A torrent of hushed whispers came her way as Hermione strode towards
the Gryffindor table. All of the students seemed to have heard the story.
Had the headmaster announced it? Or were they just curious as to why she
was here? Trying to decide which seat to take, she noticed none other than
Dumbledore motion for her to join him. She blushed as she took the place
beside him.
"You look quite different since our last encounter," Dumbledore said as he gestured towards her dress and robes. "I daresay these robes flatter you, and quite a bit more than your previous outfit."
"Thank you," Hermione mumbled as she looked around at the food that was being served. Large turkey legs, corn, potpies, mashed potatoes and sweet potatoes; it all looked quite good.
"Forgive me," Dumbledore said as he continued to stare at her. "But, where is it that you come from?"
Several of the students around them perked their ears up. All of them were dying for a bit of gossip, Hermione could tell.
" I, well, um," Hermione wasn't sure whether she was allowed to tell them or not. Instinctively, she glanced up at the staff table. The headmaster, seemingly aware of what was going on, nodded to her. This shocked her slightly, before she took a breath and continued, "It was a bit of an accident, how I got here, really," she said as she trailed off, wondering how to explain. Dumbledore tilted his head to one side, his eyes prying into hers, begging for more of the story. "You see, I own a time turner." At this, she pulled the chain that she still had in her possession out of her pocket. All that remained on it was a broken golden link and a small piece of glass attached to it. "I often use it to take two classes at once here at Hogwarts."
"Here at Hogwarts?" Dumbledore asked, "You mean, you've always attended,"
"The question you should be asking shouldn't be so much as where I attended school, but when I attended it," Hermione interrupted him; she wanted to be sure he didn't get the details wrong, the last thing she needed was the wrong impression. Dumbledore continued to stare, his expression once again awe struck. "I was just about to use my time turner, when it got caught on my shirt, and broke from its chain. I reached out to grab it, but it broke in my fist. The next thing I knew, I was flying backwards in the time turners' portal. When the ride ended, I found myself here, in 1869."
"Backwards," Dumbledore repeated. "So, you're a student from the future, whose time turner backfired, and sent you reeling to us, eh?"
Hermione's face flushed once more. "Be as sarcastic as you like, Mr. Dumbledore, but it's the truth," she spat as she reached for some potpie. Dumbledore placed a hand on her shoulder.
"Forgive me, I'm sure that it is, indeed, the truth. Besides, where else would you obtain such odd garments?" he teased as he shot her a wry smile.
"Now, honestly, how much of a kick can one person get over a skirt?" she asked as she grabbed her fork and knife.
"How much of a kick?" Dumbledore repeated, questioningly.
"Oh, I mean, how much pleasure," she corrected herself. She really needed to teach herself to stop using such modern terminology.
"Ah. Interesting tongue you speak in, really. So when exactly is it that witches and wizards begin to dress and talk like you?"
Hermione swallowed and cleared her throat. "Ah, that would be the year 2003," she answered, hesitantly. She wasn't sure how he was going to react to that little slice of information.
"One hundred and thirty four years into the future." he mumbled, before taking a bite of corn. "No guarantee I'll be alive then, now, is there?"
Hermione coughed slightly, as she attempted to suppress a chuckle. "No, I suppose not." she answered, hoping to God that when she returned to 2003, he'd remember this conversation.
"Well, it's not really as impossible as all that, is it?" he asked, misinterpreting her giggles entirely.
"No, no of course not!" she replied, taking a sip of pumpkin juice.
There was a moment of silence. The students surrounding them were obviously passing her story on to others; soon, her little experience would be common knowledge.
"What is it that you enjoy doing during your free time, Ms. Granger, do you have any hobbies?" Dumbledore asked, still apparently interested in what she had to say.
"Well, I daresay both school and my friends keep me busy enough," she started, "I suppose a lot of my free time is dedicated to my studies. I am in my 6th year after all, N.E.W.T.'s, you know."
"I, as well, am in my 6th year," Dumbledore replied.
Hermione grinned. "We'll have classes together, then!" she exclaimed.
Dumbledore's face lit up. "Well that's right, isn't it? I can't wait to see what you can do. If you're starting tomorrow, we have charms and transfiguration!"
*My two best subjects!* Hermione thought as she squealed with delight. "Excellent, I quite enjoy transfiguration," she said, trying not to sound too excited.
