The Book Nook

THE BOOK NOOK; Chapter 1, The Stranger.

'How much work do you have left to do, Hermione?' Ron asked. He was sitting on a cushion nearby, playing wizard's chess with Harry. Hermione suspected that Ron was about to ask if she could join Harry's team; he was losing badly.

'A lot. Why?' Hermione answered.

'Wondering if you could give Harry a hand here,' said Ron, gesturing to the chessboard. It was rather a bad sight, twelve pieces to five. Still, Harry did have a chance. 'I'd like a challenge.'

'Switch places then,' Hermione sniffed, looking at the chess pieces Harry had left. She didn't know why she was in such a tetchy mood; perhaps it had something to do with stress and all the homework she had to finish before tomorrow. She ignored Ron, and turned back to her Arithmancy problems.

Ron must have guessed Hermione was in a bad mood, and no longer bothered her. He didn't take her advice either though, and the chess match soon ended. Harry went up to his dormitory, saying he needed to get something.

'Want to play Exploding Snap, Hermione?'

'No. I said, I have work to do, okay?' answered Hermione, not bothering to look up. She was bent over her Arithmancy textbook, eyes squinting at the small print. She turned the page, only to be greeted by a page full of symbols she didn't understand. After a brief look at the summary, she gripped her quill, and slowly, painstakingly began to write her report.

'How bout Gobstones?' Ron was persistent.

'What part of "I have work to do" don't you understand?' Hermione said testily. Would he care to leave her alone, for a few minutes? Was it too much to ask?

'C'mon, you can do that later,' Ron said. He tugged at her piece of parchment.

'Ron! Don't do that.' She tugged back. This only made Ron tug harder.

'Ron, let go.' Hermione said through gritted teeth. The two engaged in a battle of wills. Both refused to let go, and both pulled harder. Hermione half-thought about hitting Ron over the head with her textbook, but the only book in sight was an age-old library book, already falling apart at the seams. Madam Pince would have a fit if she damaged it.

Crookshanks chose this moment to make his entrance. He slinked, bow-legged, down the dormitory stairs.

The lump in Ron's pocket quivered.

Crookshanks stared.

Then without warning, leapt for Ron's throat. Ron yelped, and jumped out of his chair. The parchment tore, sending Hermione flying backwards. Her hand caught the inkbottle, which tipped over and spilt and started to spread all over the table.

'Oh, what did I do to deserve this?' she cried, exasperated. She grabbed everything that the ink hadn't reached yet, and piled it all high on her chair. Her Arithmancy chart was beyond repair though. Hermione held up the two pieces of parchment and looked at it sadly before hurling it into the fire.

'Er…a little help here would be appreciated,' Ron said sarcastically. He was on the floor, trying to reach Scabbers under a chest of drawers and at the same time, trying to push Crookshanks away, who was spitting and hissing like mad.

'Wait your turn,' Hermione answered crossly. Luckily, the ink was thick and hadn't spread that far. A sofa cover managed to get most of it off, but the table was still stained blue.

'Hermione, get your mad cat out of here!' Ron roared, trying to grab Crookshanks by the tail.

'Alright, alright,' Hermione muttered, and stalked over to where Ron was twisting around on the floor. She bent over, grabbed Crookshanks round the middle and hauled him off to her dormitory, where she shut him in.

'Look at what your cat did to me,' Ron said angrily when Hermione returned. He held out his arm. Hermione could see lots of little scratches, but nothing too deep or distressing.

'They're just scratches,' she said. 'Go to Madam Pomfrey if you're so worried.'

'That cat could have eaten Scabbers!' Ron said, furious. 'Why don't you make sure your door's properly shut, next time?'

Hermione would never have usually made such a big deal out of a such a small incident, but something in Ron's tone made her react. He sounded so livid, it was stupid but Hermione was beginning to think Scabbers meant more to him than she did.

'I can't shut Crookshanks in like that! It's not healthy for him!' She yelled back. She strode over to her table, where the remains of her work lay. She gathered up her things and shoved them in a bag.

