Hermione wiped tears from her face as she walked into her bedroom. After that awkward night with Blake she had decided to find a new bedroom for herself. She wandered throughout the night looking for a room that wasn't too small or too big, and didn't have a portrait in it. None of the portraits in Wright Manor seemed to be too polite.
The bedroom had a vanity, a master bathroom, and a large bed with a canopy over it. The vanity had perfumes lined up against the mirror and a single silver hair brush. The bedroom walls were a deep emerald green with plum curtains with black lace on them. The bed had matching purple comforters and hundreds of down-feather pillows. What drew her to the room the most was the bookshelves that lined an entire wall. There was not a single space left on the shelves without a book to fill it. Thick or thin, poetry or philosophy, it was on that shelf. It reminded her of the library in Hogwarts.
She threw herself down onto the bed and rubbed her eyes furiously, feeling like a small baby. She was three days into her week-long depression. Hermione was never one to cry a lot. She rarely let anyone ever see her cry - it was something she was very private about - so she had to make sure that she wouldn't burst into tears in front of Lady Wright or Blake. She couldn't afford to seem vulnerable around them.
She moved to the vanity and stared at herself in the mirror. Her hair was much longer, reaching her lower back, but it was curlier than ever and more knotted. She took the silver hairbrush and dragged it through her hair, wincing as it pulled at her roots. She leaned in closer, realizing how red and large her eyes had become. She blinked a few times and frowned at her new appearance. She didn't feel beautiful. She looked away from the mirror quickly and looked at her bed from her seat. It was too large for her small frail body, and she couldn't help but feel even more lonely at night when she slept alone there. She pointed her wand at the pillows and whispered, "Avifors." The pillows turned into silver birds that resembled patronuses, chirping and flying through the sheer canopy and flying around the room. Her lips trembled as she watched the beautiful sight. The birds eventually disappeared, shimmering and fading into clusters of silver sparks that flew up to the ceiling.
The bedroom had a vanity, a master bathroom, and a large bed with a canopy over it. The vanity had perfumes lined up against the mirror and a single silver hair brush. The bedroom walls were a deep emerald green with plum curtains with black lace on them. The bed had matching purple comforters and hundreds of down-feather pillows. What drew her to the room the most was the bookshelves that lined an entire wall. There was not a single space left on the shelves without a book to fill it. Thick or thin, poetry or philosophy, it was on that shelf. It reminded her of the library in Hogwarts.
She threw herself down onto the bed and rubbed her eyes furiously, feeling like a small baby. She was three days into her week-long depression. Hermione was never one to cry a lot. She rarely let anyone ever see her cry - it was something she was very private about - so she had to make sure that she wouldn't burst into tears in front of Lady Wright or Blake. She couldn't afford to seem vulnerable around them.
She moved to the vanity and stared at herself in the mirror. Her hair was much longer, reaching her lower back, but it was curlier than ever and more knotted. She took the silver hairbrush and dragged it through her hair, wincing as it pulled at her roots. She leaned in closer, realizing how red and large her eyes had become. She blinked a few times and frowned at her new appearance. She didn't feel beautiful. She looked away from the mirror quickly and looked at her bed from her seat. It was too large for her small frail body, and she couldn't help but feel even more lonely at night when she slept alone there. She pointed her wand at the pillows and whispered, "Avifors." The pillows turned into silver birds that resembled patronuses, chirping and flying through the sheer canopy and flying around the room. Her lips trembled as she watched the beautiful sight. The birds eventually disappeared, shimmering and fading into clusters of silver sparks that flew up to the ceiling.
