It was only the next morning when Hermione fully felt the consequences of her late night undertakings.
"You look like a horde of Centaurs just ran over you," Ron so very graciously told her during lunch. The way she felt he probably wasn't even exaggerating. This morning she had overslept and had nearly missed her morning classes, hadn't even had time to shower, let alone eat breakfast. She did so miss her Time Turner.
"Thanks Ron, you're looking quite dazzling yourself," she sneered back. She took some slices of toast to dip into her tomato soup.
"Ron is right, you do look horrible. Did you take my cloak to go to the library, again?" Harry joined the conversation. For a moment she contemplated biting his head off, too, then shrugged.
"I work better at night, I get more creative." She didn't feel like explaining, but she did get more creative at night. When she was all alone, no one to interrupt her, that was when she got her best ideas. When she had been younger, before she had gotten her acceptance letter to Hogwarts, her parents had had to take away all her lamps because she would read till deep into the night. She'd made a habit of stashing emergency flashlights, for when she really had to finish a chapter. So her parents had proceeded to take away her books instead, but she'd gotten around to using decoys. She smiled dreamily, good old times.
"What are you making, an artwork?" Ron joked, and Hermione looked at him, not getting where this was going.
"You know, because you said you got creative.."
Hermione shook her head, irritated. "You can be creative in lots of things, and if you don't shut up I'll be thinking of creative ways to hex you, Ronald Weasley," she threatened.
"Gee, Hermione, I was only joking." Ron exchanged looks with Harry, who just shrugged and continued reading in his Potions book.
She motioned for Ron to pass her his books and piled them on her own, making a pedestal she could rest her head on. Twenty more minutes till the next class.
Lazily she watched the people moving through the Great Hall, observing them but distracted by her own thoughts at the same time.
She now had the right spell for her secret room, she only needed to make the paint for the runes that would strengthen the walls – you wouldn't want them collapsing around you. And on top of that she needed a place to actually hide the room. She had theorized it would be more effective to weave the room into Hogwarts, because the castle had so much magic flowing through it it would be easier to bent the physical laws of nature. She'd thought of using a painting, like the entrance to the Gryffindor Tower, but that meant she had to find one who was willing and those people were stubborn. Didn't like sharing there space with three dimensional people. Another option would be to just enchant a piece of wall. But it be way too suspicious if she started disappearing into walls. Then there was the second floor girls lavatory, but every time she'd enter she'd have to get past Moaning Myrtle. And she had had quite enough of her when she had to make that Polyjuice potion back in second year. Every friggin' day she had had to check on it, dealing with the whiny ghost. No, the second floor's bathroom was only to be considered as a last resort.
But she had to find something quick, she was itching to start.
"Hermione." Harry tapped her on the shoulder, raising her from her thoughts. "We're going to be late for our next class."
Transfiguration, one of her favorite classes next to Charms, Arithmancy and Runes, given by the head of Gryffindor, Professor Mcgonagall.
While she usually sat at the front, Hermione decided to move a few rows back.
During the class McGonagall showed them how to turn a crow into a vase. Hermione, however, was distracted by the little red and grey bird sitting on the tree branch outside. With a flash it turned into a little vase. Startled, Hermione moved her attention to the front of the classroom.
"Would you like to share your thoughts with the rest of us, Miss Granger?" She shook her head.
"Then would you mind turning that poor bird back?" Professor McGonagall gave her a stern but encouraging look. Hermione rose from her seat and walked over to stand in front of the window. Feeling the eyes of the whole class on her usually didn't bother her, but she had been caught off-guard and felt a blush creeping upwards.
The glass vase had trouble balancing on the branch, a tiny brush of wind could blow it off. It was going to be a challenge to cast the spell through the glass without having it reflecting back. But it was just like image reflection, she needed to look past the glass to see outside. She got ready to cast the spell, when the vase tipped over. Quickly she waved her wand, hoping to catch the falling vase. The whole class held their breath, the tension increasing rapidly. Had she failed? Killed that poor bird as it would shatter on the odd stones that hid in the grass. She turned back to McGonagall, waiting for her disapproving look. Suddenly Neville pointed at the window and the whole glass started clapping. Hermione turned back around just in time to see a very confused, but very much alive robin rise up and fly away. The class roared and even McGonagall seemed pleased.
"Very well, Miss Granger, ten points to Gryffindor." Hermione sat down with a relieved smile on her face and didn't let her attention wander again.
"That was wild, Hermione," Ron complimented her as they moved to their next class. "I probably wouldn't have gotten past the window."
"You would've turned yourself into a bird," Harry laughed.
"But I'd be a very beautiful bird, an eagle or a phoenix, like the one professor Dumbledore has."
"You wished, you'd probably be a barn owl, like Errol."
"I'd be a swallow," Hermione mused and they both looked at her.
"Well, I'd be a raven," Harry then said, "ravens are smart, you know. Or a falcon, they are the fastest birds in the world. Yeah, I'd be a falcon," he decided, after careful consideration.
"I think you'd be a duck, Potter." Draco's voice roared across the hallway, turning everyone's attention to the freshly created conflict. Children started laughing as Draco hopped around making 'quack, quack' noises.
"If he's a duck, then you're a chicken," Ron shot back. For a moment Draco's face went blank, astonish he hadn't thought of that. The trio pushed past him before Draco could collect himself, laughing at his failed attempt.
"He really needs to get more creative with his insults," Harry laughed.
Ron agreed, "Yeah, his dad is probably to busy kissing dementors to teach him."
"I heard that!" Draco shouted angrily at their backs, but they didn't turn around.
"Shit," Hermione slapped her hand against her forehead and stopped walking, "my next class is Runes, Malfoy does Runes." Both Harry and Ron burst into laughter. "That'll be a pleasure," Harry said.
"Yeah, give him my regards." Hermione gave Ron a playful push, "oh, shut up, both of you."
"You're a big girl, 'Mione, you can handle the git," Ron assured her, before they parted ways.
Hermione turned the corridor to get to her next class. "Well, see you later," she shouted over her shoulder.
The whole class she felt his eyes burning in her back, which made it rather difficult for her to concentrate. These are very important protection runes, she reminded herself.
A little paper origami frog hoped onto her desk, nudging her hand for attention. Open me, it read on the top. She let it jump around for a while before she gave into her curiosity. We need to talk, D.M. Hermione looked behind her and Malfoy meaningfully raised an eyebrow, waiting for her answer.
What do you want, she wrote underneath his words. It took her a while to fold the frog back, but she had made those things when she was a child. Muggles would press on the backside and they would jump up. Funny Draco knew how to fold one. When she let it back to the ground it happily hopped back to Draco.
It took a while for the next frog to arrive at her desk. It had two little eyes drawn on it this time, which made her smile.
7PM broom closet next to the charms classroom, be there. Hermione turned around once more, but didn't reply, ignoring his stares for the rest of the day.