A library is not the place for love.
A library, in fact, this library is a place were the students of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry come to study, it is where those who dare gain forbidden knowledge. And in more recent years it is a place were students' sneak around wearing invisibility cloaks at the dead of night when they think no one is watching.
This particular library is sending evil looks to a certain glasses wearing boy who shall remain nameless.
Mr. Potter, thought no one was watching that quiet, restless night when he crept out of bed during shrouded by the darkness– but someone was. Someone was always watching.
This particular someone has watched a lot over the many years of her reign in the Hogwarts library, because she, I, is the library.
Just because something has not been given a name it doesn't mean that it doesn't think, breathe or, indeed, watch.
I, unlike that ridiculous Sorting Hat with its special name and terrible (yet catchy) poems, do not make up rhymes or point people in pointless, excuse the pun, directions, but our purpose given by the founders are the same. We read people.
Although no one knows I am watching, and nothing becomes of the knowledge that I have about every student or teacher that passes through my wooden doors. Whose archway is inscribed with the Latin 'Learning is the movement from darkness to light' – (as you can tell my masters have a sense of irony). I continue to do so, and will do until the main hall is no longer lit with the candles of students and the Heads no longer sits at their desk. Until the blue skies fade to a permanent black, as my purpose was written as plainly as any word of any page.
Certainly, if I had been given the ability to speak I would have warned against that dark haired Riddle boy who spent too much time in the Restricted Section for anyone's comfort.
I have learnt my lesson there; it was not the books that screamed that night once the invisible hero Harry wandered were he does not belong. As if a single scream could undo all that I watched become ravelled and knotted and evil.
Given the chance to speak I would not remark on those lost, no, there are events more magical than trading in ones soul…
Nothing quite takes the all flavour out of a new book than stories of loss and woe.
The tale I tell had been going on for nearly seven years and ends finally when, the hero and the heroine, the lovers and the enemies, the good and the evil merge.
"Excuse me?" a girl with a shy smile and curlier than usual hair said as she once tapped a blonde boy's shoulder. "Have you seen Hogwarts: A History anyway in here? I left my copy at home and- Oh, Malfoy, it's you, I've never seen you in the library before-"
"Just shut up, will you Granger? Is this it?" He handed her a thick black book and tanned fingers brushed against flawless pale.
Neither moved from that spot, until Hermione pulled away and said genuinely, "thank you."
The boy watched her leave.
It was the midnight hour almost seven years from that day. And fate was waiting in the T-U section.
A girl, whose heart shaped face was framed by dark curls sat amongst a small Everest of books, quill in one hand, parchment beneath another as freckles danced across the same tanned skin and she wrinkled her nose in concentration.
"Make another move towards my books or I, Malfoy, and I will stab you with my quill." Hermione Granger said without looking up.
"And what exactly would someone like you be doing with a book like 'Legal Forbidden Spells and Jinxes' anyway?" the boy replied.
"And what exactly would someone a pretty boy like you be doing constantly in the library anyway?" she wasn't exactly right. Draco Malfoy, her opposite, wasn't pretty. He was beautiful. He was a sculpture's dream, all high cheekbones and sweeping eyelashes, flatly muscled, tall, not a strand of white-blonde hair that was out of place. The kind of prince a girl, and a number of boys would fall in love with at first glimpse. That is, until he opens his mouth.
And spilling right now out of curved, perfect lips and into words spoken by the voice of utter sin were:
"Why Granger, I didn't know you cared – perhaps you could join the fanclub – monthly Draco Newsletters and a signed photo all for only 2 galleons."
"I would Malfoy," she snapped back sarcastically, "but how would I know that my 2 galleons wouldn't be going towards a Death Eater cheese and biscuits party?"
"Touché, Muggle, but I guess you wouldn't believe me if I told you I planned to be fighting the front lines with Golden Boy and his boyfriend."
"And what a lovely trio you will all be." She squashed the urge to roll her eyes, "'Muggle'? That's a new one. Would it really kill you to call me Hermione?"
"Hermione?" the boy echoed.
"Well done," she replied scathingly, "pronunciation on the 'e' and everything."
"No its not that, I always thought your name was Helen. Like of Troy." Draco replied, inching towards the book and trying to be distracting.
"And how on Earth would you think of that?" Hermione looked up now, one eyebrow arched over a hazel eye.
"Well, I could just imagine it – Potter and Weasley both fighting over a fair maiden."
