It was Sunday, and the thing Rigel dreaded most was happening: homework. Not just any homework..... the one he loathed above all others: Herbology. With a grimace of pure dread, he entered the library, preparing to face this unwilling crusade.
Once he stepped inside, row upon row of bookshelves stretched before him. Madam Pierce, the librarian, cast him a sharp glance before returning to whatever task had captured her attention.
The scent of old parchment and ink hung in the air, sharp yet comforting, like a promise that secrets and power lay hidden here, waiting for the one willing to search. Quiet murmurs echoed faintly between the stacks, and the occasional scuff of a foot against polished stone reminded Rigel that this was a place of discipline as much as discovery.
And so Rigel began weaving between the towering shelves, each step measured, eyes scanning for anything that could aid his essay or perhaps offer something more. The hush of the library wrapped around him like a cloak, punctuated only by the soft rustle of pages and the distant creak of a ladder.
Then he saw her. Hermione, tucked into a corner, buried under a fortress of books, quill flying across the page. She bent over a notebook, quill moving furiously as if the world outside had no claim on her. The tilt of her head, the focus in her eyes… it tightened something in his chest, a pull he couldn't ignore.
He hesitated. A fraction of a second. Then he stepped forward.
No Gryffindor nearby. Good.
He cleared his throat.
"Hermione… can I sit here?"His hand gestured toward the empty chair across from her, eyes narrowing just enough to make his intent clear: deliberate, unwavering, not to be ignored.
Hermione lifted her eyes briefly, her gaze meeting his. A faint, almost imperceptible nod acknowledged him a quiet, small approval granting his request without a word.
Rigel's chest loosened ever so slightly. That small gesture so understated, yet so deliberate hit him harder than any words could have. A spark of relief flickered through him, followed by the tiniest swell of something warmer, a quiet affirmation that this fragile bridge between them was real.
He settled into the chair opposite Hermione, careful not to make too much noise. The library's hush seemed heavier here, the stacks around them forming a small, private world. He cleared his throat lightly, unsure where to start beyond the obvious pleasantries.
"Busy Sunday, huh?" he said, attempting a casual tone, though the stiffness in his shoulders betrayed him.
Hermione lifted her eyes from the notebook, offering a faint, polite smile. "You could say that," she murmured, returning to her writing almost immediately, quill scratching furiously.
Rigel nodded, trying to find footing in this quiet corner of the library. "Yeah… I suppose some things don't get easier, even with practice," he added, letting his gaze drift over the stacks, pretending to be absorbed in the titles rather than in her.
Hermione glanced at him briefly, then back to her notes, her expression unreadable. "Mhm," she replied, a soft, almost distracted acknowledgment.
They shared a few more lines of small talk, the kind that grazes the surface without really diving in: comments about rare books, the difficulty of Herbology, the weather outside. Rigel spoke more than usual, though Hermione's answers remained partially focused on her work, her attention split between him and the notebook in front of her.
Finally, after a short silence, Rigel leaned slightly forward, voice careful, almost tentative. "Hermione… about the gift I gave you…?"
Hermione shifted in her chair, lifting her eyes toward him. "Gift… I didn't get...."
At that moment, a soft voice came from the side, cutting her off mid-sentence.
"Rigel, how are you doing? It's unusual finding you here. The last time I invited you, you...." Susan's words trailed off, a faint laugh in her tone, "....rejected me with a 'Sorry, I have something important to work on,' and left me outside Flitchwick's classroom."
Then she noticed Hermione. "Oh! Hermione, how are you doing?" she asked sweetly, her tone warm and genuinely friendly.
Hermione looked up at Susan, a brief flicker of surprise crossing her face before she composed herself. "I'm… well, thank you, Susan," she said, her tone polite but slightly distracted as she instinctively gathered a few of the books around her. "Just… working on some notes."
"Hi, Susan," he said, voice measured, careful not to reveal any irritation. His eyes, however, never left Hermione, noting the subtle shift in her posture, the small way she edged a bit closer to her stack of books.
Susan, oblivious to the tension, leaned casually against the nearby shelf. "I didn't expect to see you here today. Working on Herbology too?" she asked, glancing at Hermione with a friendly smile, and noticing a Herbology book.
"Yeah," Rigel replied, keeping his tone neutral. He angled his chair slightly toward Hermione. "It's… unavoidable."
Rigel then exhaled softly, as if resigning himself to the inevitable. He turned his head toward Susan, finally meeting her eyes properly.
"If you're already here," he said, gesturing to the chair beside him, "you might as well sit. Standing around makes Madam Pierce nervous."
Susan blinked, then smiled, clearly pleased. "Oh. Sure," she said, pulling the chair back carefully and settling into it. "I didn't mean to interrupt."
Hermione shook her head lightly. "You weren't," she said, though her quill paused for just a fraction longer than necessary before resuming its frantic pace.
Rigel noticed. Of course he did.
Susan leaned forward slightly, lowering her voice out of respect for the library. "So, Herbology essay?" she asked, glancing between the two of them. "Professor Sprout really enjoys watching us suffer."
"She calls it character building," Rigel replied dryly. "I call it an abuse of mandrakes."
Susan let out a soft laugh, quickly covering her mouth. Hermione's lips twitched, almost imperceptibly, before she forced her attention back to the page.
"I finished mine last night," Susan said. "Mostly. If you want, I can lend you my notes. They're… less terrifying than they sound."
Rigel inclined his head. "That would be appreciated."
