Hermione dramatically dropped her jaw as she surveyed her new quarters. The room before her was fit for royalty and she could barely take it all in. Golden fabric draped from the ceiling richly pooled around the headboard of an enormous four-poster. It traveled the length of the canopy and flowed down the sides into swirled patterned curtains rimmed with black bouillon. The bedspread, a deep crimson, was of fine silk and bore the embroidered Gryffindor crest in coppery threads. It was draped over a thick down comforter and saffron Egyptian cotton sheets. The walls were a striking black and bordered with a gold design that matched the bed-curtains. At least seven dozen enchanted candles floated along the walls, elegantly illuminating the expanse of the space.

The carpet, buttery-soft scarlet, was wall-to-wall and a Persian rug of various golds lay at the foot of the bed. A large redwood vanity dominated the wall that lead to the bathroom. It was inlayed with ebony and the large mirror appeared to be gold-leafed. Two bookshelves ran from floor to ceiling on either side of the desk, and the couch before the roaring fireplace was red chenille. A huge bay window occupied the wall opposite the bed and overlooked the antique rose garden and patio beyond the French doors to the side of the Great Hall. The plush window seat was inviting against the starry sky beyond the panes.

Hermione realized she was lucky to reside in such an unvisited wing of the castle. West Tower was the third tallest tower in Hogwarts. Her extensive research for Professor Binns' class had taught her that.

She briefly wondered if her separation from the rest of the Houses and her professors would put her in any danger. Professor Lupin had the closest quarters that she knew of and he was all the way at the end of the corridor three floors below. Neville was all the way downstairs outside of the Great Hall, past the Defense classroom. It was all the better, she figured, to have Head Girl and Boy separate in case of emergency. It was, however, very difficult to feel unsafe in these beautiful surroundings.

The bathroom door creaked open to reveal a stunning, if not strange, mirrored space. The room was octagonal, four panels of enchanted window and four of mirror, giving the illusion of an absence of walls and only sky. An impressive round pool equipped with many different taps filled almost all of the marble floor space. A door concealed by mirror lead to the sink and toilet.

The beauty of the room was very unique—artistic and exactly Hermione's style. She fell in love with the atmosphere in a matter of seconds. In fact, though she was exhausted from the train, it inspired her to unpack her belongings and set out to make her new place home.

Tweeky the house-elf had left her two trunks by the window. She unpacked her school robes and clothes and hung them in the closet. She put her schoolbooks in the empty middle shelf of the bookcase. She set her few Muggle cosmetic products on the redwood vanity. She extinguished half of the floating candles.

Moving towards the window, Hermione was anxious to open her second trunk. The contents of it were, after all, the secrets she kept hidden from the world—what she really had been up to every time she excused herself and slinked off to the "library"…

Mr. Granger had always explained to his daughter that art had no place in the mind of a scholar. Eager to please, Hermione set aside her talents in music and visual art to concentrate on her academics. When she discovered her magical abilities, her artistic talent took the back burner, and it wasn't until her fifth year that she really came into her own.

Hermione by day was the bushy-haired know-it-all with the brains that could defeat the Dark Lord. Hermione by night was the mysterious beauty, composing and painting. In her dorms that she had shared with Parvati and Lavender, hiding her supplies had been difficult. But now she had this room to herself—a place to call her own.

Now her easel could sit by the bay window and her canvas could lie wherever she pleased. Her oil paints could join the toothpaste on her dresser and her music composition notebooks could sit on the nightstand. She could be free to be who she truly was, the scholarly artist. The logical painter, musician… hell, Hermione was a goddess. And she was ready to show this to the world. Finally.