The library was quiet, the kind of silence that wrapped around her like a cloak. She sat at the corner table, the one near the tall windows where the afternoon light fell in golden stripes. Her books were open, but her eyes weren’t on them. They were on him. Theodore Nott. He was leaning back in his chair across from her, fingers drumming lazily on the edge of the table, thumb brushing absentmindedly against hers. He didn’t notice she was watching. He never noticed that she noticed. And that