Like a flower losing its color.
Hermione slumped into her seat. Her usually bright eyes now dull obsidian—hollow, confused.
Sourness spread from her heart.
Like a tide. Unstoppable.
Grievance, but more than that.
Too many emotions she couldn't name. Heartbreak she'd never felt before.
That cold indifference, that mockery—replaying in her mind like film clips.
She wanted to go home.
Wanted to cry in her mother's arms. Ask why Tiger treated her this way.
She'd imagined many scenarios for tonight. Never this.
But Miss Know-It-All had pride. She forced down the sadness, eyes reddening as she squeezed out a weak smile.
"Lavender, looks like we failed."
"Hermione..."
Ron opened his mouth. Tried to comfort her. But words failed him.
"What's wrong with Shelby?"
"Bad mood?"
"That's too much!"
Lavender Brown and the roommates exchanged glances. Ready to celebrate moments ago—now indignant, sympathetic.
To outsiders, Hermione and Tiger's relationship was uniquely special. Close yet distant.
Tiger rarely participated in her life, but cared for her inadvertently. Hermione followed him like a shadow to classes.
More than friends. Like father and daughter.
The cold jungle beast and chattering chipmunk—a contrast many Gryffindor girls loved discussing.
They hadn't expected this...
Harry quietly observed.
Tiger elegantly cut puffs on his plate, chatting and laughing—Hermione forgotten.
Harry frowned, leaned forward, lowered his voice:
"Hermione."
"I know you're upset, but..."
"Everything will be okay. We're here for you."
"Tiger just seems hungry. Remember? He missed lunch. Maybe when he's full..."
"Exactly!"
Ron chimed in.
"Don't worry, Hermione."
"When Shelby came with Shafiq, he seemed happy. Look..."
Their deliberately quiet voices carried hesitation. Caution.
Especially Harry. He knew his reasoning was weak.
But he feared gossip would hurt her more.
However—
Their clumsy comfort struck like lightning.
Hermione's reddened eyes lifted. Her hollow gaze brightened.
"What?!"
Voice trembling with disbelief.
"Tiger and Shafiq?!"
Instantly—fragments flashed through her mind like slides in reverse.
Shafiq's strange look. Mockery in Tiger's eyes. Honey butter puffs on his plate...
Details she'd missed.
Now spreading across her heart like ink on paper.
She slowly turned, gaze fixing on Tiger's clean cuffs. Remaining cream and jam on his plate.
Confirming something.
Hermione's eyes narrowed. Heartbeat accelerated. Fists clenched. Gaze sharpened.
"You son of a bitch..."
Grinding teeth.
"What?!"
Harry and Ron stared blankly.
Lavender and roommates gaped, utensils dropping.
For girls, that phrase was incredibly vulgar...
"Tiger's a carnivore!"
No one understood Shelby better.
Not just Tiger—the entire family. Adult Shelbys had Irish whiskey in their veins!
Hermione gripped her fork. Breathing agitated. Wanted to rush over and stab that familiar face.
"And he hates small talk most."
"Let alone with Shafiq..."
"With a woman..."
Teeth grinding. Fork carved three marks on the table—like carving into hearts. The forest sprite's eyes blazed. Lioness returned.
Harry reacted first.
Looked toward Slytherin in disbelief, covering his mouth:
"You mean that's not Tiger?!"
"What—"
Lavender started to exclaim but Hermione's gaze stopped her.
Like facing destiny.
Miss Know-It-All took a deep breath. Regained rationality. Wisdom and confidence returned. Only turbulent heartbeat echoed in her chest.
"Who is he?!"
Ron's eyes widened.
"Doesn't matter..." Hermione shook her head. Cold smile flickered. "I won't tell anyone. This is my battle."
If they dared impersonate Tiger, they were confident they'd survive his wrath. Plus close with Shafiq. Familiar with Slytherins.
Most importantly—this familiar revenge tactic!
Answer obvious!
"Damn bitch!"
"You didn't go home!"
"Of course not!"
Defense Against the Dark Arts office. Gilderoy Lockhart gestured dramatically.
"You'd never guess!"
"Polly's cooking is exceptional!"
"She'd sneak behind Professor Sprout to cut Whomping Willow branches. For smoking sausages."
"That Christmas feast especially."
"Still can't forget it."
"Professor Sprout praised Polly's cooking. But none of us dared say how she made that smoked meat..."
"Hahahaha!"
Seeing Lockhart's comical wink, Tiger slapped the table laughing. Black abalone fell from his plate.
He never imagined his mother's school life so colorful. Never expected the gentle girl in Lockhart's stories had such mischief.
Like someone else's story.
Lockhart's storytelling was exceptional. The tense atmosphere became lively. Food seemed less important.
Even Hagrid relaxed, laughing along.
"Really interesting."
"You probably don't know."
"Mum never told me..."
Tiger's fierce face softened. Light laughter carried heartache.
This was his mother.
Now with wrinkles, but once a lively girl.
For Shelby, she'd borne too much...
"Professor Lockhart."
"If I remember right, you were Ravenclaw. My mother Hufflepuff."
"How'd you become friends?"
Tiger looked ahead curiously.
The moment he finished—
Laughter stopped. Lockhart's animated expression froze.
Hagrid's hands returned to his knees...
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