I sit in the library and try to preoccupy myself with some teen magazines until I'm sure my roommates have left, but I can't focus. The articles are all about the newest teen celebrities from the newest TV shows, or movies, or latest pop albums, all things that we chose to give up when we went to Iris. Honestly, I didn't mind giving up television or movies that much, but sometimes I really, really missed some of my favorite albums from back at home. And I could be there listening to them too, if only my parents would come pick me up.

Eventually I decide it's safe to venture downstairs and I don't encounter anyone in the halls as I make my way back toward my room. The dorms appear to be entirely empty, except for me. Sighing loudly to myself, I decide to take a hot shower before I head back to my room and snuggle under the covers. It was still late afternoon, too early for bed, but there was nothing for me to really be awake for. Hopefully my parents would come pick me up this weekend, and then I could go home and leave this place behind me. Then I could actually be a normal teen and listen to music and play video games and not worry about why Minnie Cochran seemed downright scared of me only a few hours ago. I place two fingers on my forehead to focus and use a sleep spell to knock myself out.

Unfortunately, I am not particularly gifted with sleep spells, as they never seem to actually last as long as I want them too. It's still dark when my eyelids fly open, and I roll over and pick up my watch to find that it's almost exactly three in the morning. I lay my head back down on the pillow and shut my eyes, but I can immediately tell it's not going to do any good. The sleep spell has completely worn off and I'm now as wide awake as ever.

I swing my legs out of bed, feeling the cold current of air being swept into the room from underneath the doorway. I sigh and pull my blanket further around me. What to do now? Read? I don't think I'd be able to focus. Instead I decide to just get dressed and head down to the mail room early. I slip on my robe and my warmest fuzzy socks and quietly make my way down to the mail room. The dorms are quiet, quieter than they usually are anyway, and I can only hope that my parents have sent me a letter saying they'll be picking me up this weekend. Otherwise, it's going to be extremely lonely spending break all by myself.

As I head inside, I can see the mail hasn't been delivered yet. I pace around the room a few times before I curl up on a couch in the far corner of the room, wrapping my robes around me. There's a large window overlooking the quad against one wall, and the cold is having no problem pressing itself through. It's making me sleepy very quickly, and it's not long until I adjust my arm underneath my head to make a makeshift pillow as I drift back off to sleep.

Sometime later, I'm awakened to the sensation of someone gently brushing the bangs off my forehead. It feels nice, comforting. I don't stir, but I can feel as if someone is trailing the backs of their fingers along my cheek. I want to look up but I'm afraid if I do the sensation will stop and so I wait, wait as the sensation drifts from my cheek to my hair. I can't be sure if someone is actually stroking my hair or if it's just a dream, but either way, I keep my eyes closed and snuggle into it, letting a small smile creep over my face.

The next time I open my eyes, the first thing I see is large snowflakes hitting themselves against the window pane. If anything, the weather looks like it's only gotten worse. I groan sleepily and stretch out my neck from side to side before I stretch my arms out in front of me. I rub at my eyes and blink into the bright overhead lights until my eyes adjust to see Professor Grabiner sitting at the sorting table a few feet away from me, reading a book. He doesn't look at me, but I can tell that he's aware that I'm up by the way he seems to be staring through the book instead of reading it.

"Sir?" I ask groggily.

"Sleeping in here so I can't punish you for being late?" he asks, still not looking at me.

I snort. "No, I just, I don't know. Woke up early, I guess." I stretch my neck out from side to side again as I adjust myself on the couch. I check my watch. It's just after 9 AM. Whoops. "So am I still late?"

"Well considering you were here at five, I doubt arguing semantics with you would be a good use of either of our time," he says. "And, considering most of the students are away on holiday, I didn't expect you to be here anyway."

"Oh." I look down to the floor. "Um, right. My parents probably aren't coming for me, with the bad weather and all."

"Are you sure?" he asks. He gets up and hands me an envelope that had been sitting next to him on the table.

As he gets up, I realize that he is not wearing his signature cloak and, as I struggle to free myself from the makeshift blanket around my hands, I realize that it's draped over me. He doesn't say anything about it, and I decide not to comment on it just yet. I rip open the corner of the envelope and then pull it open with one finger as I extract the letter. Except it's not a letter. It's just a note.

Sorry we couldn't come get you this year. Have a great holiday!

That was it.

That was all that was written.

I turn the card over in my hands, flipping it from front to back, daring there to be more. But my parents are non-magical. It's not charmed. There's no secret message written. That's just literally all that's there.

I slump back into the couch and stare at my mother's familiar handwriting, trying to process the letter, trying to explain it to myself rationally, but no rational thoughts come. Instead, there's only feelings, feelings of distrust and betrayal and anger, and a powerful wave of nausea that hits me in the stomach like a wave.

"Yeah," I say bitterly. "I'm sure."

