Settling the Score

Visions and Decisions and Revisions

"It's official then?"

"S'pose so."

"The git wasn't kidding."

"S'pose not."

"So… what are you going to do?"

I stared at the rather large square of parchment plastered right in the center of the flooded notice board, charmed to blink urgently and capture everyone's attention. The words 'Gryffindor Needs New Seeker, ASAP' were flashing in red ink, followed by a brief paragraph or so concerning the dates for try-outs and such.

A low, steely sigh escaped from my lips as I glared down the words, lips twitching somewhat with irritation. "Dunno, really," I muttered darkly, annoyed by the feeling of Alicia's wide, blue eyes staring at me critically. "There's not really much I can do."

She pursed her lips, gaze taking on a tinge of annoyance. "Well, yeah there is," she pointed out, raising a blonde brow at me. "You could just try—"

"No," I interjected, eyes rolling with considerable ire as she made to say the ever-predictable suggestion. Tearing my glare away from the blinking parchment, I wheeled around and treaded over to a nearby armchair, sinking down into the worn, burgundy cushions with a huff.

Barely a day had gone by and he'd already plastered a sodding notice on the board, announcing that try-outs were in four days. Four bloody days, I mean really—overeager, much? After yesterday's meeting with McGonagall, I wasn't entirely sure where the whole 'replacement' thing stood.

Now I was perfectly clear—the thickhead was going through with it. And apparently it was a rather steamy topic of conversation.

"…what do you reckon she did?"

"Dunno—but obviously Oliver wasn't very happy about it…"

"…heard it takes a lot to get him angry…"

I nearly snorted at the last one, barely registering the not-so-muted whispers taking place a few feet away from me. I sneezed once during a speech of his—all hell broke loose, I thought dryly, casting my gaze over in the direction of the voices.

A mingled assortment of fifth and seventh years were staring at me critically—Quidditch hopefuls assessing the shoes they were attempting to fill. Most of them seemed mildly curious, a few even admiring, but one girl in particular looked downright insufferable.

She had long, blonde hair that was a few shades too pale in my opinion, paired with rather vindictive hazel eyes and haughty, delicate features. Her expression was one of utmost critique, nose wrinkled into a permanently disapproving expression and strawberry colored lips pursed.

She had a rather snooty kind of beauty that screamed of wealth, enhanced by the silken collared shirt and designer plaid skirt her uniform consisted of. I couldn't help but bristle slightly with annoyance as the girl eyed me up and down, summing me up in a single, disdainful glance.

I raised a brow as her olive-tinged eyes finally met with mine, expecting her to take the hint and look away, though to my surprise, she merely smirked. Not a friendly smile, or small grin—but a cool, challenging little smirk.

My other brow rose to meet the former, lips curving into a slight frown as I tried to gauge who exactly this girl was and why the hell she assumed she could toss me that look without reason. She was obviously a seventh year—the only sixth year Gryffindor girls were Angelina, Allie, Kats and I, and she held herself with far too much importance to be younger.

"Alicia," I murmured as the girl finally glanced away, a twittering little laugh sounding from her lips as some random bloke told some sort of joke, "who's that girl over there?"

Alicia glanced away from the notices she had been perusing, scanning over the room until her gaze landed on the gathered group of students. "Who, the blonde?"

I rolled my eyes briefly at how shamelessly loud she was—she didn't even try to lower her voice, she just assumed no one could hear. "Yeah, why don't you use a Sonorous Charm just in case China didn't hear you," I tossed back a bit tetchily.

She ignored my little quip as she peered closely at the girl, eyes flickering with recognition. "Oh, that's Fiona Price," she answered neutrally, staring at the uppity face. "I always get confused for her from behind; s'pose it's the blonde thing."

"Ever talk to her?" I ventured, stare still focused on the slightly pinched face.

"A few times, yeah—we're in the same Ancient Runes class," Alicia responded, gaze flitting over to mine as her blonde brow rose. "Why the sudden interest?"

A swirl of dislike was churning slowly within me as I continued to stare, unable to shake off a prickling feeling of suspicion. "No reason, really," I supplied, finally tearing my gaze away, "she just seems like a bit of a bint."

Alicia shrugged, limited attention once again focusing on the twittering group of students. "Dunno, she's been nice enough to—" Her entire demeanor suddenly shifted, the dismissive flatness in her eyes sharpening into a bright, somewhat predatory gleam. "Hel-lo, Señor Caliente."

