Virgil did not, as a rule, sleepwalk.

He did however read and walk at the same time, if one of his legs had fallen asleep and the scratching of quills to last minute homework parchments kept him from napping under cousin Morgan's eye. The library was usually so quiet but he'd forgotten that the nimbus minded of Hogwarts would be scribbling away on a Sunday afternoon.

His sleepy eyes lingered on the text he'd been perusing, something old and dusty his father had sent by owl - Leglimency Past Midnight: A Serpentine Nightmare by Ichabod Gosse. Ludicrously dramatic, far too dramatic to be factual.

And yet Virgil couldn't help the little pull of his lips, the odd smirk of amusement at its melodramatic prose. Something to write back about if he could arrive at what would no doubt be its dissatisfying conclu--

His foot nudged at something too solid to be some body's cat. The Slytherin lowered the book, blinking slowly to note that he'd nearly rammed his knee right against the shortest Hufflepuff of their year. Hufflepuffs. They appeared out of nowhere, like garden gnomes in the summer or the winter flu.

"Crane." Virgil greeted curtly, gaze dragging down to the shelf; mildly curious to see what poor endeavour had brought the small witch out from her cocoon. "Haven't learned to step out of the way yet? And here we've almost graduated," he drawled as the tail end of the sentence disappeared into a yawn.

Resalyn had taken to perusing the library’s wide array of books. Her fingers ran across the spines of books both freshly printed and worn-but-loved.  Her eyes lingered hungrily upon the medical section, taking in different combinations of herbology and charm topics that called to her. More information. More knowledge. More time to hide in a corner with a reason as to why she dared not find her way into social situations.

Her fingertips carefully tugged at the headcaps of the books she wanted, before she placed each of them in the nook of her arm. Five in total, so far. Each one spanned different methods of healing, and if she ever allowed her eyes to meet someone else’s, the joy of the knowledge to come left a glint in her eyes. Her spiral notebook rested precariously atop the nonfiction collection she had garnered, a pen stuck haphazardly behind her ear, hidden beneath loops of golden tresses. Still, the black was a stark contrast to the pallid colour of the locks (even if one could only see small sections of it behind her masses of hair).

She had started to turn, to head over toward her ‘designated’ corner and curl up to take notes on the infinite amounts of knowledge that she had no doubt would spew from the books she had grabbed. That turn, however, manifested as a jump and clatter of books as they all crashed to the floor. ”Crane”. A voice followed the nudge that had set her off – and she instinctively backed away. Gold eyes peered up at the male voice from behind a few locks of hair which had been shaken loose in her panic. He continued to talk, voice curt but bored as she knelt down to hurriedly gather her books once more.

”Vir-Virgil…” Her voice was a meek whisper, and she dared not lift her head to watch him as she began piling books on the nook of her arm once more. Perhaps he had stay out the back sections of the library and she wouldn’t have to ‘learn’ to step out the way. Of course, she would never say such a thing to anyone other than Kayden (and he’d have to have pissed her off quite a bit to get such a snappy response), so she would settle for a far curter response. ”My apologies… I didn’t see you…” , she stated, having finally garnered the courage to look up at the towering figure before her.

Already, her fingertips had begun to tap in a rolling motion across the spine of the top book. Groups of three taps could be heard quietly if one had listened close enough. Her other hand lingered near her hair, an attempt to push some locks back into their allotted positions without a mirror for assistance. Part of her wondered if she ran off to her corner now, if she would be considered rude. The other part? Well, the other part required that she stay planted in space and calm her nerves before a full-out panic attack (from the shock of someone bumping into her when she thought herself to be alone) fell into effect.

Virgil narrowed his eyes at the mess of hair stammering out an apology. He had forgotten who he was talking to - Crane, as mild as lake water and just about as capable of social interaction. His attention veered momentarily to the tomes she'd not the sense to float in spite of her size. Nothing of interest.

"You didn't," he agreed plainly and slid his own small book into the back pocket of his jeans. She was having a moment: if Virgil were not so accustomed to the varying fortitudes of witches in his life, he might have thought Crane a discredit to her sex for freezing up the way she did.

One had to make allowances for the meek. The nature of such allowances was rarely specified.

