"You don’t need to butter me up to get me to tell you how your mother is, Malfoy. Unlike you, I’m not a heartless arsehole." Hermione couldn’t resist jabbing at him. She half-hoped he’d jab back, but he just took her words in and bowed under their weight. She knew it was because she was right but she still felt a twinge of guilt for saying it. This wasn’t who Hermione was – she wasn’t a person who hurt others, especially when they couldn’t fight back, so to speak. Or at least, that wasn’t the person she wanted to be. That would make her just like him, or at least, just like he had been. She wasn’t sure who or what he was now that everything had changed so suddenly.