bacchusnovels Chapter 371 Hermione's Day
Chapter 371 Hermione's Day
Chapter 371 Hermione's Day
If I don't have a fever, then I must be out of my mind.
Hermione questioned herself countless times in her mind: How could I have agreed to Daphne's absurd suggestion?
She spent the whole day wearing that revealing dress and a long robe to cover herself.
Even though she appears normal on the outside, her heart is like sitting on a powder keg about to explode. This sentence perfectly describes Hermione's inner state.
She was on tenterhooks at the slightest disturbance, fearing that someone would discover her "special" attire.
During the first Potions class in the morning, Hermione tried her best to look no different from usual.
She sat upright, her quill constantly recording Snape's lectures.
Yes, Hermione hoped to use this focus to mask, or rather distract herself from, her inner tension.
However, the presence of that form-fitting dress prevented her from fully relaxing.
Its shoulder straps slid subtly, as if they might peek out from the collar of the robe at any moment.
Hermione instinctively tugged at the collar of her robe, wanting to cover her shoulders, but was afraid that the movement would attract attention.
When Professor Snape's sharp eyes swept across the classroom, she didn't even dare to meet his gaze, fearing that he would see through her with his usual keenness.
Neville, sitting at his desk, was clearly more uneasy than she was. His hands trembled as he poured a bottle of gentian juice too forcefully, causing the thick liquid to spill out.
A thick plume of green smoke billowed from the mixture in the crucible, and a pungent odor quickly filled the air.
Hermione was startled by the sudden turn of events and nearly dropped the quill.
"Longbottom!" Snape's roar instantly shattered the silence in the classroom.
He strode over, his black robe billowing in the air, his expression so cold it could instantly cool down a boiling cauldron.
As Snape approached, Hermione's heart suddenly raced.
She bit her lower lip nervously, her body almost stiffening.
Although Hermione knew Snape would focus his attention on Neville, the oppressive feeling he exuded still made her involuntarily tense up when he got close.
She quietly placed her hand on the hem of the robe to make sure it covered her completely.
"Your skills are truly remarkable, Longbottom," Snape said coldly, looking down at the cowering Neville.
He waved his wand, cleaning the mixture from the cauldron, and then said in an unyielding tone, "Clean this up, then come to my office."
Neville apologized in a low voice and nodded, his face pale.
Snape glanced around the classroom again, his gaze sweeping across each student's face, hoping to find Neville a fellow student to share the punishment with.
Hermione lowered her head, pretending to look through her notes, trying to avoid eye contact with him.
Fortunately, Snape didn't say anything more and turned back to the podium.
Hermione breathed a sigh of relief, but her heart was still racing.
She glanced at her shoulder discreetly, and only after confirming that her dress didn't reveal any marks did she dare to continue listening to the lecture.
Neville's accident made Hermione nervous for the entire class, but she also discovered something: she seemed to be able to remain calm under such pressure—which gave her a little confidence.
Perhaps today won't be as bad as she imagines.
However, such self-deceptive thoughts vanished without a trace in the next class.
The second class was on the history of magic.
In contrast to the other young wizards' drowsy performances in magical history, Hermione was always able to immerse herself in Professor Binns's long history of the magical world, which greatly satisfied her curiosity about the magical world, even though Professor Binns's voice was as flat as ever.
However, today is completely different.
Hermione's attention was constantly wandering, her gaze frequently lingering on her robes as her mind wandered: Would the shoulder strap slip down? Would the fabric of the dress accidentally peek out with her movements?
Professor Binns' voice echoed in the classroom, recounting the origins of the medieval Ministry of Magic's war against trolls.
Hermione listened, but took almost nothing down.
Her quill pen hovered over the paper, pausing for longer than it actually recorded.
To make matters worse, Ron was reaching for his ink bottle when he accidentally bumped into her shoulder.
In that instant, Hermione's entire body tensed up.
The dress clung to her body, and the slight touch transmitted through the thin robe made her so nervous she could barely breathe.
"Hermione, what's wrong with you today?" Ron asked in a low voice, his brow furrowed. "You look strange."
Hermione quickly pulled her robes tighter, pressing down on her shoulders, pretending to focus on her notes. "It's nothing," she forced a smile and replied softly, "just—a little tired."
Ron clearly didn't believe her. He looked at her suspiciously, his lips moving as if he wanted to ask something else.
