Yes, though it is uncomfortable.

Hermione grabbed the dressing gown from its hook, shaking it out before slipping her arms through the sleeves. The fabric clung to her damp skin immediately, the sensation uncomfortable and irritating. She grimaced, tugging at the material in an attempt to loosen it, but it was no use. It stuck stubbornly, the dampness making it feel heavier than usual.

"Brilliant," she muttered under her breath, rolling her shoulders as a shiver crept down her spine.

She cinched the belt tightly around her waist, but even that felt wrong—the wet fabric bunched oddly, pressing against her skin in places it normally wouldn’t. She exhaled sharply, rubbing her hands briskly over her arms, hoping to generate some warmth.

"This is ridiculous," she whispered, shaking her head.

Resigning herself to the discomfort, she turned toward the door, grasping the handle, and eased it open. The hallway was as silent as before, the dim light barely illuminating the aged wooden floorboards. She hesitated just long enough to listen for any sign of movement—nothing. Good.

She stepped out, and just as the door swung shut behind her, an itch flared up on her shoulder, right where the damp fabric clung the most.

"Ugh," she sighed under her breath, reaching up to scratch the spot. She dug her fingers into the fabric, shifting it slightly in an attempt to relieve the irritation. It wasn’t enough. Biting her lip, she used her nails, pressing just a little harder—

The door clicked shut behind her.

She turned her head slightly, watching as it settled into place. It wasn’t locked—she could go back in if she wanted—but there was no reason to. The towels weren’t inside, and she wasn’t about to stand around shivering for nothing.

With a quiet sigh, she turned back toward the hallway and took a step—

Only to feel something tug at her.

She frowned, trying again, but there was resistance. A pull at her back, faint but firm.

She froze.