Susan smiled at that, then glanced at Hermione. "You're miles ahead of all of us, I assume."
Hermione looked up, surprised to be addressed directly. "I wouldn't say that," she replied, honest as ever. "I just don't like leaving things unfinished."
"Same," Susan said easily. "Though I panic a lot more while doing it."
That earned a small, genuine smile from Hermione.
The three of them fell into a tentative rhythm after that. Quiet comments, shared observations about the assignment, the occasional murmur of complaint. Susan talked more than she wrote, Hermione wrote more than she spoke, and Rigel found himself balancing between them, aware of every glance, every pause.
It wasn't awkward.
Which somehow made it worse.
"Hermione?"
The voice came from the aisle to their left.
Hermione looked up at once, relief and tension flickering across her face in equal measure. Parvati Patil stood there, books hugged to her chest, eyes already darting between the three of them
"Oh… Parvati," Hermione said, a little too quickly.
Parvati's gaze flicked to Susan first, offering a polite smile, then lingered on Rigel. Just a beat too long. Recognition clicked.
"You know Susan," Parvati said lightly, then paused. "And… right. You're..."
Rigel froze.
Not out of fear, but calculation. Like a Bowtruckle caught mid-stillness, aware it had been spotted and weighing whether to flee or strike. His expression smoothed instantly, but the tension lingered in his shoulders.
"Rigel Black," he said, his voice smooth but measured, offering a brief nod. "A pleasure, Miss Patil."
Hermione's pen paused mid-word. Her eyes flicked up briefly, catching Rigel's slight smirk and the precision of his gesture. A faint tightening stirred in her chest. She looked back down at her parchment, cheeks warming despite herself.
Parvati blinked, taken aback by the Slytherin's unexpected politeness. She tilted her head slightly, curiosity sparkling in her eyes. "So… Hermione," she began, glancing between them, "you and… Rigel, you meet frequently? Are you two… friends?"
Hermione stiffened almost imperceptibly, a faint flush rising to her cheeks. Her quill hovered over the page, betraying her momentary hesitation. She opened her mouth, to respond but was interupted by Rigel.
"I… and Miss Granger meet sometimes, but not often," Rigel said smoothly, his eyes flicking to Hermione for confirmation. "And we can say we're in… friendly rapport, yes, Susan?"
Hermione nodded quickly, a faint, guarded smile tugging at her lips. "Yes… friendly rapport," she murmured, her voice soft, almost reluctant, but firm enough to support Rigel's words.
Susan tilted her head, studying the exchange for a moment, then let out a small laugh. "Alright… friendly rapport it is, then," she said, settling back slightly, apparently satisfied.
From the side, another girl appeared, identical to Parvati in almost every detail, her presence immediately recognizable. "Sister," she called lightly, "the others are waiting for us."
Parvati shot a quick glance at Hermione, Susan, and Rigel, a brief flash of apology in her eyes. "I… must go," she said, offering a hurried farewell before turning and walking away, her twin following close behind.
The library seemed to exhale in the sudden quiet, the small ripple of interruption fading, leaving Rigel, Susan, and Hermione alone once more.
Some time passed in silence before Hermione said, her voice carrying a small sway, "Sorry, but I have to go." She began gathering her books and then left, moving with quiet purpose.
Susan and Rigel, slightly taken aback, nodded their goodbyes. Once Hermione had disappeared from sight, they turned to each other, and Rigel silently promised himself he would speak to her at a later date.
Hermione turned for a moment, only to see Rigel with a small, almost imperceptible smile on his lips, while Susan laughed softly, careful not to disturb anyone. Her shoulders stiffened, a tightening in her chest, and faster than before, she slipped from the library, leaving the warmth and chatter behind.
Susan watched Hermione disappear between the shelves, then let out a quiet breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding.
"…Well," she murmured, glancing back at Rigel, "that was something."
Rigel didn't answer at first. His gaze lingered where Hermione had gone, thoughtful, unreadable.
Susan tilted her head. "Can I ask you something?"
He shifted slightly, pulling his attention back to her. "You already are."
She huffed softly. "Why did you call her Granger?"
Rigel stilled... not sharply, not visibly. Just enough that the air between them seemed to tighten.
"Most people call her Hermione," Susan continued, lowering her voice. "Even the ones who barely know her."
A faint pause stretched between them. Long enough to notice. Long enough to mean something.
Rigel's lips curved faintly, not quite a smile, not quite anything at all.
"Well," he said quietly, "Hermione and I have known each other for a long time…"
He paused, then glanced around them. The library was still. Too still.
"Come here," he added, lowering his voice.
Susan blinked. "What?"
He leaned closer, just enough that only she could hear him. His voice dropped to a near whisper, each word measured, deliberate, lost to the space between them.
Susan stiffened.
Her expression shifted in stages: first confusion, then surprise, then something softer, almost wary. Her brows knit together, as if trying to reconcile two incompatible truths.
"…Oh," she breathed.
Rigel straightened, his face composed again, distant. Whatever he had said stayed between them, sealed and unspoken.
Susan didn't smile this time. She studied him for a long moment, then instinctively glanced toward the aisle Hermione had disappeared down.
"I didn't realize," she murmured.
Rigel said nothing.
After a second, Susan exhaled slowly. "That… explains a lot."
She shook her head once, more to herself than to him, then leaned back in her chair, quieter now.
The library settled around them again, the air thick with something unspoken.
Somewhere between the shelves, far out of sight, Hermione Granger remained unaware of the truth that had just been entrusted to someone else.
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