"Good," Susan whispered across their beds, even though it was patently obvious that neither of the girls was actually consoled by Hannah's assertion, no matter how much they both would have liked for it to be true. She tried again to focus on the pages of her book, but for as many times as her eyes slid over the words of the opening paragraph on Humus Tripudio, the knowledge of how to make a whole group of things dance as one simply wasn't absorbing itself into her brain.
She folded the corner of the page in on itself - terribly bad habit, Suzy, her father would have said - and set the book on her bed, getting up to go sit on Hannah's. Girls' dormitories weren't exactly a bastion of privacy, but hushed conversations usually didn't travel through the heavy velvet bed hangings and into sleeping roommates ears - if Sloan and Megan were sleeping, at least.
One of the fireplaces gave a pop and crackle as its logs shifted, and Susan tried not to look as though it had startled her. Even if something had gone wrong, it wasn't likely that the Carrows would come bursting into the sanctuary of their bedroom, searching for co-conspirators who were up late, whispering.
"I know the Weasley twins are smart - even if they liked to pretend otherwise," Susan said softly, toying with the hem of her pajama trousers, "but if our mail is being searched, then how do we know that what they've sent Ginny wasn't tampered with, and the Carrows turned it into a trap?"