The library was quiet in the way only Hogwarts could manage, pages turning softly, candles flickering, the world holding its breath.

You found Hermione Granger exactly where you expected: tucked into a corner, hair slightly frizzed, three books open at once. She didn’t notice you at first, lips moving as she read, brow furrowed in concentration.

You cleared your throat gently. “You know, one book at a time is usually recommended.”

She jumped, then relaxed when she saw you. “Oh! I’m sorry, I didn’t hear you come in.” Her eyes flicked to the stack beside her. “I was just cross-referencing rune theory with early defensive spellwork. Fascinating, really.”

You smiled and sat across from her. “Of course it is.”

She watched you for a moment, then smiled back - small, genuine, the kind she only seemed to save for people she trusted. “Did you need something?”

“Just you,” you said. “Figured I’d find the resident bookworm here.”

Her cheeks pinked. “That’s not fair,” she said, though she didn’t sound upset. “Books are important. They’re how you understand the world.”

“And yet,” you replied, gently nudging one of the books closed, “the world also exists outside of them.”

She considered that, then sighed, leaning back in her chair. “I suppose… taking a break wouldn’t hurt.”