Chapter 4 - Hermione
Hermione couldn't tell whether or not she was happy to see the sun glint above the horizon, bathing the campus in the light that heralded morning. Ever since she had moved here she had barely been getting a decent night's sleep, and tonight was no exception. She had tossed and turned until half past two in the morning, drifting in and out of sleep, but always failing to drop off completely. She had had no choice but to head to the library and dive into a book or two. The library on campus was open all day, but from midnight till 7am it was students only. It's floors filled with those who forgot about that essay that needed doing, or the nerds who filled every hour with studying. It was the latter group that Hermione fell into. She had grabbed a pile of books from where they were neatly stacked in the corner of her room, and silently made the short walk across the campus to the grand old library building. There were sections of the library practically taken over by swarms of students, relying on energy drinks to get them through the night, and then there were areas for people like Hermione. And it was in one of these areas that she watched the sun rise over the buildings, and where she had set her book down and basked in the warmth of it as it touched her face. She gathered her things together and trudged back to the flat. The stupid thing was, Hermione thought, that now she felt that she could sleep for a year. She slipped off her backpack and flopped, fully clothed onto her bed. Her lecture wasn't for several hours so if she managed to catch up on some sleep, then it wouldn't matter too much. As Hermione lay there, she could almost feel her eyelids start to droop...
Oversleeping and Harry Potter had become a bit of a routine during university. And that was why he was currently sprinting to his first lecture of the day, a rather tedious one on French grammar, with an equally tedious French lecturer. Bursting through the door of the block that housed the lecture theatre, taking the stairs three a time as he went, Harry cursed himself for not grabbing something to eat; he was so hungry. He hoped that Madame Davis hadn't turned up yet, and that he could slip in un-noticed. He ruffled his hair trying desperately to control his hair, which refused to sit nicely on his head. He opened the door and was immediately glared at by the lecturer, and every single first year who studied French. "Désolé d'être en retard," he muttered before finding a space near him on the back row and taking his seat as quickly as he could. He pulled a pen out from his pocket and hastily caught up on the notes that were written on the board. As he did so, he scanned the room around him. He vaguely recognised some of the people lower down in the theatre, but no-one near him, and definitely no-one on his row. He sunk deeper into his chair and shut his eyes whilst still trying to pay attention to the lecturer. However his rest was interrupted by the door behind him opening, and someone bustling in, bursting out in the same feeble apology Harry had said. His eyes were still closed, and he opened one slightly, and damn near burst out laughing.
Mortified didn't even come close to how Hermione was feeling. Her catnap had turned into a deep slumber, and it had made her late. She was never late. Never. Flustered and panicky she set her things out on her desk and tried to get some assemblance of what was written on the board. Somewhere around her she heard giggling. Hermione looked around, and immediately wished she hadn't. Of all the seats to choose, why did she pick the one next to Harry Potter?! He had obviously found the fact that Hermione was late to the lecture amusing. She tried to focus on her work, but Harry was passing her a note. It read "Unlike you to be late?" Hermione frowned. His sarcasm was evident even on this scrap of paper, so she chose to ignore it. A few minutes passed and she found Harry passing her another note. She looked annoyed and shot him a withering glance. The note was folded this time, and unfolding it Hermione read "Two rows down, left hand side." Hermione looked at Harry, confused by his message but he only pointed in the direction of where he had indicated. She looked over and immediately stifled a giggle. A boy was fast asleep, his head laying straight across his work. She looked at Harry and grinned. The tension seemed to have gone between the two, and Hermione felt relieved. She didn't want to have had to chase this boy all year in order to get him to to his bit for the flat. In the past two months he'd been like a ghost. They all knew he was there, but they hardly noticed him. Harry had made a start on the exercise that Madame Davis had written up on the board, and Hermione spied on his answers. Très bien she thought. Hermione knew that she was perfectly capable of doing the work herself, but she was constantly amazed by the boy's ability with the language. She sighed, yawned slightly and went back to her work.