Chapter Ten: Negatives

I hate riddles.

I didn't know how much I hated riddles until I was trying to break into the Ravenclaw Tower – and don't look at me like that. I am here purely for artistic reasons.

Unfortunately, the damn tower wants me to solve a riddle to get in.

"Okay," I said, taking a deep breath and clutching my camera tightly. "Say it again."

The bronze eagle knocker in front of me stated, "What can you keep after giving to someone else?"

"Okay," I repeated to myself. "It can't be something you can give physically, right? Because then you can't keep it. So it's something metaphorical or emotional or some stupid shit like that." The knocker gave no indication of whether I was going in the right direction, so I continued. "Errr – love? No, you can't keep love, can you? Your heart? Bloody hell, how mushy do I have to get here?"

Merlin, there was a reason I wasn't a Ravenclaw.

"Come on!" I shouted, my voice echoing through the hallways. "Shit, someone definitely heard that! I'm going to get caught, let me in!"

Nothing.

"Let me in, please!" I begged. "I'm not stealing or doing anything bad, I swear!"

I kicked the door – and it didn't open, but it managed to make my toe feel like something ran over it. Something very heavy. I swore in pain.

I gripped my toe, hopping on one foot. "Dammit! Okay, umm… Ravenclaw-ish stuff? Books! No, that's a thing – snobs! Blue! Knowledge!"

I fell back as the door swung open.

Knowledge.

Typical.

I glanced around me before clambering inside, shutting the door behind me. The room was circular and blue and all Ravenclaw-like. It wasn't too bad, honestly, but I preferred Gryffindor's Common Room.

Now. The girl's dormitory.

Okay, before you say anything, this isn't what it looks like. Like I said, I'm here for purely artistic reasons. I believe that you should capture something without taking it – sort of like that stupid riddle – and if I couldn't see Daniella sleeping every day, I might as well take a picture of it.

… all right, so it sounds creepy any way you say it.

Either way, I had made my decision: I was going to levitate myself up the stairs, get in the girl's dormitory, find Daniella, take the picture and get out. Plain and simple.

I don't know what pulled me so strongly to that image of her sleeping. Maybe it was because it was the first time I'd ever seen it, and it just felt so real. Like there wasn't a mask over the picture. I think that's why I wouldn't ever want her to pose.

I dunno. There was something so natural about that scene that I couldn't get it out of my head – and believe me, I tried. There were night and nights of arguing with myself – no, there was no way I was going to sneak into the Ravenclaw tower, much less the girl's dormitory. Not for a picture. It wasn't worth the risk… was it?

Evidently, my less rational side won out.

Getting into the dormitory was the easy part. I was always good at levitating myself – had to get to some unusual places for good shots – but I had never been very good at sneaking up on people. Probably because Dylan ruined it most of the time, but still: I wasn't really used to tip-toeing around.

I did my best, though. Once I reached the landing on top of the stairs, I opened the door as quietly as I could – which, of course, resulted in loud awkward noises from the door handle. I kept the door halfway open and slipped inside.

My camera bumped against the doorframe. Noise.

I took a step. The floor creaked. Noise.

So I stopped, took a breath and actually looked around the four-poster beds, trying to figure out which one Daniella was in. I nearly had to stop myself from groaning when I realized the blue curtains were drawn on every. Single. Bed.

Fuck my life.

I stood frozen in the middle of room, thinking I should just give up while I was ahead. I mean, if I left now, I wouldn't have to risk a bunch of angry Ravenclaw snobs (minus Daniella) waking up and screaming at me, right? I would leave, get out of the Common Room, go back to bed and not risk detention or expulsion and continue to argue with myself where my limits as a photographer were.

But I was so close.

So I did what any guy would do: I looked through their trunks.

I went to the first one on the left, planning to go clockwise in the circle. I dropped to my knees and carefully opened the first trunk. If I knew Daniella, she would fill hers with books because she didn't have enough room in her bookshelf.

The first trunk was filled with clothes and makeup. The second was stuffed to the brim with arts supplies, a very colourful smock and a few pairs of shoes. The third had a lot of lingerie.

Awkward.

By the fourth one, I was getting more and more paranoid, and almost shouted with relief when I found the stacks of books in the fourth trunk. I shut the trunk and stood slowly, my limbs cracking slightly as I stepped around and peeked through the curtain.

I wanted to turn back the instant I saw her – but she was right there. Peacefully sleeping. She had some sort of lamp near her bed that illuminated her space with a dull purple light. She needed a night light. Huh. I couldn't bring myself to care.

