Hermione was in the place that most people would naturally expect her to be, the library. After waking that morning (to Ron's chagrin when he found that Hermione had snuck into their room last night to bunk up with Harry), Ron had cajoled Harry into coming down to the Quidditch pitch after breakfast for a bit of flying. Not that Harry was kicking and screaming the whole way. Hermione was invited to watch; she was invited to join them, but it was mostly courtesy as Ron and Harry both knew Hermione wasn't about to get on a broom unless it was a matter of necessity, and even then assuming she hadn't thought of a way to circumvent the need. Had Ginny consented to share the stands with her while the boys played, Hermione might have given in. As it was, Ginny planned to spend her morning writing a letter back to Seamus. Rather than sit alone and cold in the pitch stands, Hermione begged off to spend her morning in the library.

She was glad Harry was getting a chance to have some fun. After the Christmas day he'd had, he deserved to blow off some steam and get the cobwebs out of his head. Flying did that nicely for him, and she would not have dreamed of dissuading Harry from going outside. The winter weather had let up and it was a bright, clear day outside. The kind of day that called to Harry.

It gave Hermione a chance to work ahead in her classes for next term, since Ron would be apt to have an epileptic fit if he saw her working on class material. It was best done out of his sight, and if he was out flying with Harry it gave her a comfortable window of time to do as she pleased, and it pleased her to do homework. She had the library to herself, which was a special treat for someone like Hermione. After a few hours reading ahead in her class textbooks, she got up and wandered the stacks, reading titles and pulling out any books that looked interesting. It seemed Hogwarts had no end of books that Hermione would like to read someday. She decided to take a few back to her room with her.

She confessed to herself that she may have gotten a bit carried away as she looked at the pile of books she ended up with on the table next to her bag that she intended to take back to her dorm room. She regarded the stack critically a moment and briefly considered shrinking them to fit easily in her bag... but Hermione had a strange aversion to tampering with books. She knew, intellectually, that reducing then restoring their size didn't damage the books in any way, but a fixed muggle part of her clung to the heavy, solid mass of a book. Books were a comfort for their heavy store of knowledge, their unyielding form as a source of information. She magicked books when she had to, but given the choice Hermione didn't care for it. Not with books.

She put back a few books she decided she wouldn't have time to get to reading anyway, and the stack that remained she deemed manageable enough for her to carry the old-fashioned muggle way.

With her bag weighted down and her arms full of books, Hermione left the library and started back toward Gryffindor tower. The corridors were even barer of students than yesterday, given the lovely winter weather outside. Hermione would not have been surprised to find out she was the only student still indoors. In any place but Hogwarts, the complete emptiness and sense of solitude in the deserted grand hallways might have been disconcerting, but Hermione didn't think about anything of that nature as she walked at an easy pace back toward her room.

It was hard to imagine a life away from Hogwarts; it had been so fundamental in her world for years that it seemed almost a part of her. She'd become so accustomed to the halls and routines and every corner and custom of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, she could only imagine the mixed exultation and anxiety when it came time to leave the school behind. She suspected it would be much the same for Harry, though for different reasons. It had been the first place he'd ever felt comfortable calling home in his life. He had really came into his own at Hogwarts; before that he'd only been an unwanted freak tucked away in the cupboard of his aunt and uncle's house.

"Well, what have we here," a scathing voice issued unexpectedly from what Hermione had thought was an empty hallway. She startled from her thoughts and in the process dropped one of her books. It landed with a heavy thud as she spun around and saw Draco Malfoy standing in the shadow of a suit of armor, leering condescendingly at her.

Hermione scowled angrily. "What do you think you're doing, Malfoy?"

"Scaring the little mudblood out of her wits, looks like," he answered haughtily.

Hermione shook her head and turned to retrieve her book. She knelt down and found it took a bit of shuffling of the tomes in her arms before she could reach down for the dropped book.

"Dangerous time for your kind to be out alone, don't you think?" Draco asked as he pushed off from leaning against the wall and walked toward her.

