𝟎𝟔𝟗 - 𝐭𝐨 𝐬𝐩𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐢𝐜𝐡𝐨𝐫

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vote and comment please! 5684 words :)

this chapter is honestly orgasmic

tw // graphic depictions of death, gore + blood, panic attack

I sigh softly, tilting my head back until it knocks against the Vanishing Cabinet right behind me.

I'm not sure what time it is. It could be 9:00 P.M. or just as easily midnight. Either way, my body feels like it's been up for forty-eight hours and desperately needs to rest for at least a week. The muscles in my shoulders and back ache loudly, and my hands are starting to cramp up with every page flip and word scrawled on my parchment of notes.

My head lolls lazily on its axis to turn to see Celeste. She's a couple feet away stretched out across the ratty, old sofa, her legs dangling off the end and her curls tossed over the arm. I can't see her face with the way the massive, ancient textbook she reads from is propped on her chest.

My eyes droop slightly as I watch her quietly, and then I realize that these last thirty minutes have been two peaceful. No sound of Celeste constantly shifting her position, nor her aggravated and passive aggressive sighs, nor her tired groans every ten minutes when she gives up on reading only to pick the book back up thirty seconds later.

I squint at her, moving down to rest my weight on a forearm to peek behind her book and look at her face, and that's when I see her eyes shut, a peaceful expression over her face. There's a pillow right behind the book on which her hands rest, and I exhale shortly when I realize she must have placed it there so I wouldn't realize that she's fallen asleep.

For a moment, I consider waking her up. We still have much work to do—we haven't even fixed half the problems with the stupid cabinet—and the Room of Requirements is no place to fall asleep, anyway.

But she looks more at peace than she has since August.

I let my eyes wander for a while, observing all the objects covered in light sheens of dust in this cluttered room. There's a tall harp right near her head, looking like it was once golden and lustrous. Now, I wonder what curse must have been placed on it. There's globes scattered all around the room, some the size of my fist and sitting upon tables, others with the diameter of ceiling fans and floating by themselves a couple feet off the ground, all in colors of grey and bronze in this muted room. I see large hourglasses in one corner, looking too heavy to lift without help. Some are filled with sand, others with little bits of metal, and one with a thick, dark liquid that looks a touch too close to blood. The entire, massive room reminds me of Borgin and Burkes, but without the warning labels on all these cursed objects.

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