A/N: Another chapter up, at last. It took me long enough, I know, but there's quite a bit going on in life. Good news is next chapter won't take that long. Thank you for reading and for any comments or suggestions you may want to add.

Chapter 4.

After the Yule Ball, the holidays slowly drag and you try to use well the opportunity to relax and rest. The grounds are now covered in a thick blanket of white snow and many of the students enjoy their free time sled riding and taking photos all over the place. It has become irresistible to linger outside, watching some of the playful snowball fights going around.

The aftermath of the Yule Ball is rather obvious, since plenty of new couples now wander hand in hand and it is quite romantic to observe.

You snort out loud as you remember the day after the Ball, when Mr. Davies was waiting for you at the Great Hall and tried to put his arm around your shoulders possessively. It is a good thing that your mother taught you grace and poise, for you used all of it to break free from his embrace, turn around with an almighty flip of your hair and walk away, head held high. You never needed to say a single word. And he certainly didn't come looking for you again.

Among the couples that did thrive after the Ball, however, Hermione and Viktor make up the one that stands out the most, since his disapproving fan club awkwardly shadows them wherever they go. Ronald doesn't know how to contain his displeasure when they come in sight.

You try to play indifferent and polite, even when they wave their hands at you as they pass you by or on the few times when they stop to chat lightly. You dislike these moments the most, since you have to endure talking to them as he stands behind her, embracing her waist or planting a hand on her shoulder. It's definitely not the best part of your days, but at least this you can handle.

What you can't and don't want to handle is meeting Hermione alone. For reasons beyond you, she makes a few attempts to find you all alone over the days, either as you walk through the corridors or when you leave the Great Hall after meals. However, you never remain too long in a single place for her to find you and you always have at least one trick up your sleeve to avoid her in the corridors. This allows you to stay one step ahead of her every time.

Can't she see that you want some distance?

With all that's happened, it seems best to avoid any chance confrontations. The Ball has taught you enough. You're not in the mood for a deeper mess.

The upside of this tricky state of affairs is that you're quickly turning out to be quite the expert on this school. There must be few places left for you to unravel. You're confident that you know every corridor, statue, bathroom, secret passage, portrait, suit of armour, classroom, stairway, entry to common rooms and the best ways to move around from one place to the other. Even the extensive grounds are becoming familiar, now that you have a large amount of free time to go anywhere at will. In your exploring vibe, you soon find nice secluded places to read, think and practice spells.

Your friends notice that you stay alone sometimes and they come up with every possible excuse to constantly gravitate around you and keep you company. You appreciate their intentions and stick with them mostly, but there are moments when you just tell them to go have fun while you need time by yourself. Luckily, they assume it's about preparing for the Tournament and leave you be.

By the time Tuesday arrives (has it really been only four days since the Ball?), you're already through with all of the homework for the holidays and you've studied enough to stay ahead of all of the classes scheduled until April.

You miss your family and home, spending a good deal of time now rereading their letters, watching photos and writing back with your news. At last, you remember one of your older hobbies and ask them to send you the sketchbook you were so keen to use until this term started. Too bad you'll have to patiently wait for your owl to bring it all the way from France. You're in bad need for something to do right now.

For the first time in your life, you're almost praying that term starts again as soon as possible. The old routine and the return of the younger students seem to be treats that your senses long for.

Unfortunately, there's still more than half a week to go before classes start over again and you're silently counting the hours. After all, rearranging your wardrobe, cleaning your room, polishing your wand and going for long walks on this freezing weather lose a bit of their appeal once you've done and redone them over ten times in less than two days.

Around Friday, you've reached such a purified state of absolute boredom that your tolerance levels are finally overthrown. You cave in and decide to risk a lightning-fast escapade to the library for more books. It's not a smart move, but you give up on stealth in the hopes that speed will get you safely to the library and back.

You choose warm and comfortable clothes that will allow you to walk easily. Leaving the carriage, you move in a fast and determined pace, staying alert to everything and everyone in sight. You're constantly watching over your shoulders and you take an unusually long route to get to the library. As you come closer to your goal, you mentally revise the small list of tomes you'd like to retrieve. Perhaps they'll all be available for loan.

You make it to the doors without any surprises and start to feel more confident, already smiling at your achievement. As soon as you cross the threshold you realize your mistake, though, freezing on the spot as those chocolate orbs immediately find you there. With a roll of your eyes, you mentally scold yourself and leave at once, hearing in the far distance the loud 'thud' of a heavy book being hastily closed.

