There were so many eyes on them, on her. Hermione was well used to this, to being an unwilling part of a spectacle. Draco had been training her for this all these years, had he not? The weight of his constant stares had hardened her shoulders and back, made them almost impenetrable. They no longer affected her. Not the paparazzi for the newspapers, not the gossips who surrounded her, not even Draco’s followers. They were nothing to her. No better than insects buzzing around the freshest kill, so unaware of the dwindling hours until their demise.