Feet on the table
The library, something only very few students seemed to value as highly as it should be valued.
Hermione Granger undoubtedly was one of those few.
The more time he spent in the library however, the more he questioned his astronomically high estimation of her intelligence. This was not to say that Hermione wasn‘t smart, no, quite the contrary, she was very smart, but not as smart as most people thought.
It was the effort that made her performance in class stand out.
The library was the perfect tool for people like Hermione because it‘s knowledge was almost infinite and more than covered everything that was necessary in each year of Hogwarts.
Her willingness to learn, prove herself and always be the best combined with her considerable intelligence and the library resulted in the perfect Hogwarts student.
As he spent more time in the library however, he could clearly see that she was not ‘the brightest witch of her age‘, at least not purely based on intelligence. ‘The most hard working witch of her age‘ yes, definetely. But not the smartest. Since he was almost always in the library nowadays if he wasn‘t using one of his other coping mechanisms, he could easily compare himself to her and he was sure that he was not only a bit, but much faster with any homework and had the same if not even better results, if one were to view the quality of each essay.
Ron really did pull him down before and even more than that, Harry pulled himself down with low self esteem. Now though, he didn‘t have anything to lose.
He just did what seemed natural to him and it felt much better than anything ever before.
This is why he was to be found in the library once again and the comparison to Hermione was almost too easy right now.
It was afternoon and they had gotten DADA and Transfiguration essays. His two best subjects, closely followed by Charms and, surprisingly, Potions.
He was already done with the both of them, having perfected the finishing touches fifteen minutes ago, while Hermione, who was sitting next to him, was still pondering over the DADA essay.
He had gone into the Magical Creatures area of the library and fetched himself two books about Thestrals, since that meeting with his new ‘friend‘ had piqued his interest.
Hermione was visibly growing more and more frustated by the second that Harry read, chair rocked on it‘s hind legs, feet on the table, loosened tie, sleeves of his button down pulled up to the crook of his elbow, hair messier than usual, his finished essays lying about provocatively.
She huffed:
“Harry, I can‘t believe you are already finished with both of these essays. It isn‘t possible.“
“Obviously.“ Harry drawled in his best imitation of the greasy dungeon bat being inspected by Umbridge last year.
“Harry, I‘m serious, let me see that…“ She lunged desperately at his DADA essay but Harry was quicker, Quidditch reaction time kicking in, and held it out of her reach.
“No, Hermione, you know it‘s perfect.“ He grinned at the greedy little witch.
“Harry, you‘re being arrogant.“ She chastised.
“No, I‘m not. You know all of the essays I recently handed in in DADA and Transfiguration were more than perfect.“ Harry stated.
She scowled but continued with her essay.
“You know, Hermione, if you need help, you only need to ask.“ He offered, knowing exactly what he was doing.
“I don‘t need help.“ She ground through her teeth, visibly shaking with anger.
“fine then.“
He continued with his book, putting his feet back on the table, to Hermione‘s ever growing frustration.
Field notes of Newt Scamander, Thestrals:
Thestrals are immensely misunderstood creatures. Just because something looks evil, it doesn‘t have to be just that, as I experienced myself multiple times.
They are not an ill omen, nor are they dangerous to humans if not clearly provoked. Sadly, the study of Thestrals is very difficult since only few can and want to see them.
They can only be seen by one who has witnessed and understood death and it‘s meaning.
Their hide is black and leathery, they do not possess any flesh whichfore their hide is stretched over their boney skeleton that mostly resembles the form of a horse. They have large wings that resemble ones of bats.
Their eyes are completely white and I am not sure wether they are blind, since I never had the time or place to study them extensively, however I believe not.
They are carnivorous.
I cannot confirm nor deny the many myths about them that exist in ancient wizarding scrolls and populations of England, Scotland and Ireland.
Possibly strange connection with -
The last bit of the page was torn out of the book.
Welp, now he wanted to know more.
However, there was always a time and place, he thought as he smirked.
“Hermioneeee“ he sang in a menacing voice,
“It‘s dinner in an hour“
She looked up at him annoyedly.
“You‘re still working on your DADA essay.“
“No need to remind me.“ She scowled.
“I have mine already finiiisheeed.“
“Oh for God‘s sake, Harry, give me that!“
She lunged for his essay once more and he was quicker once again.
“Uh-uh-uh… ‘Mione, Tell me, what‘s the magical phrase?“
She rolled her eyes extensively.
“Harry, I‘m not going to say this.“
“Yes you are.“
“Ugh! fine.
Dear Harry, would you kindly give me your essay so that I can finish mine sooner?“
“No.“
“No?“
“Not quite, no.“
“Fine.
Harry Potter, Sir, could you please hand me over your essay?“
“Better, but still no.“
“Well what do you want then?“
“M-M-M-M“ He began to form the beginning of the word, his teasing smirk widening by the second.
“M-M-M-Ma-Ma-Ma“
“Oh honestly, Harry!“
He stopped.
“Well?“
She sighed defeatedly. Dinner was in thirty minutes.
“Master Harry Potter, sir, could you help your useless servant out and present her your perfect essay so that she can finish hers before dinner“
“That‘s a good girl. Here you go.“
Hermione rolled her eyes, cheeks burning with embarassment.
He handed her the essay and went back to reading the next page of Scamander‘s field notes, feet on the table.
Unicorns