Hermione woke from a long sleep dream

Hermione woke from a long, heated dream, flashes of being handled, passed from man to man through a crowd of faceless bodies, every inch of her being caressed gently, with hot, velvet fingertips. Her pulse throbbing in her veins she threw off the covers and sat up, panting, shocked to find a chill blast as her fifteen-year old sweat covered body was pelted with the icy night air.

"Where is my dressing gown" she thought to herself, pulling the sheets up to cover herself, but in the dark she could see only the dim outline of the window. Collecting her senses she recalled that she was alone in a spare dormitory in the Hogwarts dungeon.

Neville Longbottom had mis-aimed a spell he had been practicing in the Gryffindor common room and the Canary cream he had been trying to dispel had swollen to gargantuan heights. It was not a problem for Professor McGonnegal to disintegrate the great rolling masses of enchanted cream that kept covering students with yellow feathers at the slightest

contact, but cleaning the common room from the mounds of custard that filled half of the Gryffindor dormitories would take several days, even with magic. Hermione grimaced at the thought of the house-elves being to labor at the task "Neville should have to clean it up by himself." She pushed open her curtain, revealing the "window" she had

remembered half-asleep-which was merely a painting of a lake view from one of the high towers, the moon shining fully over the sparkling water, a cool breeze flowing from the magical waters. She shivered, remembering that she had let the fire go out, insisting that no house elves be made to labor on her part.