Page 86 of A Tower of Half-Truths
“I could say the same about you. Did you rest at all yesterday?”
“Yes, I had afternoon tea with my mother.”
“And after that?”
“I didn’t work on the spell tome…”
“But…”
“But Ididmake some adjustments to the anti-Sensing potion.” Mavery pulled a face, and he chuckled. “If you can think of a better name for it, I’m all ears.”
“Fine,” she sighed. “Bring me the damn potion.”
“Actually, I’ll need to make a new batch, but it shouldn’t take more than half an hour.”
“Do you need any help?” She shrugged off the robe; it had made little difference. “Maybe getting up and moving around will do me some good.”
“I’ve always treated alchemy as a solo endeavor.” He smiled, and the slightest flicker of warmth stirred within her. “But I wouldn’t mind some company.”
He offered his hand, and she grasped it as he pulled her to her feet. They stood chest to chest for the duration of a few heartbeats—not long enough for Mavery to fully appreciate their closeness. Alain dropped her hand and turned toward the kitchen, leaving her even colder than she’d felt a moment ago.
“I hope you’re not expecting a lesson,” he said as he opened the kitchen door. “I know enough about alchemy to be dangerous, but not enough to teach it in any meaningful capacity.”
“That’s fine. Besides, I already know my way around a mortar and pestle.”
“Then how about I leave that part to you?”
He retrieved his notebook from the table. It was the same one he’d used the day they visited the café, when he’d first thought of the potion. As she hovered over his shoulder, still rubbing her gooseflesh-covered arms, she glimpsed observations he’d madeabout her Senses, early drafts of the potion recipe, and a few sketches.
“Wait,” she said. “Was that…?”
He sputtered something in protest as she reached forward snatched the book from his hands.
She paged through sketches of the herbs hanging in the kitchen, the birds that occasionally perched outside the sitting room window, the view of the Merimar from that same window. Then there was a series of the same human subject: reading, writing, drinking tea.
“Are these all ofme?”
Alain’s face flushed, which was all the confirmation she needed. He reached for the notebook, but she took a step back, taking it further out of reach. She was being childish, but she couldn’t resist. She’d never given much thought to the contents of his notebook; his bouts of sketching and note-taking had simply become another of his quirks. Her heart fluttered as she wondered how often he’d been drawing her, studying her, without her ever realizing it.
“You’ve had your fun,” Alain huffed. “Now, can you please hand it back?”
She relented. He continued searching for the recipe, but his shaky fingers struggled to turn the pages.
“You’ve nothing to be ashamed of,” Mavery said. “In fact, I’m flattered.”
“That’s a relief, though it’s difficult to not feel guilty whenever I devote even a few minutes of my time to art…if you can even consider thisart.”
“Why would you feel guilty about that?”
“Because it’s been long ingrained in me that anything not directly related to my work is a waste of time.”
Her heart sank as she remembered what he’d once told her about his painting hobby. “For what it’s worth,Idon’t think it’s a waste of time.”
“Thank you.” The faintest trace of a smile pulled at his lips. “I wish the rest of the wizarding community—especially those at the University—thought the same as you do.”
“You really think none of your colleagues have hobbies outsideof teaching and research?”
“Don’t forget copious drinking. That’s an age-old academic pastime.” He gave a half-hearted chuckle that faded as quickly as it had arrived. “I can’t say for certain, though I doubt many of them have time for it. That was certainly the case for me. My sabbatical was the first true break I’d had in years.” He frowned. “Not that I was doing much relaxing.”
