He blinked, taking in her state of dishevelment. Her hair was still slightly tousled from her nap in the study, and her jeans and sweater were rumpled. He checked the time on his pocket watch and noted it in the journal before turning the heat of the flame lower and gesturing for Hermione to lead the way up the stairs. Despite her own dishevelled appearance, she had managed to put together a fairly decent meal consisting of fettuccini with white sauce, salad, and herb bread on the side. She had even set the table with a cloth he had not been aware of owning with matching silverware and ceramic plates.