Imagination
"Wow," Hermione mused, her voice carrying in the vast silence. "People put a lot of thought into these positions."
"Huh?" Harry asked. Hermione gestured with her head impatiently, and her boyfriend hurried to read over her shoulder. Harry pushed his glasses further up the bridge of his nose as his eyes turned suspiciously clouded.
"I'm a fan of page 53, myself," Hermione flicked through the book and Harry's breathing quickened, "Yes."
"Come on," she winked cheekily and plonked the book down on the table.
"Won't we be needing-?"
"Oh I have a very good memory."
Harry nearly tripped over the hem of his robes in his hurry to follow.
Hours later, when Madam Pince picked up the book to sort it away, tutting as she did, she would spy the cover, turn bright red, mutter "Well I never," and promptly go to dispose of it, because a book like that had no business in a school library.
And if she read it in bed later, well, who had to know?