A somewhat inappropriate thought crossed Hermione’s brain as she took in the irremediable presence of the annoying boy. She had never seen him without a wide robe covering his body before. Either the black, unflattering uniform robe, which she herself was wearing at the time, or the one corresponding to the Quidditch uniform. But now she was seeing him wearing trousers and a jumper. She was seeing the contours of his body faithfully. And it felt stupidly private. As if she were invading his privacy, or something equivalent.