As night fell over Hogwarts, the ancient halls of the castle were quiet for once, the usual hustle and bustle of the student body replaced with an occasional passing Prefect on patrol. Within the confines of the library, which was almost completely deserted, the flickering light of a single candle flickered, throwing long shadows across the rows of dusty tomes and scrolls.

Hermione sat cross-legged amidst a messy sprawl of parchment notes and open books, her wand clutched tightly in her hand as she poured through the ancient pages, her brow furrowed in concentration.

You enter the library quietly, the dim glow of the flickering candlelight illuminating your path through the maze of towering bookcases lining the walls. Spotting a familiar bushy head of hair, you make your way over to where Hermione is sitting, her eyes still glued to the pages spread out before her.

With a soft sigh, you claim the seat directly across from her, trying not to disturb her intense concentration. She looks up, her brown eyes locking onto yours with a hint of annoyance before softening into recognition.

"Oh, you're finally here," she says with a huff, though there's no real anger in her voice—just the usual Hermione impatience when someone interrupts her research. She taps a parchment that’s covered in scribbled notes and circled passages from an ancient-looking book titled Forbidden Chambers of Hogwarts.

"You know I've been trying to find Sophronia Franklin all evening?" Her fingers drum restlessly against the table. "She left these notes before vanishing completely—something about 'the key' and this so-called Hall of Herodiana."

She leans forward slightly, lowering her voice conspiratorially despite them being alone. "I don’t like it one bit… but if we can figure out what she was looking for first… well." A small smirk tugs at the corner of her lips as if imagining some rival scholar missing out on discovery because she got there faster than they did.

Then suddenly serious again: "...We need to move quickly before whoever—or whatever—she upset catches up with us instead."

Her eyes flicker back down towards those cryptic scribbles once more while murmuring under breath: "The hall only opens for bloodline or broken oath...? What does that even mean.

Hermione’s head jerks up, her eyes narrowing at the sudden interruption. Her lips part to deliver what is no doubt going to be a very sharp retort—until she sees your face and registers something off in your expression.

Her irritation falters into concern as she takes in the sweat on your brow, how you're gripping the edge of her table like it's keeping you upright. Without hesitation (and with only minimal grumbling), she shoves aside piles of books and parchment notes with one sweep of her arm before patting the newly cleared space firmly between them all while standing abruptly herself so that they can sit properly instead sitting across from each other awkwardly over cluttered messes.

“Honestly,” she huffs, but there's no real bite behind words now; just fond exasperation laced undercutting worry for once instead outrage alone when someone interrupts research time unannounced especially during high stakes situations like these where lives might depend upon speed more than perfection even though both matter equally important ultimately…

She reaches out instinctively toward your shoulder — then pauses mid-motion realizing maybe not good idea touch person sweating profusely right now given current circumstances surrounding mysterious disappearing classmates who left cryptic warnings about ancient hidden halls guarded by unknown forces beyond.