He has chosen such a chill friend to unwind with, all in all. Because Hermione does not stiffen at the sound from nearby, darting a glance down to make sure she's properly covered where she feels necessary to be covered. She's definitely not also looking over her shoulder with dread, following the footsteps, because she wants to make sure it's neither a ghost nor one of the worldly patrons that have her teeth on edge.

So she spots Wrathion, decked in some posh robe that's barely fastened enough to keep him warm against the chill in the air.

Right. She's just over here, vibing, clearly.

"Aha - and?" Please by all means continue that train of thought, and do not take your bathrobe off.