A/N: I was in a rare Harry Potter mood, so please enjoy! I hope it's worth reading.

Late Night Study

Dusty books overflowing with yellowed paper drifted lazily from shelf to shelf, reorganizing themselves in an endless spiral of debate over alphabetical or genre sorting, never quite seeming to decide which they would prefer. The eerie stillness of the ancient library seemed to pull on Harry's eyelids, anvils clinging to his lashes as they coaxed him into a studious doze. His head lolled forward and with a jerk, he snorted awake, his books piled before him in a messy array of colorful leather bindings and varying fonts. The topic he had been researching slipped away, but he could remember just barely that he had been flipping through a frayed encyclopedia of wands.

Professor McGonagall was more than difficult to please, Harry thought bitterly. The assignment she had given them required the book lain before him, but it was doubtful she had thought about how many students were in her class. He had been unable to get a hold of the book until about fifteen minutes earlier, approximately six hours before the essay was due. It was already almost three o'clock in the morning and the poor boy was ready to give up and accept a failing grade.

"Looks like you need some company," a familiar voice rang through the air. Harry mused bitterly that as Hermione brushed past the shelves, countless volumes wobbling unsteadily in her arms, the dust seemed to scatter like sand, a noise almost like an elderly hiss. He smiled up at her as they shared an exhausted greeting and shoved a few books from the seat next to him.

"This essay is ridiculous," he sighed as he threw his quill down upon the papyrus bedding of the thick fields of ink and leather binding before him. The two students looked at each other knowingly before glancing at a book on the far end of the large, oak table. It yawned loudly and seemed to wriggle a bit upon its spine before lazily folding over, shutting with a sleepy sigh. Hermione laughed a little as she reached for a manuscript, a bit of her energy renewed.

"For once, I don't blame you for procrastinating. The wait on that book was all week! I don't think Neville's gotten it yet and I know Ron gave up on the waiting list three days ago," Hermione mumbled as she began scribbling notes, her finger trailing down the passages of runes before her. Harry nodded and pushed messy raven locks away from his forehead. He turned a few pages with forced concentration and listened to the mesmerizing sound of Hermione's quill scraping against parchment. A moment later he jerked his head upright as a feeling of dead weight falling captured his body in a drowsy moment of surprise. He groaned and smacked his head against the pages open to him.

"Don't get so frustrated! The sooner you get it finished, the better," Hermione scolded. Harry could have sworn she wore glasses for a brief moment, pushed down the bridge of her nose like a finger-wagging librarian, but shook away the thought.

"I can't help it. I'm so tired, I think I'd fail even if I did finish it," he whined, pulling his eyes open.

"Maybe, but trying never hurt anyone."

"So you say."

Hermione turned with a roll of her eyes back to her research as she pulled another book open, propping it against a small lamp that seemed to make the table age with a jaundice tint as the minutes ticked by. She let herself fall into the folds of the soft pages before her, her eyes pooling over the information that she stored with an organized precision similar to that of a computer sparking to life within her head. All the world around her seemed to disappear as she steadied herself in reading much the way a jogger paces their heart and lungs during a marathon. As the book began to overtake Hermione's senses, pulling her into the data and stories, a loud thump shocked her from her mesmerized state and she wrenched her eyes away from the mounds of knowledge lying before her.

Hermione pressed her hand to her chest as she let out a loud breath of irritation, staring at Harry's sleeping face smeared across the desk. His glasses were askew in what reminded the curly-haired redhead of falling asleep in a cereal bowl, his arms hanging limply over the arms of his plush Victorian chair.

"Harry, wake up. You've got to try and finish your essay," she sighed, rapping on his forehead sharply. Harry awoke with a snort and grabbed his quill without a thought, staring at what he assumed was the book beneath his nose. Hermione laughed exhaustedly and shoved the long-awaited, much-hated encyclopedia of wands into her friend's hands.

"I don't think I can see straight anymore, Hermione," Harry said, clutching his quill with a weak grip. Hermione yawned with surprising force and shook her head in an attempt to rid herself of the pollen of drowsiness.

"You look like a wreck, that's for sure. Perhaps it's best this time that you do just go to bed," she said, noticing that her own eyelids were so heavy she couldn't lose herself in her book again. Rubbing her eyes, she let her quill fall upon the desk and leaned back in her chair with a great sigh.

"I'm not going to leave you here to work on your own, you know," Harry said, a bit of a grin on his groggy features. Hermione shook her head with a smile and gestured to the door looming across the library, the hallway beyond dead and quiet.

"Don't be silly. I've spent nights in here before. Go on to bed. I'll take care of the books later," she said, waving his excuses away with a nonchalant hand. Harry surrendered without much of a fight behind his last, meek protest and stood, stuffing his parchment and quill back in his aviator's bag.

"At least get some sleep before your classes tomorrow," he said, putting a hand on Hermione's shoulder. She looked up at him with a knowing smile, having been held captive by her studies more often than not, meeting the dawn through the dusty arched windows of the library rather than from within her bed, warm and rested.

"I'll do my best. Off to bed," she said, her eyes sparkling in the dim yellow light of the desk lamp. Harry faltered a moment, his hand still resting upon Hermione's shoulder. His smile faded softly as he attempted to move his feet, but found them momentarily glued to the marble floor.

The uncertain moment flitted away as Hermione turned away to yawn, her quill blotting part of her research with thick, black ink. She cursed her worn pen as she scrounged for a tissue to clean the mess with. Harry's hand slipped from her shoulder as she leaned under the table, reaching for her school bag. He watched her a moment, the smile whisked from his face as he turned to leave her, alone, amidst the stacks of sleeping volumes and rotting pages.

He should suck it up and stay with her, he knew. She was just as tired as he, but so much more determined, so much stronger. He would wake up with the notes he needed to muster up a badly written, but well-informed essay the next morning, sitting innocently and anonymously upon his nightstand.

That's why she never let him put the books away when she caught him in the library during late nights of study. Being right and studious was always her prerogative, a kind of seventeen year old McGonagall in training. She would walk so proudly the next day, strutting and bragging silently about her victory over Harry…

But maybe, he thought sleepily as he climbed the stairs to his awaiting bed, maybe she enjoyed helping him for other reasons. That smile she had the next day was always worth thanking her for, even if he only saw a glimpse of it before Malfoy trampled the happiness in the room with his trademark sneer.

Before Harry could contemplate his conscious dreams further, he fell into the softness of his bed, warm and instant sleep stealing away his body. It wasn't until three hours later that quiet feet padded into the room and left a small scroll of parchment on his nightstand tied with a red ribbon. Hermione smiled down at her sleeping friend, her eyes ringed with fatigue as she lifted his glasses from the bridge of his nose and set them beside the bed on the deep mahogany surface of the bed-side table.

Just as quietly as she came, she left again, shutting the door with a hushed click. Harry's eyes fluttered open moments later and he glanced up at his nightstand, a smile gracing his boyish features. He turned over and burrowed his cheek into a feather pillow bunched against the bedpost. He would have to thank Hermione when he saw her at breakfast. He wanted to see that smile again.

A/N: Just a one shot I thought would be cute and thought-provoking. It ended abruptly though…