Fleeing, you quickly carve your way through nearby corridors and stairways, ending up on the sixth floor. If you can just reach the grand staircase, you'll be back to your room in no time. You stare behind you and are satisfied to see no one. As you return your attention ahead, you're forced to duck and jump aside. Two large vases crash right where you'd been and a familiar cackling echoes against the walls.

You frown and pull out your wand at once, exasperated, "Peeves, not now!"

The poltergeist hovers upside down with a wide smile and seems pleased at his accomplished mayhem. Mr. Filch comes running after him, yelling at the top of his lungs, "PEEVES! I'll have your head for this, you'll see."

Peeves gives you an evil grin and bids his farewell with a loud raspberry, disappearing around a corner. The caretaker hesitates looking at the broken vases, then keeps on running past you and does a sharp left, trying to outsmart the mischievous spirit.

You turn your attention back to the corridor, ready to go your way. This distraction just cost you a couple of precious minutes.

A few steps forward are followed by harsh grinding noises coming from under your shoes. Surprised, you stop and notice the presence of shards and pieces of porcelain spread throughout almost the entire length of the passageway ahead of you.

This makes you frown. Anyone showing up next might skid or get hurt. You're about to do something about the mess when you hear the soft patter of feet behind you.

It isn't hard to guess who would be the one to tail you this far. You sigh and brace yourself. Not looking at the new arrival, you point your wand at the scattered parts and chips, wording the spell to put them back together. Another wand is quickly pulled near you and soon you listen to the same spell being performed at the other side of the corridor. You work together, back to back, until the last vase is finally sorted.

Countless 'Reparo' spells later, a long line of restored vases is now sitting along the corridor. It'll be the caretaker's or the house-elves' job to relocate them.

Time to acknowledge your companion.

You stow your wand, take a deep breath and turn to her, keeping your voice and curiosity in check. It's hard not to notice the small dark rings under her eyes and how she doesn't look as healthy as she should.

She seems pleased to hold your undivided attention, "Fleur, I finally found you. I've been trying to talk to you for days."

With a blank expression and an edgy tone, you vent out a small part of what goes on in your mind, "Oui, I noticed you 'ave been nearly stalking me, Mademoiselle, though I cannot find a reason for zat. I must 'ave made it quite clear by now zat I do not want to talk to you. What is it zat you need to tell me so much?"

Hermione promptly protests in a weak voice, "I don't get it. Why are you acting this weird? I understand why you were avoiding me after that night at the library. I really do. But now? Why are you avoiding me all over again after the Yule Ball?"

Scanning her features with a suspicious glare, you're trying to make up your mind on whether she's being evasive or just that clueless. "I am sure you can figure things out by yourself. I 'ave no plans to stay 'ere and amuse you."

Her jaw hangs open, "Huh?"

You whirl and leave, ruffling your hair impatiently, but she quickly catches up and stops in front of you, forcing you to halt as well to prevent a collision.

She looks affronted, "What was that supposed to mean?"

It all feels like a game you've played too many times with her. So many times that it became predictable and boring, "Zink a little and you will find out in time. Now, if zat is all, I need to go."

Her features soften somewhat, "Don't go. Just... don't do that. I miss you. Most of all, I miss being comfortable around you. How else do I have to say it for you to understand?" She sighs and her voice becomes a whisper, "You were great at the Ball, Fleur. I cracked down to bits and you were there for me. After that night, I thought things had turned out better with us and now we're back to this... this awkwardness. How can you change so much overnight and be so unreasonable all week long?"

A sudden irritation flares inside you and it shows on your voice, "Are you really zat blind? And insensitive? Or do you fancy playing around wiz ze feelings of uzzers?"

Your emotional control is breaking and you can feel the anger building up. It's a good moment to leave before you do something you'll regret. As you're about to go around her and try to walk away again, she grasps your wrist firmly. "You're mad at me. I get that. Will you tell me why so I can have a chance at repairing things between us? Come on, Fleur."

Slowly pulling your arm free, you take a few steps away from her and end up close to a window overlooking the lake. A soft breeze drifts in and you can feel the refreshing waft cooling your skin. You make an attempt to calm down and repeat in a whisper something you had told her at the Ball, a small reminder of your current situation, more to yourself than to her, "She... is not my girl." Hermione inhales briskly, but you don't elaborate.

