She rolls her eyes at that. An exceptional individual - exceptionally smart, or exceptionally annoying, or maybe if generous exceptionally talented with magic.

It's absolutely foolish, to be sharing a hot spring with Wrathion and suddenly feel overwhelmed by the need to be thought of as beautiful, for once. Not exceptional. Not cor, Hermione, you're a girl. Not even decently pretty. It's foolish, and petty, and maybe if she hadn't seen Wrathion's entire chest she might have felt less self-conscious about how awfully gangly she is. Small, but gangly.

"Right, right - and I appreciate that, but there's...look, you're just awfully fit and it's very difficult to not be looking," she defends herself, weakly.