"That's impossible, Harry, no one can leave the castle these days; the maps wrong," she proclaimed to Harry, her eyes tired as she started up the stairs and bid him goodnight. If only she had listened to her own advice, Hermione thought. Through the Forbidden Forest, a ghoulish howls traipsing towards her as she screamed.

"Tell me you love me," Hermione slurred, an air of inebriated confidence shining through her words as she courageously stepped towards her. "Tell me that you have always wanted me," she whispered, her hand driveling down her blouse. "That you've been dreaming of this moment," she said, and Fleur Delacour was suddenly rendered speechless as Hermione sighed. "Tell me."

Observing the more visible wounds on her cheek her heart ached as she spun, a wild and menacing air about her as she clenched her wand. "Who did this?" she demanded, and as Harry founded her glare with deadened expression, he choked. "Lestrange."