EXIT

13. ABYSSAL BLACK

13. ABYSSAL BLACK

I wake up to the warm morning sun shining directly on my face. The birds are still (or again) chirping and I squint in confusion against the blinding brightness that makes me its victim by pouring relentlessly through the small window.

It takes me a while to remember where I am. And there's something else that suddenly makes my heart skip a beat. A warmth, a pressure, an unfamiliar weight — right on my chest. None of it belongs there.

Even more confused, I lower my gaze and catch a glimpse of the brown, slightly wavy shock of hair that rests on my long-sleeved top and moves in time with my breathing.

Granger must have sat down at some point too.

The tree house isn't particularly large, which inevitably leads to a certain nearness when two adults sit next to each other on the wall opposite the door. (Which is indeed the safest place to sit in case you're afraid someone might break into the little shack you're hiding in.) However, Granger surely had no intention of dozing off. But that's obviously what happened, because her muscles are perceptibly relaxed and she's breathing slowly and evenly. Maybe she was too exhausted in the end? And my chest was just there?

Granger's hand, still clutching her wand, rests on her thigh. With every breath she takes, an unruly strand of hair that has slipped out of her bun moves gently up and down, reflecting the sunbeams falling on it.

Eventually I realize that apart from her head on my chest, I can feel even more of her warmth and softness pressing against other parts of my body. My right arm is resting loosely behind Granger and the appertaining hand has strayed onto her waist.

On the instant, I'm wide awake. I feel the strong urge to push her off me and jump up, but I pull myself together at the very last moment. What would surely result from such a sudden movement is one of her indignant curses, and I don't want to take the risk. So instead, I do my best to regain control of both my heartbeat and my breathing, which has also increased slightly. Then I carefully lift each finger of mystray hand from her hip — one at a time, so it doesn't wake her up. Thumb, index finger, middle finger, ring finger. With the last finger, the pinky, I let go of her completely, even holding my breath for a moment. As slowly as possible, I lower my arm to the wooden floor. Then I lean my head back against the wall and close my eyes.

I give myself another brief moment, putting all my strength into a convincingly sleepy expression, before letting out a cough.

In a split second, Granger is on her feet. I hear her panting, but it's only after three more calm breaths that I allow myself a purportedly first blink.

"What's wrong?" I murmur, looking up at her with feigned concern. For good measure, I have a good fake yawn next.

Granger's wand and eyes are trained on the door, but what I can see of her face looks so appalled you'd think someone is actually trying to break into the tree house. Only that I know what the real reason for her horror is.

"I thought I heard something," she chokes out breathlessly.

Apparently, she's not very good at lying. I quickly memorize the look on her face. If I ever see that expression on her again, I'll know I can't believe a word she says.

I slowly struggle to my feet and glance at her. There's a clearly visible imprint of my shoulder holster on her cheek, and before I can take my eyes off it, her gaze shifts to me and she notices where I'm looking.

Her free hand shoots up to her face, her eyes widening.

Bugger. Now she knows that I know.