Your gaze returns to her and you frown at the sheer reality of things, "I am not mad at you. I 'ave no right to expect or demand anything from you. It just... 'urts."

Shaking your head, you distract your eyes with the patterns of the stones on the floor and continue, "Indulge me, Mademoiselle, if you do not mind. At which part of ze Ball did you 'ave more fun? Which were ze best moments of ze night for you?"

She shrugs and replies dismissively, "There were a few."

"Can you tell me which one stood above ze uzzers?" You ask patiently.

Crossing her arms, she retorts with defiance, "Why should I tell you, when you don't share a thing about yourself? Fleur, you didn't even answer me a straight question during the Ball."

This surprises you, "Of course I did."

She shakes her head confidently, "No, you didn't. I asked you about the girl you liked and you nearly froze. And saying she is not your girl was not an answer. It was an excuse not to answer."

So she did notice. You cock an eyebrow and concede, "Fair enough. You 'ave a good point, so I will answer your question... Yes, ze girl I like went to ze Ball. She went wiz a date, zey 'ad fun and danced most of ze night. 'E was a good company to 'er and it must 'ave worked very well, since zey seem to be going steady now."

Her eyes bore into yours, analyzing you closely, "So you didn't get to be with her at all..."

You look at her for a long moment. Once again, evasive or clueless?

Clasping your hands together behind your back, you casually take a few steps closer to her as you speak. "Actually, I cannot complain. I 'ad more of 'er zan I could 'ave 'oped. For a little while, a very short while, I 'ad 'er all to myself."

She still looks intensely at you, but now she gives nonchalance a try, "That's great, isn't it? Are you finally going to tell me who she is?"

Tilting your head, you don't stop the amusement that spreads across your features, "Do I 'ave to? I thought you would probably 'ave made ze right guess by now."

Her eyes narrow a little, deep in thought. Her voice is but a whisper, "Really?"

You nod and hum an assurance, "Mm-hmmm."

She suddenly doesn't look so comfortable, "Do you think she likes you back?"

What a charming question. A small smug smile flickers on your lips and she scowls as soon as she sees it, "She feels... something, but apparently she does not know what to do about it." Thinking further, your eyebrows suddenly scrunch into a frown, "Or maybe she prefers not to do anything at all."

You move closer to her, now about ready to pierce her comfort zone. Gazes remain locked and she is holding her ground.

All pretenses at nonchalance are dropped. She looks at the thinning distance between you and hisses with as much annoyance and skepticism as she can muster, "How can you be so sure that she has any feelings for you?"

You play along with her challenge and answer confidently, "I 'ave a couple of ways to know zat. One of zem is reliable and quite accurate. Ze uzzer... well, ze uzzer is absolutely foolproof."

Hermione gives you a very disbelieving look. You instantly chuckle, aggravating her mood.

She fiercely scowls now, "There is no accurate or foolproof method to assess feelings, Fleur. That's absurd."

It seems you'll have to make a point here. If she is out to play the coy and stoic one, it's up to you to make it a little hard for her. "I can prove you wrong, 'Ermione."

You glance sideways at the full length of the corridor, from an end to the other. It's still deserted and quiet, except for both of you, "And I zink zis is a perfect opportunity to demonstrate. Even you may find it interesting."

She looks surprised at you, "What do you have in mind?"

For a few moments you pretend to consider the question, and then you deadpan, "To use one of ze methods to prove my argument."

Her eyes don't leave yours and she remains still and silent, curiously waiting to see what you're about to do.

Which is nothing, for the time being. You only stare back, hotly, and let time pass until the pause stretches so much that she realizes you have no intent to go anywhere, least of all to seek anyone else.

After all,'your girl' is already here. Her eyes start to widen. Yours narrow a bit. It took her long enough to be sure, but she's finally caught on to reality and made no attempt to get out of this situation or flee, at least yet.

Steadily, you step closer until you're a foot away from the brunette, "Now zat we understand each uzzer, I can begin. Or do you 'ave somewhere else to be?"

She must be too curious or too stunned, for she just stands there, looking a bit out of place.

You take her silence as a cue to start. In a serious tone, the words flow easily from you, "As you must already know, anyone can learn to set their faces wiz fake emotions. Even a child does zat. But almost no one is ready to conceal ze reactions of ze 'uman body. Many simple signs give away what truly goes on inside."

