"You're fucking lucky, you blood-filth bitch," Goyle growls as he grabs Hermione by the hair and wrenches her to her feet. She shrieks and tears spring to her eyes, stumbling to get her feet under her to lessen the tearing on her scalp. Crabbe grabs Malfoy's arm and shoves him out the door first, and Goyle drags Hermione after them. She swallows hard as they're hurried roughly down long, rich carpeted corridors, her heart pounding faster and faster in her chest. She tells herself that whatever happens, she needs to be strong. She needs to be strong. She's a Gryffindor. She's Hermione Granger. She can do this. She has to get through it. She won't let them break her, no matter what – she refuses to give them the satisfaction.