She nodded. "I hadn't thought so. Not really." She dared a glance to him, her eyes more open than she wanted them to be, her emotions written plainly in her emerald gaze. The pain at their severed friendship, the fear that someone was actually going to make good on threats toward her. "I don't ..."
Trailing off, she shook her head. No, even if he knew who it had been, if it was one of his cronies, one of the death eaters in training, he wouldn't say.
"Well, then," she said before she sighed, wondering why she was trying to prolong this torture for both of them. It wasn't like she could end this conversation with a friendly 'see you later' or ask him if he wanted to do something after classes, like she might with some of her friends.
So she continued cleaning, wishing he'd leave, wanting him to stay, and wondering why this was all so confusing to her. It should be cut and dried, shouldn't it? He hated her sorts, and she was what she was. They weren't friends, couldn't be friends while he was going to be on about the dark arts and the anti-Muggleborn agenda.
One hand lifted to her cheek, wiping at it as if she'd gotten something on it.