"What are you on about," Hermione groused, doing her best to ignore him as she picked up the book and placed it among the others in her arms. She stood and startled to find Draco right in front of her when she turned. She stepped back and glowered at him.

"Just awfully careless of you. Here in the hall all by yourself with no one to rescue you."

"I don't have anything to fear in Hogwarts, and I can take care of myself."

"I know what happened to Potter's cousin."

Hermione's mouth opened in surprise at his statement. "How..." she stammered. Dumbledore would not have told anyone who didn't have good reason to know, it wasn't in the Daily Prophet, only the ministry knew about the attack on the Dursleys. Them, and...

Hermione gasped. "Your father was part of that atrocity, wasn't he?"

"Did I say that?" Draco gave a devil-may-care shrug of his shoulders and crossed his arms impudently. "Let's just say I have my sources. But I would think that what happened to that fat, simpering muggle would make you just a bit jumpy. After all, from muggle it's a short step to mudblood."

"Are you threatening me?" Hermione growled.

"I don't have to," Draco clipped back. "The Dark Lord's out for blood, and yours and that of your kind will be next. Can't say I'm particularly broken up about it. It's about time the filth was cleansed from the wizarding world."

Hermione tried to push past Draco, but when she moved Draco stepped to the side, blocking her path. Hermione stopped and just barely clutched her books tighter. Were it not for their presence she'd already have her wand in hand, or maybe she'd have simply slugged Malfoy in the nose to remind him just how unafraid she was of all his posturing and bluster. But with her hands full, she wasn't in a convenient position to fight back. Should she imagine an honest need to do so in the fist place, and so far she really didn't see cause for concern. She wouldn't get tied in knots by insults, least of all from the likes of Draco. It came down to the fact that the situation wasn't quite to the point where she believed she should drop everything to go for her wand. After all, it was just Draco being his usual, loathsome self and there was little real danger in that. And Draco's nature aside, this was an encounter in the halls of Hogwarts between two students of rival houses; it didn't seem feasible that anything too dangerous could transpire. Hermione trusted in the safety of Hogwarts too much to believe it. It gave her the freedom and confidence to shrug off the Slytherin's taunts and empty threats as just irritating chatter in her ear.

But trust in the sanctuary provided by Hogwarts's halls though she may, as only a devote student could (given some of the disasters that had befallen in the four and a half years that she herself had attended the school), neither was she about to let herself be fooled by the seemingly untouchable... not after Christmas morning. With the look in Draco's eyes, a newly cautious part of her, tucked in the back of her mind, feared it might come to violence shortly despite Draco's track record of being little more than a big mouth. That kernel of doubt in her thoughts made her look closer where a week ago she would have brushed past with a closed expression. There were small details that brought her up short. She'd never seen Draco quite so... purposeful. He was often vile and cruel, but he was also a great deal of talk. Draco Malfoy was counted one of the lesser concerns at Hogwarts, in Hermione's estimations, because he'd sooner make a lot of noise than get physical. He thrived on the power of intimidation. But something in the way he was standing before her, his face set and dark... she almost believed he was hoping to go past mouthing off this time.

He was watching her with a superior look of revulsion on his sharp face, as though Hermione were a disfigured house elf. "Not even going to try and punch me this time? I'd love to see you try; I was taken by surprise last time, you know, don't think I couldn't have gotten you first if I'd known you were going to pull something as stupid as laying a hand on a pureblood. Well, go on, then, try it now." Draco snorted when Hermione didn't move. "Not so mean when you don't have those two drooling sods fawning all over you, are you?" Draco sneered and moved a step closer. On reflex, Hermione took a step back.

"I'm not scared of you, Malfoy," Hermione said lowly.

Draco did not take kindly to that defiance. "You shouldbe scared. You should be pissing yourself to know the Dark Lord and his followers would love nothing more than to bathe the floors in your dirty blood."

"Speaking for yourself there too, are you?" Hermione bit back even as she took another half-step away from Draco. This was about to get out of hand. What was Draco playing at?

"Well now, if I were in league with Voldemort you might think to be very, very careful what you said. Might get back to some very unfriendly ears."

