A/N: Thanks for the reviews, people! Give yourselves a round of applause!

Disclaimer: J.K Rowling owns Harry Potter. Well, that's what Wikipedia says so who the hell knows who it really is.

"I really don't understand how drawing a picture of Lockhart with a yeti helps me defend myself against the Dark Arts."

"It's about interpreting the text and using different methods to represent what you have learnt."

Hermione heard Harry's sigh but chose to ignore it. While he had a marginally better work ethic than Ron, he still failed to see how important their homework was. Hermione had to admit last week's homework of writing haikus about Professor Lockhart's skin care routine while he 'Travelled with Trolls' had baffled her, but it didn't matter what she thought; Professor Lockhart obviously knew what he was doing. Plus it meant she had an excuse to reread the section about how he had helped an infant troll that had got itself stuck under a bridge and was being attacked by vicious mountain goats. He was so heroic, not to mention handsome.

"I'm not sure which one's the yeti and which is Lockhart," mused Harry. Hermione glanced up from her book to see Harry holding parchment up and inspecting it closely. "Kind of embarrassing since I was the one who drew it."

Hermione chuckled and looked around the library. It was busier than it usually was on a Tuesday evening, but the weather outside was horrible. Even from the depths of Hogwarts' huge library, she could faintly hear the rain hitting the windows. It was one of her favourite things about the library; being able to find a quiet corner amongst the gigantic shelves and get lost in a book or essay while listening to the rain.

"I just don't see how this is real work," Harry grumbled from opposite her. "I mean, I hate essays as much as the next person, but at least you sort of learn stuff! Isn't that the point?"

As calmly as she could, Hermione closed her book, being sure to place a bookmark on her page, and looked up at Harry.

"It's just a different way of showing what you have learnt, Harry," she explained again. "The actual learning is done from the books."

"But his books are terrible," replied Harry automatically.

Hermione bristled at his comment. Harry seemed to notice his mistake and started talking again before she could scold him.

"It's like some of those books they made us read in primary school! How was the author feeling when they wrote this part?" Harry said in a mocking high voice. "How the hell are you meant to know that from a chapter about a tea party with a faun?"

Harry went back to his work, still muttering under his breath, but something about what he had just said caught Hermione's attention.

"Tea party with a faun?"

Harry looked up again from his messy drawing and frowned. "Yeah, we were reading The Lion, The Witch and The Wardrobe in year five and they set this stupid test with all-"

"I love the Chronicles of Narnia!" squealed Hermione. "For my sixth birthday my mum brought me the boxset of all of them and my dad brought me The Hobbit. They saw it as some competition to get me to like their own favourite childhood book. Anyway, I never really liked The Hobbit, but I read all of the Narnia books in week. The Magician's Nephew is probably my favourite. What about you?"

Hermione smiled at Harry brightly, who just stared at her open mouthed in return.

"I only read it once and that was in school because I had to," Harry said, sounding a bit stunned. "I didn't read the other four."

"Six," Hermione corrected automatically. "There are seven books in the series."

"Seven?" exclaimed Harry. "Who's got time to read seven books?"

Hermione picked up her book again and opened it at a random page. "Some of us make time to read," she sniffed.

Hermione knew the world would be a boring place if everyone was the same, but she sometimes wished that others liked reading as much as she did instead of seeing it as a chore. After a year of being friends with Harry and Ron, she was used to them making comments about her love of books but she couldn't pretend that they never hurt her.

"I didn't mean it like that, Hermione," said Harry awkwardly.

"Yes, you did," she fired back.

Hermione heard Harry sigh and found herself fighting tears and tried to force herself to keep it together. It was no secret that Hermione loved to read. To her, learning wasn't an obligation but a joy. The world was a vast and complex place and she never understood why others wanted to remain ignorant to its wonders. How was she the odd one out for wanting to absorb as much as she could?

The two friends sat awkwardly for a few minutes before Hermione spoke again.

"I didn't mean to snap at you, Harry," she said quietly. "It's just at my old school I – I didn't really have that many friends so I spent a lot of time reading."

This was a half-truth and Hermione knew that Harry must at least suspect that she hadn't had any friends before Hogwarts. She had never really spoken about her life before she found out she was a witch with Harry or Ron in the hope that they wouldn't notice that she wasn't exactly the coolest girl at school and abandon her. While Hermione would never change to make friends, after she had started hanging around with the boys and had a taste of what friendship could be, she was terrified of losing it again.

As she looked up at Harry, she didn't see any signs of him mocking her or even pity, he just looked at her with the same expression that always preceded him telling a joke at his own expense.

"You were better off than me then," he said with a humourless chuckle. "I think I was in minus-numbers when it came to friends. Even the teachers didn't like me because strange stuff always happened when I was in their lesson."

"I had a similar problem," Hermione said with a wry smile. "In the end I stopped forcing my company on people who found me annoying and I would read a book so I could run away to Narnia or wherever for a couple of hours. That way, the weird occurrences didn't happen. Not as often at any rate," she added as an afterthought.

