she demands to know. She refuses to tremble in fear over anyone, but especially not Percy bloody Weasley. She’s faced Death Eaters and survived. She’s helped destroy two horcruxes and survived. Surely she can deal with this situation easily enough.

He looks at her, then, and it’s like he’s finally noticed she’s there. His gaze is odd, as if his mind is a million other places, and he’s trying to focus on one thing. He walks closer to the table where the candles are, and she notices the dark circles beneath his eyes and how his freckles stand out against his pale skin. There is ink on his jaw and his lips are chapped and look bloody, possibly from being bitten.