Face crumpling with confusion, I glanced back at the crowd, craning my neck to follow her gaze straight to…

My expression flattened, eyes rolling briefly—a bloke. Typical. My eyes scanned over the one in question, unsurprised to find a head of neat blonde hair, a slightly pale, angular face, and a rather thin physique. The same sodding type of guy she was always inexplicably attracted to.

And I repeat—typical.

Heaving a heavy sigh, I shook my head, expression dry. "Ally, pet, if you were any more bloody predictable, you'd be male."

Barely paying me any attention, she simply nodded idly, expression darkening with a somewhat sultry air. Sparing yet another look at the skinny Seventh Year, I couldn't help but roll my eyes again, grimacing slightly as the boy sent Alicia a suggestive wink.

Her lips curved into an elfin smirk. "Oh, bloody hell, spare me," I muttered as I reached for my ratty messenger bag, ready to make a brief and speedy exit to the dorms as the tall boy began making his way over. "I'll be upstairs gagging myself with a toothbrush—you have fun."

Slinging the strap over my shoulder, I ambled through the Common Room bustle toward the staircase, thankfully avoiding what was bound to be a somewhat nauseating exchange. All I managed to hear was a brief introduction of the name Sebastian Melmoth before the conversation fizzled out, lost in my ears to the overall din of the room.

A-okay by me, I thought as I quickly ascended the staircase, not for the sole purpose of escaping a potential snog-fest but simply eager to get away from the social buzz in general—this latest announcement had given me the startings of a headache. Seeing that giant notice flashing obnoxiously made this commitment a hell of a lot realer than I'd ever anticipated it to be, and I wasn't at all prepared for it.

I certainly never thought it'd get to this point.

But now it has, so deal with it, I thought rather cynically as I pushed open the door, having to apply a bit of force to get it to push through all the stray articles of clothing blocking its path. It was a Thursday; hence a steady, stress-induced build-up of mess had been accumulating for four days, waiting until Sunday morning for Angelina to tidy it up.

I sighed tiredly, stepping over the various discarded belongings and tossing my bag onto my characteristically cluttered four-poster. The movement was careless and haphazard, ending in quite a few books and compositions spilling over from beneath the undone clasp.

Unfazed by this, I grabbed the towel dangling from one of my bed's posters, tossing it over my shoulder and making a beeline for the bathroom. A long, scalding shower sounded right about perfect, for I could let some of my stress steam away with the water and gain a bit of peace to think things through.

Right?

Wrong.

Perhaps five minutes into the whole de-stressing process, a furious, ear-splitting scream crashed against the walls of the dormitory, sending me jolting about five feet into the bloody air. Knocking my head against the metal shower bar, I cursed loudly, wrenching the faucet off mid-shampoo as I hastily threw the towel around my body.

That scream sounded painfully like Angelina's—for Merlin knows I knew it well—and she only used it during times of mortal peril, unimaginable fear, or shrill, unparalleled fury. Yanking the bathroom door open with a fierce tug, it only took a single glance at the frighteningly livid Prefect to know that, and why, it was the latter.

Her long, thin braids, once tiny and delicate, were now miniscule, writhing snakes.

"FRED FUCKING WEASLEY!" she screeched, frozen in terror, eyes completely and utterly black with cold-blooded fury, "IF YOU VALUE YOUR PATHETIC LIFE, YOU'LL GET UP HERE RIGHT SODDING NOW!"

A torrent of musical laughter filtered up from the Common Room, Fred Weasley's guttural cackle unmistakable from within the mix. "I'm afraid I can't, love—your stairs don't take too well to blokes…"

Hearing the twinkling amusement in his voice, I felt a horribly sinking feeling of dread—he obviously couldn't see what I saw. More of his laughter rang clear in the air, along with that of George and Lee, and I watched in fascinated horror as a livid, almost feral gleam overtook Angelina's eyes. Her expression said it all.

She was out for blood.

Posture strangely rigid, she walked through the doorway and stared over the stair-railing, movements twitchy and almost slightly maniacal with trembling rage. "Well, in a few moments, that won't be a problem, Fred," she murmured with an unnerving calm, especially given the twitch in her left eye.

Still too far to properly see her expression, Fred merely grinned lopsidedly from below, eyes twinkling. "And why's that?"

Baby snakes writhing wildly about her frighteningly still face, her entire expression broke down into one of utmost rage, volatile snarl escaping her lips as Fred's entire face paled. "BECAUSE WHEN I'M BLOODY DONE WITH YOU, YOU WON'T BE A RECOGNIZABLE MALE!"