He raises an eyebrow, his eyes still trained down towards his book, and that's when another wave of emotions hits me all at once. Suddenly it's all too much for me, the back-and-forth attitude I've had with Grabby for the past few months, spinning wildly between pure hatred and titillating confusion, Minnie's refusal to talk to me, Thomas' over-friendliness, the fact that I couldn't seem to trust Virginia or Ellen or even Donald with anything…my parents pretty much just abandoning me here…

For a second I just sit there, fuming, until I'm vaguely aware that his cape actually smells like him, of old books and parchment and something else I can't quite place and instead of being calmed, I'm incensed. It's too familiar, it's too comfortable, it's too wrong, all of it's wrong. Grabby was a mean person. He hated everyone. So why was he being so nice to me? What had happened this morning? He came in to check the mail, saw me shivering in here and decided to just put his cape over me and stay with me until I woke up? That doesn't sound like anything Grabby would ever do for anyone. Was it because I had opened up to him that day? Was he really concerned about me? None of this made any sense.

The thoughts are starting to make my head spin and I get up, tossing his cape aside as I crumble up the letter and envelope into a ball and throw it into the fire Grabby had apparently lit while I was sleeping. I don't turn around to see his reaction. Instead, I storm out of the room. I think I hear him call my name behind me, but I don't care. I have nothing to say to him, and he can't possibly have anything to say to me that I want to hear right now. I don't turn around. I don't want to go back to my dorm room, it's too cold to go outside, and so for some reason I make my way back to the library.

It's a small library, and I check between all the shelves to make sure that no one else is there, but it's abandoned. All of the usual library goers had gone home for break. There is a big glass wall with windows overlooking the other side of the quad, and I stare out at the cold, snowy landscape in front of me. My attention is pulled upwards, to one of the high window sills. It is pretty thick, and I've always wondered what it would be like to sit up there and read, gazing out at the quad beneath me. I take quick glance behind me, but no one's around. Now's a good a time as any.

Using one of the stepstools, I quickly clamber up to the top of a book shelf, pulling myself into a kneeling position on top of it. They are quite sturdy, bolted to the floor, and I take a moment to realize that I am actually kneeling on the top of a bookshelf as I inch my way towards the edge, towards the window. It's not a far jump by any means, but I don't want to hit the window with too much force and bounce backwards off the sill, so I rock back and forth on my heels a few times before I actually make the jump. I make sure to push myself forwards as I fall, pushing my weight into the window, and I don't fall back. Instead, I carefully lower myself into a seated position, finding there was just enough room for me to stretch out my legs.

I glance down beneath me. I have got to be at least seven feet up, just taller than all of the book shelves around me. Idly I look down to see the stepstool, and almost wonder if it would have been easier to just pull up a chair and jump up to the ledge and pull myself up. I shrug and let the side of my face rest against the cold glass. It actually feels nice. Someone is still running the heat in the library, and it feels unusually warm in here. I look outside the window to see the snow piling up. It really does look like a pretty bad snowstorm, and I could understand why my parents didn't want to make the drive, but I still couldn't help but feel upset about it. They had given me a note. Not a letter, not a card, but a note. They couldn't have said anything else? They couldn't have told me that they would miss me? They couldn't have asked me to write to them over holidays? They couldn't have told me that it wouldn't be the same without me? Heck, they didn't even sign it.

I finally realize that I had jumped up here without bringing a book with me, but I don't feel like jumping down just now. Instead, I cross my arms across my chest and I sit, and I think, and I fume, and I sulk in my little corner of the library, high up above the bookshelves. For some reason, it makes me feel at least a little bit better. Why was Grabiner acting so nice to me? Why was Minnie afraid of me? I didn't have the answers to any of these questions, and I wouldn't get them sitting here, but it felt good to at least let myself be overwhelmed for a moment where no one else could see me. I don't cry, I don't yell or huff, I just sit and let the emotions flow through me, let myself feel as shitty as I want to feel. For some reason, it's oddly cathartic.

I don't know how long it is until I eventually feel a cramp in my neck and I have to sit up and stretch. I dangle my legs over the edge slowly, trying to shake out the pins and needles. I twist around and place my fingers squarely on the ledge and then drop myself down. The tips of my toes won't quite make the floor, and so I have no choice but to let go of the ledge and drop the remaining distance. I land squarely on the balls of my feet, and put my arms out by my sides just in case. I don't fall, and I let out a little sigh of relief. Not too bad.

I take stock of myself. My neck is sore, my lower back hurts from being hunched over against the wall, and I'm starting to develop a headache from not eating all day. Deciding on a hot shower first, I head back to my dorm room, only to step on a tiny note that was slipped under the door. Written in the unmistakable cursive that could only be his:

Tori, please come see me at the earliest opportunity.

It's written in the top left of the card, leaving most of the space blank. I'm not quite sure if he meant to write more and simply decided not to, or if he had written more and then erased it. I tap the card, trying to figure out if it's cloaked for my-eyes-only but, much like my parent's note this morning, that's all that's there.

I sigh and shake out my hair in the mirror. I look ridiculously tired, but I might as well head over now and see what he wants.

It's cold outside, and as I stomp through the snow in my sneakers, I realize that I should probably have a pair of snow boots for the winter months. Unfortunately, the snow storm snuck up quickly, and none of the buses would be running back to the mall until after break, so I was stuck dealing with what I had.

