11. Hermione

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Hermione shot awake, the early morning sun just gracing her bedroom. Unruly wisps of hair floated around her face as she puffed out a ragged breath, unsure of what had startled her. Crookshanks lay undisturbed at her hip, and she moved him towards her pillow to swing her feet over the side of the bed. She stared down at her crinkled uniform, realizing she'd fallen asleep in yesterday's clothes, so she shuffled out of the bedroom to grab her trunk to change. It was right by the door where she'd left it.

The Head Boy and Head Girl were given their own private areas on the third floor. Hermione's chamber resembled the Gryffindor common room, with its high, cathedral ceiling, plush carpet, and warm atmosphere. A fireplace cocooned itself in the furthest wall, mirrored by a worn, leather couch. An empty bookcase was framed by two doors, one leading to the bathroom, and one to the bedroom she'd just exited. The tiny kitchenette sat to the right of the entrance door. Her private quarters were small and cozy, and the first thing that had felt right about coming back. Neville's own room lay just down the hall, and Hermione wondered if he was enjoying his privacy as much as she was.

A phantom breath danced across her cheek, and her thoughts returned to Draco's face mere inches from hers the night before. He'd sounded so threatening, his eyes burning. But at the forefront of her memory was how he had smelled, like sandalwood and mint. It had been unwantedly intoxicating. He'd been close enough for her to see the nearly indiscernible scar at the bridge of his nose. And it had made him all the more human.

Hermione wondered if she'd given him that mark back in third year.

That had been the second time in 24 hours that he'd been so close to her, but the darkness of the hallway had made it all the more intimate somehow, even through his anger. Though she still couldn't understand why he'd been so angry, like a dam ready to burst. Did he think she'd been mocking him? She'd genuinely only wanted to help. She'd seen how upset he'd been about his mother; Neville had too. And yet, she'd never seen Draco look so furious.

What she'd give to see her own mother every weekend.

Crookshanks mewled at her feet, snaking his way between her legs and mercifully taking her away from her thoughts. She wasn't sure how long she'd been standing in her bedroom doorway, but she shook her head and returned her attention to her trunk.

Hermione kept her wand pocketed as she filled the empty bookcase by hand. She found solace in the repetitive action, the spines of each book offering comfort to her fingers. Crookshanks had relocated in front of the fireplace, the dying embers illuminating his ginger fur. He looked completely at home, and Hermione envied him.

With her bookcase full, she pulled the trunk into the bedroom, letting it rest at the foot of her bed. She rummaged through its contents, her fingers closing around the palm sized, white bag. She stood, holding the vinyl pouch arm's length away, her wand gripped tightly in her other hand.

"Engorgio."

A circle of icy blue light emanated from the tip of her wand, much like a torch. It enveloped the delicate bag in her hand, and Hermione watched as it returned to its normal size. The garment bag was taller than she was, and her arm absentmindedly held it higher to keep it off the floor. The bag showed no signs of folds or wrinkles, and Hermione was thankful she'd had the forethought to shrink it. She hung the vinyl casing on the back of her bedroom door, confident the dress inside it was well protected.

She left the rest of her belongings piled in the trunk.

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The Great Hall was nearly empty when she arrived for breakfast that morning. She knew she was slightly too early, but she'd wanted a head start to her first day of classes. Besides, she found the Great Hall most beautiful at this time of day. The morning sun streamed through the towering windows behind the staff table, bathing every inch of the room in a celestial, white light. The holy glow felt warm against her cheeks, and she happily soaked it in.

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