A/N: This is more of an interlude then a chapter, but as I'm currently fighting my way through the next chapter, I've decided to sate your hunger with this. Happy reading: )
---
BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP Slam.
Hermione groggily shoved her alarm clock off the side of her bedstand, where it smashed to the floor with a loud thud. That's it, she thought, lifting herself out of bed. She rubbed her eyes; she'd slept with her contacts in – again. The sun was peeking through the windows. She'd slept too late. Damn it.
She shrugged the white sheets and comforter off her body, and put her feet to the warm floor. At least the sun had warmed up the house already.
She grabbed her white silken robe from the chair and wrapped it around her body. She fluffed her frizzed curls as she made her way down the open white hallway to the kitchen. She looked at the clock above the refrigerator, just to make sure she'd seen right.
"Shit!" she exclaimed as she turned and bolted down the hallway to the master bedroom, peeling off her robe as she pushed open the door to the private bathroom. She turned the showerhead on and jumped in, nearly slipping on the bath mat, as she eagerly reached for the shampoo and conditioner. Damn the fact that her curly hair required daily bathing! It was uncontrollable otherwise.
Five minutes later she was out of the shower, allowing the water to run slickly down her body as she smoothed gel into her curls, scrunching them so that they'd have some remnant of life in them. She brushed her teeth hurriedly, then grabbed the towel to wipe off the perspiration left on her body from the steam. Walking into the open aired bedroom, she grabbed for the change of clothes she'd picked out for herself before Minerva had stopped by.
Minerva. How she so dearly loved that woman. She was like an aunt to her, both a friend and protector at the same time. When Minerva had offered her the house to escape the rampant publicity, she'd jumped at the chance. After all, she'd secretly longed for it. Ever since the Order had celebrated Voldemort's downfall on the now-infamous deck, she'd wanted to live in the beautiful coastal home.
And now she was. She would have smiled but for the urgency with which she was putting on her airy red sundress. Pulling her hair into a quick bun, leaving a few tendrils of curl dangling around her face, she rubbed moisturizer into her cheeks and dabbed a coat of mascara on each eye.
"That will have to do, Hermione," she spoke to herself in the tall bedroom mirror, as she reached for the white heeled sandals and quickly apparated.
---
A/N: Comments? Critiques? Have you been reading this for a while and not posted a reply? I would love to hear from you! Reviews definitely help spur me on in the writing process … see the little button down there? It'll take you less then 30 seconds – promise.
Thanks for reading!