"I do too, it's the subject I succeed in most," he replied.
Hermione grinned inwardly. She could have guessed this, because she was aware of the fact that one day he would become the transfiguration teacher here at Hogwarts.
"Well, what is it that you enjoy doing during your free time?" Hermione asked, she didn't want to make this conversation all about her.
Dumbledore sat thoughtfully for a moment, before responding, "I enjoy knitting."
"Knitting?" Hermione asked.
"Yes, especially during the winter time. I always make myself a nice, thick pair of woolen socks," he said.
Hermione was impressed. No boy in the 21st century would ever admit that their favorite pass time was knitting. "I suppose you've gotten quite good at it, then," she replied.
Dumbledore shrugged. He reached down and lifted up his pant leg just enough so that the brim of his woolen sock was revealed. It was gray, and relatively neat.
Hermione smiled at him. "It looks good to me!" she exclaimed.
Dumbledore beamed at her. "You know, you're the first girl I've ever met who didn't supply me with the oddest of looks after I informed them of my interest in knitting," he said, as he winked at her. Once again, Hermione smiled. "And your smile is so very lovely," he added, as he turned back to his food, somewhat sheepish about his comment.
"Thank you," she mumbled, as heat rose in her face.
After dinner, the two began to make their way back to Gryffindor Tower. Anyone observing them would think that they've known each other for years. Their chatting was incessant, and lively. Suddenly, Hermione noticed a harsh hissing behind her. She turned around to observe three girls, all dressed in gowns considered far more elegant than Hermione's, marching towards them. The dresses had hems and necklines that were decorated with lace and silk ribbon, and their hair was tied back in various extravagant patterns of buns, braids and twists. Their necks and wrists graced expensive gem and pearl jewelry. They were Gryffindor 6th years. When they got close enough, the three shoved by them, elbowing Hermione rather roughly in the stomach. She coughed slightly, but straightened up almost immediately. Dumbledore, who was shocked at the girl's behavior, ran ahead to confront them.
"It's quite alright, Albus, I'm fine!" she called to him.
"It's the principal of the thing, Hermione, I can't allow them to get away with this," he stated as he caught up with the girls. "Pardon me, Victoria, Emily, Margaret," he said as he nodded his head towards each.
"Yes?" the three replied, with high-pitched mockery in each voice.
"I do believe that as you passed by us you handled my new friend rather roughly." As he said this, he put his arm around Hermione's waist. "And if I'm not mistaken, an apology in order?"
All three looked as if they wanted to spit in Hermione's face. Slowly, one of them coughed out, "Oh, I do beg your pardon,"
"Yes, I as well."
"And me too," the third added.
Dumbledore nodded. "Thank you, ladies, I bid you good night."
The three gave him the most horrifically evil smiles Hermione had ever seen, as they shuffled away, without so much as a glance towards her. Dumbledore watched them leave with his upper lip curled in disgust. Only when they turned a corner did he cease his death glare, and turn back to Hermione.
"I'm so terribly sorry about them, most of the people here are quite likable, it's the ones with money that you must look out for."
Hermione nodded. "I don't mind, really, they were nothing compared to some of the foul creatures I have to deal with back at home," she replied, in a calming sort of way.
"I just didn't want you to get the wrong idea about most of the people here."
"I understand."
The two stayed silent as they continued walking. Dumbledore's arm still remained on Hermione's waist. She enjoyed feeling the weight of it as she walked. It slipped away only to gently nudge her towards the entrance behind the pink lady's portrait. Slightly disappointed that their walk had come to an end, she turned to him to say goodnight. However, before she could say anything, Dumbledore had taken her hand, and kissed it. Hermione noted that it lasted a bit longer than she would have thought customary.
"Have a pleasant sleep," he mumbled, almost dreamily.
"I will," she replied, "and thank you, for all of your help."
"It was my pleasure," he cooed. As he backed away, eyes unwavering from Hermione's graceful smile, he bumped into the back of an armchair. He straightened his back almost immediately upon contact, as he turned sharply, and headed towards the boy's dormitories. Hermione could see his cheeks flushing from the side. She chuckled silently. Who knew Dumbledore had been such a goof ball? She started up the stairs, her mind still drifting through the pleasant conversations she and Dumbledore had shared, until all of it came to a hideous, screeching halt. She had just realized something. She had to walk through the girl's main dormitory room before getting to her own. Those girls, Victoria, Margaret and Emily. . . they were 6th years, they'd be in there, pestering her. And what about the password? They'd hear her say the spell, and that'd be it for her privacy. Did the headmaster expect her to always use the tapestry? Or was that simply for exiting? It would have to be, otherwise anyone who knew about it could get into Gryffindor tower. "Dammit," she mumbled, as she took in a deep breath, and opened the door.