'It's not healthy for Scabbers either!' Ron retorted. 'Look how thin he is!' He dangled Scabbers in front of Hermione's nose. She pushed Ron's rat away without looking at it, hoisted the bag over her shoulder and made for the portrait hole. There was no way she could work here, it was just way too distracting.

'Hey, where are you going?' Ron yelled when he saw she was climbing through the portrait hole.

'To the library!' Hermione yelled back. When she heard Ron snort, she added, 'Least it's not full of idiots who won't let people work in peace!'

By the time Ron retorted, Hermione was already halfway down the corridor. In her mad dash, she hadn't even realised she was going in the wrong direction. The library was the other way.

Abruptly doing a half-turn, Hermione stalked back towards the Gryffindor Common Room. Honestly, Ron could be so damn stubborn sometimes. What was it with that rat? She had tried, really, to shut Crookshanks whenever possible, but she couldn't help it if Parvati or Lavender liked having the door open.

The sight of the library calmed Hermione down slightly. She was still pretty miffed, but now there was no chance of her saying something she would regret later. She reminded herself that she had plenty of work to do, and to shut all thoughts of Ron and Scabbers out.

Madam Pince gave her a half nod when Hermione walked in. This was about as close to a smile as she was going to get. Madam Pince never smiled. Her jaw wouldn't allow it. A half nod meant that she approved of you.

The library gave off a vibe of its own. All the polished wood, rows among rows of bounded print, the low-hanging candles emitting only enough light to read by, everything seemed to have life.

Hermione felt the familiar tug of the shelves calling her. For once, she ignored it. There wasn't time to get more books, she had all the materials she needed. She headed for the deserted corner she always worked at.

During her first year, by chance, Hermione had stumbled upon a worktable hidden by a tall stack of shelves. It was perfect, right in the middle of the reference section. The dust covered table and chairs had indicated that no one had visited this place in a long time. Not even Madam Pince, otherwise it would have been polished until you could see your reflection in it. Madam Pince despised dust.

Hermione wouldn't have believed that no one had ever worked there. The place was almost perfect. Comfy chairs, books within easy reach, quiet atmosphere. Sitting down however, she could see why. The thick stacks of obscure reference books hid the entrance from view. It was the only place out of Madam Pince's direct gaze, which Hermione found was a benefit. Also, not a sound drifted in from the centre of the library, where most students usually worked. She herself would have never found it, had not she gone snooping around for "A Selective Encyclopedia of Charms for the Creative Artist".

Once she did find it however, she always came back to it. Madam Pince often wondered how Hermione would come in, then practically disappear for a few hours.

Today, however, Hermione was annoyed to see that she would not be alone. Drawing closer among the bookcases, she discovered that someone else had found her spot. An unfamiliar male sat, back to her, hunched over a pad of parchment. Hermione could hear the scratching noise made by the quill as it scribbled quickly across the page.

The logical part of Hermione's brain reasoned that the place technically wasn't hers, and that this boy was as much entitled to it as she was. The other part said that he was intruding on her own private territory, and that she should do something about it. Like throw him out, for instance.

Hermione was curious. The shelves round here were all filled with advanced magic books. Long, arduous biographies of great wizards and witches from the past, enclycopedias of magical theory, tricky spellbooks just short of making the Restricted Section. Basically, only a bookworm like herself would ever browse here.

The boy moved. Hermione froze, then relaxed again as she saw that he was only removing his scarf, which he laid out onto the table. Brushing a hand through his short hair, he turned back to his work.

Hermione wondered how long she was going to stay watching him. It was totally unlike her, she could either go up and tell him to move or find another spot. Her bag of books seemed to get a little heavier, as if to remind her of all the work she had waiting. Wasn't it the reason she had left the common room, to get her work done? Since that was so, then why was she wasting time staring at a complete stranger?

Maybe not a complete stranger. The scarf on the table was scarlet and gold striped, he was a Gryffindor, that was for sure.

Hermione heard him mutter to himself. Very curious, she tiptoed closer, wondering what the intruder could possibly be thinking about. She leaned inwards, and the bag slipped off her shoulder.

Thump!

Before Hermione could even react, the boy was out of his chair in a flash. She scrambled to pick up her bag.

