A knock at the door broke her out of her thoughts. Grateful for a respite from the increasingly morose and fatalistic imaginings, she was also annoyed. Who would dare to disturb her in her privacy? She'd already opened the door a short time earlier to accept the tray of breakfast from one of the useless barmaids. When she allowed the chit to levitate the tray onto the small table next to her chair, Hermione slammed the door in her face with explicit instructions that she be left alone for the rest of the day. She found the positive attitudes of the young witches that would flit in and out of her room to make her bed and tidy up grating. Did they not understand that soon their looks would fade and they would be faced with the true ugliness of humanity?