His lip curled as he glanced over his shoulder to Pansy, who was standing alone, staring out at the grounds.

"If you're referring to my friendship with Pansy Parkinson—"

"If that's what you want to call her." Seamus stepped into her, and she had to lift her chin to meet his eyes. "Your 'friend' has no right to be here. Though I suppose she's an improvement over the other company you keep."

"If you can't see that Pansy Parkinson has lost just as much as any of us, then I don't know what to tell you, Seamus," said Hermione, her voice deadly calm. "I understand how you must feel, but now is not the time."

"And when is the right time to discuss you turning traitor—"

"Owl me when you're ready, and I'll be happy to answer your questions like the old friend I've always considered you to be." She held his gaze. "Take care of yourself, Seamus."

Some emotion crossed Seamus' face before he turned to ice. As he stomped away, Hermione took a deep breath and glanced back to Pansy. She was talking to someone handsome and tall, and Hermione's mouth fell open when she realized who it was.

Freedom had been good to Neville Longbottom. He was still thin but muscled, his hair falling into his face. She watched him slip his hands into his pockets and roll back on his heels while Pansy lifted a brow at him.

A smile tugged at the corner of Hermione's mouth, and she turned back to the list of names.

Her gaze passed over Lydia Baxter, Katie Bell, and Lavender Brown. By the time she reached Cho Chang in the next column, her eyes were wet. She skimmed down the columns, searching for specific names and stumbling over others. Cedric Diggory. Albus Dumbledore.

Luna Lovegood.

Her fingers reached out, whispering over the white letters, and the stone warmed beneath her touch. Lower down, she found Remus Lupin and Nymphadora Tonks-Lupin, and on the next column, Minerva McGonagall.

She stepped back as their names blurred together, reaching for her still waters. Her shoulder bumped into the tall boy next to her, and her apology broke off in a gasp when she saw that it was Oliver Wood. He stared straight ahead, his shoulders tense.

Hermione followed his gaze, and her heart thudded when she realized what he was looking at. The "N" column.

"He's not there," he said.

She crossed her arm over her middle, clutching her elbow. "I'm sure it was an oversight. I can contact the Governors—"

"Don't bother." His voice was clipped. "Crabbe and Goyle aren't on here. Neither are Marcus Flint or Adrian Pucey."

She swallowed, looking down at her shoes. "I'm sorry if you felt abandoned at St. Mungo's, Oliver. It wasn't my intention—"

"No, no. I should be thanking you for setting me up with those lawyers." He reached up to rub his brow. "I'm sorry. I'm just… bitter about everything these days."

She nodded slowly. The hollow ache in her chest grew like a hole forming in the earth. "I'm still hoping to clear Theo. But it has to wait until Draco's trial."