'Who's there?' the boy said accusingly. He definitely knew someone was hiding, there was no way Hermione could pass it off as just a load of books tipping off the shelves by themselves. 'If it's you Flint, I swear I'll curse you good, you nosy, cowardly Slyther-'

The boy stopped when Hermione stepped out of the shadows.

'You're a Gryffindor,' he said accusingly, looking at the scarf she had poking out of her bag. 'Why are you spying on me?'

Hermione straightened herself and tried to look indignant. It was rather hard to try and stare down someone who was a head taller than you. The stranger was tall and well-built with a handsome face. Not the sort Hermione usually encountered in libraries, she had to admit. His features looked decidedly familiar, but no name came to her.

'I was just coming here to get some work done,' Hermione explained. 'Same as you, I'd imagine.'

'Well you can work somewhere else today,' he said coolly, 'I'm busy.'

'Just a minute, I have as much right working here as you do,' she replied.

The boy's face seemed to consider this. Hermione knew there was almost no hope of getting him to leave, but she damn well wasn't going to let him push her away.

Hermione knew she had won when she saw him pushing his books to one side. He sat back down on his side of the table and ignored her. Hermione walked forwards and sat down next to him. It was lousy, but she could share for one day.

Taking out her materials and setting them on the table, she couldn't help wondering what he was studying about. He was obviously deep in thought, eyebrows scrunched up, quill tapping against the parchment as he decided what to write. Or draw.

Hermione watched his quill dip into the ink, then trace a smooth oval round the page. Then rapidly, he filled it up with fourteen little circles and drew so many arrows and lines that the whole page was almost a blur of ink.

'No, no, this will never do,' he muttered, looking at his work. He scrunched up the parchment and set fire to it.

Hermione jumped. Magic was banned in the library; didn't he care about getting into trouble? She looked around wildly, afraid that Madam Pince was going to jump out of the shelves and swoop down on them any moment now.

The boy noticed her anxiety and gave a chuckle. Hermione stiffened. Was he laughing at her?

'Why are you laughing for? You could be in detention any minute now!' She hissed, keeping her voice down in case Madam Pince happened to be nearby.

'You're wrong. The first rule of rule-breaking, do it somewhere where the teachers will never find you,' he said smugly. 'This is the perfect place. Madam Pince can't see us, let alone smell the smoke.'

Hermione had to admit he was probably right. This place was almost impenetrable. She said nothing more and tried to get a start on her Arithmancy homework.

It was totally useless however. She stared at the textbook page, looked at the quill in her hand, then at her piece of parchment. For what was probably the first time, the three failed to connect.

It must be the boy sitting next to her. His presence was affecting her work. Hermione wanted to get angry at him, she had come here to finish her work, and now couldn't think of how to start. But she couldn't be mad at him. He was doing nothing wrong. For the past thirty minutes, he had gone about his work, making pages and pages of scribbles, not bothering her at all. The only time he made any noise was when he turned the pages of his giant textbook.

'Whatcha doing?' He asked. Hermione looked at him. He was smiling, his stacks of scribbles piles together on top of his textbook ("A Millennium of Quidditch Tactics, Rules, and Famous Plays"). He must have finished.

'Work,' she answered lamely. It definitely must be his presence. A smile from him had turned her brain into mush.

'Well, you haven't written a word,' he commented, looking over at her pages. For some reason, Hermione felt the need to hide her work. His eyes fell on her textbook.

'Tut tut,' he said, shaking his head. Hermione felt a flicker of anger. Who was he, to criticise her work? 'That's not the book you want,' he added, before getting up and disappearing into the reference section.

Hermione stared after him.

He came back a few seconds later, with a book under his arm. He tossed it, and it landed neatly on the table with a thump.

'What's this? "Arithmancy for the Mentally-Challenged"?' she said incredulously. Did he think she was stupid?

'Don't be put off by the title,' the boy said, sitting back down in his chair. 'It's a wonderful book for second-years-'

'I'm a third-year,' said Hermione angrily.

'Yes, yes, second-years don't do Arithmancy any more. Anyway, it's a good book, I'd be surprised to hear if you didn't get full marks, using this book.' When Hermione looked doubtful, he added, 'trust me. I used this book doing my third-year, and I almost managed to beat Percy.'

