Interlude [h.s]

forty-one

Alouette goes through the report she wrote down herself one last time.

She's immensely glad for all the time she spent in her father's office and all the times she asked him about his work while growing up, because it's only thanks to him that she had an idea of what she's doing. Sure, her father has never made her write reports, but she's seen more than she can count and the Revolution's aren't too different from the Palace's. It took her about a week or so at the start to figure out how to do her work in a way that's at least acceptable. She isn't the best, but she also isn't the worst and that's enough. She knows how to do it well enough not to raise any suspicions. She'll miss it when she goes back to the Revolution. She likes having something to do.

It's been three days since the day Harry took her to the woods not too far from Northfair and ended up opening up to her a little bit. She's kept his secret.

Alouette gathers the papers and stands up, making sure her pencil skirt doesn't have any creases before walking to Harry's door.

She knocks on it twice and steps inside, not waiting for him to let her in. It's become one of her habits, and he still hasn't complained about it.

When she steps inside he's sitting behind his desk, staring at the screen of his laptop. He glances at her and stands up. Alouette is a little jealous of how polished his clothes look. He's always so effortlessly perfect, if she didn't know better she'd wonder if he's human at all.

"I wrote the report you wanted," she says, handing it to him.

Harry rounds his desk and takes the papers from her, a faint frown curving his eyebrows as he skims it quickly. He checks the other pages, the puzzled look not leaving his face, and then opens a folder on his desk. "This is wrong," he then says, turning to look at her. "Some of the data is wrong and so are the conclusions."

Alouette's mouth falls open in an o-shape. "I'm so sorry! I must've not noticed it. I'll fix it, I just need a pen." She's fretting now, and Harry tilts his head, seeming to find her nervousness somewhat enjoyable.

He takes a pen from his desk and hands it to her, and she sits on the couch on the side of the room, the papers on her legs.

She glances up, embarrassment flashing through her. "I just realised... could you give me the correct data?" She hates acknowledging that she's done something wrong in front of him. It's humiliating, especially knowing his very extensive scholastic record.

He walks towards her and puts the folder on the coffee table without a word. Alouette thanks him profusely and he walks back to his desk.

For about ten minutes they work together in silence, Alouette fixing her collection of mistakes and Harry doing nobody knows what.  She sighs and double-checks every single information she has to make sure she won't end up making more mistakes while going forward.

After a while Harry stands up. There's a porcelain sound but Alouette doesn't look up, too focused on what she's doing. He moves to stand behind her, and her heartbeat speeds up. She hates when people look at what she's doing from over her shoulder, but she's also in no position to tell him not to, so she clenches her teeth and silently deals with it.

Suddenly the back of the couch dips. Alouette turns her head, almost letting out a gasp when she sees that Harry has leant his elbows on it and is much closer to her than he was before. He's eating something, and she shoots him a confused glance before realising that he's holding something in his hand for her to take.

A little red strawberry.

She gives him a little thankful smile and takes it and puts it in her mouth, the sweet taste spreading on her tongue and calming her down a little. She starts working a little slower.