Room 308, Sunday night

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.]