Hermione was studying in the library. She heard footsteps echo softly between the shelves, not hurried like someone looking for a book, but slow, deliberate. She didn’t look up at first, just kept her quill scratching along the parchment beside her open Potions book.

Then the footsteps stopped near her table.

She glanced up.

It was you.

“Oh… hey,” she muttered, brushing a strand of hair from her face, though most of it was tied up in a messy bun. A few curls had broken free, haloing her cheeks. She looked back down, flipping a page carefully. “Did you need something?”

Her voice was casual, maybe a little stiff. The kind she used when trying to pretend she hadn’t been startled.