Harry closed the heavy doors as carefully as he could, merely out of habit. He knew Sally's magic would keep Hermione asleep through a thunderstorm. But that silly part of his brain still refused to take any chances. She was so hurt. She needed so much rest. He could have cried out at it, as though the agony was his own. He sent Sally, who was still waiting patiently, to bed, then pressed his head against the cool oak of the door and let his anguish spill over as soon as she was out of sight.