And with that furious declaration, she went charging down the stairs, barreling wildly after Fred as he hurtled over various tables and couches to try and escape her warpath. "Help me! She's bloody Medusa!" he cried as he shoved a group of students out of the way of the portrait hole, scrambling through at record speed and just missing Angelina's furious swipe.

Letting out a wild growl, the usually perfectly together girl charged through the portrait hole right after him, hot on his heels as she disappeared into the bustle of the hallway. The entire Common Room had erupted in laughter long since, greatly enjoying Fred's terror and Angelina's apparent insanity.

Having rushed to the banister to gain a better view of the chaos, I couldn't help but snort at mess of upturned tables and couches Fred and Angelina had left behind, grinning despite myself at the hilarity of the situation. Only Fred could reduce someone as collected and put together as Angelina Johnson into a fit of howling rage.

However, the smile promptly hardened as my eyes caught sight of something—or rather someone—that I really had no care whatsoever to see. He had his head tossed back slightly, rumbling laugh tumbling out from the back of his throat, expression thoroughly amused.

A dull sort of anger flooded through me without warning: sure it was bloody easy for Wood to enjoy himself, his Quidditch position hadn't just been put up for grabs. It was an irrational thought, something I should've been able to get over quickly, but seeing him there all carefree and happy was making me increasingly bitter.

Just as I turned to go, I spotted a familiar head of uncannily blonde hair, realizing with a knot of unpleasant recognition that the girl he was laughing with was the same sneering girl from earlier. Fiona something or other. My eyes narrowed coolly, how fitting – the Bint and the Bigot. They could be a bloody children's play.

Almost as if sensing this sudden wave of coldness, his casual gaze flickered upwards, instinctively meeting with mine. For a moment, he looked slightly perplexed, dark brow raising as his eyes flitted over me. What the sodding hell is his—

It was then that I realized I was still clad in only a towel. Oh. So that's why it felt rather drafty.

And that I still had shampoo in my hair. Oh. So that's why my right eye was stinging.

Refusing to show any sort of breakdown in my composure—like, oh say, mortification—I merely lifted my chin a bit higher, glare veering from somewhat cool to steely. Catching this increase in disdain, his own expression leveled somewhat, gaze tapering into a similar expression.

He angled his head to the side briefly, indicating the bright, bloody obnoxious notice hanging high and mighty in the center of the board, as if asking if I'd seen it yet. Haughty git. As if anyone with sodding eyes could miss it.

Undoubtedly watching for my reaction, his lips curled smugly as I tossed him a delightfully vulgar hand gesture, green eyes reduced to angry slits. I was just about done with this silent little war; all it was doing was giving him a sense of satisfaction, anyway.

Tightening my grip on the white towel, I tossed back a final scoff, having nothing better to part with. A hair-flip would result in foamy shampoo scattering everywhere, and potential blindness on my part, which would be a bit counter-productive.

Hence, I simply swiveled around—though before fully doing so, I caught a familiar hazel stare assessing me coolly, snippy face lined with blatant disapproval. It was the Fiona bint. Apparently she'd felt left out of the glare-match. Always a large advocate of sharing, I managed to work in the subtlest of glowers in her direction; all out of the goodness of my compassionate heart.

Making sure to firmly shut the door behind me, I let out a rather heated sigh, trekking straight back into the bathroom and yanking the faucet from off to absolutely scalding. Abandoning my towel, I stepped in the steady stream of gradually heating water, vowing to not come out until I was significantly calmer, redder, and wrinklier.

This ended up taking all of two hours and eating away all of the castle's hot water.

I blame Wood.

"…can't believe he's bloody gay," Alicia groaned tortuously, arms poised atop her knees as she sat meditation style on her bed, blonde curls somewhat disheveled from her version of 'yoga'.

Hours had flown by since the Hair-turned-Snake incident, leaving Alicia with plenty of time to brood about the fact that the blonde bloke from earlier, who'd managed to have her completely smitten within five minutes of their meeting, was gloriously homosexual.

"Well, how can you be sure?" Katie reasoned, half-eaten Licorice Wand clutched within her fingers as she turned the page of her Charms text.

"He started talking about his sodding relationship problems, Kats," she grumbled, mood considerably soured by this development. "The trials and tribulations of a Poof."

"Well… I mean, would you really want that sort of baggage, anyway?" Katie queried tentatively, bringing her gaze away from the insipidly boring volume and resting it instead on Alicia.

"Bloke-on-Bloke baggage? In a boyfriend? Why, it'd thrill me to no end," Alicia responded sarcastically, though before Katie could clarify her meaning, the door flew open, admitting the only person missing from the room.

