She didn’t want to lift her head out of the nest of blanket and hair it was buried under, and she strained to identify the other person’s muffled tones through the layers. Soft, high-pitched; a feminine voice. Not Ron or Harry then. Thank god for small favours. Hermione chanced very slowly and quietly inching her head up out of the blankets, while still pretending to be asleep. She had this insane, childish idea that if she pretended to be asleep then this wouldn’t have happened. Wouldn’t count. Like how a toddler covered their eyes and thought no one could see them, because they couldn’t see. Stupid, and illogical, but... Hermione stilled her inner babble and listened.