"Uh, yeah. I’m fine." She says, picking up her bag and walking shakily to the ancient runes Classroom. Professor Sinistra was a welcome sight, particularly because she didn’t stir up unwanted feelings of attraction and fear. In a way, Narcissa’s laugh was like Bellatrix’s, or perhaps her laugh was what her demented sister’s sounded like before she became what she was. Hermione remembered the feeling of her rotting breath on her face, and the cursed knife in her skin. She’d live her whole life with the scar. 