Her Dark Artifice [t.r]

Chapter 18: Disparity

XVIII
Disparity

Automobiles sleek with rain rushed down the street, growing puddles nestled in the tarmac reflected the ebb of the streetlights with the growing downpour, melting the ice away that had budded on the narrow, grey streets of London like an onslaught daisies in fresh spring grass. Evadne leaned against the window of the second-floor of the Leaky Cauldron looking out onto the road, listening to the rain patter softly against the grimy glass.

After a while of mindlessly watching the world below, she got up from the window and meandered down the cold, wooden hall. She stopped a few doors down, tentatively raised her hand, and held her breath as she knocked thrice against the wood.

"Come in," Tom said from inside.

The door opened. "I could've been anyone," Evadne said as she entered, quietly shutting it behind her.

"I knew it was you."

Tom was sat on top of the four-poster bed, reading a book. His chin was in the palm of his hand and his white shirt had been unbuttoned at the top. Strands of hair hung in front of his eyes, and he looked exhausted but handsome nonetheless, in desperate need of some sleep.

Evadne herself was clad in a long, linen nightgown trimmed with lace along the sleeves. Her hair had been tossed over her shoulder in a messy side-braid, an array of raven tendrils escaping and curling around her tanned skin like meticulously-crafted swirls. In the light of the green fire ablaze in the hearth, everything in the room was flushed a weak, emerald hue.

"What is it with you and making fires green?" Evadne mused, sitting at the edge of his bed.

Tom sat up, readjusting himself so that his back was pressed against the headboard of the bed and he was no longer laying down. He cleared his throat. "If I knew that you were coming in here I would've..." His voice trailed off.

Evadne raised her brows. "Would've what?" she asked softly.

He shook his head. "No matter," Tom replied coldly. "It's late. Why are you up at this hour? We have another early start in the morning. And what is that dress?"

Evadne sighed, exhausted. "I can't sleep." She frowned, looking down at her nightdress. "It's a linen nightdress," she said.

"Evidently. But that's not what I asked – there's obviously a reason you cannot sleep."

"Not really."

"Not really." He clicked his tongue, as if admonishing her. He cocked his head to the side. "Is this just a case of you feeling homesick, and you do not wish to be alone during the night?"

Evadne frowned. "Are you insinuating that I'm asking to sleep in bed with you?"

"If that were indeed the case - I wouldn't say no."