She felt fabric sag over her ears, stinking of decades worth of anxious sweat. She never thought it would be placed on her head a second time, much less that she'd stride towards the Ravenclaw table afterwards. The war had gutted the library, and though many books survived, countless tomes still needed repair. If anyone could have fun in a library, it was Hermione Granger, and it certainly didn't involve Malfoy's feline nose hanging about every night. DM/HG. Post-war.
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