The sight that met her eyes wasn't pretty.
"Ahhhhhhhhhh well look who it is," screeched one of the girls, (Hermione thought it was Victoria) "It's Albus's new bitch."
The three girls cackled. Hermione rolled her eyes, as she made her way towards the window.
"Where do you expect to sleep?" one of the girls cried, "There aren't any extra beds!"
"Maybe the headmaster told her to sleep on the floor, like the dog she is," Victoria laughed, as she glared at Hermione, just waiting to get a rise out of her.
"Alloggiamenti dell'ospite," Hermione whispered to her wand, as the archway appeared.
The other girls in the room gasped, as they ran forward. Hermione attempted to pass through before they had a chance, but the girl nearest her grabbed her shoulders and shoved her, hard, to the ground. The girl was quite short and pudgy; and Hermione could've sworn she saw certain similarities between her and Harry's cousin, Dudley. When Hermione shook her head and looked up, she was sure that she would see the girls busily ransacking her room. However, to her joy, none of them appeared to be able to pass under the archway. Victoria screeched as she pounded on an unseen force which failed to grant her entry. Smiling to herself, Hermione struted forward, as she cleared her throat.
"Now that you've all had your fun, would you mind allowing me to pass into my chambers?"
Victoria scoffed at her. "What makes you think that you'll be able to get in if none of us can?" she spat.
Hermione snorted. "If you don't think I can get through, then why not let me by? Don't you want to see me fail at it?"
Victoria haughtily raised an eyebrow. "Fine. Make an utter fool of yourself, all the more fun for us."
The other girls laughed, as they parted to let Hermione through. In an attempt to make herself look at confident as possible, Hermione straightened, squared back her shoulders, and strutted towards the archway. Just as she had expected, she walk right under it. She turned around just in time to see the girl's angry faces vanish, and a stone wall taking the archway's place.
"Jesus, take a chill pill," Hermione mumbled to herself, as she continued to stare at the place where the girls had just stood. She shook herself a little and began to pry herself out of her tight dress. Flattering though it was, she would take her loose, comfy blouse any day. "I suppose I have 19th centuy sexism to blame for this," she grunted as she finnally managed to remove the bodice. A nightgown had been placed on a chair next to her night stand, she slipped into it and climbed into bed. Her brain felt heavy and weighed down. Her body was exhausted, yet her mind was buzzing with the information it had recieved throughout the day.
Will I ever get home?
The thought appeared vividly in the center of her brain. Harry, Ron, the professors, would she ever see them again? Why was it that they weren't traveling back into the past, rescuing her from this place?
Because they don't know when you traveled to.
This voice was getting quite annoying. It's true, most of them would have no idea what time period she was thrown into, except for one man.
Dumbledore.
She wasn't entirely sure how time travel worked, but if she had to guess, she'd say that whoever's history she was changing, those who were still alive in 2003 were recieving memories that were new to them. Memories which they could've sworn they didn't have before. If she wanted them to realize what time period she had been sent back to, she would have to make a profound impact on Dumbledore's memories, because she had about 150 years worth of events that she had to make herself stand out in. Otherwise, it may never occur to him to think back into the far reaches of his brain where he kept his thoughts of his school days.
All that came to her brain after that was a dull buzzing. A profound impact? What kind of impact?
Of course she knew the answer which her brain had been concealing from her, the answer which most anyone could think of, the answer which she desperatly wished she could ignore.
Love.
But was it right to use him in such a way? To make him fall in love with her, in order for his 150 year old self to remember, and come to her, lacking the respect he once had for her?
You don't have to pretend.
There it was, the voice again. She stared at the ceiling, wide eyed. No, perhaps not. But it was ridiculous to be thinking such thoughts, she had only met him a few hours ago. How pathetic and cliche would it be, to believe in love at first sight?
She turned to her side, and curled up tightly in a ball. Her insides were squirming. She needed to get to sleep if she was going to start classes tomorrow. Hermione rolled her eyes at herself.
