Normally, she would make the bed and then try to read for much the rest of the day, but today Hermione can't be bothered putting in the effort. It's always hard not to just succumb to daydreams, but today is worse. Today she both cannot wait for the time to pass so she can go, and is dreading it more than nearly anything. She feels restless and caged, and seething under her skin with an impatient kind of anger; if only Malfoy would come with her. It was him that left her feeling torn and worried, when she should be frantic with nothing but excitement. Hermione finds herself hating both the Order, and him – resentment burning like a coal in her chest as, dressed, she tosses her wet towel in the hamper.