Interlude [h.s]

ninety-one

She took his clothes off piece by piece only some days ago, but helping him get dressed is different. It feels oddly intimate, in the completely opposite way. Even though she's now familiar with Harry, his persona is something she still can't quite make out. It's the only thing that makes her go, stop, wait, whenever she starts thinking she knows it all about him. She wonders if she'll ever truly understand the mystery behind it—if it's a mystery at all. Maybe there's none. Maybe it's just him. He does strike her as the type of person that never fully shows his hand, no matter whether the person behind him is friend or foe.

Alouette shakes her head and takes the trousers of the suit off the hanger, handing them to Harry. She studies him as he pulls them up his long legs and closes them with ease.

He lifts his gaze to her. "Satisfied?"

She smiles, dismissing the thoughts running through her head. "Very much so. I've told you high waisted trousers make your legs look amazing, haven't I?"

The corners of his lips turn up. "You've mentioned it, once or twice."

She hums and picks up the black tie. It's material is soft, gentle against her skin, and suddenly, she's thinking. Her gaze snap to Harry. He narrows his eyes, and she knows he knows exactly where her mind went to. She clears her throat and blinks twice, forcing herself to loosen her grip on the tie. She fixes the collar of the dress shirt and wraps the tie around his neck, taking care to keep it straight. His eyes are burning into hers, and she does her best not to keep her focused on the knot of the tie. She can feel his closeness like static on her skin. Her fingers wrap around the knot as she tightens it, and she doesn't want to let go.

She nearly runs to the hanger and picks up the waistcoat. She holds it up for Harry to put on and buttons it down quickly, only stopping to make sure the fabric under it isn't creasing, then it's the jacket's turn. She buttons it down as well and then moves behind Harry to check his reflection in the mirror. Her gaze meets his through the glass, and he's still evaluating her, studying her, and suddenly the only thing she can think about is the way her fingers closed around his tie.

"Looks good," she makes herself let out. Way to go, Alouette, she thinks sarcastically, you've definitely kept him from realising you were considering some alternative uses for that tie of his.

She walks in the bathroom and gets ready in quick motions. Her gaze falls to the date in the corner of the mirror while she's putting on mascara and a pang hits her chest when she sees it's the first day of the month.

She finishes up and walks out. When she enters the living room to retrieve the clothes she's left on the couch, Harry is already there. She gets dressed quickly under the reflection of his eyes coming from the floor-to-ceiling window.

"It's November," she starts as she puts on her high heels.

Harry takes a sip from the glass he's holding and doesn't say a word. His gaze is out of the window, to the skyline of Northfair.

"Amina's birthday is in two days."

"And?" He's looking at her—at her reflection—now. She doesn't look up to check, but she feels the weight of his attention.

"I want to go back to celebrate. You must let me go back."

Harry sighs, crossing the living room and putting the glass down. "I'm busy now. Let's talk about this later."

Alouette's head snaps up. "It's always later to you! I need to go back home, I need to be there for her birthday."

"As I said, later."

She jumps up to her feet and nearly trips over the corner of the couch as she follows him to the entrance. "I came here for you, Harry! You promised you'd let me see her when I agreed to come with you, you can't just go back—"