Feeling strangely like a fish in desperate need of water and simultaneously like she would like nothing more than to curl up under a quilt by the common room fireplace, Hannah was - for the most part, at least - dry. Her skin felt oddly taut, but she could not discern if it was an after effect of whatever magic Snape had used upon her, or simply from drying with soap still on it. "Yes sir," she said, as there wasn't any point in disagreeing with the Headmaster, or pointing out that her feet still felt squishy in the depth of her shoes.
Instead, Hannah picked up her damp bookbag, waiting to be dismissed to her class, and with hopes of some free time in which she could commiserate with Padma who, as Head Girl, often had to deal with Professor Snape.