Author: Sphinxgurl
Disclaimer: This Harry Potter related fan fiction is not associated, affiliated with, or recognised by J. K. Rowling or her publishers (including, but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Warner Bros. Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended. You may only copy this in any form with my consent. Thank you for listening to my boring-yet-necessary disclaimer.
A/N: This idea just came to me, a little lost plot-bunny looking for a good home. I was sitting there in my chair, holding the hardback version of Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire, and I smelt the pages, felt them, and remembered everything. Okay sappiness over. I just felt the need to write this.
IMPORTANT A/N: This could either be in Hermione's perspective, reading Hogwarts; A History in a great magical library, or in mine, reading any one of the HP books (all hail). I personally don't have a library as big as this, but oh my God I wish I did. This is what would have happened if I did.
Dreams
A Library. Rows upon Rows of shelves stacked with hundreds of thousands of books. The slightly musty, book-ish smell that she had experienced so many times before greeted her as the double oak doors creaked open. Her feet led her automatically. Sh knew where she wanted to go, is was ingrained in her memory.
Step by step.
Books greeted her at every angle, and she smiled, as if among old friends.
The gold wrung ladder was in precisely the right spot, and she began to climb. Hands met warm wood, feet; a sturdy foot hold. She reached the shelf, oh-so-high up – at least fifteen feet. She'd often been scolded as a young girl for reaching so high. But she didn't care – the specific shelves she wanted were well worth it. Being told off about it never stopped her.
Nothing could ever stop her dreams.
She stroked the spine of the book lovingly, and pulled it carefully into her arms. Climbing down with the tome – her tome – just felt so right.
Her feet met polished wood once more, and she walked to her spot in the library. No one ever took it, mainly because it was hidden. It was hers.
She sat in the window seat, pulling her legs up underneath her. It was her haven, her sanctuary. The spider webs in the rafters fluttered in the breeze coming from the open window in the outside hallway. Curtains pulled back around her, and the cool green landscape greeting her.
The softly-crisp pages fell open, and she smiled again at the familiar writing. The words of the book, the size, shape, and style of them, were comfortably familiar. She read the first words of the book, hidden under the crest she knew so well. She smiled. She was happy.
'Draco Dormiens Nunquam Titillandus'
A/N: Now you've read, please review! If not, oh well. :)