"Whereas I ran away from people who I found annoying but insisted on forcing their company on me, causing strange things to happen. I never made it to Narnia though. The school roof on the other hand…"

They both laughed loudly and Madam Pince appeared quicker than Harry on his Nimbus and shushed them in a way that Hermione thought was almost violent so she started reading again.

"Hermione, I am sorry about what I said before," said Harry after the librarian was out of ear shot. "If it makes you feel better I actually quite liked The Lion, The Witch and The Wardrobe."

She had the feeling he may have been lying to her to make her feel better so Hermione glanced up at him over the top of her book at him. He did look apologetic.

"Really?" she asked sceptically.

"Yeah," nodded Harry. "I actually checked all the wardrobes in the house just in case I could escape from the Dursleys. I did find it a bit unrealistic though. Y'know, with the witch turning people into statues?"

Hermione thought of the people lying in the hospital wing and smiled. "Yes, magic is quite a ridiculous concept, isn't it?"

"Utterly preposterous," he agreed with a straight face as Madam Pince walked past again, this time while levitating a large stack of books in front of her.

"One of my earliest memories was telling my dad that there was no such thing as magic," Hermione suddenly remembered. Harry raised his eyebrows so she carried on the story. "It was nearly Christmas and he asked me what I thought Father Christmas would bring me on his flying sleigh and I told him not to be silly and that Father Christmas wasn't real because there was no such thing as magic."

Harry covered his mouth to hide his laughter.

"How old were you?" he asked when he was able to.

"Three."

"Three?"

"Yes," said Hermione defensively. "Why? How old were you when you found out Father Christmas wasn't real?"

She watched as Harry shuffled the parchment in front of him before replying. "My aunt and uncle never really told me that he did exist – no need when they never really brought me presents – but I remember Dudley finding out," Harry added, a sly grin creeping onto his face. "We were fighting Christmas Morning one year and I told him there was no such thing as Father Christmas and he cried."

Hermione frowned as Harry chuckled at the memory. While his cousin was undoubtedly a mean person, it did seem unfair for Harry to ruin Christmas for him like that.

"My aunt came in, found out what had happened, sent me to my cupboard and told me I couldn't have Christmas dinner," Harry finished, unfazed.

"No Christmas dinner!" gasped Hermione. "She can't do that!"

Harry shrugged. The nonchalant way Harry spoke of the cruelty he suffered at the hands of his relatives never failed to shock and disgust Hermione. When she had first found out what his childhood had been like, Hermione had written a letter to her parents telling them how grateful she was for their love and support and she had meant every word. She had no idea how Harry coped without the care she had experienced.

"It didn't matter in the end," Harry continued. "That was the year that Aunt Petunia burnt the turkey. None of us had a Christmas dinner in the end."

"Have you never considered that maybe you burnt the turkey with magic?" Hermione asked with a quirk of her eyebrow.

Harry opened his mouth to reply, froze and dropped his quill. Hermione watched as comprehension dawned on his skinny face and suddenly they were both laughing so hard that they didn't notice Madam Pince storming towards them.

"What do you think you are doing?" she hissed at them. Harry, who had his back to irate librarian, flinched, knocking his bottle of ink onto his homework. "This is a library! This isn't some kind of Saturday social! I'd like you to leave. Now."

Madam Pince glowered at them as they hastily gathered there belongings into their arms. She marched them to the exit and carried on watching them until they had turned the corner at the end of the corridor and were out of sight.

Hermione was mortified.

"I can't believe that we just got kicked out!" she moaned, trying to shove her book into her back, a difficult feat to accomplish considering how full it was already. "Do you think we should apologise? Will we be let back in, Harry? Harry?"

Hermione stopped fretting and turned to Harry to see him almost purple in the face from trying not to laugh. He took one look at Hermione and burst out laughing again.

"This isn't funny!" Hermione scolded. "If we can't use the library how do expect us to-"

"What the hell is a Saturday social?" gasped Harry between sniggers. "You should have seen your face!"

Against her better judgment, Hermione felt the corners of her mouth twitch. "Well, at least I didn't jump so high I could've patted Hagrid on the head."

Harry snorted and Hermione had to stop while he leant against the wall, trying to calm himself down. She was surprised that she was now laughing almost as hard as he was. When had she become the kind of girl who was ejected from the library and laughed hysterically in corridors? Probably the same day that a troll had nearly killed her and two boys, who she couldn't stand, turned her life upside down, she reasoned.

As Harry took off his glasses to wipe the tears from his eyes, Hermione realised that maybe being upside down with friends beat being the right way up and lonely any day.

"Oh no!" Harry cried, holding his parchment up as they started back towards Gryffindor Tower. "My ink went all over Lockhart! Although I have to say it is an improvement… Don't you think, Hermione?" he asked innocently.

One look at his face told her that he was on the verge of another laughing fit.

"Shut up, Harry."

Thanks for reading :)