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Alba saluted the girl, grinning,” Aye Aye Cap’n.” She said mockingly, bringing all the dirty dishes to the sink. Tying her arm back she looked toward the younger student, so forthright and bossy for someone so young. She didn’t ever quite remember mimicking such behavior at that age. “Oh, I don’t have long to go anyway. I mean, the Hufflepuff commons is right by the kitchens, it’s you who should be worry about detours. What are you —-?” Alba squinted to read the emblem on her cloak. 

“A Gryffindor is it?” She asked lightly, smiling a bit. “Gryffindor dormitories are quite a ways from here . .  perhaps I could walk you once the brownies are finished? Then if we’re caught you could blame the whole excursion on me.”

“You’re welcome,” She said, picking up the other spatula and licking it herself. There was something inherently muggle about the girl, the way she all too quickly accepted Alba’s method of cooking and never once questioned why she wasn’t using magic for the job. 

“Say, what’s your name anyway?”

         The smaller witch nodded her head at the question; quite confident in her house and happily content with the sorting hat’s decision. “Yes, I am in Gryffindor. First, I thought to be in Ravenclaw, but deep down, I know that I would have enjoyed to be in Gryffindor. No offense, but it does seem like the best house to me.”

   After she had finished licking the spoon, she moved over to the sink and set it aside for it to be washed, completely overlooking the fact that the girl turned to the muggle way of doing things. Perhaps it’s because she was completely used to it, having grown up with muggle parents. “Right, I completely forgot. I’m Hermione Granger. And you are?”