She was only starting classes to impress him.
Cursing her inner voice, Hermione drifted off into a rough and uneasy sleep.
"You look quite different since our last encounter," Dumbledore said as he gestured towards her dress and robes. "I daresay these robes flatter you, and quite a bit more than your previous outfit."
"Thank you," Hermione mumbled as she looked around at the food that was being served. Large turkey legs, corn, potpies, mashed potatoes and sweet potatoes; it all looked quite good.
"Forgive me," Dumbledore said as he continued to stare at her. "But, where is it that you come from?"
Several of the students around them perked their ears up. All of them were dying for a bit of gossip, Hermione could tell.
" I, well, um," Hermione wasn't sure whether she was allowed to tell them or not. Instinctively, she glanced up at the staff table. The headmaster, seemingly aware of what was going on, nodded to her. This shocked her slightly, before she took a breath and continued, "It was a bit of an accident, how I got here, really," she said as she trailed off, wondering how to explain. Dumbledore tilted his head to one side, his eyes prying into hers, begging for more of the story. "You see, I own a time turner." At this, she pulled the chain that she still had in her possession out of her pocket. All that remained on it was a broken golden link and a small piece of glass attached to it. "I often use it to take two classes at once here at Hogwarts."
"Here at Hogwarts?" Dumbledore asked, "You mean, you've always attended,"
"The question you should be asking shouldn't be so much as where I attended school, but when I attended it," Hermione interrupted him; she wanted to be sure he didn't get the details wrong, the last thing she needed was the wrong impression. Dumbledore continued to stare, his expression once again awe struck. "I was just about to use my time turner, when it got caught on my shirt, and broke from its chain. I reached out to grab it, but it broke in my fist. The next thing I knew, I was flying backwards in the time turners' portal. When the ride ended, I found myself here, in 1869."
"Backwards," Dumbledore repeated. "So, you're a student from the future, whose time turner backfired, and sent you reeling to us, eh?"
Hermione's face flushed once more. "Be as sarcastic as you like, Mr. Dumbledore, but it's the truth," she spat as she reached for some potpie. Dumbledore placed a hand on her shoulder.
"Forgive me, I'm sure that it is, indeed, the truth. Besides, where else would you obtain such odd garments?" he teased as he shot her a wry smile.
"Now, honestly, how much of a kick can one person get over a skirt?" she asked as she grabbed her fork and knife.
"How much of a kick?" Dumbledore repeated, questioningly.
"Oh, I mean, how much pleasure," she corrected herself. She really needed to teach herself to stop using such modern terminology.
"Ah. Interesting tongue you speak in, really. So when exactly is it that witches and wizards begin to dress and talk like you?"
Hermione swallowed and cleared her throat. "Ah, that would be the year 2003," she answered, hesitantly. She wasn't sure how he was going to react to that little slice of information.
"One hundred and thirty four years into the future." he mumbled, before taking a bite of corn. "No guarantee I'll be alive then, now, is there?"
Hermione coughed slightly, as she attempted to suppress a chuckle. "No, I suppose not." she answered, hoping to God that when she returned to 2003, he'd remember this conversation.
"Well, it's not really as impossible as all that, is it?" he asked, misinterpreting her giggles entirely.
"No, no of course not!" she replied, taking a sip of pumpkin juice.
There was a moment of silence. The students surrounding them were obviously passing her story on to others; soon, her little experience would be common knowledge.
"What is it that you enjoy doing during your free time, Ms. Granger, do you have any hobbies?" Dumbledore asked, still apparently interested in what she had to say.
"Well, I daresay both school and my friends keep me busy enough," she started, "I suppose a lot of my free time is dedicated to my studies. I am in my 6th year after all, N.E.W.T.'s, you know."
"I, as well, am in my 6th year," Dumbledore replied.
Hermione grinned. "We'll have classes together, then!" she exclaimed.
Dumbledore's face lit up. "Well that's right, isn't it? I can't wait to see what you can do. If you're starting tomorrow, we have charms and transfiguration!"
*My two best subjects!* Hermione thought as she squealed with delight. "Excellent, I quite enjoy transfiguration," she said, trying not to sound too excited.
"I do too, it's the subject I succeed in most," he replied.
Hermione grinned inwardly. She could have guessed this, because she was aware of the fact that one day he would become the transfiguration teacher here at Hogwarts.
