A Broken Inheritance

Chapter 32: 5th Time's a Charm

"That much I figured." He tilted his head, his voice steady but probing. "But you could've stayed in your dorm. Or gone to the library. Or anywhere else, really. So why here?"

Anastasia's fingers stilled, her hand dropping to her lap. "I don't know," she said finally, her voice quieter now. "It seemed... easier."

"Easier than what?"

She hesitated, her eyes flickering to him briefly before looking away again. "Easier than being alone."

James blinked, caught off guard by her honesty. He straightened slightly, watching her more intently now.

"I'm not here for some grand revelation, Potter," she added quickly, her voice sharper, as if to undercut the weight of her previous words. "Don't get any ideas."

He smiled faintly, though it didn't reach his eyes. "Wouldn't dream of it."

They fell into silence again, the room heavy with unspoken tension. James leaned back against the headboard, his gaze still fixed on her.

"I'm not going to pry," he said after a moment, his voice careful. "But... if there's something you need to say, you can. You don't have to, but you can."

Anastasia turned her head to look at him fully now, her expression unreadable. "Why do you do that?"

"Do what?"

"Offer things you know I'm not going to take."

James shrugged, his voice soft but unwavering. "Because one day, you might."

Anastasia raised an eyebrow, leaning back slightly against the bedframe. "I wouldn't hold my breath."

James didn't reply immediately, but the corners of his mouth tugged upward in a smug, knowing smile.

"What are you so pleased about?" she asked, her tone sharp but not cutting, as though she were genuinely curious.

He tilted his head, his hazel eyes glinting with amusement. "Nothing. Just... I think I'm starting to figure you out."

She let out a low laugh. "Good luck with that."

James chuckled softly, leaning over to grab the edge of the blanket folded at the foot of the bed. He shook it out with a casual efficiency, the movement rustling in the quiet room, and draped it over her shoulders.

"You know, you're quite predictable," he replied, his tone casual but teasing.

Her gaze hardened, though there was a flicker of curiosity behind it. "Enlighten me, Potter."

"Well," he said, settling further against the headboard as if he had all the time in the world, "you come flying through my window in the middle of the night, make up a ridiculous excuse about wanting a cigarette, and then, when I ask a simple question, you deflect." He glanced at her sideways. "Every time."

Her jaw tightened, and she looked away, her fingers tapping against her arm again. "Maybe I just don't think your questions are worth answering."

"Maybe," he agreed lightly, his tone unbothered. "Or maybe you don't know the answers."

That made her look back at him, her eyes sharp. "Careful, Potter. You're treading dangerously close to arrogance."

He chuckled softly, but it wasn't mocking. "Oh, I think I passed that line years ago."

Anastasia huffed, rolling her eyes, though the tension in her posture seemed to ease just slightly.

James shifted again, his smile softening. "Just go to sleep, Ana."

She froze for a fraction of a second, her gaze snapping to him. "Who gave you permission to call me that?"

He smirked, leaning his head back against the wall. "You did. By not storming out the moment I said it."

Her lips parted as if to argue, but no words came. Instead, she settled for a sharp glare. "Don't push your luck."

"I already have," he said, his grin widening slightly.

The room settled into quiet again, the charged energy between them dissipating into something calmer. Anastasia shifted in her spot, her movements slow and deliberate as she adjusted herself to lean more comfortably against the bedframe.

James didn't press her further. He simply let the silence stretch, letting the weight of their conversation settle. After a moment, his voice broke the quiet, softer now.

"You know," he said, almost absently, "you don't have to figure it all out right now."

Anastasia turned her head toward him, her expression unreadable. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"It means you don't have to have all the answers," he said simply, his gaze steady. "Not tonight, anyway."

She looked at him for a long moment, her features carefully composed. Then, with a soft exhale, she closed her eyes and leaned her head back against the wall.

"Goodnight, Potter," she muttered, her tone more resigned than sharp.

James grinned faintly, leaning back as well. "Goodnight, Ana."

She didn't correct him this time. And in the quiet, beneath the weight of all the things left unsaid, it felt like a small victory.