Hermione's words were punctuated by a resounding thump. Neville had, apparently, taken in all he could for one day. Hermione found herself envying him, even as the professor swept from behind his desk to check the fallen boy. Sleep sounded impossibly good just now, nevermind that it was mid morning. She dried her eyes and straightened, there were still a great number of things they needed to discuss. It was only a moment before Neville's woke again, and the professor pulled a corked potion vial from his robes and gave it to Neville before speaking.
"No need to worry" professor Dumbledore began "he is simply in need of a bit of rest, and some time to work things through."
Neville looked doubtfully at the potion, but drank it anyways. Immediately, he began to look a bit better. Hermione felt relieved, for a moment, until she looked at Harry. Not a bit of emotion showed on his face. Not pain, or fear, or even the distant sort of look that Draco wore. Simply nothing.
"Professor..." Hermione began, uncertainly. She was worried about Harry, and about Neville, but she didn't want them to feel she thought them weak. They weren't the only ones, though, as right now all she wanted was to close her eyes and block out reality with the freedom of oblivion. "Perhaps we should, er, take some time to absorb all this, before..."
"I quite agree, Miss Granger" Dumbledore immediately replied "Details can be arranged later; you are all in need of some rest. I want you all to take whatever time you feel you need to adjust to the situation. You will be given a set of rooms away from the rest of the castle, where you may remain, though you are by no means confined to them. I expect you to obey the same rules as are placed upon the other students with regard to when you need to be in your rooms at night. Which is to say; should you feel you must be out past nine, I expect you to be quiet about it." Dumbledore quirked a bit of a smile at that, and stood to his feet again. "And now," he said, helping Neville up "I will show you where those rooms are. Whatever other questions you have can wait for another time."
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Hermione was actually rather satisfied with the place that was to be theirs for the next few months. On the fourth floor, in an out of the way corridor that was situated rather centrally to the other houses, their rooms were not of any one particular house. They had a common room that was nearly half the size of the one they were used to for Gryffindor, but this was, perhaps, because these rooms were meant for more people than they had at present. The entryway to the common room was through a section of wall that looked perfectly ordinary to a casual observer, and was spelled to the touch. Anyone who belonged in the room would see that particular section of wall as glowing.
A simple touch to the wall and it would melt away, revealing a corridor with glass walls on either side. The corridor ended in a simple door with the Hogwarts' crest in gold on the front, that, when locked from the inside, could only be opened by touching one of the four house symbols. Each house symbol could only be keyed to one magical signature, however. There was a fifth possibility, touhing all four, but that was currently keyed to Dumbledore. Which worked out well, as there were four of them. Excepting that there were three Gryffindors and one Slytherin to situate. The problem had been simply solved, however. Dumbledore had explained that they simply needed to each touch all four panels in turn, and when they were done, the door would simply split them between the symbols as best as they matched.
The odd twinkle in Dumbledore's eye had unnerved Hermione. It almost made her think that he knew her secret - that she had been sorted into Ravenclaw to begin with, and only barely managed to convince the hat to put her in Gryffindor. If she hadn't been quite so concerned with her own plight, she might have noticed similar looks of trepidation on the faces of the other three. She might also have noticed that Dumbledore's smile seemed even more knowing than usual, as he explained that the rooms beyond hadn't been used since the time of the founders, but provided the most appropriate place in the castle for thier purposes; they were well guarded, nearly impossible to find without first knowing of them, impossible to break into, and far removed from the rest of the castle.
An unpersuadeable sorting proved the result Hermione had feared, but it also provided a surprise with nearly every one of her classmates. All four of them, one at time, had touched each of the four house symbols. Then Neville had gone first, placing his hand in the center of the four symbols, touching all four at once. No one was terribly surprised when he was sorted into Hufflepuff. Harry had gone next, repeating the process, and shocked everyone when the snake side of the shield lit green. Hermione breathed a sigh of relief when she realized that there was no way Draco would be sorted into Gryffindor, and confidently went next. So it was a shock when she was sorted to Ravenclaw, after all. Stepping back from the panel, all she could do was stare at her hand, for a moment. She felt rather than saw Draco sweep past her, but she looked up in time to see the warm golden glow of the Gryffindor shield. They might have stood there all day, gaping at Draco Malfoy with his hand on the Gryffindor shield, if it weren't for the fact that Malfoy was the last in line, and promptly opened the door, stomped through, and disappeared through a door that had glowed faintly upon his entrance.
So, instead of an eternal staring contest with a door, the three exchanged a glance and crossed the threshold in to what was, at least for now, their common room. And promptly went slack-jawed again when they took a look around. The room was at least three stories tall, open to the peak of the roof, and had huge windows nearly covering the entire far third of the building. The door through which Draco had disappeared was in the right hand corner of the far wall. The door in the left hand corner glowed yellow, attracting Hermione's attention; she supposed that one was Neville's. She spun around, searching for her and Harry's doors, and took in the decorations as she searched. The place was decorated in all the house colors, each used in a way that was best suited to that color. The room could nearly have been outside. The floor of the room was stone, but it was barely visible under impossibly thick plush rugs made of silk. They were primarily brown and green, but dotted with delicate flower-shapes or intricate geometric patterns that were slightly sculpted into the carpets.