Percy? Did he mean Percy Weasley?

She had so many questions left unanswered about the mysterious stranger, Hermione was sorry to see him pick up his equipment and leave. She almost called him back, but bit her lip at the last moment as she watched him disappear between the bookcases.

She shook her head sadly, and looked at her watch. Oh Lord, Hermione thought, an hour's passed and I haven't so much as written a sentence. Abandoning all thoughts of the mysterious boy and anyone else, she grabbed a quill and dipped it hurriedly into the inkpot she had bought.

Hermione was skeptical at first, but one glance at "Arithmancy for the Mentally-Challenged" solved all her problems. She finished her Arithmancy problems at lightning speed, and after that, Hermione seemed to regain her usual momentum and whipped through the rest of her work.

As she packed up to leave, Hermione debated whether or not to borrow "Arithmancy for the Mentally-Challenged". True to his word, the boy was right. It was amazingly useful. But she didn't think she could sneak it into the common room without Ron noticing. If he saw, Hermione would never hear the end of it. She decided she'd leave the book here, and come back for it later. Besides, had she attempted to borrow it, Madam Pince would have raised a few eyebrows as well.

By the time Hermione arrived back the common room, Harry and Ron were nowhere in sight. She looked over the chattering heads, and tried to find the boy from the library. He was nowhere in sight either. Disappointed, she went up to her dormitory.

Depositing her bag neatly on top of her trunk, Hermione undressed for bed. Parvati and Lavender must have already fallen asleep; their curtains were drawn and the dormitory was still and silent.

Hermione thought about the afternoon. She didn't have a chance to see Ron, to tell him that she was no longer mad at him. She was still pretty annoyed, but she should let that pass, for the sake of their friendship.

***

The enchanted ceiling looked like it was going to split open. Hermione shivered, though she was far from cold. It was the day of the first Quidditch match of the season. Gryffindor vs. Hufflepuff. They were going to play in the middle of thunderstorm.

'It could be worse,' Harry said, trying to be optimistic. A few minutes later, everyone would be filing out towards the pitch.

Ron pretended to think. 'No,' he said, 'I don't think it could be worse.' Harry shrugged. He was nervous, Hermione could tell, but he didn't show it, much.

Hermione was on Ron's side. How on Earth were the teams going to be able to play in the pouring rain? She looked towards the windows; they were all fogged up. You wouldn't be able to see three feet in front of you, out there. It was madness.

'They should change the rules,' she muttered, pushing her breakfast away. 'Postpone the game.'

'They can't do that,' replied Ron.

'Why not?' Hermione wondered. It was perfectly logical to her.

'They just don't play it that way,' Ron said, in way of an explanation. He stood up, and grabbed Hermione's hand. 'C'mon, the game'll be starting soon.'

Hermione looked around and saw that Harry had indeed slipped off to the changing rooms, along with the rest of his team-mates. Ever since meeting him in the library, Hermione had thought about that mysterious boy. Breakfast would seem like a perfect opportunity to look around for him without any questions, but he seemed to have disappeared. She hadn't seen him since that night. Hermione thought of asking Percy about his friends, but down that way led unnecessary and possibly awkward questions.

She stood up and followed Ron into the entrance hall.

A crowd had milled round the front entrance. They didn't seem to want to take the first step into the rain, even though lots of them had brought umbrellas.

Hermione and Ron pushed through the crowd. The doors had opened, and a furious wind now blew into the castle, whipping hats off heads and sending hair flying in all directions.

Hermione opened her umbrella, and she and Ron made their way down to the pitch.

The stands started to fill up with people. Hermione sat near the top with Ron, close to the goalposts. She noticed that there seemed to be a distinct lack of Slytherins, maybe they though a Gryffindor-Hufflepuff game wasn't worth their time. Or perhaps they were afraid of the rain.

'Not many Slytherins turned up,' she said, nudging Ron.

'Shhh…it's starting.' Ron replied. He had his eyes fixed down at the centre of the pitch.

