“What’re you up to?” Sirius plonks himself on the arm of Hermione’s chair, and reaches out to tilt her book so he can see the title.
“Well,” Hermione says, “I’ve got a book in my hands and I’m looking at the words in it. I’d hazard a guess at reading, though I could be wrong of course.”
Sirius chuckles. “Playing hard to get? That’s okay, I can deal with that.”
Hermione shakes her head, though she is smiling. “This approach is never going to work. I know you’re only interested in me because I’m new. I’m not stupid.”
“You’re wrong,” Sirius tells her, trying and failing to tug the book out of her hands. “I’m interested in you because you’re new and good looking. And because you’re yet to have a reason to hate me, which vastly increases my chances of -” he stops, catching himself just in time before he says something that Hermione thinks she could justify slapping him for.
“Your chances of what?” she asks, one eyebrow raised.
“My chances of…taking you to Hogsmeade.”
“I can take myself to Hogsmeade,” Hermione replies, returning her attention to her book.
“Yeah, I know that,” he says, struggling for what Hermione imagines is one of the first times in his life when talking to a girl. “But you need somebody to show you around…”
“What were you planning? A guided tour of Zonko’s?” She turns the page of her book, though she’s not really concentrating hard enough to retain anything other than the basic gist of what’s written. She’s very aware of the way he smells. It’s the same expensive aftershave he will wear as an adult. It’s not something she had particularly noticed before, but now her head is littered with memories of Grimmauld Place.
“We can go to Zonko’s if you like,” Sirius says. “I was thinking maybe a walk round the town, a visit to Tomes and Scrolls…a Butterbeer in the Three Broomsticks…”
“Maybe ask me when I’m not in the middle of something,” she says, idly flicking her page over.
“But -“
“I’m trying to read.”
“Yeah but -“
“You’re blocking my light.”
He tries again to snatch the book out of her hands but Hermione holds it out of reach.
“I’m better looking than that book you know,” he says sulkily.
“I can’t say I’d noticed.”