Turning all the way towards the direction she'd come from, Hermione picked out the doors she'd been seeking. She was overwhelmingly pleased to note that her corner of the room was almost entirely covered in bookshelves. It also had a much higher concentration of purples and blues than she'd noticed anywhere else. Always one for picking out patterns, Hermione began to notice the ones presented by this room. Right by the door to Harry's room, the colors shifted towards green and silver. In the area between the two sections, things blended nicely into turquoises with silver edgings, an effect she rather enjoyed. The "Slytherin Section" was impressive in its' own right, though, in true Slytherin style, was very subtle about being anything in particular. A set of maps was prominent, and a slightly more ridgid set of furniture could be detected. Still, though, it seemed very much an extention on the same theme running through the Ravenclaw "side".
The Gryffindor corner of the room contained all manner of games, and a number of cabinets chock full of sporting equipment. The Hufflepuff bit was simply cozy. The chairs and couches, and even the carpets looked unbelievably comfortable, obviously intended for relaxing. Wizarding photo albums, currently empty, were found on nearly every end-table or coffee table. Truly, though, there seemed little to differentiate between the two houses' "sections", just as there had been in "her" half of the room. The more significant divide, however, seemed to be between the two "halves" of the room. There was a fairly obvious studious side, contrasted by the lighthearted feel of the opposite end of the room.
In the exact center of the room was a table, with nine chairs. There was a single chair of gold and silver in one place, larger and obviously important, far grander than any of the other chairs. To the right of this chair were four chairs, the first nearly pure gold but highlighted in black. The next two were less fancy, and with less gold to them and more black as they continued around the circle. To the left of the central chair were four white, the first mostly silver, and each with less silver as the circle continued around. The two chairs nearly opposite the white chair were the simplest of all, white and black, and yet seemed more powerful in their simplicity. Each chair had a different color cushion, and a different inscription.
The first chair to the right had an orange cushion, orange but fantastically highlighted with gold and bronze colors, entertwining and seeming to be alight with a living fire; the chair-back bore the inscription fire. The first chair to the left of the central one, carried a blue cushion. Similar to the one at the right, it was interwoven with silver and dark pewter colors. When she had first caught sight of it, Hermione had been nearly sure the thing was made of rippling water; naturally, it seemed, the chair bore the inscription water.
The other chair cushions were far less fantastic than these, made of plain colors and appearing to be simply cushions; they lacked the feeling of an inner light, an inner life that the first two cushions posessed. The second-left chair bore the inscription wind, purple cushion; the second right earth, brown cushion. The third left cushion bore the inscription life, yellow cushion; the third right destruction, red cushion. The two chairs furthest from the cushion read darkness and light, darkness (the black chair) having, oddly, the white cushion. Light, though the white chair, cairred the cushion that was black.
The table itself seemed to glow. The table top was clear, perhaps made of glass, and it was supported by a gnarled, impossibly white shape that almost appeared to be part of a tree. The table-tree gave a sense of life, as though it was alive, the heart of something. It seemed the glow came from that life-force. Hermione searched for a light, but, though there was a skylight far above, the light seemed to come from within the tree itself. The place gave off a feeling of power, of perfection that scared her a bit, and, though she felt oddly drawn to the brown-cushioned chair, she backed away instead.
Turning, Hermione realized she was the only one in the room. She had, apparently, been the only one willing to search their new accomadations. The others had hardly left without good reason, however, and Hermione found herself compelled to do the same. Her focus snapped quickly back to the door that was still glowing blue, and she marched determinedly towards it. Determinedly, because it took a great deal of willpower not to investigate the bookshelves. And she was well aware of her chances of sleeping anytime soon if she did that.
Opening the door, she found herself looking at two staircases, one up and one down. The one went down, but the one up had a blue carpet. Obviously, she thought, the Ravenclaw color was for her. Reaching the top of the stairs, she foudnd a door, and a cooridor to the right; Hermione briefly wondered how many rooms this place had. It made perfect sense, though; the common room was obviously intended for a great deal more than simply four people. Perhaps this had been intended as a house of its' own, once, or... well, that made sense. Most likely, it had been originally intended for staff quarters. Hermione dismissed the corridor for now, as her desire for sleep was swiftly overcoming her curiousity; she opened the door into her room.
It was truly her room, decorated mostly blues, an odd mixture of down-to-earth and extravagent. It bothered her, a bit, as she'd always tried to ignore her inner Ravenclaw. She had always envied their house colors, though. And this room - it was exactly her kind of practical-but-sophistocated. The furniture was wood and soft fabrics, but done in such a way that it could be casual or classically sophisticated. The room was circular, from a tower; she supposed all the others had similarly shaped rooms at the four corners of their new living space. She even had a balcony, leading off from the left side of the room, that looked in the direction of Ravenclaw tower and the lake.