But Hermione lowered her head, stared intently at the notebook, and pretended to write seriously, successfully dispelling his doubts.
However, she knew herself that she hadn't written anything useful.
The quill pen in his hand mechanically drew meaningless symbols on the paper to mask his unease.
Her thoughts were in complete disarray, and her heart was pounding so hard it felt like it would burst out of her chest.
When the bell finally rang, Hermione breathed a sigh of relief as she packed up her books and quickly put them into her schoolbag.
Ron watched her hurried departure and whispered to Harry with a puzzled look, "What's wrong with her today? She didn't even pay attention in Professor Binns' class. This isn't like her at all."
Then he started muttering things like how the world was going to the dogs and that Hogwarts' education needed reform.
If even Hermione is starting to find Professor Binns's classes boring, then... is there any point in having this class at all?
Hermione strode out of the classroom, her robes fluttering slightly behind her.
She took a deep breath and tried to calm herself down.
The day was far from over, and at this moment, she finally saw reality clearly, her mindset shifting from "today won't be as bad as she imagined" to "the hardest part is yet to come."
At lunchtime, Hermione sat in the corner of the Gryffindor table, head down, poking at the pumpkin pie on her plate with her fork, trying to appear natural.
However, she always felt that countless eyes were on her, making her feel extremely uncomfortable.
Lavender and Parvati, who were standing next to her, seemed unusually lively today, chatting enthusiastically, but Hermione couldn't join in.
Her ears caught their occasional laughter and whispers, and each time the laughter broke the silence, she couldn't help but worry: Had they discovered something? Were they talking about her? Would Lavender tell Parvati what had happened in the dormitory that morning?
Lala Wend suddenly glanced in her direction, her eyes seemingly filled with a hint of inquiry.
She turned her head and whispered something to Parvati, and then the two of them turned to look at Hermione.
Although that gaze wasn't exactly piercing, it was enough to make Hermione's heart leap into her throat.
"Hermione, what's wrong with you today?" Lavender suddenly asked, her tone light, but with a hint of curiosity in her eyes. "You don't usually eat this little."
"Yes," Parvati chimed in, "you didn't even touch your favorite honey lemon tea. You look preoccupied today."
Hermione hurriedly shook her head, trying to appear calm, and said, "It's nothing, I'm just a little tired. I've been quite busy lately."
Lavender blinked, seemingly dissatisfied with the perfunctory answer, his gaze involuntarily sweeping over her robes. "Are you really alright? You seem unusually nervous today?"
Hermione's heart skipped a beat, and she quickly lowered her head, pretending to be busy packing her bag to avoid eye contact: "It's really nothing, I just have too much homework lately."
After saying that, she took a couple of bites of pumpkin pie and hurriedly stood up: "I have some things to prepare, I'll be going now."
She practically fled the hall, walking much faster than usual, as if only by doing so could she shake off those scrutinizing gazes.
In fact, her classmates probably didn't notice anything unusual about her, but Hermione's mind had already magnified these details. She even felt as if she were under a spotlight, unable to breathe.
After leaving the Great Hall, Hermione leaned against the wall, took a deep breath, and tried to calm her racing heart.
She kept telling herself that it was all just her imagination—that no one really cared that she was wearing a dress today.
However, the fabric clinging to her chest and the shoulder straps that were slipping slightly made her feel uneasy.
From now on, she must be even more careful to make sure that no one discovers this unusual day.
And so, time quickly passed and it was already afternoon.
During the afternoon transformation class, sunlight streamed through the high windows onto the classroom floor, creating an extremely quiet atmosphere.
Professor McGonagall stood at the front of the class and announced in her usual serious tone: "Today's exercise is to transform a teapot into a kitten. Observe the details carefully and ensure that the transformed object is lifelike—the fur, ears, and even the movement of the tail need to be realistic and believable. Remember, half-finished products are unacceptable."
Hermione is very skilled at Transfiguration.
In Professor McGonagall's true feelings, Miss Granger is the most talented Transfiguration student in this cohort, without a doubt.
Hermione is also very adept at this kind of Transfiguration that requires micromanagement and precision.
But today, her thoughts seemed to be pulled by invisible threads, making it impossible for her to concentrate. She raised her wand and tried to cast a spell.
But his hand movements were noticeably a beat slower.
"Transfigurofelinum!" she murmured.
The teapot began to tremble, but it only changed halfway—some incomplete hairs grew on the originally smooth ceramic surface, the lid grew a cat's head, and the spout barely turned into a strange cat's tail. The whole shape looked quite comical.