"Well, what is it that you enjoy doing during your free time?" Hermione asked, she didn't want to make this conversation all about her.
Dumbledore sat thoughtfully for a moment, before responding, "I enjoy knitting."
"Knitting?" Hermione asked.
"Yes, especially during the winter time. I always make myself a nice, thick pair of woolen socks," he said.
Hermione was impressed. No boy in the 21st century would ever admit that their favorite pass time was knitting. "I suppose you've gotten quite good at it, then," she replied.
Dumbledore shrugged. He reached down and lifted up his pant leg just enough so that the brim of his woolen sock was revealed. It was gray, and relatively neat.
Hermione smiled at him. "It looks good to me!" she exclaimed.
Dumbledore beamed at her. "You know, you're the first girl I've ever met who didn't supply me with the oddest of looks after I informed them of my interest in knitting," he said, as he winked at her. Once again, Hermione smiled. "And your smile is so very lovely," he added, as he turned back to his food, somewhat sheepish about his comment.
"Thank you," she mumbled, as heat rose in her face.
After dinner, the two began to make their way back to Gryffindor Tower. Anyone observing them would think that they've known each other for years. Their chatting was incessant, and lively. Suddenly, Hermione noticed a harsh hissing behind her. She turned around to observe three girls, all dressed in gowns considered far more elegant than Hermione's, marching towards them. The dresses had hems and necklines that were decorated with lace and silk ribbon, and their hair was tied back in various extravagant patterns of buns, braids and twists. Their necks and wrists graced expensive gem and pearl jewelry. They were Gryffindor 6th years. When they got close enough, the three shoved by them, elbowing Hermione rather roughly in the stomach. She coughed slightly, but straightened up almost immediately. Dumbledore, who was shocked at the girl's behavior, ran ahead to confront them.
"It's quite alright, Albus, I'm fine!" she called to him.
"It's the principal of the thing, Hermione, I can't allow them to get away with this," he stated as he caught up with the girls. "Pardon me, Victoria, Emily, Margaret," he said as he nodded his head towards each.
"Yes?" the three replied, with high-pitched mockery in each voice.
"I do believe that as you passed by us you handled my new friend rather roughly." As he said this, he put his arm around Hermione's waist. "And if I'm not mistaken, an apology in order?"
All three looked as if they wanted to spit in Hermione's face. Slowly, one of them coughed out, "Oh, I do beg your pardon,"
"Yes, I as well."
"And me too," the third added.
Dumbledore nodded. "Thank you, ladies, I bid you good night."
The three gave him the most horrifically evil smiles Hermione had ever seen, as they shuffled away, without so much as a glance towards her. Dumbledore watched them leave with his upper lip curled in disgust. Only when they turned a corner did he cease his death glare, and turn back to Hermione.
"I'm so terribly sorry about them, most of the people here are quite likable, it's the ones with money that you must look out for."
Hermione nodded. "I don't mind, really, they were nothing compared to some of the foul creatures I have to deal with back at home," she replied, in a calming sort of way.
"I just didn't want you to get the wrong idea about most of the people here."
"I understand."
The two stayed silent as they continued walking. Dumbledore's arm still remained on Hermione's waist. She enjoyed feeling the weight of it as she walked. It slipped away only to gently nudge her towards the entrance behind the pink lady's portrait. Slightly disappointed that their walk had come to an end, she turned to him to say goodnight. However, before she could say anything, Dumbledore had taken her hand, and kissed it. Hermione noted that it lasted a bit longer than she would have thought customary.
"Have a pleasant sleep," he mumbled, almost dreamily.
"I will," she replied, "and thank you, for all of your help."
"It was my pleasure," he cooed. As he backed away, eyes unwavering from Hermione's graceful smile, he bumped into the back of an armchair. He straightened his back almost immediately upon contact, as he turned sharply, and headed towards the boy's dormitories. Hermione could see his cheeks flushing from the side. She chuckled silently. Who knew Dumbledore had been such a goof ball? She started up the stairs, her mind still drifting through the pleasant conversations she and Dumbledore had shared, until all of it came to a hideous, screeching halt. She had just realized something. She had to walk through the girl's main dormitory room before getting to her own. Those girls, Victoria, Margaret and Emily. . . they were 6th years, they'd be in there, pestering her. And what about the password? They'd hear her say the spell, and that'd be it for her privacy. Did the headmaster expect her to always use the tapestry? Or was that simply for exiting? It would have to be, otherwise anyone who knew about it could get into Gryffindor tower. "Dammit," she mumbled, as she took in a deep breath, and opened the door.
