-Imagines-

     As the pouring rain hit the ground it produced a noise so loud, that she could barely hear her own thoughts. She pressed her back against the cold wall, leaving a stain of water on the outside of the building. Her hair stuck uncomfortably to her shoulders and back. 

     “I knew it’d start to rain eventually,” Cath said, looking down at herself. “I should’ve brought an umbrella.” Laboriously she tried to tie up her wet hair. It was hard to understand what she was saying because, in comparison to the noise the rain made, her words were only a whisper. 

     “Right,” - Levi tried not to laugh - “but then I would have missed this priceless sight.” He did his best not to let his amusement shine through. 

    “You enjoy this!?” Cath asked slightly disgusted and turned her head in Levi’s direction. once she got sight of the boy whose hair stuck to his forehead and whose loose trousers fitted tightly because of how wet they were, Cath had to laugh causing Levi to frown in confusion. 

    “You are right - priceless,” she agreed, then turned her head so that she was looking straightforward. “Thanks for picking me up though.”

    “You are welcome,” Levi said, looking at Cath. She was smiling. That kind of smile one has when thinking about a happy memory or one’s beloved.      “What is it?”

    Cath stared into the void of the night. “Whenever it pours like this and the rain is louder than the cars or the music you were listening to or even your own thoughts, it feels like everything suddenly is so small and unimportant. I find it easy to get lost in these moments. Just... disappear in this unimportance of things.” She looked at Levi who looked back at her with fascination. “It’s indescribable.” 

    Slowly Levy started to smile - a smile that was just as warm and kind as Cath’s. “What’s with that smile?” she asked curiously. 

    “Nothing. I am just happy to spend this moment with you,” he said. 

“Don’t be so full of yourself,” you said calmly and turned around, continuing your work. You had no problem with discussing your work with other people. However, you did have a problem with some stranger telling you about how flawed your report is, without having more knowledge of this academic filed than an amateur.

“I am not full of myself. You simply made a few mistakes and you should correct them immediately.” The man’s voice was sharp, demanding. He indeed was full of himself.

“Special Agent… Reid, right?” He nodded. “My report is free of mistakes, you can trust me with that. This is my work after all, not yours.”

“But what about that?” Reid pointed at one of the first paragraphs of your report. “Given the circumstances, that cannot be right.” It cannot be right? What did he know about this anyway? Although he seemed to have some knowledge of this, he definitely wasn’t as competent as you. There was no use in trying to tutor you. A sigh, then you turned around so that you could look him in the eyes.

“Special Agent Reid, if you really feel like discussing this, then I have no problem showing you how wrong you are. You might be a good agent, but do not think, that you understand more about this, than I do.” Calmly, but strong. Your words echoed for a second. Apparently, you would have to show him how wrong he was in order for him to let you alone. Nothing easier than that.

*

You did have a long conversation about your report. Reid did have a basic understanding of what you wrote, but that was it. Although it took quite some time convincing him, that he actually was wrong, he ended up seeing his mistakes. He just didn’t know enough about it. That itself was totally fine, yet his behaviour was inappropriate. It seemed as if he understood that as well. When he left, he seemed to be slightly embarrassed, which was why you were more than confused when you saw him again a few days later.

“Thank you again for tutoring me.” You smiled at Hermione, who sat quietly next to you. Although you couldn’t know how these few words of you could make her heart skip a beat, you could’ve noticed how her cheeks changed colours. Pale at first, then pink, then a fiery red. She looked so adorable whenever this happened. She had to restrain herself. Maybe the reason why you didn’t notice was because she would always be so confident and straightforward, that you couldn’t imagine her not telling you how she felt. If she felt something for you at all.

“My pleasure.” She smiled. A smile so bright and friendly, so honest, so strong. It caught your attention. In fact, it always did. It wasn’t the type of smile though, it was about from whose lips it came. In whose face it rested. Hermione looked so innocent and beautiful. Yet, you knew her strength. You thought that asking her to tutor you would be a good idea, but now you couldn’t focus at all.

“Don’t worry Y/N. Hermione was really looking forward to it.” You suddenly heard Ron say. He and Harry sat right next to you, but whenever Hermione was by your side, everything around you disappeared. It seemed as if she was caught in her thoughts as well since only your change of focus drew her attention to Ron. “She was actually really excited. She is in love-“

“Ron-” Hermione started and was ready to shout at Ron when she remembered that you were in the library. She looked at him with a threatening glance, yet Ron only had to laugh and looked at you.

“She is in love with the idea of tutoring you, is what I wanted to say of course.” He smiled and tilted his head. His eyes rested on you for a second before focusing on Hermione again. “What did you think I was going to say?” Hermione blushed even more, whilst you weren’t sure what to think of this.

After a rigid silence surrounded you, you started to feel uncomfortable. “I am glad to hear that.” It felt like you had to end the previous topic before you were able to start a new one without making it awkward. “So what should we start with?” Your glance shifted. Hermione was looking at you for all this time. The smile on your lips calmed her.

“How about love potions?” Harry happily suggested.

“What?” Hermione looked and sounded frustrated.

“I mean how to make and use them.”

“We are not going to work on love potions today, Harry.” Listlessly Hermione opened a thick book.

