*Looking at the cloth-bound volume on Felix's desk, Andrew chewed his lip and finally stepped back. He had spent the last minute mentally debating whether or not he should personally return the book to his roommate, but then decided that the conversation regarding how Andrew came to the conclusion that it belonged to Felix was one he would very much like to avoid.
A copy of Advanced Potion Making sat atop the desk with a note accompanying it:*
Hello Felix!
I picked this up outside the library today and thought it might be yours since it had this written in the margins: "Are you a dragon tonic? Because you make my dragon rise, baby."
They are um- selling invisible ink in Hogsmeade if you would like to pick some up for next time.
Your friend,
Andrew
Felix pushed open the door to the dorm room. His robes, already loosened at the collar, now hung limply as he dragged himself across the threshold, his shoulders sagging under the weight of a long day spent in the sweltering heat. Even with the castle's cool stone walls, the warmth seemed to seep in through the cracks, making the long hours of studying almost unbearable.
The Ravenclaw kicked off his shoes, half-wishing he could just collapse onto his bed and let the day fade away, but something on his desk caught his eye - a cloth-bound volume resting there with a note perched atop it.
Curious, he walked over, his fingers tracing the spine of the book as he picked up the note. As his eyes skimmed over the words, a slow smirk curled the corners of his lips.
"Are you a dragon tonic? Because you make my dragon rise, baby."
Andrew, of all people, with a line like that. Felix shook his head, chuckling under his breath as he pictured his friend, red-eared and flustered as he scribbled that line.
But as the initial amusement faded, Felix' brow furrowed slightly. "Outside the library?" he murmured, running his thumb along the edge of the note.
He recalled seeing Madam Scribner earlier that day, clutching this very book and muttering something under her breath. It was hard to miss with the various garters she sometimes used as markers jutting out from the pages, like overgrown grass.
It was possible she’d dropped it. He made a mental note to return the book the next time he visited the library, together with the copy of Magical Maladies: A Healer’s Guide to Poking and Prodding he still had.
