"You asked me who cut my hand off," he re-joined sharply and Hermione massaged her temples, a headache starting. She couldn’t be around him right now; all this was just too much. Hermione was hurt and angry and guilty, and damnit, she shouldn’t have to feel all those complicated, upsetting feelings because of Malfoy. He was just someone she felt sorry for. That was all. They weren’t friends – they weren’t even acquaintances. She had just been trying to... She sighed at herself, at her own convoluted thought processes. Hermione told herself it was because she didn’t like seeing people miserable. She just hadn’t wanted to leave him in the shadows behind the stairs; eyes all red from crying and with tear trails down his gaunt cheeks. And now they were both miserable and angry, and her plan to make him feel a bit less awful hadn’t worked out at all.