Feeling rather accomplished after finishing her Arithmancy homework, Francesca started picking up her quills and parchments from the desk in a secluded part of the library. She did not like to work, but when it was inevitable she liked to do so in peace. Arithmancy was the only subject she was relatively good at, despite the fact that she somehow managed to worm her way into NEWT level Defense and Potions. So far, Francesca had more luck with her grades than anyone she knew. She was one of the students who seldom tried and who deliberately made themselves unpopular. But so far she was regretting picking Defense - Storm always glared at her and made her nervous. She also received a P for her last assignment. Thinking about it made her frown - she will have to ask Whitman to write the next one from her.

She packed her textbook in her bag, but carelessly left the library books on the table. Removing her messy hair from her face, the Slytherin girl walked through the library in her usual cautious manner. The last thing she needed here was to run into her Head of House - Morgan was someone Francesca was secretly terrified of. So far though, the library seemed almost deserted and Francesca sighed in relief. However, just when she made another turn, she noticed a familiar figure sitting in a lonely spot, very similar to the one Francesca occupied two minutes ago. Evelyn Grimlish! The obnoxious girl from Ravenclaw, a rabbit corpse collector and the resident weirdo. Francesca bit her lip - she disliked the girl, but she couldn't do anything reckless here. Still, she approached her - a bully like her would never miss an opportunity.

"Hi," said the blond girl, forming an insincere smile. "What are you reading?" she snatched the book from the table before Evelyn had time to answer. 'The Case for Pet Kneazles' - the title said. Francesca grimaced. "You hidin' a dead kneazle under here, Grimlish?" She looked under the desk as if to check for kneazle corpses and then giggled mockingly.

There were a number of books on kneazles in the Hogwarts library, and Evelyn was methodically going through each one, one at a time, trying to learn anything she could about the creature living under her bed. The tome she was currently devouring specifically addressed how to care for the creatures and raise loving, well behaved felines despite their reputation as slightly dangerous. It had some good tips, especially compared with similar books, which really only went into habits, anatomy, and breeding. Evie was completely absorbed, taking in facts about dietary modifications, ground dwelling versus tree dwelling feline ancestors, primal instincts, and the role of humans in fostering positive socialization.

She was on her own planet, and had been for some time, her mind working furiously as she took in the new information and began to plan. She'd long ago slipped her shoes off and was sitting cross-legged on top of the library chair, completely oblivious to her surroundings. Her dark hair, dotted with a few live fairies, was falling in her face, dangling in front of her like a dense sheet. She'd been sitting like that for an hour, and nobody had bothered her so far. If she looked at home it was because she felt at home. This was a place where even the ever-guarded Evelyn Grimlish was willing to make herself a little bit vulnerable. Libraries were sanctuaries. They were quiet and contemplative temples to knowledge, where stories were exchanged for trust. There was no greed involved. It was all about hushed voices and the scent of old parchment and the passion of hundreds and hundreds of writers, alive and dead, their words and thoughts housed together for perpetuity. Libraries were safe.

How quickly that illusion was shattered by the presence of one Slytherin girl.

All of the sudden her book was snatched from her hands, and Evie was startled. She'd been absorbed in that book, even though it was nonfiction, and was shaken when the real world came crashing down around her. When she looked up and caught the eye of Francesca, she immediately wilted. She didn't know why this girl despised her so, but she couldn't seem to keep herself away. It was a confusing sort of obsession, and Evelyn never was sure how she was supposed to deal with these interactions.

”You hidin' a dead kneazle, under here, Grimlish?”

“No,” Evie responded mildly, her eyes trained on the book in the other witch's hands. She wasn't done with it and she didn't want this rude, disrespectful girl refiling it out of misdirected spite. The book hadn't done anything wrong! Then again, neither had Evie.

“You are obsessed with death,” Evie informed her bluntly, her voice soft and library-appropriate. She couldn't understand why else this girl might continue to bring up dead animals all of the time. “Death isn't funny. It is a fact of life, but it isn't funny.” She kept her eyes on the book, waiting for Francesca to get bored and wander away. 

This was exactly why Francesca couldn't stand this girl. Evelyn's dismissive and cold 'no' was enough to make the young Slytherin's freckled face go completely red. The more Francesca taunted her, the less of a reaction she got from her. It was infuriating. But she knew all this was just a facade, she was certain that deep down Evelyn Grimlish was annoyed, maybe even upset. She looked at the book in her hands and roughly, carelessly turned the pages. It was all nonsense, of course. It wasn't even bloody schoolwork!

The Ravenclaw's next statement made Francesca raise an eyebrow. Was she obsessed with death? She didn't think so - this was just a way of referencing that dead rabbit they fought over. If anyone was 'obsessed' with death, it was Grimlish - the patron saint of dead rabbits and Divination class antics. Francesca was not obsessed with it, but it wasn't exactly a taboo subject for her. She got acquainted with death and all things macabre thanks to her family's connection to the famous traders of Knockturn Alley - Borgin and Burkes. She was many things, but definitely not squeamish about these subjects. She wondered what would Evelyn say if she knew that Francesca owned a Hand of Glory.

"It can be funny for some," she said to the girl, trying to imitate her seriousness, though without too much success - Francesca was not so...blasé. "There are people who enjoy death and misfortune of others," she continued in a philosophical manner, as if she truly believed in the words she was saying. She hoped Evelyn would think Francesca was one of those people who enjoyed the misfortune of others...Well, it wasn't too far from the truth really.