"Obviously you didn't hear it correctly. The antagonist and the protagonist fight over Helen not two best friends, and also, she dies."
"And also," he mocked, "that was the plus."
Hermione, not of Troy, slammed her hand down on her book at as Draco did. Brown flecked eyes met those of obsidian silver at the same time as tanned skin met a flawless pale.
"You never answered my question," said the girl. Not looking away or flinching as the cold depths of ice bore into her, lit by a smirk.
"You never answered mine."
"Maybe I was looking up a spell to hex you and your usual fangirls into oblivion? Legally of course."
"Of course." Draco gave a small tug at the book, which didn't move from underneath his rival's hand and then sighing at her wide eyed stare continued, "and I was looking for the book because I was going to transfigure all the Gryfinndors into slugs for graduation."
"That's on Friday, Malfoy, it is now Monday. I highly doubt you will be able to do that by then."
"Well what you highly doubt could fill a book."
"That didn't make sense."
"No it didn't." Draco removed his hand finally from the cover and slid into the seat next to her. "Maybe I was wondering where Hermione-who-doth-smote-all-things-evil-Granger had gone at midnight, on a school night no less."
"Why would you care?"
His voice suddenly dropped to a whisper, "because I can't let my fellow Head of Year get into trouble all by herself now could I?"
Hermione made a huffing sound, "What is it that you want Malfoy?"
"Why don't you tell me?" His silver eyes seemed to darken.
Hermione, who stood up in one fluid motion and whisked away her books frowned for a moment. "Enough of these bloody riddles and games – you've been doing it all year! I really don't know why you've been in the library ever since, that… that night-"
"You mean when I kissed you?"
"What I mean is the night you pinned me to the Restricted Section bookshelf! Why have you been so absolutely hateful to me since?"
"As I call to remember it, Granger-"
"…You weren't exactly objecting at the time-"
"Oh, because when someone is in an argument with someone else they expect to be kissed do they?"
"That's not it-"
"Hermione, will you listen to me?"
"I would have thought that would be clear by now!" She turned to leave, but the boy grasped her hand and pulled her to him in a flurry of dark robes.
"You're scared." All tone of drawl and malice gone, leaving his voice sounding young and wild.
"Don't be stupid. What am I scared of?" Her voice was breathless as she tried to wrench her hand away.
"You're scared that someone wants to be with you and that you might like it." Draco said so casually. As though it was the most obvious thing in the world.
Hermione, who seemed frozen by that statement momentarily, suddenly dropped her bag.
The sound echoed around the quiet moonlit room.
And then, as though waiting for the stars of fate to align Hermione's lips touched Draco's and enemies, books and wars were forgotten.
The next and the very last time I was to see Draco and Hermione was the night before graduation. The couple met under candlelight, sitting on the table nearest to the wide glass window that led out into the night looking out, unafraid.
"So this is it." Draco said, his hand tightening around Hermione's hand, and his own wand.
"Draco," said the girl resting her head against his shoulder, "I'm not scared."
"Well there's no bloody need to be is there? I mean, Potter will just pop up from wherever he is and shoot them all down with his scar… its only a few Death Eaters."
"No, not that – I'm not scared of you and me. Draco and Hermione. Malfoy and Granger-"
"Good, because I've loved you since I ever first saw you in here."
"Draco – we were eleven-"
"Just shut up, will you Granger?"
- - -
A small gold plaque in the corner of the Restricted Section, where the story both began and ended, reads:
Draco and Hermione
Against every Reason.
No one knows how it got there, though I think Mr Potter, (who was often a frequent visitor to brush his invisible fingers across the engraved words), has more of an idea than anyone else.
So it is with a heavy heart that I come to the end of the tale I treasure above all others, and finally, an epilogue.
A library is the very best place for love.Authors Note: Possibly, not the best work of fiction ever published grin but it has its charm. So what happened? Basically, it was a very brief glimpse into three scenes of Draco and Hermione meeting together in the library and it alludes to a storyline behind the secrecy – but we don't know because its from the library's point of view. She is narrator omniscient. I was aiming for a singing kettle kind of personality for her. Written because I was bored, and rumour has it that a library really is a decent place to make love. *Cough* Comments and criticism would be lovely. And if you liked this, you'll really (-well, maybe) will love my chapter-ed fanfiction "Tea Cups and Angels" also Draco/Hermione. Thanks go out to all of the other fantastic D/Hr authors, my mum, my sister because she pretended to laugh at the jokes she wouldn't find funny (since, horror of all horrors, she's not read the books)