The day was bright and hot, but humid. Thick, dark clouds hovered in the horizon, drawing near. The gardens were fragrant, lush, plants hanging heavy with their flora. Hermione wiped at sweat running down the back of her neck. She'd arranged her hair all up so that none of it hung down—she could feel the effect of the humidity whenever she touched her hair. It had frizzed and turned into a tangled mess. She couldn't stop reaching up to touch it. Strange, but it was comforting, somehow.