"You make death sound so...negative," she smirked while looking through the book again, as if hoping to find something interesting within.

“I know,” Evelyn responded to Francesca's insistence that there were those who got their kicks from the misfortune of others. She was pretty sure she was talking to one at that very moment. “That says more about the nature of those individuals than it does about the nature of death.” After all, death was a constant. Everyone died except for those truly horrible individuals who dabbled in dark magic and took advantage of the wicked loopholes that existed to test the morals of humankind. The most notable person who'd played with death had been the infamous Voldemort, who they'd all learned about over the course of their childhoods. An obsession with death was, historically, unhealthy. An interest in death, however, was a different story. Evie lived in a haunted house and attended a haunted school. She walked side by side with the departed everyday. Her mother worked for the Department of Mysteries and studied vampires and, Evie expected, knew more about the mysteries of death than almost anyone alive. There was much to be interested in. But to giggle about death? To mock dead animals? To tease someone for their reverence? It seemed sick.

”You make death sound so...negative.”

Francesca, it seemed, was delusional, too. That was the opposite of what Evie had always tried to express, though she wasn't surprised that this vapid girl was in the habit of assuming and selectively listening. “Death is a universal process and to mock it is foolish,” she added. She was still looking at the book as she spoke, concerned about its fate.  “It isn't positive or negative. What it is is inevitable, and you seem to be afraid of it. Every story that has ever existed is a story about a journey from life to death, because we all die. Death itself is benign. It is the circumstances surrounding it that change.” It may have been amazing that she could deliver this perfectly self assured monologue without ever once making eye contact, but that was Evelyn's specialty. Now if she could only get her book back she could focus her eyes on the text and keep her eyes off of Francesca's indefinitely. She didn't want to turn to stone.

Ugh, that tone of voice again. Francesca made a face as the Ravenclaw girl rambled on monotonously. What she was saying though was irrelevant - and sort of obvious. Why was she even engaging into a philosophical argument about death with Evelyn Grimlish? It was counter-productive and thoroughly uninteresting. But she couldn't let go because knowing that Evelyn was bothered by her presence and probably prayed she would leave gave her an even bigger incentive. "Why is it foolish?" Francesca said quickly, maybe a note too loud. She could speak about what she wanted in any way she wanted. Grimlish was obviously one of those painfully superstitious people if she spoke this way, it had to be that because otherwise she would not take her joke about the dead kneazle so seriously. Or maybe there really was a dead kneazle hiding in her schoolbag. At this point, nothing would surprise Francesca.

But Evelyn continued rambling on, apparently not even having the decency to look at Francesca while speaking to her. "Yes, yes...death is inevitable, an astute observation no doubt," she said mockingly, still holding onto the girl's book. "Still, some people live for a very, very long time." She thought about the story of the Philosopher's stone, Voldemort or even Dumbledore - did he not live an extremely long life? People were hypocrites - they thought cheating death was a dark thing, but Dumbledore obviously believed otherwise and he was a favorite among their society.

"If death is as benign as you say, would you then remain so passive and emotionless if say...your parents suddenly died, or your brother?" Despite the morbid subject, Francesca still had that lazy smile plastered on her freckled face.

“As I just said,” Evelyn responded quite monotonously, getting a bit tired of talking only to have her words glossed over, “Death itself is benign. It's the circumstances that differ. Of course I'd feel grief if I were to lose someone I loved, but that isn't part of death. That is part of life.”

For a moment, Evie's glance slid from the book to Francesca's face, and then right back again. She wanted to try to figure out if the Slytherin girl's expression could provide some insight into her intentions. Did she really want to discuss the burdens of the living versus the burdens of the dead, or did she honestly think that she was going to hurt her feelings by asking questions? Anyone who thought that asking thought provoking questions was the best way to get to a Ravenclaw had clearly never met one. Questions were kind of a Ravenclaw thing. You couldn't even get through the door without answering one.

What was infuriating, however, was Francesca's own apparent refusal to actually engage beyond her questioning. It was like she'd just learned her mouth was capable of producing words and wanted to try them out in some misguided attempt to impress people. Evie was not impressed. She was bored and she wanted to be reading. She really did believe that the witch holding the book was obsessed with death but, the longer she stood there, the more Evie was coming to believe that she was also obsessed with her. “May I have the book back?” she asked, now that she was convinced that this conversation, interesting topic or not, was never going to be fulfilling, “I'd like to read it.” They were in a library, weren't they? If she was really attached to the idea of standing there and flapping a book around, she had her choice.

Francesca grimaced. The more she listened to the Ravenclaw girl's nonsense, the more she realized how ridiculous she is. No wonder everyone thought of her as a social cripple and an outcast. Francesca suppressed a smirk. But there really was no point in arguing about abstract concepts with this girl - not only because her overly large head was floating high among the clouds but also because it really benefited no one.

Then she asked about the book. This time a quick flash of a smirk graced Francesca's delicate features. "No, you may not," she said matter-of-factly, giving the old tome a better look this time. It was not a subject that would interest Francesca, not under any circumstances, but now she was eyeing it as if was the most interesting thing in the world. "I'd like to read it as well," she said with a sort of awful, saccharine enthusiasm and pulled a chair for herself to sit down at Evelyn's desk. She opened the book harshly, treating its pages with unnecessary aggression. However she did not dare to tear or destroy the book here, in the library - not when her Head of House worked in such close proximity.

"I'm still convinced you're hiding a dead kneazle somewhere," she added, focused on the pages of the book in front of her now. "Desperately craving a little pet funeral again, are we?"