𝐀𝐑𝐂𝐀𝐍𝐄

𝟗. 𝐡𝐨𝐩𝐞𝐥𝐞𝐬𝐬 𝐝𝐞𝐯𝐨𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧

𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐫𝐲.

It was far too easy to slip into the Slytherin common room on the coattails of some loud and unknowing first year. After that, I only had to wait for one of the Greengrass sisters to answer my knock at the door of your dorm room, anticipating that she would leave it slightly ajar once she realized no one was there.

Or rather, no one she could see.

No protective charm prevented me from slipping inside undetected. Whatever wards had been put in place to keep out members of the opposite sex were bypassed by the invisibility cloak. Just as I had hoped. All was yet going according to my spontaneous plan.

If I thought it was difficult to breathe around you in class, your presence was suffocating me now. The sight of you, so broken and yet so agonizingly, torturously enchanting, made me stop and want to clutch at my throat.

The scene before me was too perfect—too reminiscent of my daydreams where in which I somehow always find you at your most vulnerable. You, draped over a white vanity with Parkinson poised behind you like an ill-mannered parrot, combing through your hair while you stared blankly at your own pouting reflection. Rose petal-shaped bags sunken under your bleary eyes made my lips part in a silent plea.

Pansy jabbered on behind you, but there was no telling if you could hear a word she was saying. I crept closer – the translucent silk of the invisibility cloak dragging across the flagstone floors. I couldn't have made a sound even if I tried.

Somewhere in the world outside of your dormitory, the dinner bell chimed through the halls and Parkinson laid the brush down beside you. The cue to rise and join the rest of the student body for dinner was not ignored on your part and I had to narrowly slide to the left to avoid brushing my shoulder against Pansy's as the two of you passed, carefully latching the door shut in your wake.

I waited with bated breath until the last of the common room conversations died down, only then daring to rip the invisibility cloak away from my body.

Finding your bed was barely much of a challenge at all. Your favorite unicorn tapestry blanket gave you right up along with the towering array of stuffed animals that stood at attention near the foot of your bed, ready to protect you from all things that went bump in the night.

A right shame they couldn't protect you from me.

Ribbons of perfume clung to your silk pillowcase and a breath caught in my throat as I grazed my fingers over the surface. I hadn't breached the threshold of dangerous obsession. Not yet. But the urge to bury my face into your pillow was stronger than anything I had ever felt in my entire life.

Afraid I would learn more about myself than I was comfortable knowing, I delved my hand below your pillow and retrieved what I was only hoping I would find there.

I felt the cool metal clasp against my thumb and tugged your diary out by its spine. Sitting behind you in class gave me ample opportunity to peek into your open book bag. I had your entire inventory memorized — including your beloved diary. A birthday gift from your parents, I heard you explain once to Daphne last winter. It was your most treasured thing in the entire world.