"It matters because you're telling me that my presence alone tonight made it worse for those girls. It matters because while I've been locked away in Malfoy Manor, other girls had to suffer through that — that vile display—"

She choked, her throat closing as a single tear betrayed her by rolling down her cheek. She slapped it away, furious with herself.

Silence for a few moments as he studied her. She glared back, lifting her chin.

"You're letting your exhaustion and experiences this evening cloud your reasoning," he said simply, sounding like Snape, and she hated that he'd read her like a book. "You should sleep and regroup your thoughts."

Scanning his perfectly impassive features, she wondered for the first time where he'd learned Occlumency — wondering how strong it was.

Fairly strong, if she had to guess. It was like looking at a mask.

She pressed her lips together. "I have more questions."

"They can wait."

She blinked up at him. "You'll answer any question I have tomorrow?"

He stared at her blankly, and said, "Yes."

"Eight in the morning," she demanded.

"Noon."

"Nine."

"Granger, it is after one. You will be up for another two to three hours writing a list of things to ask, and you will spend your morning Occluding and meditating," he said, his eyes grey and empty. "You will sleep."

She narrowed her eyes at him, feeling her heart pound with anger at his assumptions, and irritation that those assumptions were correct. He was treating her like a child. Or a slave.

Her hands flew to her neck, yanking her hair to the side and turning around to offer him the clasp of the collar. "Get this fucking thing off of me," she snarled.

He paused. "Now that I've activated it, you should be able to remove it yourself—"

She scrambled for the clasp, feeling it fall away under her fingers, clear air returning to her lungs. She tossed the collar at his feet.

"You better clear your afternoon, Malfoy," she hissed, and slammed the door behind her.

Once the slip was off, she threw it on the floor, feeling like she could breathe again. She turned the bathwater to scalding and dripped several potions in the tub, letting the aroma cleanse her head as her body sunk into the burning waters.

She compiled her list. She simmered in the possibilities. She stared at the bathroom wall until the waters were cool and still, both in her mind and against her skin.

When she woke in the morning after only a few hours' rest, she entered the routine she'd established the week before — plucking books from the library and taking them to the Conservatory. Every hour or so, she took a break to mediate. Tuck away the memories from last night, like books on a shelf. She couldn't let her emotions run away with her again. She'd been careless last night. As the clock ticked toward twelve, Hermione was certain Draco was going to avoid her.