            Once her fingers and toes had grown numb enough to consider a warming charm, Hermione hauled herself inside. The house’s heat flooded her, the spiced scents of Christmas still heavy in the air. All was quiet as she crept up the staircase. Everyone had fallen into their assigned rooms. Only Sirius’s had been left untouched after Hermione told Molly that Harry preferred no one stay there. It was a lie, of course. But neither Molly nor Harry were none the wiser. Hermione longed to fall into Sirius’s bed, but her wits begged her to keep climbing to her own room. If she was found crawling out of Sirius’s bed in the morning, if Ron found out, she’d have to come up with an excuse that didn’t make her seem mad.