Now.

How was I going to do this.

I could just take it like this, peeking in through her curtain, but the lamp was kind of inconveniently placed. The glare wouldn't be good for the photo. Plus, she was facing the other way. In order to do this, I either had to switch to the other side of the bed, open the curtain so some of the light could come through the window, or… stand on the bed, over her.

I shook off that last thought immediately and walked to the other side. It was bad enough that I was taking all these pictures of her – especially one of her sleeping – without her permission. I couldn't risk her waking up and catching me for a perfect picture.

At least, not this time.

I felt excitement bubbling in me alongside the guilt and ignored both feelings. Instead, I very slowly slid the curtain aside, just to the foot of her bed. She didn't move. The light was now illuminating every feature of her face in a soft glow. She looked… indescribable. She was curled up, her breathing slow and steady.

I was reminded why I was taking this picture – so I could see that anytime I wanted.

And suddenly, it was worth it.

I moved so that my shins were gently pressing against the bed and I was directing my camera towards her face and torso. Just one picture. That was it. Then I'd go back, develop it in the morning and never do something this ridiculous again. Just one more.

I took a deep breath and pressed my finger down on the button.

Click.

Flash.

… CRAP.

The bright light I hadn't anticipated – really really really hadn't – flashed in her face. I scrambled to move away and drop my camera, but it was too late; her eyes had snapped open and sleepily grabbed in front of her. It was a reflex, but unfortunately, she had happened to grab onto my camera, pull it hard, snap the cord around my neck and pull me forward.

And I fell on top of her.

Merlin, it just keeps getting worse.

"Albus?" She shook her head and disregarded my camera in her hands, staring at me and trying to understand what I was doing here, in the Ravenclaw Tower, with a camera pointed at her while she was sleeping.

She's a Ravenclaw. It didn't take her long.

I only saw the anger in her eyes for a moment before a sharp, piercing pain surged through my ear when she grabbed it. I'm pretty sure she twisted, too. I fell off of her and onto the space beside her bed, cursing under my breath. She shut the curtain – no one had woken up, thankfully – and turned to me.

"What the hell are you doing here?" she whispered furiously.

"I…" Shit. I clenched my eyes shut and wished this wasn't happening. And I wished that I'd been smart enough to think of an excuse before coming here for what would happen if I got caught.

Stupid. Flash.

"Albus." I opened my eyes. She was now holding up my camera. Her hands were clearly shaking. Probably not good if she wanted to take a picture.

Wait. She was touching my camera.

Twitch.

"Albus," she said again, her voice quivering. I didn't meet her eyes. "Were you taking a picture of me?"

"I…" My lips were forming the word – the truth – but it wasn't coming out. She waited. She looked so beautiful, even when she was half pissed off, half looking as though she were about to cry – and hell, half shocked. I took a deep breath, trying to push down the guilt and own up to the truth:

Yes, I am a creepy stalker and was taking a picture of you sleeping.

Someone Avada me. Please.

But I didn't say it, because my throat was doing that weird constricting and tightening thing it always does around her, and I couldn't speak. Her impatience was evident, and to my complete and utter horror, she went to my camera in her hands, broke open the compartment on the side and took out the negatives. The same negatives with pictures I'd been taking of her all week.

Shit.

Shit.

Shit.

"These…" She swallowed hard and looked back up to me. I was frozen. "These are all me?"

Wordlessly, I found it in myself to nod.

"Why?" she whispered.

Why. That question I'd been contemplating for months, even before I'd become her friend. When I'd first tripped in the Great Hall because I saw her. When I spent all that time staring at her from my tree, and then when I started hanging out with and became her friend.

Why was I doing all this? Why was she special? Why did I bother?

The first thing I thought was because she was beautiful. Which was true. She was the most stunning girl I'd ever seen, which is saying something, since I'd never had a crush on anyone before. But then I thought to how we both liked nature and coffee and how it was so nice to sit with her for all those weeks. Even if she talked a lot and was happy.

Then the answer was as clear, if not clearer, than when Dylan and James said it: I fancied her. I fancied her and how she wore sweatpants on Sundays and how she dipped her feet in the water when it was warm and how she always hugged me tightly and how she wasn't afraid of me.

Until now.

And I had never wanted that to happen.

And there she was, her eyes filled with tears, her hands shaking, still waiting for an answer while it all hit me, while everything clicked into place – and I just had to say it. Spit it out. Tell her the truth.

I fancy you. I did it because I fancy the hell out of you.

Instead, I leaned in and kissed her.