"You're just a cowardly little boy, Malfoy, you'd break down in tears if you had to face Voldemort, even if it was to lick his feet." Then Hermione made a very, very big mistake. Intent on getting out of the hallway and back to Gryffindor tower before the situation escalated, she plowed past Draco. When she passed him Draco hissed furiously and unexpectedly crowded her... and Hermione gasped and dropped her armload of books with a thunderous, echoing clatter when she felt Draco take her wand from her jeans back pocket.

She turned at once to face Malfoy but it was too late to snatch back her wand. He was standing a pace away with the instrument firmly in hand... and venom in his eyes.

"Foul little mudblood bitch!" Draco spat.

"Stop this right now or I'll tell the headmaster; you'll be lucky not to be expelled," Hermione returned.

Draco barked. "Ha! You think someone like me could get expelled? A word from my father to the right people and I could have your precious Dumbledore out on his arse."

"I highly doubt that," Hermione said with absolute certainty. "You underestimate Dumbledore and think too much of your pathetic father."

Draco stepped closer again and this time Hermione plainly stepped away. She was magically defenseless and Draco had his own wand as well as hers.

"I'll look forward to seeing you get yours, mudblood. The time's come when your kind pays for sullying great wizard family lines with your slutty, dirty blood." Draco then swept a look up and down Hermione's body and it made her stomach knot and her blood go cold. Draco smiled, lascivious and vicious. "Although, almost a shame to waste all that with killing you right off. Maybe the Death Eaters will have a bit of fun with you before they kill you. You're not good enough to whelp some pureblood wizard's half-breed abomination, but spreading your legs so those superior to you can have a good time before dispensing with you..." Draco stepped closer again and Hermione found her back pressed against the wall. She didn't realize she'd been so close to the wall until she bumped into it. It startled her and she clamped her lips closed around a whimper, because she wouldn't give Draco the satisfaction of thinking he'd scared her.

Hermione thought she might have to do something drastic. Draco was moving in closer, and she didn't know what he intended to do, but it wasn't just talk anymore.

Then a loud, guttural snarl tore her focused attention away from Draco's dangerous proximity. Draco's menacing leer flickered when he, too, heard the noise. He turned his head to the left to look.

Hermione glanced in the same direction he did, but the next few seconds seemed to pass in the blink of an eye. Draco went from fierce offender to scared stiff boy in a fraction of a second. He let out a cry of panic, a cry that was echoed by a bestial one of rage, and then black was lunging at Draco. Draco moved his hand reflexively to aim Hermione's wand, but he was not nearly fast enough and he was taken down with a cry of pain and shock. Hermione's wand skittered across the floor while Draco was pinned flat on his back.

Hermione stood back against the wall, blinking, when she finally registered what she was seeing. Draco was writhing and crying on the floor while Harry, in his panther animagus form, was standing over the blond Slytherin. Harry had his claws in Draco's upper arms... he was piercing cloth and skin and blood was smearing the floor under Draco's trapped arms.

Draco screamed and struggled. Harry roared; it folded back on them off the hollow corridors until it seemed a thousand jaguars were screaming in combined rage. His feline muscles were taut and his body rigid with fury while Draco flailed helplessly beneath him. Harry dug his claws in deeper.

Hermione stared, wide-eyed, and truly believed she was about to watch Draco die. Harry was going to kill him, and though she knew she should stop it, she couldn't force her body to move to intervene.

Harry had his sharp teeth bared, canines poised, claws embedded in his prey, and Draco was wailing and crying uncontrollably.

Hermione opened her mouth but no sound came out.

Suddenly, Harry was flung from Draco's prone body, as though a giant had taken him by the scruff of the neck and tossed him aside like one might a misbehaving kitten. Harry screamed and twisted furiously and came down in a ready crouch, tail lashing and claws gouging the tile floor.

Hermione snapped her head to the left to see what had pulled Harry off of Draco. She saw Dumbledore running toward them, his hand lowering after tearing Harry away from Draco. Now freed, Draco was cradling his bleeding arms; once the claws had been removed they were bleeding even more heavily.

