There wasn't much at all left for Hermione to pack away, just the bare essentials. The rest had all been loaded into a fairly small (though extremely heavy) trunk, a carrying case for Crookshanks and a small knapsack that she would be able to carry with her. That too was a little heavy, but she hadn't been able to decide which books to bring along with her for the trip, so she just brought a small selection. The geek.

It was very strange to see her side of the room empty, and she was trying not to think about it too much so she wouldn't get depressed. Though that was probably better than that bad anxiousness she got when she thought about the end of the year at Hogwarts.

[Hermione's going to be joining book seven canon after today. If you want to say bye, this is your last chance. She will be going on townlumni status, so there will still be things in her journal from time to time. *clings to her*]
Hermione didn't have any kid emo to worry about, which she thought was a really good thing, timingwise. It meant she was able to concentrate on what she was doing: wondering how she'd accumulated so much stuff over the last two years.

Everything she didn't think she would need before Friday was going in the bottomless trunk, which she was pretty sure she'd need Hagrid to lift by the time she was through. This was taking longer than she'd thought it would, and she blamed last year's discovery of Amazon for it.

[Post and door are open, though I've spent a ridiculous amount of time sleeping off sickness today, so I'll probably be slow.]
smartestone: (b&w frown)
Hermione had planned to go to prom, but when it came down to it, she hadn't really wanted to. The end of her finals meant that she was able to think about other things, like the fact that June was very close, and she had been spoiled for book six knew a thing or two that was set to happen. It was always possible that things wouldn't work out the way Fandom's Fred had told her, but if it did, there were going to have to be Preparations made, and she didn't think she could do it from here. And she knew Harry wouldn't think to plan for things like that, due to being Harry.

After waking up far too early and trying unsuccessfully to get back to sleep, she finally gave up, getting her phone and leaving to find somewhere private to call her parents.

There was a problem with pretty much staying up for three nights studying for both finals on Wednesday, and that was that it made you tired. Imagine that. This was the situation Hermione found herself in, surrounded by her notes and handouts all over her bed Tuesday evening, trying to make sure she really did have everything down pat when it was sort of hard to process thoughts at this point.

Funnily enough, despite the two pots of coffee she'd gone through today to keep herself awake, she was still exhausted.

Which may have been why she crashed at about 6 pm.

smartestone: (strangling the kitty)
It wasn't a big surprise to find sheep in her room, because after two years Hermione knew to expect this sort of thing. For a while she'd ignored them, letting them mill around and occasionally bleat while she studied. Crookshanks had even taken an interest, herding them around.

And then Hermione looked up from her book to see what was going on, seeing Crookshanks heading into the closet where he'd herded the nice tasty sheep all in one place.

"Crookshanks, no!" she cried, jumping up to wrangle him away. "This is Fandom, you don't know where they've been!"

When Hermione returned from her away team mission in New York, she wasn't sure that she'd ever wanted more to just flop onto her bed and do nothing for a while. Not even after the Department of Mysteries, though that didn't count since she'd spent the end of that unconscious. She'd spent a good part of this trip unconscious too, though.

It was also the first time she'd been able to examine herself for bruises, which was a bit limited in her current position of 'flopped on the bed'. She did have a couple on her arms that she could see, which would happen when you spent a lot of time falling.

Bloody Deadpool.

[Door's closed, post can be open.]
Despite the papers in front of her, Hermione actually wasn't studying. She'd just finished the latest letter from Viktor and was trying to write back, but wasn't finding too much to say. This may have been a sign that she needed to get out more. Not that she was telling anyone else that because she'd never hear the end of it, but she did realize it.

The door was open.

[For one specifically.]
Hermione was never leaving her room again. Seriously. She meant it this time. It wasn't even her being stupid. She was really beginning to think it would be better off for everyone if she did.

As if the common room wasn't enough (she hadn't even known the girl's name and still kissed her and she hadn't kissed anyone in Fandom and this was how it happened? She didn't even like girls like that, as was really very clear right now), she had made the mistake of opening the box that had come for her earlier. She hadn't known at the time what it could be, and had been horrified to discover that was filled with clothes she'd ordered when she was... not herself last weekend. And alllll from Hot Topic. On her parents' credit card.

Never. Leaving. The. Room.

Hermione had very definitely changed overnight. Back into a normal person.

And then all the things she'd said came rushing back, and Hermione found herself whimpering into the pillow that then found itself making its way over her head. She wasn't really one for unnecessary whining, but at the same time, if she suffocated before she got up and had to hunt down Ron, she'd be okay with that.

Hermoine had spent her morning on her lapptop. She'd been the only girl at Hoggwarts who was allowed to have one and she brought it to Fandom with her. It was the latest model. She didn't like any of the clothes in her closet, and they were all too much like the ones she used to wear before she was all popular, so she spent a lot of time shopping online with her parents' credit card to fix that.

Right now she had some Panic at the Disco playing on her brand new iPod and was hating the world and looking really beautiful doing it.