I march my way sleepily up to Professor Grabiner's room, knocking on the door. It's really cold and dark outside. I'm not quite sure what time it is, but no one seems to be around. Not that that should be a surprise anyway. I knew I probably wasn't the only student who stayed behind for break, but it at least seemed like it. I knock on the door again and stifle a yawn.

"What-?"

Professor Grabiner is standing in the open doorway in pajama pants, no shirt. I shift my eyes quickly down his front, from his broad shoulders down to his…I jerk my eyes back up at his face quickly. "Hi." I am aware that I am squeaking.

"What are you doing here?" he asks, and I shudder, either from the weight of his stare or the cold.

"Your note?" I ask. "You told me to see you."

He closes his eyes as a look of frustration crosses his face. "Yes, I said-"

"-at the earliest opportunity." I hold out his card for him to read it.

"Yes, but do you have any idea what time it is?" he asks in a cold, angry tone.

"No," I say slowly.

"It's half past midnight."

"Oh," I feel color creeping into my cheeks. "Oh, I'm sorry, sir. I-I didn't realize. I'll just…head back then."

"Oh silly girl," he sighs, wiping his face with one hand. "You're here now. Come in."

I'm surprised that 'silly' was his first choice of words, considering how many times he's called me 'stupid,' but I try not to let it show as I make my way awkwardly past him, fixated on the way his pajama pants are hanging from his hips. I tilt my head to the side. He is…hot, not in a super-muscly way, but he is definitely more toned than he looks. The robes did a decent job of hiding it, but-

"Let me go put a shirt on," he sighs, heading for his dresser. "Before you start drooling."

My jaw drops, and I quickly screw up my face in response. Was he implying-? "Sorry, it's just not every day you see such a convincing glamour."

He shoots a dirty look back my way, and I can only manage a cheeky grin in response. The playful ribbing, why did it seem to come so naturally?

"So what was so urgent you needed to see me about?" he asks. The white cotton t-shirt he put on clings around his shoulders, and in a way, it almost makes him hotter. I look away.

"Well, I got your note, you said you wanted to see me," I say.

"I wanted to give you your holiday present," he said. "But I thought it could at least wait until morning hours."

"Well, now that I'm here," I shrug. "You can give it to me now."

He sighs. "Very well, close your eyes." I stare at him dubiously for a moment before I do what I'm told and close my eyes. I'm grin and bite my lip, feeling hyper-aware of everything around me, my upper teeth biting into the corner of my chapped lip, the bit of wet hair from the snow clinging to the back of my neck, my breathing, which seems to get faster and faster as-

Suddenly I feel him cup the side of my cheek and guide my lips to his own. I let out an involuntary moan as I kiss him back, my lips pulling at his bottom one. He breaks the kiss and presses his forehead against mine, our breathing suddenly labored with desire. "Should I continue?"

"Yes," I breathe. I wrap my arms around his neck, pulling him to me. I run one hand through his hair and the other along his back while he wraps his arms around me, his palm flat against my lower back with one hand, the other holding my neck in place, keeping me from breaking the kiss.

I push against him and the kiss deepens as he pushes me over to the bed, pushing me down. I wriggle backwards as he crawls on top of me, propping himself up with one elbow and running his hand over my hair as he kisses me again. "You don't need this," he says as he puts his hand against my chest. At first I'm not sure what he's doing, but suddenly my jacket and shirt disappears, and I'm left in only my bra. I gasp at the rush of cold air against my skin and put my hand on his chest, trying to do the same. It doesn't work.

"Silly girl." He smirks as he pulls his shirt over his head, and somehow it's even hotter that way. He kisses me again, his chest flush against mine, warming my body with his own. I buck my hips up against his, embracing the heat that is pooling in my core. I'm panting now, hot with desire, and he seems to realize this, as he abandons my lips and pulls at my earlobe with his teeth. I gasp and my eyelids flutter as he places feather-light kisses down my cheek, down my neck, all the while running the length of my body with his free hand.

I grab at the pillows near my head as I groan, arching my back off the bed as he kisses down my front, his warm lips singing against my frozen skin. He is kissing me more slowly now, nearing my belly button, and I suddenly realize what he's about to do. Slowly he slides my pants off, leaving me in nothing but my panties, while I twist with need beneath him.

"Do you want me to?" he asks.

"Yes, fuck, yes." I buck my hips again in agitation. I need him to be touching me, kissing me, anything, anywhere, so long as I can feel him. Suddenly I'm aware that my panties are gone and I think I can just feel the tip of his tongue as his hot breath descends on me…

I let out a groan and throw my head against the pillows. "Hieronymous," I pant. The word is a mouthful but I drip each syllable out of my mouth. "Hier-o-ny-mous. Hieronymous, Hieronymous." I repeat it faster and faster, almost like a chant. I can feel myself building, I can feel it pooling in my core and suddenly I feel my whole body tighten up like a coil and I want to let go just let go-

"TORI!"

I jerk my eyes open and slip headfirst off the library's window ledge.