Bookworm
“Why is it that every time I find you it’s with your nose buried in a book, Granger?” He still hadn’t gotten used to calling her Hermione. No matter how many times he tried the name his tongue didn’t seem to roll correctly, knotted and twisted in his mouth. Perhaps ‘Hermione’ was still too personal for the Slytherin.
She sighed, tucking a silk ribbon between the pages before shutting it. It was only then that he saw the title; Hogwarts, A History.
“For that matter, don’t you have that memorized by now?” He fought the urge to roll his eyes, and though she made a similar attempt she failed. Her eyes rolled and another sigh escaped her as she tucked the book into her bag.
“Some people,” Hermione enunciated slowly, eyes narrowed, “like to read.” His nose wrinkled in obvious distaste. “But…why?” She gave him another look, “What do you mean why?”
He gave his own sigh of exasperation. “What the bloody hell do you think I mean? Why would you, would anyone, like to read?”
Hermione gave him several blinks, shaking her head. “Books are very informative, Mal…Draco. There’s a lot to be lear-“ He cut her off with a wave of her hand. “That’s not what I asked. I asked what pleasure there can be had in reading a book.” He sat down beside her, waiting for her answer.
She eyed the grass for a long moment before speaking, “I like to…” She stopped, shaking her head, “I love to read because there’s nothing more beautiful than words. All the most beautiful, inspiring, awful, most awkward, intelligent, amazing people are written about. They’re all buried between the pages with facts and fairytales. It’s like discovering a new best friend.”
When he didn’t laugh she continued, shaking her head again. “I love the way new and old, books smell. I love the way the pages rustle, the way I control how fast the story goes, the way you can read something over and over again and find things you missed. It’s never the same as the first time. It’s…it’s an escape. When I’m reading I don’t have to think so hard. I just…do it. I get lost in the pages and everything else is just…forgotten. Nothing matters and everything is so quiet and peaceful.”
She blushed, realizing she’d been rambling. Hermione bit her lip, worried it between her teeth. “You must think I’m absolutely nutters.” Draco offered her a slow, sweet smile with hints of a smirk twitching at the edges.
“Yes,” He admitted lazily, draping his arms around her. When she looked offended, red in the cheeks, he nearly laughed. “Which is why you’ll probably have an entire biography written about you.”
She sighed heavily, “I said all the most beautiful pe-“
He cut her off again, “I know exactly what you said, Granger.”
Her eyes narrowed, albeit softly. “Autobiography,” She corrected with a soft purse of her lips.
She sighed, tucking a silk ribbon between the pages before shutting it. It was only then that he saw the title; Hogwarts, A History.
“For that matter, don’t you have that memorized by now?” He fought the urge to roll his eyes, and though she made a similar attempt she failed. Her eyes rolled and another sigh escaped her as she tucked the book into her bag.
“Some people,” Hermione enunciated slowly, eyes narrowed, “like to read.” His nose wrinkled in obvious distaste. “But…why?” She gave him another look, “What do you mean why?”
He gave his own sigh of exasperation. “What the bloody hell do you think I mean? Why would you, would anyone, like to read?”
Hermione gave him several blinks, shaking her head. “Books are very informative, Mal…Draco. There’s a lot to be lear-“ He cut her off with a wave of her hand. “That’s not what I asked. I asked what pleasure there can be had in reading a book.” He sat down beside her, waiting for her answer.
She eyed the grass for a long moment before speaking, “I like to…” She stopped, shaking her head, “I love to read because there’s nothing more beautiful than words. All the most beautiful, inspiring, awful, most awkward, intelligent, amazing people are written about. They’re all buried between the pages with facts and fairytales. It’s like discovering a new best friend.”
When he didn’t laugh she continued, shaking her head again. “I love the way new and old, books smell. I love the way the pages rustle, the way I control how fast the story goes, the way you can read something over and over again and find things you missed. It’s never the same as the first time. It’s…it’s an escape. When I’m reading I don’t have to think so hard. I just…do it. I get lost in the pages and everything else is just…forgotten. Nothing matters and everything is so quiet and peaceful.”
She blushed, realizing she’d been rambling. Hermione bit her lip, worried it between her teeth. “You must think I’m absolutely nutters.” Draco offered her a slow, sweet smile with hints of a smirk twitching at the edges.
“Yes,” He admitted lazily, draping his arms around her. When she looked offended, red in the cheeks, he nearly laughed. “Which is why you’ll probably have an entire biography written about you.”
She sighed heavily, “I said all the most beautiful pe-“
He cut her off again, “I know exactly what you said, Granger.”
Her eyes narrowed, albeit softly. “Autobiography,” She corrected with a soft purse of her lips.