EIGHTY ONE

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✧・゚: *✧・゚:*

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Madam Pince had started to label Genevieve a frequent face to attend the library. She was there almost everyday in front of a stack of books with Lily by her side. This wasn't a good thing for the old librarian; however - she made sure to keep her beady eyes on the girl and hush her when needed. This seemed to be all the time as Genevieve had a tendency to talk loudly, man-handle books, and complain at whatever she could.

"Shh!" Madam Pince hissed for the third time as Genevieve's voice began to rise above a slight whisper.

Genevieve's lips puckered sourly as she tried to hide her look of annoyance. Lily was wearing the same expression, but Genevieve couldn't decide who it was caused by. Madam Pince was extra agitated today, but on the other hand, Genevieve was extra restless.

"You're getting bored of this, aren't you?" Lily said, gesturing to the transfiguration book.

"It was boring to start with," Genevieve replied, slouching in her seat. "Can we go outside now? It's not raining anymore."

"You need to finish this off."

"I'll do it after I've had fresh air."

Lily's disbelieving expression deepened. "Will you?"

Genevieve groaned as quietly as she could and rested her forehead against the table. "Lily, please let me move," she begged. "I've been stuck to this chair for two hours. I'm basically melded to it." 

With a newfound leniency, Lily examined her friend fidgeting ceaselessly across from her. "OK," she said finally, "go find this book." She scribbled down the title on a torn piece of parchment and handed it to Genevieve. "It's near the back of the library, so it'll take you some time. Stretch your legs a bit. Don't do a runner because I'll know."

"Angel," Genevieve said, a cheerful beam replacing the impatient scowl she had been wearing for so long. "You're so good to me, Lily."

"I try my best," the ginger replied airily, and began organising Genevieve's side of the table. It was driving her insane to see the mess.

Genevieve made her way towards the back of the library, prowling through the aisles with observant eyes. Her legs felt stiff and wobbly to walk on - she couldn't tell if it was from the extra amount of exercise James had put them through the previous day at Quidditch practice or from being in a fixed position for too long.

The further she walked down the library, the more deserted it became. The old books written in old English with fraying spines were kept nearer the bottom, so everybody stayed up front where the newer books that were easy to understand were found. Dust tickled her nose and she tried not to sneeze.

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