CHAPTER TWELVE
nymphology

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BEING IN THE LIBRARY HAS ALWAYS been enough to make Cove's palms sweat.

  There's an eerie air about it every time she goes in, the paramount knowledge lining the walls in yellowed scrolls and leather bound books overwhelming her. Also, she's a very non-confrontational person on the best of days, meaning that the lethal glares Madam Pince tends to pin her with make her inconceivably nervous. Considering she had her first ever detention only a few days ago, she's not trying to start anything with the librarian on top of that stain on her record. When she pushes the double doors and they screech open a tad too noisily, Cove practically sprints to the table her friends are at before she can be reprimanded.

The two of them wave her over, grinning ear to ear. Mary has her braids collected in an effortless updo to keep them out of her eyes as she scribbles away in her journal, focus intertwined in the way her eyes narrow and her glossy lips contort in concentration. On the other hand, Fallon is away with the faeries as her homework grows a layer of dust, twisting her starling feather quill around and around in her calloused palm. She's begun to plait a section of her dark hair when Cove slides into the free armchair in between them, rummaging through her bag while she curses herself for putting an undetectable extension charm on it. She procures a torn up jotter and a heavy book on the long, long history of nymphology.

  Fallon slumps on their table, head cradled in her arms. "I think I'm going to kill Rigby."

  Cove pats her on the shoulder. "Yes, dear."

  "What is it this time?" Mary asks, raising a flawlessly shaped eyebrow. Her glittery red eyeshadow sparkles under the candlelight in an entrancing way that Cove has to stop and admire. Moth to a flame.

   "She's given us another essay to do on nymphs," Fallon groans. "Like, is that even part of the curriculum? This is why she's nearly forty and unmarried. She ran off to get eloped with homework years ago."

Mary snorts. "Christ, that must be the third one this month. When's Kettleburn back from probation?"

"Not soon enough," Cove huffs.

"Honestly," Fallon says, "my education shouldn't have to suffer from Rigby's bad teaching and his, um, debauchery."

Cove tilts her head to the side. "Do you know what debauchery means?"

"No clue," she admits. "It makes me sound much smarter, though."

"Anyway..." Mary diverts, slipping into a tangent. "How's detention been going, Cove? Anything interesting to report?"

"What do you mean?"

"You know," she drawls unhelpfully. "Anything interesting."

Cove stares at her cluelessly, eyes round in confusion. Her mouth opens and closes like a goldfish.

"She means did anything happen with Remus," Fallon explains.

  "Oh! Riiiight. Not really, no."

  Mary narrows her eyes. "What do you mean by 'not really', babe?"

"I mean that nothing out of the ordinary happened. Well, apart from when we skived 'cause Rigby left us unsupervised, but it wasn't a big thing," she elaborates. She decides to leave out the details of the secret passageway in case Remus is dead set on keeping it between them. "We just wandered about for a bit. Nothing special."

  "Liar," Fallon coughs into her hand.

  "I'm not!"

"You've got that look on your face," Mary accuses, pointing a finger at her. "You're withholding information, Cove Elspeth Henderson."

"Don't you Elspeth me."

"Too late. You have to tell us."

"Tell you what?"

"We're starved," Fallon cries. "We need details."

"What counts as details? I need examples."

"Literally anything. I'm bored."

"I don't know! He let me borrow a tissue for my split lip at one point. Does that count?"

They gasp, sharing looks of pure astonishment.

"Does that count? Yes, it very much does."

"Oh," she says shortly. "Smashing."

"That's next level stuff, Coco."

She cringes. "Never again."

"Ah, young love," Mary murmurs wistfully.

  Fallon feigns bewilderment. "Hold on, is anyone else getting that? Do I hear wedding bells in the distance?"

  Cove lobs a book on bowtruckles at her head. She ducks in time for it to smash into a shelf that teeters dangerously before settling.

"I don't understand why you two are like this," she complains. "He's just my friend."

"Hey, are my ears burning?"

The three of them jump, spinning around in their seats to see a figure standing behind them, all tight curls and tawny skin that shines under the buttery light. He folds his arms across his chest, creasing his pristine shirt and crumpling his Hufflepuff tie. Fallon instantly mutters something snide under her breath — harbouring resentment ever since she read a gossip column on a fabricated drama regarding him, even if it was back in their third year. Cove never really understood why her friend trusted a magazine more than the real deal, who's currently stood before them all as if he's about to put on a show.

Eros Warbeck grins at them, pearly whites twinkling like stars in the candlelight.

"This'll be interesting," Mary mutters.

"Hello," Cove beams. She's always liked Eros. He's very sweet to her whenever they actually get the chance to talk. For the most part they're like ships passing in the night — as similar as vice and virtue, though they get along well the handful of times a year they collide.

"Alright, Cove?" he replies cheerily. Eros turns to Fallon with a coy look about him. "Don't look too upset to see me, darling."

She stares him down. Cove can practically sense her biting down on her tongue so that she doesn't blow a raspberry at him. Honestly, Cove thinks she has to just let it go. Let bygones be bygones, or whatever.

"Anyway, what are you lovely ladies doing this Friday?" he asks curiously.

"Why?" Mary wonders suspiciously. She's indifferent towards him, but she can definitely sense when something's afoot. "What do you want?"

   "Am I not allowed to say hello to my dear friends anymore?"

   "You would never be inside a library unless it was for something nefarious."

   "Me? Nefarious? Surely not. The two words just don't go together."

  "What were you going to ask us, Eros?" Cove interrupts. She definitely agrees that it's strange for him to talk to them, seeing as he's much cooler and in a different social circle altogether, but she decides to humour him nonetheless.

"My band has a gig at the Three Broomsticks," he says. "You lot should totally come along. It's kind of a big thing and all."

"Oh, that sounds fun! We'll be there."

Fallon's eyes blow wide. "We will?"

"Don't be rude," she scolds, turning her back to him. "It's good to support our friends."

Eros grins at her from over Cove's shoulder. He mouths the word 'friends', relishing in the scowl that spreads across her face. Fallon brandishes a particular finger at him and proceeds to dip her quill in an inkwell, scribbling away furiously on her parchment as if it had wronged her. That's how you could tell she's lost her temper — it's all over when she starts properly doing her work.

"Ignore her," Cove insists. "We'd love to come."

"Groovy! Looking forward to it already." He pulls out a chair, much to their surprise. "So, what was this I was hearing about Remus Lupin, eh?"

Cove groans, forehead thunking against the table. "Triton. Not you too..."

author's note!

archie madekwe as eros warbeck

when in doubt write a filler chapter that happens in the library

I HATE WRITING DIALOGUE IT MAKRS ME FORGET HOW TO HAVE A NORMSL CONVERSATION 😡😡😡