Harry screamed angrily and charged.

Dumbledore's hand snapped up to stop him.

"No!" Hermione cried, but it didn't stop Harry being caught in a full body bind while in full stride. His legs locked under him and he went down, screeching indignantly but helpless to move to so much as break his fall.

Dumbledore, heedless of the black jaguar locked in a stop-action position in Hogwarts's corridors, dropped down next to Draco. Hermione rushed to Harry and knelt before him. He looked up at her, eyes alive and active even if his body was frozen and immobile. She touched his head then turned to retrieve her wand. Her only thought was to unbind Harry, to free him. He was struggling and she had to help him.

She raced to her wand where Draco had dropped it when he was tackled and closed her fingers around the wood, but no sooner had she done so than Dumbledore whirled on her. "Miss Granger!" he bellowed.

Hermione stopped cold and gaped at the headmaster.

Dumbledore was in no mood for disobedience and it radiated off of him in veritable waves. "Do not unbind Harry until I give you leave." With that unequivocal command, he turned back to tending Draco.

Hermione stood, frozen in place by Dumbledore's order, then she returned to Harry and dropped to the floor beside him. She put her one arm around him and petted his head with the other, banned from doing anything else for him. Harry was breathing rapidly and she could feel his heart racing, but she was relegated to providing him only touch for comfort while she watched Dumbledore.

Draco was curled on the floor crying. He was lying in a fair pool of blood by then. Hermione would not have thought it possible, but Draco looked even more ashen and pale than usual for the blood loss. Dumbledore let his hand hover over Draco's face and at once the boy stopped everything. He stopped writhing, he stopped crying, he stopped cradling his arms. He went supple and limp, as though comatose. He even stared upward with unblinking, vacant eyes.

Dumbledore produced his wand for the first time since coming upon the confrontation in the hallway, levitated Draco's body, and left hurriedly with him, a thin trail of blood droplets marking his exit.

Hermione didn't know what to do then, left alone in the corridor with a bound Harry. She still couldn't release him, Dumbledore had not given her permission to, and he'd been very clear that when she was allowed to do it he'd tell her in no uncertain terms. He'd left nothing open to her interpretation in that respect. Hermione could feel Harry's muscles rigid beneath her hands... he was fighting the bind.

"Don't fight it, Harry, please," she whispered. She dreaded to think of him hurting himself struggling against a hopeless cause. Maybe she would imagine him capable of breaking a body bind cast by someone else, but not Dumbledore. Her words were no use. Harry didn't seem capable of relaxing... strained, incensed sounds continued to emit from his throat and his eyes flicked in agitation, returning again and again to Hermione, while his breathing labored and his heart hammered.

It seemed a matter of seconds and at once an eternity before Dumbledore returned, without Draco. Hermione knew the Slytherin would have been taken to the hospital wing. The shiny pool of ruby blood on the floor was testament enough of that.

When Dumbledore came striding down the hallway toward them again Hermione rose... and found herself standing between Dumbledore and Harry.

Dumbledore eyed her. "Stand aside, Miss Granger."

Hermione wanted to obey, but she couldn't make her feet move. "What are you going to do to him?"

"I'm going to give him something to tear apart before he kills someone," Dumbledore answered evenly, and he beckoned Hermione to come away from Harry and stand beside him. Hermione hesitated but finally stepped over to Dumbledore.

Dumbledore then levitated Harry with a flick of his wand. Harry was an unmoving rigid shape of a cat in mid-stride but the wild sounds of protest straining from his throat were evidence of his continued heightened state of rage. Dumbledore began to walk off with Harry buoyed in the air in front of him. Without being asked to accompany them, Hermione hurried after them.

Dumbledore took his student-turned-panther into an empty classroom and said nothing when Hermione pushed in after them. Dumbledore lowered Harry's body down on his side atop the uncluttered teacher's desk. Hermione moved to go to him but Dumbledore grabbed her shoulder... rather strongly. "Don't go near him," the headmaster said bluntly.