The sight that met her eyes wasn't pretty.
"Ahhhhhhhhhh well look who it is," screeched one of the girls, (Hermione thought it was Victoria) "It's Albus's new bitch."
The three girls cackled. Hermione rolled her eyes, as she made her way towards the window.
"Where do you expect to sleep?" one of the girls cried, "There aren't any extra beds!"
"Maybe the headmaster told her to sleep on the floor, like the dog she is," Victoria laughed, as she glared at Hermione, just waiting to get a rise out of her.
"Alloggiamenti dell'ospite," Hermione whispered to her wand, as the archway appeared.
The other girls in the room gasped, as they ran forward. Hermione attempted to pass through before they had a chance, but the girl nearest her grabbed her shoulders and shoved her, hard, to the ground. The girl was quite short and pudgy; and Hermione could've sworn she saw certain similarities between her and Harry's cousin, Dudley. When Hermione shook her head and looked up, she was sure that she would see the girls busily ransacking her room. However, to her joy, none of them appeared to be able to pass under the archway. Victoria screeched as she pounded on an unseen force which failed to grant her entry. Smiling to herself, Hermione struted forward, as she cleared her throat.
"Now that you've all had your fun, would you mind allowing me to pass into my chambers?"
Victoria scoffed at her. "What makes you think that you'll be able to get in if none of us can?" she spat.
Hermione snorted. "If you don't think I can get through, then why not let me by? Don't you want to see me fail at it?"
Victoria haughtily raised an eyebrow. "Fine. Make an utter fool of yourself, all the more fun for us."
The other girls laughed, as they parted to let Hermione through. In an attempt to make herself look at confident as possible, Hermione straightened, squared back her shoulders, and strutted towards the archway. Just as she had expected, she walk right under it. She turned around just in time to see the girl's angry faces vanish, and a stone wall taking the archway's place.
"Jesus, take a chill pill," Hermione mumbled to herself, as she continued to stare at the place where the girls had just stood. She shook herself a little and began to pry herself out of her tight dress. Flattering though it was, she would take her loose, comfy blouse any day. "I suppose I have 19th centuy sexism to blame for this," she grunted as she finnally managed to remove the bodice. A nightgown had been placed on a chair next to her night stand, she slipped into it and climbed into bed. Her brain felt heavy and weighed down. Her body was exhausted, yet her mind was buzzing with the information it had recieved throughout the day.
Will I ever get home?
The thought appeared vividly in the center of her brain. Harry, Ron, the professors, would she ever see them again? Why was it that they weren't traveling back into the past, rescuing her from this place?
Because they don't know when you traveled to.
This voice was getting quite annoying. It's true, most of them would have no idea what time period she was thrown into, except for one man.
Dumbledore.
She wasn't entirely sure how time travel worked, but if she had to guess, she'd say that whoever's history she was changing, those who were still alive in 2003 were recieving memories that were new to them. Memories which they could've sworn they didn't have before. If she wanted them to realize what time period she had been sent back to, she would have to make a profound impact on Dumbledore's memories, because she had about 150 years worth of events that she had to make herself stand out in. Otherwise, it may never occur to him to think back into the far reaches of his brain where he kept his thoughts of his school days.
All that came to her brain after that was a dull buzzing. A profound impact? What kind of impact?
Of course she knew the answer which her brain had been concealing from her, the answer which most anyone could think of, the answer which she desperatly wished she could ignore.
Love.
But was it right to use him in such a way? To make him fall in love with her, in order for his 150 year old self to remember, and come to her, lacking the respect he once had for her?
You don't have to pretend.
There it was, the voice again. She stared at the ceiling, wide eyed. No, perhaps not. But it was ridiculous to be thinking such thoughts, she had only met him a few hours ago. How pathetic and cliche would it be, to believe in love at first sight?
She turned to her side, and curled up tightly in a ball. Her insides were squirming. She needed to get to sleep if she was going to start classes tomorrow. Hermione rolled her eyes at herself.
She was only starting classes to impress him.
Cursing her inner voice, Hermione drifted off into a rough and uneasy sleep.