treasure
she talks, you listen. you're deep in the confines of the library, surrounded by old books. it smells like knowledge. it is one of the only places you feel safe. the library provides an escape that you have not known before. there is only the whispers of learning, of exploring, of knowing.
and it is here you meet, everyday, after dinner, away from everyone, everything. she trusts you, she tells you things she never tells anyone else. and you know her well, know her better than anyone else, even herself. especially herself. and you treasure her company too. around her, you can be yourself, you do not need to pretend, to try and be something you are not.
she is telling you about her day, about something embarrassing that happened to her. you laugh in the right places and hold your hands tightly under the desk to prevent yourself from reaching over and tucking that stray lock of hair behind her ear. your hands are turning white but you do not let go, do not risk losing what you have. she finishes and her bright green eyes look from under her eyelashes straight at you. she is not looking at you, but through you. you meet her gaze but only for a few seconds before faltering and looking back down at the work you are helping her with. or rather, she is helping you with. you suggest to continue and she gives a light laugh that seems to float away amongst the bookshelves. she shuffles her chair towards you, until your arms are almost brushing up against each other. you're sure she can notice the shine of your face caused by the nervous sweating. she points out an ingredient she doesn't recognise and you lean forward to read it. a suddent waft of coconut hits you as you get so close to her you can smell her hair.
hair that is gold in the flickering candlelight of the library, the gold of treasure, of lions, of her. it glows with a light of its own in the quietness of the corner you sit in. you try and remember what you meant to say, yet are overcome with the urge to hold her and kiss her. you answer after a long pause but she does not seem to have noticed and instead scribbles down a small note on the scroll, the quill gently scratching at the paper.
bit by bit, you help her make her way through the potions essay. it is the only subject that she struggles with and by far your best subject. she dots the last full stop and packs away her stuff, leaning under the table to grab her bag. her head is dangerously close to you and you find yourself backing away. she re-emerges and moves to hug you. you hold her tight, arms wrapped around her waist. you both break off and take a step back. she goes to leave and you reach out.
DON'T GO.
instead of asking her to stay, to extend these treasured moments, you find yourself asking about her plans for tomorrow. you both agree to meet after dinner and she goes. you watch as her hair, golden as treasure, swishes behind her.