Perhaps Andrew should have never involved himself in this. Of course he loved film and he loved hanging around Alice, but this already seemed a bit much for his tastes. He gazed in sheer awe as he watched Alice peruse her own bookcase.

The bookcase had seen maybe a few too many winters. It was taller than him, with at least six shelves. Books were piled on top and in front of each other. Books were stacked on top of the case and the surrounding the floor, in several more piles. It was evident that there had been many futile attempts to organize the poor thing, but there were just too many damn books.

Alice had been searching her shelves for several minutes at this point, occasionally picking one up and reading over the back summary. She discovered another book she liked from underneath God-knows-where and shouted, "OOH HOW ABOUT THIS ONE".

Admittedly, this whole process was cute, but that was not enough to dissuade Andrew's disliking for reading. But as usual, Alice was right, and he owed her one. She had, with all deliberate speed, marathoned the entirety of Game of Thrones in one weekend. How she managed to find time for his "fanboy Lord of the Rings knockoff nonsense" and still maintain stellar grades, he had no idea. It wasn't fair, really.

So that is how Andrew Prichard came to find himself seated on the bed of one Alice Rackham, waiting patiently as he watched her tearing throw a mountain of books before him. Thus far she had gone through a measly two shelves, and Andrew had already seen two classic novels, four biographies of geopolitical leaders, and at least one book that looked like something his mother might have read in her "book club." He wasn't sure who Jonathan Livingston Seagull was or what had happened to the other four slaughterhouses, but he didn't stop Alice to ask. She was too concerned with another book she had picked up from a pile towards the bottom.

Alice set the book back down, before pausing as she had spotted a book behind several stacks. She carefully pulled out a book that was orange and green. She grinned, opening it to read over the inside summary. Andrew had recognized the book immediately. He had never read it, but he was aware he was in the minority. It had never crossed his mind that Alice would have read these books, but it did not at all surprise him.

"Are you petrified there, Rackham?" he asked with a playful grin. She looked up, beaming. Alice's face lit up in childlike manner, which didn't match with her current disastrous attire: glasses, messy hair, sweatpants and a hoodie. Yet she looked entirely thrilled to be standing there with the tome that is Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire in her hand. Had he not seen her just giggling over literature for the past 20 minutes now, he might have been surprised at her reaction to finding the aforementioned book.

She just stared at the book nostalgically for a moment before she finally spoke, "I cannot even begin to fathom a way to phrase my feelings in regards to this book."

Andrew raised an eyebrow at her. Alice didn't notice. Her eyes widened, and her grin broadened. She tossed the book onto her bed and knelt next to the bookshelf, furiously digging out more books. He picked up the book, outside fairly pristine, the inside scribbling in with various notes on different pages. When he looked back at her, she had already dug out the first three books. He moved himself on the floor next to her, and she promptly began to stack books in his lap.

He grinned as she placed A Song of Fire and Ice in his lap, but didn't say anything. When he had began to speak, she wasn't listening. She was mumbling to herself "Phoenix… phoenix… Phoenix! Okay, now, Hallows…"

Finally, Andrew broke the spell that Alice seemed to be under, "Okay okay, hold on there John Keats with the the book-stacking". Alice looked up from her furiously-collected novels. A look of realization dawned upon her face. Andrew could tell from her drop in productivity, and in her face, that she was disappointed.

"You never read these, did you?", she said. It occurred to Andrew that she had found out quicker than most. True it was that he had not read the famed Harry Potter series, but he was a little preoccupied during the craze. As a kid he was never much of a reader, save for the occasional Animorphs book. But hell if he was ever going to tell Alice that. He shook his head, and she looked down with disappointment lingering on her face. But she was still elated, as she tentatively opened the cover of Harry Potter and the Half Blood Prince. "I read them when I was in the fourth grade. The teacher had to take them away from me because I wouldn't stop reading in class!

"On the list of things you said that don't surprise me, I think that statement is number one," Andrew replied. Alice snorted, slipping her fingers between pages of the book, and carefully skimming the words. He watched her for a few more moments, before breaking her reverie again.

"So, are we going to continue looking for a book?" She looked up, blinking at him. "Alice?... A new book?"

"Oh! Right. Right. Um, okay." She took the books and placed them on her bed, before going back to search. She wasn't searching in the same manner as before, however. She paused every few seconds to take another glance at the books on her bed. She was more hesitant to pick up her books. She even continually made references to the books, as she compared them to the books she was picking up. Alice took another glance at her books.

"Do you two want some alone time?" Andrew said. Alice looked to him. "Look, we'll finish this later. It looks like you guys have a lot of catching up to do." Alice didn't fight it as he walked out her door, as she already picked up Sorcerer's Stone.