Hermione frowned, secretly annoyed, blaming herself: How could such a simple Transfiguration spell almost fail?
Just as she was about to cast the spell again, Professor McGonagall suddenly appeared beside her table.
His tall figure and sharp gaze made Hermione's back stiffen instantly, and her wand almost slipped from her hand.
She forced a smile, trying to hide her unease.
"Miss Granger," Professor McGonagall said in what she considered her most gentle tone, addressing her good student Hermione, "your work usually doesn't have such mistakes. What's wrong today?"
Hermione forced herself to calm down and said in a low voice, "I'm sorry, Professor, I'm just a little tired. I've had a lot of homework lately."
Professor McGonagall nodded, her sharp gaze still sweeping over her teapot—or rather, the unfinished kitten.
Then, her gaze lingered for a moment, as if observing Hermione's clothing.
Although the robes covered her completely, Hermione still felt a pang of unease.
"Focus your attention," Professor McGonagall encouraged softly. "You are an outstanding student, and I want to see your best."
Hermione nodded hastily, but felt even more uneasy.
After Professor McGonagall turned and left, she quickly lowered her head, pretending to be focused on her practice, while discreetly tugging at the hem of her robe.
Make sure it's covered up completely.
For the next few minutes, Hermione performed the Transfiguration almost mechanically, and her teapot finally transformed into a lifelike kitten.
But her attention was never on the incantation; it was on every fold of the form-fitting dress and the feel of its close fit.
Even though Professor McGonagall never turned around, she could still feel that sharp gaze still on her.
Hermione breathed a sigh of relief when the bell rang, quickly packed up her textbooks and wand, and hurried out of the classroom.
The moment she stepped out the door, she finally felt free from that invisible tension, but she secretly vowed to herself: today's torment must be rewarded with tonight's results, otherwise she never wanted to experience another day like this.
I endured another agonizing meal at the auditorium.
The day's events left Hermione utterly exhausted. After returning to the Gryffindor Tower, she stood in front of the mirror for a long time, looking at her somewhat unfamiliar reflection.
The dress's cut accentuated her elegant figure, but its bold design still made her feel slightly uncomfortable.
She pulled the collar of her robe tighter, trying to make herself look more dignified, but the barely visible shoulder straps still slipped out from the collar from time to time, making her heart pound even harder.
She took a deep breath, stared at her reflection, and whispered to herself, "It's all for Buckbeak's case, nothing to be ashamed of. Hermione, you can do it. It's all worth it if we can get Professor Phillips' help tonight."
Despite trying to convince herself, a blush still crept onto her cheeks.
She looked completely different from her usual self in the mirror, and she even wondered if the professor would look at her differently because of this, or even question her intentions.
Hermione shook her head, forcing herself to dismiss those thoughts.
She picked up her wand, carefully tied her robe, and made sure the collar covered her completely before hurriedly putting on her schoolbag and preparing to leave.
When I stepped out of the tower, the Gryffindor common room was empty, with the fire crackling softly and casting a dim, yellowish glow over the entire room.
Hermione gently pulled open the portrait hole and stepped onto the path leading to the professor's office.
The Hogwarts corridors were deserted at night, with only the sound of her footsteps echoing on the stone floor.
Each sound of the floor hitting the ground felt like a blow to her heart, intensifying her tension.
Her hand unconsciously tightened around the hem of her robe. Although she knew there was no one in the corridor, she felt that the people in the portraits on the wall were watching her, judging her clothes and behavior with a meaningful gaze.
"It's just an illusion."
Hermione murmured to herself, trying to calm herself down.
When she finally stood at the door of Professor Phillips' office, Hermione's heart was pounding in her throat.
A dim lantern hung by the door, its faint light reflecting off the door panel. Daphne, leaning against the wall, looked as if she had been waiting for her for a long time.
She beckoned Hermione to come and knock on the door.
"Take a deep breath, Hermione, this is just a conversation," she whispered to herself. "You're ready for anything."
She clenched her fist and gently knocked on the door with her knuckles; the knocking sounded exceptionally clear in the quiet corridor.
A moment later, a familiar, deep voice came from inside: "Please come in."
Hermione gently pushed open the door and went inside. In an instant, she was enveloped in warm light from behind the door.
Perhaps she didn't know that tonight's experience was destined to be extraordinary for her.