On Snape’s rounds, Hermione bobbed obediently behind him, following like a shadow, her eyes on the floor. She heard the whispers from the students, heard the wave of sneers and jokes that they said to each other but wanted her to hear. Being useless and obedient was exhausting. Before, it had almost felt safe, secret, furtive—like the two of them were getting away with something, like they shared a quest. Now it felt too close to the truth. She  was  useless. 