Of Secret Research

The fifteen-year-old's eyes were nothing if not icy as she glanced around the quiet Library, searching for some secluded place where she could ensure no unwanted company would creep up on her. For once, Addie wasn't sure what she expected from this trip to the Library – which was nothing but something she did often – but she was certain that if nothing came from it, the whole student body of Hogwarts would have to deal with a very angry Adeline Jay for the next few months. The leather backpack thrown over her shoulder carelessly was old and looked used, as it had belonged to her mother, and, because of that, it had been carelessly treated by the brunette as well. Dropping it loudly on a table that struck her fancy, she looked inside to make sure her parchment, quills and ink were inside, as well as the bar of chocolate that she always carried around, and started looking through the shelves.

If there was one place that might hold information about her father – whose name was William, she'd managed to find out – it was the Hogwarts Library, which had all sorts of books, and so many of them, too. There was a slight chance that her father had studied at Hogwarts, as well, maybe even a Ravenclaw, like herself, and it was her task for this day to figure out if the school kept a record of old students that anyone could have access to. She looked around, feeling as though she was doing something very wrong, and directed a glare at someone who she thought might be looking at her. Straightening up and trying to look as emotionless as possible, she picked up a book that seemed promising, something along the lines of 'Great Feats in Potions in the Last Century', her hands was trembling as she opened it and with a loud bang it fell on the floor. “That is mine,” Addie announced, to ensure that no one would touch it. It never occurred to her that she might be drawing unwanted attention to herself.

Drusus felt at home amongst books. He always had. His stint working in the York branch of Flourish and Blotts had suited him down to the ground, and the musty scent of old paper and leather filled him with a deep sense of peace that could soothe even the worst of his moods.
Long though his fuse was, however, these first few days of term were proving to be taxing, and he’d soon found himself craving some solitude away from noisy children with their chattering and their note-passing and their pranks and their questions, questions, questions, always asking questions, all the time, questions; SO MANY QUESTIONS.

The Hogwarts Library had been one of his haunts during his days as a student, and, as such, provided a rather fitting retreat for him as a teacher. He’d been sitting holed up in a fortress of scrolls and bookshelves for the past hour or so, a flask of tea at his elbow, steadily working his way through of a stack of marking and soaking up the solace his surroundings afforded him. He was, in fact, so submersed in his work that the sudden slam of a book hitting the floor a few aisles away made him start almost comically: his arm knocking into his tea and sending it splashing messily over everything within a three meter radius.

“Merlin's-... Ah, bloody hell!” Drusus hissed and shook his scalded hand, rising from his chair to inspect the damage to his robes with a dark look on his face. Nothing that couldn’t be fixed, of course; but still... Were these children incapable of controlling themselves, even for a moment?

The tea stains – dark splashes on already-dark fabric – soon disappeared at the bidding of Drusus’ wand, though the damage to his essay pile was rather more irreparable, and – his peace now disturbed – the Dark Arts professor was rounding the corner of a bookshelf seconds later, blue eyes hawkishly alert for the book-dropping culprit.

He was, admittedly, somewhat surprised when he came face-to-face with a waifish-looking Ravenclaw girl.

“I was under the impression that students in your house were fond of books,” he observed coolly, raising an eyebrow at her. The book levitated up from the dusty boards again, and into his hand. “In light of which, you might want to refrain from throwing them on the floor in future.”

Glancing down at the volume, he inspected the title – the text printed in a faded silver that caught dimly in the light. “‘Great Feats in Potions in the Last Century’...” He looked back up at her again. “You’ll never make a decent potion brewer if you don't have steady hands,” he remarked then, a hint of amusement in his voice.

Her already wide eyes only widened further when they rose from the book on the floor to the face of the speaker, only to lower immediately, in an action that could be evidence of reverence or simply outright fear; she had expected some annoying Firstie, or an even more annoying Gryffindor, who was determined to rescue the lady in despair by picking up her book. She blushed deeply.“I'm sorry, Professor Wilde, I didn't see it was you,” She still felt like there was something wrong with what she was doing, but she assuaged herself by saying it was innocent enough, simply doing some research on Potions, especially when she so openly enjoyed that particular class. Addie supposed it was good to pretend that she didn't catch the mocking in the Professor's voice, and it certainly helped her in looking like the good, respecting student that she, indeed was. To figures of authority, at least. “It's Jay, sir. Adeline Jay,” Though she hadn't the faintest idea why she would have to introduce herself. She'd been here for quite sometime and her marks had been quite respectable. Defence Against the Dark Arts wasn't her favourite class by a long shot, as she found the dark arts themselves more interesting than the defence against them, but she always made an effort to stand out.

Addie wrinkled her nose. “That's a generalisation, Professor, shouldn't you be teaching us that a House does not define a person? It is just like saying that every Slytherin is a dark witch or wizard,” A slight hint of a smile was turning the corners of her lips upwards, but she was also nervous and refused to make eye contact. “I am fond of books, though, I didn't mean to throw it on the floor, it slipped. Everything in this Castle seems to be alive,” Addie shrugged, because as far as she was concerned, it was common knowledge. “I'm sure you're right, sir, but even great potion makers have to fail, sometimes. it's just better to do it as a student, I believe,” Hesitantly, the Ravenclaw reached for the book, “Thank you for picking up the book, sir,” Her research was most definitely ruined, the teenager thought, and what was worse than that was if any of her Classmates which weren't daft enough to get lost on their way to the library saw this, and by this she meant actually chatting with a Professor, it would only make her reputation of uptight, goody-two-shoes even worse. Chewing on her lip, she dared to look at the man – one of the few people at Hogwarts who still managed to look intimidating beside her own imposing height – and hesitated, “Am I – am I interrupting your work, Professor? I'm terribly sorry,”

He watched her talk with growing amusement; the corners of his mouth hitching ever so slightly. The girl may have been right about the House not defining the student – and, indeed, she was – but even so, she near undermined her case completely by speaking with such Ravenclaw logic: such typical reasoning and philosophising, even in the way she presented a defence against his teasing.

“Well – I don't know about work, Miss Jay, but you’ve certainly interrupted my fun,” he informed her, eyebrows rising a little. “I shall have to take care not to generalise so liberally; at least, not around Ravenclaw students...” The faint, lopsided quirk of his mouth indicated he was joking again. “You’re quite right, though,” he continued then, more reasonably. “Far better to fail as a student and learn from your mistakes before you’re old enough for them to be dire. Won’t necessarily stop you from making mistakes as an adult, mind...”

He made as if to hand the book back to her, but then, after a moment's hesitation, seemed to think better of it: withdrawing his hand again.

“If you don’t mind me asking, Miss Jay,” he said, tilting his head a little and regarding her with unsettlingly piercing eyes. “Why the particular interest in this book?” He raised the volume indicatively, keeping it just out of easy reach and watching her closely. “Seems rather heavy reading material for Fifth Year Potions, and I haven’t heard about any related essays set by Professor Tetherwood...”

He wouldn’t have bothered to ask at all, normally; but something about the girl’s manner screamed 'guilty' so loudly he could barely ignore it.