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She gave me the most horrifying look she could muster, and, though I hate to admit it, it scared me to death. “You wouldn’t dare.”
“Oh, really?” she said harshly. “So, you’ve been watching me write, have you? Since when have you strayed your eyes from your pureblooded, ruthless ego?”
“Just say the first bloody thing that comes to mind, alright?” I yelled.
Once again, that odd feeling erupted inside me. It was very strange, just as it always was when I felt it. Still, it was very tingly. Still, it made no sense to me at all. It was still the same, but there was one difference this time:
“Therefore, since what I know is the same as what you know, would it really matter if we share what each of us knows?”
“You could care less about staying safe, Malfoy, when the only people out there to stay safe from are people like you.” It was creepy just how true his statement was.
I laughed out loud—the thought of Granger begging me to runaway with her to the jungle was simply hilarious.
Who was it that suddenly felt her sorrow, felt her grief, felt her every burden and embraced it as their own, also?
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