“Why did you two even come along?” You partially asked this question because you were nosy and partially because Hermione seemed uncomfortable. You didn’t want to see her like this. You wanted her to be happy and carefree. “I appreciate you both, but you seem to make Hermione uncomfortable. I don’t mind you staying here and studying yourself or helping me or whatever you were planning on doing, but I don’t know why you would make your friend feel bad.” Surprised, the two boys and Hermione looked at you. The words you said were louder than expected and they seemed to echo for seconds in the big room – or maybe you just imagined that. Whatever, you couldn’t take back what you said. And you wouldn’t want to either. Every word you said was true. You meant it.

“It is okay, Y/N.” Hermione then said. She smiled, still trying to figure out how to properly react to what you just said. She was happy that you worried about her, that you were so thoughtful, yet she didn’t mind the boys being there. Maybe she even wanted them to be here. But how should she explain this?

“I am sorry for that, Y/N. I would love to explain why we came along, but I am afraid that Hermione isn’t as in love with the idea of me doing that as she is with someone else.” What was he saying? In love with someone? Hermione stared at Harry, not knowing what to say.

“You are in love?” You tried to sound happy, but you couldn’t. You really tried. Hopefully, she understood how hard it was and how sorry you were for not being able to sound happier. After all, you were surprised. Not only surprised but also disappointed. “You could’ve just told me,” you then added. There was no smile on your face. Neither on Hermione’s. Two blank expressions facing each other. Again, the silence surrounded you, coated you. You felt like crying. You were not sure why you immediately thought, that that “someone” wasn’t you. Maybe because you would’ve thought that she would tell you. Hermione is so honest and brave. If she was in love with you, wouldn’t she have told you?

“I forgot I had an appointment. I have to leave.” Within a second you got up. You weren’t able to see Hermione’s helpless face.

“Wait!” She shouted, ignoring the curious faces of those sitting in silence and reading or studying. This was a library after all. Hermione grabbed your wrist, causing you to stop. “I am sorry I didn’t tell you, Y/N.” Her words were only a whisper. She sounded so sad, so broken. “It is true, I am in love.” Tears in your eyes. She talked so quietly, still holding your wrist. She came a step closer so that you could feel her breath on your neck, her warmth against your back. “Y/N, I am in love with you.”

With you?

“It’s in here,” an officer said, leading you and the other team members into a room at the end of a hallway. The air was hot and laid uncomfortably on your shoulders. It felt as if it was trying to pull you down. Stop you. Break you. Why did you interpret something as simple as hot air as something so threatening? Never mind. You kept going. There was no reason to stop. Yet, there was more to this ambience. Could it be that it reminded you of…-

“Y/L/N,” Spencer then said. You were so lost in your thoughts. Only now did you notice that you actually stopped walking. “Are you alright?” You nodded quickly. Don’t lose your face. Everything is alright. Why did you feel this way? “It’s just overwhelmingly hot in here. It kind of took me by surprise.” Your voice was calm, yet you spoke quicker than usual. Breathe in. Breathe out. You smiled softly and nodded in appreciation. “Thanks for asking though.” One step after the other. You followed Spencer into the room, only to stop again when you saw the victims. They were facing each other, lying so close to one another that it seemed as if they were sleeping. They weren’t. The pool of blood they were lying in, the red stains on their clothes, their bloodstained faces ruined this picture. You had a feeling as if the hot air managed to pull them down. It was stronger, heavier. Was it?

Of course, this was not about hot air. This was not about a couple peacefully lying next to each other. You had never seen them before, nor the room you were in. Yet, this whole situation felt familiar. Painful. You didn’t dare to move. The memories were haunting you. Would they disappear? Would it be as easy as to simply not let them in? Not let them take over? Not let them win?

There she was. Sitting on the cold asphalt that she’d call her bench with a bottle of transparent liquid in her hand, that yet was no water. Her long, bony fingers wrapped around the bottle. She held onto it so tight as if it was a matter of life and death. Her other hand loosely holding a notebook and a pen. One would always wonder what was written in that old, moldy book of hers. Just like one would always wonder what the voices inside that pretty little head of hers were screaming. Screaming they were. They would always scream. That’s what everyone knew. Yet that was all they knew. That was all. But why? 

Because no one ever bothered to ask. Ask why she held on so tight to that bottle of transparent liquid. Ask what was written in that old, moldy notebook. Ask, what the voices in her head were screaming. Ask why they were screaming. 

No one ever bothered to ask until one day someone did. The boy whose name everyone would forget asked the girl that everyone knew the name of all the questions no one ever bothered to ask before. 

So he sat down on the bench of hers. Steady expression. Cold hands. And he waited patiently until she was finished. Until every question of his was answered. Then once her lips stopped moving, he looked at her, with the same steady expression and grabbed the bottle of not-water with his cold hands, ignoring that the girl was still holding onto the bottle and took a sip. Then one more. Then let go of the bottle. 

With his lips wettened and his mind screaming he kissed the girl, whose eyes were wide open, whilst his were closed. And in this short moment, they shared the few drops of liquor that rested on the lips of the boy. And in this brief moment, his expression changed. And in this moment the voices stopped screaming.