Smudged Mascara // Hermione Granger

Who's that?

 The door to the small train compartment slams open as three teenagers not so carefully slip inside the cold, silent compartment. Their eyes look over who's inside. They find a man in Shabby brown robes slumped against the window, asleep. He looks ill, exhausted. The three teenagers eye him warily as they slowly take the seats in front of him, not noticing the other body in the room.

 "Who d'you reckon he is?" The ginger boy whispers, his blue eyes flicking between the two other people in confusion and curiosity. A pair of cloudy grey eyes inspecting the trio, especially the only girl in the group. The unnoticed figure watches as the brunette inspects the case above the sleeping man, a spark appearing in her eye as she reads the name on the case, her lips parting as she goes to answer the ginger boy's question. 

"Professor R.J. Lupin," She says with a little smirk as the ginger boy looks at her in utter disbelief like she has just answered a question that he has been thinking about his entire life. his eyes flickering around like he was searching the air for the answer to how she knew that.

 "You know everything." He groans, seemingly upset by this realisation "How is it she knows everything?" 

The brunette snaps him a dirty glare as she answers his rhetorical question, her pale fingers pointing up to a battered case "It's on his case", three eyes pairs look up above the sleeping man's head, taking in the fact that indeed, on his case, stamped in peeling letters  'Professor R.J. Lupin'. "Is he really asleep?" The dark-haired boy questioned, his bluey-green eyes glued to the Professor slumped in the chair. "Seems to be why what is it, Harry?" The brown-eyed girl questioned as she exchanged a curious glance with the redhead boy next to her.

Grey locks with brown as the eyes of the only two girls in the compartment meet

a look of shock and confusion waves over the brown-eyed girl as she finally notices the silent girl tucked in the corner of the compartment, a warm smile on her lips as she goes to introduce herself. "Hi I'm Hermione Granger" she says, confusing the two boys.

"Hermione who are you intr-" The ginger boy's question gets cut short as he finally notices the platinum blonde girl sitting in the compartment. "Who's that?" He questions, causing Hermione to smack the back of his head. "ow! What was that for?" He grumbles, rubbing his ginger locks as he death glares the smiling girl. "Sorry for his rudeness, that's Ron Weasley," She says pointing at the ginger boy "And that's-" Her sentence going quiet as the dark-haired boy finally speaks up "I'm Harry Potter," He says, inspecting the pale girl the group just gets a lost stare back, one that they will become very familiar with as the year passes by. 

"And you are?" Harry questions, staring straight into the cloudy lost eyes, almost like he was in a trance. His blue-green eyes swirling with questions and answers he can't have. The trio received no answer instead the lost stare they were given just moments before. "Oh okay then" Harry mumbles, his head filled with warnings but his heart filled with confusion, the girl didn't seem dangerous but those eyes, if looks could kill they'd all be dead in an instant. 

Hermione's eyes were glued to the girl in front of them, there was something about the girl that made Hermione drawn to her like two magnets connecting. but she couldn't pinpoint what. but Hermione inspected every inch of the girl, from her platinum blonde hair to the dead look on her face to the jagged white scars on her wrists which lay perfectly to Hermione's eye line. There was a sense of discomfort that followed the girl every place she went, but to Hermione, this sense ceased to exist, instead of a sign of danger that everyone picked up, Hermione picked up her as a puzzle waiting to be solved, a mystery in fact, Hermione Granger wanted to crack the code of the girl in front of them and figure out what lay beneath those cold, cloudy grey eyes. 

Hermione's warm brown eyes look up at the case compartment that lay neatly above their heads, battered with time but yet people still used them with no worry that it might fall on their heads with the amount of weight people pile onto them every school year without fail for years and years. Next to the battered case belonging to Professor R.J. Lupin, is a neat, black briefcase, unlike Lupins or anyone else's case, the black briefcase had no writing on it, just a tag tied to the handle, which in neat, cursive writing had 'Be careful what you wish for'  scrolled on the tag.