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Chapter 23, p.498
"Well, to tell you the truth, skiing's not really my thing," said Hermione. "So I've come for Christmas." There was snow in her hair and her face was pink and cold. "But don't tell Ron that, I told him it's really good because he kept laughing so much. Anyway, Mum and Dad are a bit disappointed, but I've told them that everyone who's serious about the exams is staying at Hogwarts to study. They want me to do well, they'll understand.

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Chapter 23, p.500
"One day," said Hermione, sounding thoroughly exasperated, "you'll read Hogwarts, A History, and perhaps that will remind you that you can't Apparate or Disapparate inside Hogwarts. Even Voldemort couldn't just make you fly out of your dormitory, Harry."

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Chapter 23, p.503
They got up and dressed; they could hear various inhabitants of the house calling "Merry Christmas" to each other. On their way downstairs they met Hermione. "Thanks for the book, Harry!" she said happily. "I've been wanting that New Theory of Numerology for ages! And that perfume is really unusual, Ron."
"No problem," said Ron. "Who's that for anyway?" he added, nodding at the neatly wrapped present she was carrying.
"Kreacher," said Hermione brightly.
"It had better not be clothes!" said Ron warningly. "You know what Sirius said, Kreacher knows too much, we can't set him free!"
"It isn't clothes,' said Hermione, "although if I had my way I'd certainly give him something to wear other than that filthy old rag. No, it's a patchwork quilt, I thought it would brighten up his bedroom."
"What bedroom?" said Harry, dropping his voice to a whisper as they were passing the portrait of Sirius's mother.
"Well, Sirius say it's not so much a bedroom, more a kind of - den," said Hermione. "Apparently he sleeps under the boiler in that cupboard off he kitchen."

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Chapter 23, p.509
"Oh my goodness," said Hermione suddenly, sounding breathless. "Professor Lockhart!"
Their ex-Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher pushed open the doors and moved toward them, wearing a long lilac dressing gown.
"Well, hello there" he said. "I expect you'd like my autograph, would you?"

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Chapter 25, p.554-555
"Maybe..." said Ron slowly.
"Maybe what?" said Hermione rather snappishly.
"Maybe it's not Harry's fault he can't close his mind," said Ron darkly.
"What do you mean?" said Hermione.
"Well, maybe Snape isn't really trying to help Harry...."
Harry and Hermione stared at him. Ron looked darkly and meaningfully from one to the other.
"Maybe," he said again in a lower voice, "he's actually trying to open Harry's mind a bit wider... make it easier for You-Know -"
"Shut up, Ron," said Hermione angrily. "How many times have you suspected Snape, and when have you ever been right? Dumbledore trusts him, he works for the Order, that ought to be enough."
"He used to be a Death Eater," said Ron stubbornly. "And we've never seen proof that he really swapped sides...."
"Dumbledore trusts him," Hermione repeated. "And if we can't trust Dumbledore, we can't trust anyone."

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Chapter 25, p.564-565
"Harry! Harry, over here!"
Hermione was waving at him from the other side of the room. He got up and made his way toward her through the crowded pub. He was still a few tables away when he realized that Hermione was not alone; she was sitting at a table with the unlikeliest pair of drinking mates he would ever have imagined: Luna Lovegood and none other than Rita Skeeter, ex-journalist on the Daily Prophet and one of Hermione's least favorite people in the world.
"You're early!" said Hermione, moving along to give him room to sit down. "I though you were with Cho, I wasn't expecting you for another hour at least!"
"Cho?" said Rita at once, twisting around in her seat to stare avidly at Harry. "A girl?"
She snatched up her crocodile-skin handbag and groped within it.
"It's none of your business if Harry's been with a hundred girls," Hermione told Rita coolly. "So you can put that away right now."
Rita had been on the point of withdrawing an acid-green quill from her bag. Looking as though she had been forced to swallow Stinksap, she snapped her bag shut agin.
"What are you up to?" Harry asked, sitting down and staring from Rita to Luna to Hermione.
"Little Miss Perfect was just about to tell me when you arrived," said Rita, taking a large slurp of her drink. "I suppose I'm allowed to talk to him, am I?" she shot at Hermione.
"Yes, I suppose you are," said Hermione coldly.
Unemployment did not suit Rita. The hair that had once been set in elaborate curls now hung lank and unkempt around her face. the scarlet paint other two-inch talons was chipped and there were a couple of false jewels missing from her winged glasses. She took another great gulp of her drink and said out of the corner of her mouth, "Pretty girl, is she, Harry?"
"One more word about Harry's love life and the deals's off and that's a promise," said Hermione irritably.
"What deal?" said Rita, wiping her mouth on the back of her hand. "You haven't mentioned a deal yet, Miss Prissy, you just told me to turn up. Oh, one of these days..." She took a deep shuddering breath.
"Yes, yes, one of these days you'll write more horrible stories about Harry and me," said Hermione indifferently. "Find someone who cares, why don't you?"

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