Hermione shot upright in her four-poster bed, her heart thudding furiously in her ribcage. Surprisingly, there were no beads of sweat trailing down her complexion. Was it that the fear induced by the watery, eerie nightmare had turned her pores frigid? She steadily exhaled in a frail attempt to settle her scrambled nerves.
"Bad dream, Granger?" three voices spoke in derisive unison. Her dorm mates were blond-haired, pure-blooded triplets―Lucie, Laurie, and Lizzie Lovett. They were first years like Hermione, and abnormally pretty for their age. Their looks were bound to adorn within time, Hermione could tell. They were identical, so they used distinguishing accessories to discern their given identities: Lucie kept her hair in a modest ponytail held by a silver barrette, Laurie wore a black headband while her hair fell straight and free down her back, and Lizzie's hair was kept in a thick fishtail braid. They kept their individual beds pushed together as one big four poster. The sisters were in their school uniforms, their arms propped under their chins as they sneered pointedly at Hermione from their shared bed.
"Try utterly insidious," she dryly answered. The night terror's aftershock faded as she rubbed soothing circles into her temples. A psychological apparition in her subconscious that was a metaphor for the recent stress and pressure she'd recently been bedeviled by, she concluded. There certainly was no other theory that could logically explain Salazar Slytherin himself having appeared in her head, sending her back to reality with such a resonating statement…
Wait…Was she taking to heart something that had been said to her in a dream? Did she truly believe those words to have been spoken by the actual founder of Slytherin?
Laurie crawled out of the trio of conjoined beds and stood. "That must've been a right horror of a dream for you to have not noticed your compensation by now."
Hermione blinked. "Compensation? What are you…?"
All three girls pointed to the foot of her bed. Hermione gasped at the sight of the colossal gift basket that had to have held at least twenty different brands of various confectionaries behind its plastic wrapping. Overwhelmed, Hermione slid out of the covers and crawled over to the huge basket. The thing was so large that it nearly touched the canopy! There was a greeting card with silver letters taped to the basket's thick wicker that read: Condolences from your Head Boy and Girl, and the Slytherin Prefects.
"Well…" Hermione murmured. She wasn't keen on being pitied, but the appreciation towards their endearing action she couldn't suppress.
"Remind me to get verbally assaulted at the next start of term," Lucie snidely quipped. With a look of great disdain, Lizzie flicked her sister behind her left ear. "Ow! What?"
"Better wash up and get changed into your uniform, Granger," Laurie instructed, ignoring Lucie's taunting input. "From what we hear, first-year Gryffin-dolts are the most loudmouthed at breakfast, so it would do us good to finish up our meals before too many of them arrive."
Hermione had no desire to get caught in the crosscurrent of the virulent rivalry between Slytherin and Gryffindor; coupled with her desire for endless information, overcoming the insecurities that came with being a Muggle-born Slytherin would be psychological drudgery.
"Understood," Hermione gratefully replied, opting to tend to her unbidden gift after classes were over. The sisters took their leave, save Lizzie, who had paused in the dorm's threshold.
"I don't suppose you'd be generous enough to provide a particular Housemate with a box of truffles?"
Hermione rolled her eyes as the blonde fluttered her eyelashes. She peeled back the plastic, grabbed the box of truffles, and tossed it to her. Lizzie squealed her appreciation and then took off. Considerate amends aside, it was time for Hermione to see what the first day of term had in store for her.
A hefty quarter of the start-of-term feast was still digesting in Hermione's tummy, thus she chose to skip breakfast and head to class. Now sporting the elegant green and black of her Slytherin robes, Hermione made her way down to the common room. Her eagerness towards her debut to Hogwarts education made it effortless for her to ignore the glances several older Slytherins stole at her as she hurried to the entrance. Waiting for her outside the entrance, she was surprised to see, was Marcus Flint's easygoing sneer.
"Mornin', Granger," he greeted.
"Oh, hello, Flint," Hermione said, clutching her books to her chest. "How are―?"
"You heading to breakfast?" he casually asked.
Hermione was perplexed. Marcus was an older student, but he certainly was no prefect. What made him so interested in where she went outside of the common room? Secondly, had he been waiting out here for her? Why? For what perceivable reason?
"No, actually," she pendulously responded. "I was just going to go ahead to my first class: History of Magic."
"Ha! You're in my prayers. Professor Binns is perhaps the most boring teacher of the most boring class out of all the courses at Hogwarts," he jibed. "One might think his true goal is to bore his pupils to death, him being a ghost and all!"
The aura that Marcus gave off…it filled Hermione with fervid uneasiness. The unpleasant emotions he'd caused her during their first meeting just last night were congregating within her once more.
"How's 'bout I walk you to his class?" Marcus offered.
"That's fine!" Hermione instantly replied. "I can find my way! Really! Besides…I'd hate for you to be late for your own class!"
Perhaps it was rude to decline a gesture of kindness from a Housemate, but this Marcus really unnerved her! She couldn't help it! It was hard to keep her expression unflinching in the stare of this intimidating boy. Besides, the stolidness in his eyes indicated he had accepted her courteous declination.
"I won't keep you, then," he responded. Hermione's eyes lit up with surprise when he gently grasped her chin. "Do keep your chin up, Granger, ain't many Slytherins who are Mudbloods," he seductively stated.
Apprehension prickled at the back of Hermione's neck. Without another word, she hurried out of Marcus's grasp down the dungeon's corridor. The sensation of his pernicious smile upon her person wouldn't fade until she had left the dungeons.