The balcony was furnished with comfortable-looking chairs and practical tables that must have been spelled to stay dry. Her balcony was hardly what she would consider "little", housing a decent-sized hot tub that caught her eye nearly immediately. As her balcony was on the furthest possible left in her room, it was tucked against the wall of the common room, in a direction facing towards the Gryffindor/Hufflepuff side. She cold see another balcony, this one seemingly in line with the corner, and saw the top of Draco's head over the back of a chair set upon it. I wonder what he's thinking she thought to herself he certainly has been acting very un-Draco-ish. But she shrugged it off. It was time and past she paid her new bed a visit, and perfect, puffy-white pillows were calling.
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The subject of Hermione's thoughts was quite busy with his own. The moment he'd landed in this time, he'd know what had happened. Perhaps he had matured mentally along with his physical age, as he hadn't spent more than a few thoughts for the petty rivalry between himself and his new... traveling companions. Or perhaps it was simply that the event had shaken him so badly his mask had fallen, and he hadn't yet even tried to retireve it. What, after all, is a Malfoy when he is no longer a Malfoy? For surely, even if nothing else worse occured in this time, there was no way for him to reclaim his title.
Worst of all, just when he'd thought he could settle himself in, chalk his behaviour up to emotional stress, and hope the Gryffindorks were to distressed themselves to remember much, there'd been that house re-sorting bit at the door. He'd known, in some deep way, from the moment Dumbledore had mentioned the foul thing, exactly what it would proclaim to the world. It was the exact same thing he'd been told by the sorting hat in parting, in a parting shot. Knowing exactly what was coming, he'd focused all his thoughts on Slytherin the moment he got near that hat, accompanied with a mental threat to the thing should it not place him in that house. In response, as the hat brushed the top of his head, even though the whole hall had heard Slytherin, he had heard only Gryffindor. He'd walked over to the Slytherin table anyways, expecting to be booed, or at least stared at, for defying the hat's orders. He hadn't found out until later that he was the only one who had heard as he had.
Which is why he was to be found in a tower that was distinctly Gryffindor in nature, and why he liked the exceptionally Gryffindorish room more than he had ever liked any room he'd ever been in in his entire life. It was also why he felt so distinctly unwelcome in a place that was so incomprehensibly right. The room was decorated in red, red which was highlighted in black, and gave off an indescribably warlike atmosphere, even as it felt... comforting, protecting. It was as though the room represented eveything within himself that he'd always wanted to be. It was... passionate, where he had only ever been allowed apathy. Fearless, bold, brave... Gryffindor.
It had only taken a few minutes in the room before he'd been searching for an out, it was a part of himself that he couldn't yet face. Draco was well aware, however, that returning to the common room would be not only uncomfortable but downright foolish. Should any of the others be there... Honestly, how could he explain to them, when he didn't understand what was going on, himself? His nearly frantic search for an escape had soon found the balcony off of his room, and he had all but flung himself through the doors into the realm that was no house at all. The furniture on his deck, though still having some of the bold essence of his room, was simple and black; bearable. There had, after all, been plenty of black at Malfoy mannor.
Draco had found that chair while Hermione was still gawking at the common room, and by the time she saw him from her balcony, he had been sitting there nearly an hour. He had been watching, for some time, a tower that was on the other side of the front of the... area that had been arranged for the four. He had seen the door in that direction light up yellow, and assumed that Neville would appear on that balcony. Enough time had elapsed, now, that he was fairly certain that the balcony within his line of sight was not connected to the other boys' rooms. It made some sense, he supposed, as the carpet that had lead in that direction - a corridor had headed off to his left at the top of the stairs - hadn't been hufflepuff yellow. A sigh that was both frustration and relief escaped his lips. Here, at least, away from prying eyes, he could sort things out; could think. It was odd, though, that there were more than four rooms to this place. There was a great deal more, he was sure, to this whole thing. Something was going on, in which the time travelers played a great part, yet of which none of them were aware.
Movement caught Draco's eye, and he groaned inwardly. Apparently he wouldn't be left completely to himself out here. He stood, striding over to the railing opposite where his chair had been, and looked for the source. Neville was, indeed, outside; it appeared, however, that the boy had a ground-floor room. Below the deck that Draco had noticed earlier was a patio, surrounded by a rather impressive garden, which was downright teeming with life. Curious, he leaned over the railing of his own balcony, and discovered a patio below. It was different from Neville's, however; it wasn't teeming with life. It was simple, stone and comfortable looking wooden chairs. Perhaps this was simply because no - one occupied the room at present.
Neville never looked up, and seemed not to notice Draco's gaze. As Draco watched, the other settled himself on a bench amidst the flowers and plants that surrounded the space that would be his for the next few months. Neville seemed at peace, there, and Draco wondered why the other boy had been a Gryffindor. Perhaps, Draco thought, just perhaps, I wasn't the only one at that sorting fighting my true self.