Angelina, now snake-free, floated into the dormitory with a rather dazed look on her features, movements somewhat slow and deliberate. No one had seen her since she'd barreled like a maniac after Fred, save for a few startled Ravenclaws who had seen her darting past furtively, on the prowl.

Expecting all sorts of muted curses and angry mutters to be tumbling from her lips, I raised a brow at the suspiciously silent entrance, abandoning my half-completed Potions outline. The snippy exchange between Alicia and Katie dwindled to a close as Angelina drifted over to her bed, collapsing down with an unceremonious thud, blinking a few times.

"He kissed me."

"WHAT!?"

The shriek came from all three of us at the same time, Alicia nearly falling out of her yoga pose, Katie's Licorice Wand slipping out of her hand, and my quill dropping.

"B-but he's gay!"

"Fred?" Katie exclaimed, wide-eyed.

"No, Sebastia—who the bloody hell are we even talking about?" Alicia demanded, utterly flustered.

"Fred, we're talking about Fred!" I responded rashly, scrambling off my bed as I dashed over to Angelina's, shock still rippling through me—Fred had been after Angelina since third year.

Following my lead, Alicia and Katie also took their loyal place around the still very much confounded girl, who had yet to say anything else on the matter. Her dark hazel eyes had a stunned quality about them, adding to her general look of dazedness.

"What happened?" Katie ventured to ask, her tone tentative so as to not spark a volatile streak in Angelina's apparent hypnosis. She didn't respond for a moment, images still whirring in her confounded gaze. "Angeli—"

"Two hours," she interjected, making Alicia's almond-shaped eyes round enormously.

"You snogged for two bloody ho—"

"No, let me finish," Angelina cut in, expression sharpening somewhat to her more usual look, though it was still a bit faraway. "I chased him around the castle for two sodding hours, bull-dozing through groups of first years and following him through passages I never even knew existed—how he knows these shortcuts, I have no idea in hell—but after a bloody long while, we ended up at the top of the Observatory, and I thought I finally had him cornered."

She paused for a moment, and I felt the anticipation rising within the room—if Fred had finally gotten through to Angelina… after three years… that was huge.

"So…?" Alicia prompted, eyes still wide and eager.

"So then I asked him what his coffin preference was, since I was sodding done with chasing him," she elaborated, the dazed look returning slightly as the corners of her lips lifted almost imperceptibly, "and he said that I had it all wrong. He was done with chasing me."

I watched her as she struggled with the smile threatening her lips, trying to keep her composure immune as she finally glanced around at us. "And then he kissed me."

I shook my head slowly, grin sliding onto my lips as Alicia's curled into a wicked smirk; we had always sided with Fred on the matter of Angelina, and we made it no secret to our dear friend. Katie, unable to control herself, let out an unbearably girly squeal as she pounced forward, knocking the girl down with a giant embrace.

"Oh, I knew it!" she exclaimed, suffocating a loudly-protesting Angelina as Alicia and I glanced at each other, wicked grins communicating similar messages. I titled my head at the strangled pair, grin widening as Alicia nodded—and we both followed Katie's lead and leapt at her, smothering her with 'I told you so's.

"Oi, no, gerroff, you cows!" she demanded loudly, though her voice had a musical wash of laughter in it, taking away all sense of scorn. "I'm serious, really, nothing's changed between us!"

"Like hell it hasn't, you snogged him for two hours!" Alicia retorted, to which Angelina groaned.

"I did not!"

"But you still snogged him!"

"Not for two hours!"

"Doesn't matter!"

"No, it does—really, I don't think anything's going to come out of it!" she tried again, to which we all snorted.

"Yeah right; Fred's been after you for years, you idiot!"

"No—"

"Don't even deny it!"

"That's not it—"

"Freed and Angeliiinaa!"

"Would you let me bloody talk?" she snapped angrily, any sense of teasing gone from her voice. We all fell into a somewhat surprised silence, not expecting such a harsh tone amidst all the idiotic giggling and teasing. "I don't think I'm going to let anything come out of it."

I stared at her in silence for a moment, brow raising in question. Alicia's face was scrunched in blatant disbelief, and Katie's expression fell slightly. "And why the hell not?" Alicia asked, tone mirroring the incredulity in her expression.

Angelina sighed tiredly, bringing her hand to her cheek and swiping away a few braids. "I just… I don't know, there's so many things on my plate—Apparition tests, pre-NEWT evaluations, Prefect duties, not to mention the whole Quidditch issue."