[Door and post are open!]
It was finals week, so Hermione, of course, was hard at work studying, poring over notes and looking through books and while she had gotten quite used to the way things were done at Hogwarts, she was sickly gleeful at the usefulness of highlighters.

I don't want anybody else
When I think about you I-

Hermione's eyes went wide as she realized exactly what song that was, and shook her head as if trying to dislodge it. Of course, it didn't work, and after the song started repeating itself on loop in her head, she found herself blushing furiously. Even if she wasn't doing anything, this was not the sort of thing you wanted a random telepath to pick up on. So she committed the cardinal sin of studying: she turned on the radio. Because any song she heard had to be better than this.

[I'm SO sorry. The idea got stuck in my head, much like the god damn song, and I couldn't not. Establishy.]
Hermione woke up later than she expected, blinking at the ceiling and trying to figure out what she immediately knew was off.

"Hello?" she called after a moment.

She didn't get an answer, but-

"I can hear you," she said, and sat up in bed. "...Why did I just hear that I sat up in bed?"

She had already decided that today was going to be a little on the strange side.

"Oh, shut up," she muttered, flopping back onto her bed.

[Establishy, la.
So for today, Hermione's hearing her own narrative. Every word. No one else will be able to, though. What? I needed crack.]
Hermione woke up slowly, though she realized the bed did seem smaller than she was used to. She opened her eyes, sitting up to see what the problem was, and was surprised to see the ginger cat sleeping at the foot of the bed. "Crookshanks?" she said, frowning. He hadn't been alive for years...

She looked around the room, blinking as she took in the now-vaguely familiar setting. Of course.

And sighed. "Honestly."

[Door's closed, post is open!]
Hermione had spent too much time cooped up lately, and this was becoming kind of clear to her. She'd gotten through all the books she had now, and was reading Hogwarts, A History again just because, though anytime Crookshanks wandered by her spot on the bed she'd reach out to pet him and then get slightly distracted wondering why he would come over here if the first thing he would do was move somewhere else the second she reached out.

She may have needed a real distraction.

smartestone: (relaxed and pretty)
Hermione didn't really tend to make a big deal out of her birthday. The biggest thing was that she didn't have to worry about doing magic anywhere anymore and being reprimanded for it, and she really should look into being able to Apparate soon, now that she could. Though it would have been fantastic to have a class today, just because she was twisted like that. Currently, she was spending it reading, of course. Reading a thick tome on the American Revolution, because it always was interesting to see how the other side viewed things.

She really should be saved from herself, you know.

Hermione was studying, which probably came as a surprise to no one. Classes were back in session, she didn't have any evil principals to plot against, and that meant her priorities were blissfully back to normal. So there she was, at her desk, with a book on mathematical theory and knitting needles spelled nearby to make some more hats for the Hogwarts elves. She was sure Ginny would distribute them if she asked.

[Door and post, both open. Plz distract the bookworm.]
Hermione was still bouncing over yesterday. A year. She'd been here a year, only able to see Ron and Harry the few times she could manage to get back, and Harry was here. And Neville, even if he wasn't from her time, and even if she kind of secretly thought his roommate needed an attitude adjustment. It still made her feel so much better about everything. And seriously, Harry was here.

She was missing Ron, though, which was why she was trying to write a letter. It was hard not to squee about Harry's arrival without feeling like she was rubbing it in that Ron was still at Hogwarts, though, and that was why she was on roughly the seventh draft of the letter.

[Open, though my net is being a bitch and a half so I might be slow. Also will be a linkdrop later.]
To say Hermione was in a bit of shock after the adrenaline crash after her visit with Umbridge would be an understatement. She already reported the incident, and before she even reached her room placed a call to her parents. She'd hung up as soon as her mother picked up because she didn't trust her voice and she didn't want them worrying, but she just wanted to know they were okay.

So when she got back to her room she wasn't really able to concentrate on much at first, and just sat with Crookshanks even if he didn't want to be petted. He would have to deal. She'd gotten into a lot of trouble with Ron and Harry before, but it was always with them, and now she really missed them. And before it had almost always been about Harry. She was a sidekick and she knew this, so having the threat specifically against her was something new and she could really do without that.

In retrospect, she should've listened to Sam.

Hermione knew she was in trouble. She knew she'd get it eventually, but she was kind of surprised she'd gotten away with as much as she had.

And the thing about getting into trouble with Ron and Harry was that she didn't really get a chance to prepare for the trouble beforehand.

So while definitely nervous, she looked pretty calm, sitting on her bed with Crookshanks sleeping near her legs, doing what she did best: research.

[Establishy, la.]
Hermione was writing. A lot. Several pages in her notebook had been covered in her own handwriting, and years of writing superfluous reports far longer than they would have ever needed to be in any universe meant that her wrist wasn't even tired. If anyone asked, she wouldn't tell.

Crookshanks and Wadsworth were fed, she'd already checked her voicemail, and she was fully prepared in case anyone's hand was bleeding.



Hermione Granger

December 2011

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