Page 78

I nod. “I was more of a Hermione guy.”

She snorts. “Seriously?”

“She was brilliant.”

“So was Sirius.”

“He was reckless.”

“He was loyal.”

I nod. “They both deserved better.”

Silence settles between us again.

This time it doesn’t feel so heavy.

She studies me for a long moment, like she’s trying to figure me out, before her gaze drifts around the room.

Across the books.

The broken vase.

The lamp.

Her shoulders sink.

“Oh...” she whispers. “What have I done?”

I bend down and pick up another book.

The spine has split.

I gently press the pages back together.

“You can fix a spine.”

She watches every movement of my hands.

“It won’t ever look exactly the way it used to.”

I glance up at her. “But the story’s still there.”

I run my thumb over the cracked spine before setting the book carefully on the shelf.

“What if you try it out?”

“What?”

“Reality.”

She looks confused.

“Just for a few hours, you give it a try.” I shrug.

“What does that even mean?”

“Tomorrow. Seven o’clock. Come with me.”