"What's 'the whole Quidditch issue'?" Katie asked, obviously slightly crestfallen about the fact that Angelina was set on making nothing out of this situation.

Angelina snorted sardonically, switching her gaze to Katie. "Are you kidding me? That's inter-team dating, Oliver would have a right fit—"

"Oh, to hell with fucking Oliver," I growled, finally chiming in to the conversation as my anger violently sparked. "Stupid sod thinks he has all the authority in the bloody world—what's the worst he can do, put you in time-out? He can't afford to lose another two players, not anymore."

"Yeah, it's not like he can really do anything about it," Alicia agreed, feeding of the reason as Angelina shook her head, though a low, simmering sort of anger was building within me now.

Honestly, did Wood just think he had the right to tell everyone what to do? He simply loved governing everyone's life, didn't he—personal life and all. Here he was, messing with my life by taking a huge part of it away from me, and now he standing in the way of Angelina's potential happiness.

So maybe I was blowing his role in her decision a bit out of proportion, but it was still a factor, and that irritated me to no end.

"Look, I think I'm just going to take a shower, try and relax a bit before patrolling," Angelina was saying, rubbing her temple wearily as she stood up from her now rumpled bed. "Kats, let me know when you finish your charms, so I can check my answers, yeah?"

Had any other person said this, it would be a pathetic attempt to cheat, though Angelina being her Prefectly self had already completed the assignment yesterday. "Sure thing," Katie responded dully, slumping back into her armchair and picking up her textbook with a newfound flatness.

Alicia, still thoroughly aggravated by the Angelina's indecisive conclusion, simply sighed irritably, collapsing back into her bed with no intention of completing her so-called yoga.

"I'm going to go for a run," I decided flatly, needing a way to let out the stubborn anger that wouldn't seem to leave.

Neither looked up from their respective positions, the briefly celebratory atmosphere of the room totally dead.

"'Kay."

"Have fun."

I rolled my eyes briefly. "Will do," I drawled, pulling off my giant t-shirt and boxer shorts and changing instead into a thin black sweater and running shorts. Grabbing my trainers by the laces and looping a hair tie around my wrist, I gave a brief wave over my shoulder, knowing it was unreturned.

Pulling open the door, I heard a shriek of shock sound from the bathroom—Angelina's second, if less fury-ridden, of the day. "WHO THE HELL USED UP ALL THE HOT WATER!?"

I shut the door behind me with astounding speed.

Descending the staircase rather quickly, I took note of the silence that had spread over the Common Room now that everyone was busy finishing up dinner or working on their assignments, contrasting agreeably with the chaos engulfing it earlier. It was fairly deserted, though remnants of the bedlam lay in scattered pillows and an overturned chair yet to be righted.

Thankful for the absence of people prone to awkward small talk, I climbed through the portrait hole in relative peace, stone floor cool on my sock-clad feet. Tying my messy waves into a tangled knot, I made my way down the similarly deserted hallway, taking the shortcut George had once shown me to the Quidditch Pitch in hopes of remedying my chronic lateness.

The air outside was crisp and cold, making me regret my choice of bottoms as a layer of goosebumps spread over my bare legs. It had been slightly stuffy in the dormitory, stupidly influencing my decision, and I wasn't going to bother with trekking all the way back.

Sighing irritably, I made my way over to the track encircling the darkened pitch, my breath coming out in puffs of smoke before me. The chill was biting, but it was bearable—besides, running was a good a means as any to try and warm-up.

Having slipped on my trainers before leaving the castle, I crouched down to secure the loose laces, tightening the double-knot. I could already feel some of my underlying anger quieting within me, the remedial effects of the night air taking their toll.

Standing up, I brushed my self off, glancing up at the quiet peace of the track and estimating the length of my run. "A few miles," I decided, not wanting anything more than time to simply think things out. Anything more than four always wore me out, so it would a comfortable number below that.

As I eased into the run, my mind ran over the various events of the day, expression remaining relatively focused despite the wide array of emotions. Classes were getting stressful, Wood was being a git, tensions were running high among all of the upperclassmen, Wood was being a prick, Midterm Evals were looming, Wood was being an arse…

After a good ten minutes, some of the stress had slowly been easing away, giving me a chance to dwell on slightly lighter things, such as Fred's little prank. A tiny smirk made its way to my now chapped lips as I replayed the incident, nearly chuckling aloud at the drastic change in Fred's expression.