You slowly move in and she steps away for the first time, but this slow dance of yours ends shortly when her back hits the wall and she can only stay still. Reducing the distance between your bodies, you settle your hands against the wall, at each of her sides, locking her in place. You bring your face closer to hers and chime in a husky tone, "Does zis ring a bell?"

Her breathing hitches. She nods only once. Anxiety and panic all over again, but she still makes no move to leave.

Leaning in and sideways, you gingerly graze your cheek against hers on your way to her neck. The brief touch has both of you shuddering instantly.

"Ze reactions already began..." You inhale her scent deeply and breathe out on her skin. "Intense body 'eat..." A muffled whimper escapes her lips. You hover upwards to her ear, whispering slowly, "Ripples and ripples of goose bumps..."

A few unruly curls move over her shoulder and you tuck them gently behind her ear. Reaching a little further, you let the tips of your fingers massage her scalp in circular motions and she closes her eyes, basking in the moment. Your hand then trails down her neck to her collarbone in a tender and slow caress, "A racing pulse..."

Conveniently, you never mention the volcano erupting inside you or the acrobatic state of your stomach. You're losing control faster than you'd anticipated to be possible. Your charms are itching to break free from your trained grasp.

In a temporary daze, you don't find it in you to resist temptation completely and your lips meet the base of her beautiful neck, leaving warm feathery kisses up to her jawline. Your senses are so highly strung on her that you don't miss the scarcely visible pink blush setting her skin alight.

"Ragged breaths..." You don't even know if you're talking about her or yourself now. The closeness, the heat, that scent, the fleeting feel of her delicate skin, it's all intoxicating, quickly driving you to test the edge of your restraints.

For the very first time, you feel everything to be so real, every small detail bearing solid evidence that it is really happening.

No dream can compare to this.

Nearly panting, you straighten your back to face her again, quickly meeting deep eyes that search yours. You can't make your voice go beyond a whisper, "Your eyes are darker, almost black." You're very close to each other, every heated breath hitting the other's skin.

Memorizing as much of her as you can from such a short distance, you fix your gaze on her lips. She must have been biting the lower one, since it now looks a very dark shade of red and a little glossy. You take your time softly running your thumb a few times over it. Now she's the one looking a little dazed.

This is something you want so much that your resolve is in knots. The battle of wills inside you is clouding your mind. You're having trouble keeping your hands away from her, but that would be taking it too far. You remind yourself that this is only an experiment, a series of probing actions to get some expected reactions from her.

A mockery of what could be if only she played her part willingly as well, if it were both of you enjoying the moment to the fullest. You hesitate a little, licking your own lips. She closes her eyes and holds her breath.

Something seems off, but you take the plunge anyway... and cease a hair away from making contact, as your brain comes to a screeching halt.

"No," you grumble as you pull away slowly, shaking your head.

Gaining some sense of control, you realize why this is off. You almost can't believe it. From the moment you stepped closer to rise to her challenge, she hasn't made a single move of her own. Not to be comfortable, not to get away from you, not to come closer, not to touch you. She's still just standing there, a passive witness, avoiding to commit to what could happen.

Her eyes snap open and she can't conceal her surprise. Or disappointment.

You finally speak, sadness seeping into your voice, "Je suis désolée. I got carried away trying to prove I was right. But zis... zis would be wrong. A kiss like zat should be wanted and shared. Not imposed. Not stolen away. It is time to end ze test. I believe I already proved my point. And I zink you now know which was ze best part of ze Ball for me."

In a low and soft tone you try to bridge the growing gap between you and find some answers, "Please, be 'onest. Do I scare you?"

Frowning, she shakes her head lightly.

"Do you regret ever meeting me?"

A little more head shaking.

You decide to tease a bit to break down the heavy atmosphere, "Zat is quite articulate for you, 'Ermione. Will all my uzzer questions receive similar answers?"

No movement at all. Still silence. This is getting worse.

"You do realize zat zings between us, anything at all, are up to you, non?"

Silence.

Creepy silence.

You sigh. "Enough wiz ze silence, please. At least tell me, is zis something you do not want? Is zat it?"

She bites her lower lip. You're hanging on that very answer and she seems to be thinking hard about it.

Silence.

More silence.

Unbearable silence.

