            "I said that’s enough," Hermione repeated, more firmly. She looked both men in the eye. "From both of you. I don’t care what you’re bickering about, but whatever it is, it’s not worth risking Sirius’s magic." She swallowed and looked at her knees. She knew full well what they had been bickering about. Me. Part of her, the part that craved attention and desire, sang. But the logical side—the side she had to use if they were to survive this prophecy—crammed that silly need deep inside. Hermione wrapped the blanket around her waist and rose to her feet. "Now, I’m going to bathe in peace. And if I hear one insult from either of you, it’s back to the ropes. For both of you."