He tossed the protections aside again, with renewed abruptness, and turned to face her again. With new and original insults fighting to get out of his throat. To find her two steps away, having finally moved away from the door. The ever spotless and immaculate Hermione Granger was standing before him, drenched from head to toe. Her feet were probably soaked inside those boots. Her beige trousers having completely lost their original colour to the mud. Her red robe looking maroon from the rain. Her hair still tied high on top of her head, soaking wet, messy, dripping with water. Her face, glistening with sweat, still stained with mud in some areas that the storm could not wash away. Her huge, gorgeous dark eyes, glowing in the firelight of the lanterns, staring into his. No hatred. No rancour.