Using the Time-Turner was beginning to wear on Hermione. She liked her classes very well (although she personally thought Divination was mostly a waste of time, as she didn't see how leaves and bones and tea and the like could provide accurate predictions about anything) but the pace was gruelling. Honestly, she would be glad for the break that Christmas allowed her, but that was weeks away.

Yawning, she made her way back up to Gryffindor's common room, her bag feeling as though it were full of lead and her mind spinning with all the information she'd gathered. Gantt's Theory of intransmutable objects states that—

"Ah, Miss Granger!"

Hermione stopped in her tracks, one foot raised in mid-air as she prepared to go up another stair, and sighed. It was Madam Krum.

Plastering a smile on her face, she turned. "Hello, Professor. Is there something I can help you with?"

"Always so formal!" Her arch-nemesis's mother waved her hand dismissively. "How many times must I tell you to call me Milena?"

"I just don't think it's proper," she demurred. "You're my profesor."

"Ah, but I'm not only your Professor, am I?" One of her eyelids dropped in a conspiratorial wink.

She shifted. "I'm not quite sure what you're talking about."

Milena laughed, the sound reverberating up and down the empty corridor. "Don't be silly. Of course you do. That's why you asked me to return his gift, after all." There was no need to elaborate on who the he in question was.

"Look, Professor, at the risk of sounding rude, I'm very tired and would like to go to bed. It's been a long day."

Immediately, Professor Krum nodded. "Of course, of course." She seemed as though she were debating whether to say something else or not, and finally said, "Have a good evening."

"You as well."

Hm. That had been a strange, rather useless conversation. Or perhaps there had been a point to it, and she was simply too tired to understand the undertones, if there had been any.

Exhaustion at the forefront of her mind, she fairly fell into bed and was grateful to find that her dreams were empty of any interfering Krums, as she had spent far too much time thinking about them when she was awake.

o-O-o

The next few days proved unseasonably warm, enough so that Hermione was able to bundle up and take her books with her outside to work by the far end of the lake during one of her uses of the Time-Turner. The castle was feeling rather oppressive these days, and she was grateful for the reprieve.

Fortunately, nobody was there to watch her yell at the giant not-owl-maybe-hawk-bird-thing that she had seen a week or so earlier when it dropped off Viktor's parcel. "Go away!" She yelled, flapping her arms at it. "Whatever it is, I don't want it!"

The bird looked at her disdainfully as it descended, its cinnamon wings glinting in the light of the weak winter sun, and dropped another parcel, slightly larger than the last, at her feet.

"Bloody hell," she muttered, looking at the square box and attached letter. "This whole thing is going to send me to an early grave."

She wondered if she could simply just chuck the entire lot into the lake, but the manners her mother instilled in her stayed her hand and she was left staring balefully at the delivery.

"Fine. Best to deal with it now and get it out of the way."

She tore the package open and pulled out a thin, fairly flat fob. At first, she thought it was a pocket watch, but when she opened it she realized it was a mirror.

Great. As if she didn't already know how thin and worn she was beginning to look, she now had a portable method with which to examine herself.

"Dio!" She nearly dropped the thing in shock as a voice came from it. "Faccia de culo!"

Hermione had no idea what the mirror was saying, but its tone said plenty. She snapped the offending item shut. "Wonderful. A mirror that insults my appearance. Precisely what I need."

She glared down at the letter on the ground by her leg and picked it up, unfolding it and scanning its contents.

"...I hope this gift makes up for the previous, as it was never my intent to upset you. I hope the mirror, a family heirloom, conveys my sentiments toward your appearance since I cannot be there to say them myself. My Great-Grandfather Piero was particularly fond of this mirror, himself, and used it often."

Why on earth would anyone like a mirror that insulted them? That seemed rather stupid.

Resentfully, she looked at the mirror. She couldn't even throw it in the lake, which would be very satisfying indeed, because it was an heirloom and her conscience wouldn't let her do something like that.

At least she could show it to Ginny for a laugh before she shoved it in a drawer and forgot about it. A moment later, she pursed her lips and hefted it in her hand. Actually, maybe it would be a good paper weight.

Well, she thought pragmatically, only so long as she spelled it shut. If it opened in the library...she shuddered at the the thought. Madam Pince would have her head.

Hm. Maybe it was best suited for the drawer after all.

Translation: Faccia de culo, I have been reliably informed by google, means "your face looks like your bottom."

Notes: the Krum family: the gift that keeps on giving (bad gifts)

Happy new year, all! thank you all so much for coming along on this wild journey with me. I've loved each and every review and interaction I've had with you all. Here's to hoping there's more fic, more fun, and more laughs in 2021.