"Not going to cry are you?" Virgil asked, deadpan, as Resalyn was not appropriately stepping out of the way. How did anyone share a common room with Sebok Zsoldos and come away this stunted? He peered through her locks and wondered if I made that wretched Hufflepuff girl wheep was much of a brag. It was debatable. "That's what lavatories are for..." A condescending, pouting tone of voice to accompany his 'advice'.

"Unless you've not learned the way there yet, either? You must be bursting."

There was a very strong desire to chew him out for assuming she didn’t know where the bathrooms were, or that she would have such a strong desire to cry in public. Her fingernails dug into the spine of the book, and that was probably the only visible sign of her anger at that moment. He had agreed to her statement, and then had gone on to continue insulting her (or at least what she considered a strong insult).  She backed up a few steps, frame stretching a little bit taller before she finally found words to answer his tone. ”I’ve most certainly learned the way to the lavatories, sir.” It was a little sharper than she had intended, but it worked out just as well.

Her eyes had followed the motion of his hand as he slid a book into his back pocket. Why? Well, it was easier to focus on anything other than his face, and books in general always interested the meek girl. ”I suppose you haven’t quite found the way out of the medical section of the library…” She left it as a hanging quip, while her fingers still tapped against the spine of the book she clung to. For the time being, they served as her grounding object; and she would use them for as long as she needed to.

It was with surprising grace that she allowed her frame to begin to turn. Her hair that was looped around in delicate patterns twirled with her bodice as she started off toward the corner that she had habitually made her own. Though, she was still most definitely in ear-shot of anything else he may wish to state.

Calling him sir was perhaps Crane's notion of sarcasm, but it only left Virgil with an inclination to think lesser of her cleverness. Inverse in proportion to the number of books she read - a shame that they couldn't teach that manner of aptitude in lessons. Swim or drown... and half the castle was underwater.

He dug his hands into his pockets, easily outstripping the small classmate down the narrow aisle between shelves. "Is that what passes for wit in your House?" his sleepy smile turned into a smirk as he slipped past Resalyn - elbow narrowly missing her shoulder - and continued with a glance behind.

No tears, ah well. One would have to fulfil the quota for crying witches storming away from him on some other day. He hadn't missed her wandering eyes however. If Virgil were given a Sickle for every repressed prima donna in Hogwarts with a wand up their behinds he would forsake his inheritance in a listless heartbeat.

"You'll have a much better view of my arse this way," he remarked insouciantly and turned to continue his way.

So, perhaps manners weren’t the best way to insult others, but she had no strong desire to be attacked for other statements. He inquired about her wit, and her mouth formed into a thin line upon her face. Still, she should have been prepared for him to slip past her so closely. Oh, who was she kidding, she never would be prepared for such closeness. As his elbow almost clipped her should she flinched, fingers digging in even tighter to the spines of the books, and stumbled back a step. No, it wasn’t necessary, but she still felt as if it were.

Another snide remark, one about his arse this time. Her free fist clenched, and she ground her jaw as her annoyance finally began to kick in. Her body spun quickly and her voice resounded much louder than it had been at the beginning of the conversation. “I don’t care about your arse,” she hissed, anger sparked like flames in her eyes. “I was merely surprised to see you had a book that wasn’t a children’s story. Are you even reading it? Or just carrying it around with your nose buried in it so you look intelligent?”

Okay… if she got smacked she didn’t even care. She pulled her wand out of her right pocket, and whispering a few words, she soon had all of her books floating. You know… just in case he decided to send her flying backwards or something else stupid in retaliation.

He laughed, back to the Hufflepuff as he swanned along between bookshelves with a touch of smugness in his step. It was much too easy to get on her nerves. And the lady protested far too much if she had gone from meek mouse to angry little badger at the mention of his boney behind.

Such a poor excuse for tacit lust.

Virgil might have said the same about Crane traipsing about with books she hardly had the intelligence to do little else with besides regurgitate information - but she'd shown little sport in trading wit, so he only glanced behind to ensure her muttering charms were not directed at him.

"Carry on, Crane..." the Slytherin did a lazy, royal wave and made to turn at the end of the aisle. "I'd better return to my children's stories." He disappeared into the next passageway of books - a little cheerier for having upset his peer, and looking forward to a heavy meal at tea that afternoon.