You can't stand not knowing what she's thinking. It's driving you mad.

Stiffly, you take a few steps away from her, your gaze painfully locked on her lips as the distance between you grows, bit by bit. Your voice gains an icy sharpness, "Zis is most amusing. You do not push me away or try to leave, neither do you come closer or participate, but I can see zat you want zis to 'appen as much as I do. You live a contradiction. Zis must 'urt you in some way, just as it does me to see you struggle. What are you waiting for, 'Ermione? What is holding you back? Or are you really expecting zat I force myself upon you?"

She goes from dreamy-eyed to confused to scowling in milliseconds, "You know nearly nothing about me or what I think, what I want or what I go through. We've barely spent a couple of hours together since we met and here you are, passing judgment on how you expect me to behave. You have no right to treat me like that."

Your throat feels raw and dry. A slow rage begins to build and your smoldering tone doesn't conceal it at all, "I 'ave every right to talk to you like zat because ze," you make air quotes with your fingers, "'couple of hours together' were enough to get us as far as almost kissing. Twice." Your mood goes sour quickly, "All zat just 'appened tells me zat you are not as indifferent to me as you zink you are. Or as you try to show. And I am sure zat I am right. You are 'uman. I am Veela. You do not 'ave ze ability to 'ide emotions from me. Zat is my uzzer, foolproof method."

Hermione narrows her eyes and her voice grows louder as her temper rises, "You were psycho... I mean, Veela..." She takes a deep breath and then bursts, "Whatever-analyzing me?"

She has to understand this, so you match her voice, pitch for pitch, "Zis was only an experiment. I never consciously used my charms on you. Not to do anything to you, not to get anything from you. But zis was not ze first time we came to be so close when your feelings for me were zat strong. And it lasted a lot longer zan ze first time. Under zose conditions, I can sense what you are feeling as clearly as I was reading a book. It does not matter if I 'ave no intent to use zat perception. I cannot stop it."

She flinches and avoids looking at you. Her voice becomes a thick growl with a dangerous edge, "So you're invading my privacy and reading my mind?"

Her accusations are bitter and you don't back down, but you lower you voice to more regular levels, "Non, of course not. I do not break into your mind. I can only sense emotions and it 'appens under very specific conditions. " You take a deep breath and let it out slowly, making an inhuman effort to still your outburst, "Look, I am aware zat we 'ave barely talked to each uzzer and zere never was a chance for us to get acquainted properly, but I wish I knew what is really going on in your mind, at ze very least to understand you better."

Shaking her head, she looks disappointed at you, "First you say you like me and now you want to know me better. But with what you've just told me, how am I supposed to trust you, Fleur? It never made any sense why you wanted to get along with me. Don't you see? This isn't something that usually happens to me and now I realize you've been playing around with me all along. How dare you do that?"

Frowning, you reply with a hint of annoyance, "I was not playing around with you. Only proving my point in a way zat you would not be able to deny it. All zose reactions were ze same zat I saw at ze Ball. And for some reason, you are wiz Mr. Krum. It does not fit."

She calms down a little, but remains uncertain, "I don't think you'd understand."

You feel tired, but you try to keep your voice in a steady and soothing tone, "Try me. Zings cannot get worse zen zey are right now."

The brunette answers curtly, "Yes, they can. At least for me." Her hands close in tight fists and she starts to pace up and down, mumbling words you can't hear properly. She finally stops in her tracks, throws her hands out in despair and turns to face you, "I don't get it. How can you have the ability to confuse me like this? Why are you messing with me so much?"

You silently watch her for a while. Taking your time, you lean back on the wall, crossing your arms in front of you. In a calm tone, you reply cautiously, "You must 'ave realized zat I am doing nothing to you. I noticed your discomfort after ze library and I stayed as distant as I could from you. I 'ave been doing ze same since ze Ball. We are only talking now because you came looking for me."

She only stares back, regarding you in silence, with empty eyes and a blank expression. Her lower lip is being abused again. Hard, you can tell.

You take steps towards her and she quickly raises her hands in front of her, shaking her head vigorously. You realize why she's acting like that all too easily, "Right, ze charms. I did not mean…" You trail off, step back and leave it at that. Great. Now you can't even go near her. Again.

