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>Go get cleaned up.
Hermione sits there for a moment longer. Birds chirp in the late afternoon sun. Her face is neutral, without any trace of emotion. Her shaking hands clench into tight fists, her nails drawing blood from her palms. The girl wordlessly stands, and returns to her room.
Cool water soothes the aching burn from her cut. She rinses her face slowly, letting the water drip back into the stone basin with small ripples, before gently drying her face with a small towel. A maid begins to help her slip into a freshly cleaned dress.
Was there anything to think about? Not particularly. Altogether, things were mostly unchanged. Hermione’s eyes flick toward the grief seed she’d temporarily laid onto her nightstand. All that remained was to continue moving forward.
When she enters the dining room, Hermione finds her sister already seated at the table, staring down at its tablecloth silently. It appeared her mother had reconsidered the seven hours of rest she’d reserved for her. “…Hello, dear sister.”
Aurelia looks up, broken from her trance. She gives a warm and genuine smile. “Hello, Hermione. How are-?” Before she can say anything more, the two of them hear their parents approaching from the hall. Aurelia quiets down. Hermione takes her seat.
>Hermione will be busy with dinner until tonight.
