𝐯. the disappearing act

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FIVE | THE DISAPPEARING ACT

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FIVE | THE DISAPPEARING ACT

VERONA HAD SPENT THE NEXT MORNING MENTALLY PREPARING HERSELF FOR ANOTHER DAY OF REMUS LUPIN INVADING HER SPACE

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VERONA HAD SPENT THE NEXT MORNING MENTALLY PREPARING HERSELF FOR ANOTHER DAY OF REMUS LUPIN INVADING HER SPACE. Not only in the library, but in the double potions lesson they were scheduled to have first thing after breakfast. His signature scent of musk and lemon soap was beginning to follow her to places she knew he wasn't—sometimes she'd wake up in the middle of the night thinking she could smell him (which would raise the alarm of all her door mates). She'd gotten good at standing at the top of the stairs, hidden from sight of those in the common room, and pick out his voice from the masses—to determine if the coast was clear.

She brushed her hair an extra fifty times in order to waste the minutes away however, she still found herself ready earlier then usual. It was funny how time liked to play sick practical jokes on her sometimes (not humorous to her but she's sure someone finds it funny). Her feet drag against the concrete floors as she makes her way to the library, scuffing the premium leather shoes her father had bought her for Christmas—an apology for not spending much of it with his family.

The library door loomed in front of her and hesitantly, she pushed through. Remus Lupin was not going to ruin her favourite place for her—she was far too stubborn to let that happen. Inhaling sharply, she looked around the library for any sign of him—he usually beat her there. Her brows rose when she couldn't spot him. . . perhaps he was hiding in some corner, waiting to jump out at her when she'd finally found a moment of peace.

She sunk into the seat she'd claimed as her own and hesitantly slid Pride and Prejudice out of her bag. Her fingers ran up and down the spine as she continued to glance around the room like she was some paranoid criminal hiding contraband from the law.

After a few moments and not a single sign of him, she flipped to the page she'd been stuck on for the past week and began to hesitantly read on. That wasn't without looking up after every sentence to check he hadn't slunk in without her noticing. The last thing she needed was for him to materialise in front of her. The ticking of the grandfather clock near the door continued on, counting the minutes as they disappeared before her. The looming anticipation of his arrival made it even harder to absorb a single word on her page.

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