But just as quickly, the smile curved down into a disheartened frown as I thought of Angelina's latest announcement, wishing the girl would somehow see sense. It was her decision, sure, but all of them saw the furtive smiles hiding beneath the scowls she always sent him—he'd been getting to her the whole year.

Staying in this pro and con mentality for the remainder of her run, I felt my bitter irritation leveling out into a calmer sort of reflection; something a lot more manageable. As I skirted along the final bend, I slowed my pace into a decelerating trot, maintaining this speed the entire way back to the castle doors.

My body was completely numb as I entered the Entrance Hall, heat flooding over me in a welcome rush of goosebumps. Face flushed from the cold and lips chapped and red, I smiled at a few students as I passed, not entirely cleared of all of the week's built-up stress but most definitely calmer.

Retracing my steps through the relatively simple shortcut, I found myself emerging from the portrait hole into the Gryffindor Common Room, pleased to find it just as empty as before. Nothing but the sound of the crackling stone fireplace filled the silence, matching well with the relative calm of my thoughts.

And then I heard the crisp sound of a page turning.

"You know, Wiles, I've already had seven people sign-up for your position." My eyes narrowed darkly—of course it was him. Why would it be anyone else? That would mean Life was on my side, and it was made clear a few days ago that it wasn't.

Glancing over to the fireplace, I saw Wood sprawled out on an armchair by the fire, legs propped up on the coffee table in a careless manner. He was tapping his quill against the hollow of his cheek, face shadowed by the flickering firelight as he frowned speculatively at the parchment before him.

I glowered at the sight—he was purposely making it look like he wasn't paying me any attention. "Well, let's hope one of them can do a Killian Arrow in under six seconds, too," I replied with false pleasantry, naming the precarious dive it took me about a year to fully master with a definitive edge in my voice.

Without glancing up, his face scrunched slightly, wrinkling his nose in infuriatingly casual indifference. "I never much cared for that move—too much risk, too little benefit."

The sense of serenity my run had given me was quickly deteriorating, falling prey to the unspoken smugness lining every curve of his face. "That's funny, you seemed to like it just fine when it won the Ravenclaw match last year," I replied with as agreeable a tone as I could muster, which it turns out wasn't all that agreeable.

He merely scoffed, still totally at ease. "Please—Katie was on fire that night," he affirmed, pausing his tapping to scribble in a correction on his notes. "That game was all her."

This is what gets to me. This is what bloody infuriates me to no end. He discredits absolutely everything I do—any little achievement of mine, hell, any huge achievement of mine, it's sodding dust in his eyes.

"You know what, Wood?" I asked, my tone cold—I'd have enough of the pleasant little game.

"Mm?" he murmured, still not looking up.

My fists clenched slightly at my side, jaw set—it didn't matter if he wasn't listening, I'd say it anyway. "If being off the team means not having to put up with the constant yelling, the constant pressure, the constant 'Wiles you're doing it the wrong way' when I'm trying as hard as I bloody can, all to get one stupid, tiny shred of fucking approval from you," I growled, green irises dangerously dark and serious—I'd honestly had it with him.

"Then I'm bloody well glad to be off it."

A moment of silence filled the room as I merely stood there, glare stony, jaw clenched. To my slight surprise, he finally tore his gaze away from his blasted notes, amber stare dark and unnervingly intent. He simply stared at me for a moment, gaze briefly sweeping over my face before locking onto my eyes. It was entirely inscrutable. I couldn't tell if he was angry, insulted, indifferent, anything, but after a few lingering moments, he glanced back down at his notes.

"You should get some sleep, Andy," he finally murmured, both his tone and his use of my first name startling me slightly. "You look tired."

I lingered there briefly, surveying him with a slight frown as I tried to make sense of his words and expression—was that said with dismissal or concern or what? Deciding to leave it be, I tucked a dark wave behind my ear, turning about and heading toward the staircase.

As I climbed up the steps, however, I sent a final glance his way, brows knit as I ran my gaze over him. He had resumed tapping his quill against his cheek, posture relaxed and expression one of light concentration, but I did catch something just before I looked away.

His eyes were set on the same spot, unmoving.

Not knowing what to make of the whole exchange, I simply stared forward the rest of the way up, reaching the landing and pushing the door open with a distinct sense of tension. This shattered, however, the moment I stepped into the room, halting at the sight of Angelina cross-armed and glowering in the very center of the room, hazel eyes fixed on me.

"Who the bloody hell takes a two hour long shower!?"

I sighed, eyes fluttering shut in exhaustion.

What a sodding day.