Dead Run (гет)

It was a man at the door, and he walked in with an odd mixture of extreme self assurance and that same social fear she'd shown, herself, only a moment ago. His hair was black and stringy, looking clean but not altogether cared for, like parts of it had been burnt or cut away with a blunt knife. His face was young, like hers, but incredibly worn, like he'd been driven to exhaustion a few too many times. The suit he wore was nice, expensive, definitely, but draped over his nearly skeletal form like he'd never even consulted a tailor.
He took off his hat, grey to match his coat, and held it against his chest. "Hey, Hermione, do you mind if I talk to you for a bit? I just need some advice."
Stunned, she gestured an arm, stepping back to allow him into the library proper, instead of just the doorway. "How did you know my name?"