Hermione licked her lips and headed up the stairs, pulling a battered Muggle pack of gum out of her jeans pocket and chewing on a stick gratefully. Minty freshness obliterated the lingering vomit-y taste in her mouth. She didn't know what to say to Ron, and she still kept hearing Malfoy's words and imagining how it must have happened. How awful it must have been for him. Just like it was for me, the thought popped into Hermione's head and she sniffed wetly. She was still crying, damnit, leaking like a broken tap.