Hermione rolled her eyes. She didn't see why it was necessary to be absolutely quiet during a Quidditch game. Not like you could hear much over the noise of the rain, anyway. Hermione cast her eyes downwards and squinted, trying to pick out the people through the rainy haze.

A whistle sounded, and suddenly the players were off. Hermione saw fifteen blurs ascend from the ground. Her head looked up towards the goalposts. The Hufflepuff Keeper was already in the position. Her eyes scanned the pitch for Harry, but she couldn't find him.

She poked Ron in the ribs. 'Any sign of Harry?'

'Nah, he's disappeared.' A cheer went up from the Gryffindors, Angelina had scored. Hermione watched as the Hufflepuff Keeper passed the Quaffle to a Chaser, who immediately zoomed off towards the other end. Hermione's eyes followed him, but the Gryffindor Keeper was too far away to see clearly.

Several minutes passed, the rain came down harder than ever. Once or twice, Hermione could have sworn Harry shot by, but there was no sign of either Seeker having spotted the Snitch yet.

Even though it was charmed, the umbrella wasn't doing as good a job as Hermione would have liked. Raindrops started to trickle down her neck.

'Harry would never be able to find the Snitch in this rain,' she muttered to Ron. 'Surely his glasses would have fogged up?'

'Wood's called a Time-Out,' Ron informed her. 'Look, they're huddled down there.' He pointed.

Hermione had sudden bolt of inspiration. She emerged from under the umbrella and bolted towards the stairs.

'Oy, where are you going?!' Ron yelled, aghast. He started to get up and follow her, but then sat back down again. He knew from experience whatever she was planning to do, he wasn't going to talk her out of it, so therefore he should just sit down and hope for the best. Which he did.

Hermione tore down the stairs at lightning speed, ignoring the fact that her robes were almost soaked and that her hair had gone frizzy.

She ran towards the huddle of Gryffindors.

'It's my glasses,' Hermione heard Harry say. 'I can't see anything with them on, and I can't see anything with them off, either.' She saw him take off his glasses, trying to wipe the fog off with a corner of his cloak.

'Well, let's hope you catch the Snitch soon, otherwise we'd be playing into the night.' Another voice said.

Hermione stopped abruptly. She shook her head. No, it couldn't be.

Hermione almost forgot why she had come down here in the first place. She approached Harry.

'Hermione!' Harry said, surprised. His team-mates turned around. Hermione saw the Captain's eyes widen, but he stayed silent. They all looked at her.

She fumbled in her robe pocket then bought out her wand. She took Harry's glasses.

'Impervious,' she said, and tapped Harry's glasses. 'There,' she said, handing the glasses back to Harry, 'They'll repel water now.'

Harry put the glasses on and blinked. The team anxiously waited for the verdict, Hermione most of all. Perhaps she had got it wrong? It was such a useful spell but she didn't remember having used it before.

'Well?'

Harry grinned. 'I can see perfectly.'

Although totally soaked and splattered with mud, George Weasley gave a whoop. 'We're back in business! Thanks for your help, Hermione.'

Hermione beamed, and turned around. Her heart almost stopped.

The boy from the library was rewarding her with the biggest smile she had ever seen. She looked back at him, feeling somewhat faint. Then, without any warning, he leaned forward, took her gently by the shoulders and jokingly kissed her. Right on the lips.

Hermione was so stunned, she didn't respond. It didn't matter, he pulled away a second later, to shout some instructions to the Weasley twins, who were smirking.

Still dazed, Hermione looked around for Harry, but he was deep in conversation with the three Chasers. The team set off again. She looked imploringly at the Captain, but he had already flown off.

Hair gone wild, drenched to the skin, Hermione found she didn't care. She licked her lips with a shy smile, then headed back to Ron.

'Well? What was all that rushing off for?' demanded Ron, when Hermione returned. She slipped under the umbrella again.

'Oh, I went to put a spell on Harry's glasses, now they repel water,' she replied absentmindedly.

'Good idea.' Ron nodded his approval.

A few minutes passed without incident.

'Ron?'

'What?'

'What's the Gryffindor Captain's name?'

'Wood, Oliver Wood. Why?'

'Oh nothing. No reason at all.'

***