Wavy/frizzy hair, brown eyes.
The library was unusually quiet, save for the occasional rustle of pages. Hermione sat at her usual table, meticulously taking notes. Across from her, you lounged back in your chair, spinning your quill idly.
“You could at least pretend to study,” Hermione muttered, not looking up.
“I’m studying,” you replied, smirking. “Studying you.”
A sudden burst of laughter came from a nearby table where a few Gryffindor students were seated. Hermione didn’t have to hear them clearly to know what they were whispering about—their disapproving glances toward you said enough.
You, however, looked perfectly at ease, your smirk growing as if their words amused you. Without a word, you reached across the table, brushing your fingers lightly over hers, grounding her.