Within a few moments of her leaving Ron, she broke into a sprint. She wanted to put as much distance as she could between them. She knew he couldn't be positive of her and Draco, but she was positive of the hurt he felt. She felt that same hurt sixth year, when she saw him eating Lavender Brown's face off. It'd made her feel sick. It'd made her feel like she wasn't up to standard. The only problem was that Ron probably felt ten times the pain that Hermione did. She was sure that it wasn't the fact she was with Draco; it was the fact that Hermione didn't feel the same way.
She ran as fast as she could, which was quite an accomplishment, given the shoes she wore. Her feet stung with every stride, but she kept going. She needed to clear her head; get away from everybody. She didn't want to see Draco, which surprised her. She just wanted silence; to be solitary and able to think for a change. Though she didn't want to think about the recent events that transpired, she'd be forced to. All she could see was the severity of Harry's voice and the look on Ron's face. The small paper cuts on his hand swum amongst her memories most potently.
When she'd finally stopped running, she was unsure of where she was. The familiar office area was long gone now, replaced by a frigid tiled floor and blinding light. She looked around, confused. She'd never been to this part of the Ministry before. Then again, who had the need to go anywhere else when they were stuck with hours' worth of paperwork? It was a dead end. Three doors were strategically placed at the end of the hall, the one in the middle bearing a nameplate with nothing engraved into it.
Hermione took a few hesitant steps forward. She didn't even know if she was allowed to be there, much less if she was allowed to find out where the doors led. She capitulated to the curiosity and determinedly thought that no one would mind if she snuck a peak. Just as she was about to open the door with the empty nameplate, it opened. She froze, a deer in headlights, the sudden movement petrifying her.
An antagonistically statuesque woman stood two feet before her, studying her with sharp eyes, which were a shade of lovely indigo. Hermione found herself wondering if they were contacts, but remembered that witches never dabbled in Muggle doctor practices. The woman raised a hand to brush back striking black hair with her fingertips. With the contrastingly dirty look on the woman's beautiful face, Hermione knew that her worry that she wasn't supposed to be there wasn't entirely misguided.
"What are you doing down here?" The woman asked, her attempt at a hateful tone having no effect when spoken in her light, melodic voice.
"Er, I was just leaving." Hermione replied, avoiding the girl's piercing gaze.
"Wait," She said, just as Hermione had turned to leave. "Were you … looking for something?"
Hermione smiled to herself.
"Yes, but I doubt I'd find it down here," She looked around. "What is this place, anyway? I've never really gotten a chance to see it. Do you work here?"
The woman's expression turned to stone.
"No. I don't work here. My fiancée went missing days ago, and the Ministry is investigating it. Some 'suspected 'sort of dark wizard activity - whatever the hell that means. I- I just got out of questioning."
She looked frustrated and angry, tears threatening to spill from her suddenly glistening eyes.
Hermione's friendly instinct kicked in, and she took a few steps closer until she was within arm's reach of the woman.
"I'm terribly sorry – I had no idea there were people going missing."
Even though she was attempting to comfort the woman, she couldn't help but let the panic slip into her voice. She was tired of having to mask her emotions; why not let go for once in front of someone she'd most likely never see again?
