Needle and Thread

17

Jj is already standing on the front porch of his house when Harry steps out of the car, a strangely nervous air about him as he hovers in front of the open door.

"She's not here."

Harry raises a questioning eyebrow. "Hm?"

"Your grandmother," Jj explains. "She's not here. She went out to get different laundry detergent, because apparently my mother is incapable of reading anyone's handwriting but her own and bought the wrong one."

"Oh."

Harry doesn't know what this means for him. Does he get back in his car and wait out his grandmother's arrival, or does he repeat last week's fatal mistake and walk through that door?

"Feel free to stick around until she's back," Jj proposes, his uncertainty palpable in the tight line of his shoulders, "though I can't say I'll be particularly stimulating company."

Jj is either incredibly skilful in the wiles of conviction or Harry's resolve is far weaker than he thought.

"That's fine," Harry says before his mind can comprehend his tongue's actions, following Jj through the looming doorway. "I don't really feel like being stimulated today, anyway."

"Right, okay. Well, if you need anything, don't hesitate to ask."

"Thanks."

They hover in the empty foyer like poltergeists without a purpose; aimless and quiet. Harry inspects the blank walls, hoping that something might have changed since he was last here, but they too remain unchanging. The house is like a time capsule, but the kind you'd never want to dig up for how boring it is.

"Would you like a book?" Jj asks abruptly. For him, the novelty of his childhood home wore off long ago, and now it's just the empty building he locks himself inside each night. "I know you like to read and we have books. Multiple."

"Multiple books?" Harry repeats, allowing himself a shadow of sarcasm. "Wow, that's rare these days."

Jj's shoulders lose their tension upon noting the tone of Harry's voice, and he turns to face him with a rueful smile. "You're teasing me, aren't you?"

"Maybe," Harry smirks.

"Come on," Jj sighs, tugging at the sleeve of Harry's shirt. "If I find you a good enough book, then maybe you'll shut up."

Harry trails after Jj as he leads them down the hallway and into a room Harry is sure he has never noticed before. The second they walk through the door, Harry's heart drops and his lungs clench. A gasp spills from him, one of shock and awe.

It's a library. Harry is quite sure he would have remembered the Olatunji's having a fucking library in their house. 

"Holy shit," Harry gapes, completely overwhelmed by the sight before him. 

The room is small, but the whole place is filled with books, from wall to wall. Austen and Bronte and Woolf watch over him, each of them with their own story to tell. Harry is more than willing to listen. "Since when did you have a library?"

"Since always," Jj says, running a hand across the spines jutting out of the nearest shelf. "But my parents thought that we were too young and careless to be allowed inside. Sorry."

"Apology accepted. I just can't believe that this has been here the whole time and I had no idea!" Harry gestures to the shelves, asking a silent question. "Do you mind...?"

"No, not at all," Jj says. "Take whatever you want. God knows no one else is reading these books. They've been collecting dust for years."

"Wow. Thank you, Jide. Seriously." Harry is so distracted by his own excitement, he doesn't notice when he lets the nickname slip.