She finally comes to terms with whatever is bothering her and starts to speak in a small but steady voice, "Fleur, I came looking for you so we could find a way to make things go back to how they were. I can't think straight now. I don't eat right. I try to sleep at night, but I only toss and turn until dawn. I'm not myself anymore and it's breaking me. I don't want this and it has to stop."

She doesn't want this. A small bunch of words that hold the weight of the world. Your mood deflates at once. You can't come up with an answer to that. What is there left to say?

Besides, she's asking for the impossible. Some feelings reach inside and, never asking for permission, cause unexpected effects. Sometimes even unstoppable changes. They just waltz in and everything they touch comes under a new light. Even if those feelings die out, the changes remain, permanent reminders of their existence, of what happened, of what could have happened. You can't make it stop. Neither of you can.

Her voice cracks a little and she doesn't look at you anymore, "I can't keep on going like this. It's too much, just too much. I can't stand it anymore. Don't you see? Things are all wrong and not how they should be. I'm sure it must be difficult for you as well."

She is suddenly very anxious and nervous. You can't stop staring at her.

After a brief pause, she swallows with difficulty and tries to go on, trembling a little, "Please, try to understand. I hate the way we are now. I want… normal, Fleur. I need-"

That blow feels like a slap across your face. Out of all things, this was one you never saw coming.

"Excusez-moi," you interrupt her firmly, mid-sentence, as your world comes crashing down. She gives you a strange look and stays quiet.

You're having trouble holding the mix of anger and tears that is threatening to spill forth. Your eyes narrow to slits and you stiffly straighten your back, raising your head to full height, towering over her smaller frame. With great difficulty, you manage to grind out in a strained and whispery voice that you wish could come out steadier, "Did you just call me not normal?"

Her eyes widen. That shocks her back from her mental confusion and she makes an attempt to speak, "Fleur, it's not l-"

You interrupt her once again. Your voice is low and sharp, barely hiding your searing outrage, "I 'ave never been more insulted in my life. Zis is definitely not ze person I zought you to be."

Through the corner of your eyes you notice someone running at you, bursting in with an outstretched wand. Whoever that is, you pay them no attention.

Not restraining the anger anymore, you lash out, "If zis is such a terrible ordeal for you, please tell me, what are you doing 'ere, wasting time wiz me, when you can 'ave all ze normal you want wiz someone like Mr. Krum?"

"Just what is going on here?" A shrill voice makes an attempt to cut in between you, but you completely ignore it.

"What did I ever do to deserve zat from you?" Retreating even more from Hermione, an icy tone filled with contempt creeps out from you don't even care where, "Zis conversation is definitely over. I suggest you make it easier on yourself, Mademoiselle, and forget I exist."

You finally turn to acknowledge the newcomer standing at a short distance and you realize it's Fierce-girl, looking from Hermione to you and back. The girl must have some sort of extrasensory perception tuned in to when Hermione and you are too close together.

Sarcastically, you whisper low enough for only Hermione to hear, "So Gryffindor courage does exist. And 'ere I was, ready to believe it was only a myth. Perhaps she can give you lessons?"

Hermione glares daggers at you.

The younger girl finally settles in front of Hermione, facing you and aiming her wand squarely at your chest.

Nice. This just doesn't get old, does it?

You look at Fierce-girl and reply calmly, "You can put away your wand, Mademoiselle. Zere is nothing 'appening." Turning to Hermione, you provoke her again, "I doubt zere ever will."

Her wand remains pointed at you, though her hand quivers a little. "What is that smell?"

You snort derisively. "I 'ave uzzer places to be. Zis seems a good moment to take my leave." You pull out the SPEW badge from an inner pocket of your robes and hand it back to Hermione. "'Ere, please take zis. I 'appen to disagree wiz your present ideas. Or perhaps your concept of prejudice is biased. It might be best if you keep zis for someone completely normal to use, non?"

Both of them look with surprise at the badge. It is harsh and rather cruel, but you're too hurt to think about being considerate at the moment.

"Mesdemoiselles..." As you bow your head, you quickly pull out your wand, produce a shield charm silently, and then turn your back on them and walk away. At the end of the corridor, you carelessly take down the magical barrier and go about your business.

It was not the uneventful visit to the library that you had wished it to be, but at least now it should be alright to go after those books you wanted.

You later return to your room and decide to stay mostly in the carriage until classes begin. With fresh material to read and a few more solitary activities, you'll manage to make it.

Only two more days.

TBC