-- Uniform -- -- 4:00PM, Study Break --

With quick steps, the pink-and-black-haired Beatrix Dark came rushing through the library doors. No one really seemed to be in there, it being the end of the day and whatnot. She was glad that every seemed to be winding down somewhere else, getting ready for dinner, hanging out with friends. The quiet solitude of it all made the Dark girl visibly relax and she picked one of the many empty tables near one of her favorite sections: The psychology section. Not many people really paid attention to her and what she read, thankfully. Since it was basically all human philosophy-- What those people thought about why they were there... Mainly about the mind, though. She loved reading about the mind.

She set her bag down and her eyes glided over towards the open section. She could read about emotions... Anger, depression, happiness, love... No, not love. Beatrix's face twisted. That was the last thing the girl wanted to read about. She was usually a giddy girl, reading lame love stories, reading about why people love, reading about what kisses really mean. But no, not so much anymore. Beatrix's mind was slowly maturing. Or, perhaps, being tainted. Or even... She wanted to get away from that word at the moment, since that was exactly why she came to the library. Beatrix had been distracting herself from the emotional pain she had been feeling. Of course, hanging onto Vincent Pennyapple counted, also. He distracted her quite well...

It was the other issues with "love" that Beatrix was getting away from. If she were to forget all about Erin Harper, everything would be beautiful. It would be normal. It would be the grandest freaking thing since sliced gosh darn bread. But, alas, everything was still there in place. It was waiting for her to lay down in bed or find a moment alone. It was going to latch onto her at any second and make her feel the pain once more. Not to mention everything else that was bothering her... The fact she backstabbed her sister, Charlene Malone and her stupid questions, and not to mention the wolf-bitten Greyfriar. There were many other factors, but Beatrix focused mainly on those.

The girl decided against reading about psychology for now. She left her stuff at the table, but moved onto a pile of books nearby a section she never really looked at. She wasn't certain what it was, since it looked rather untouched, but she gazed over the books and finally picked one out near the top of the pile that lay before it. It was old... Full of writing that was quite epic and dark and grim and Beatrix rather liked it. She took the book and a few others from the pile with her and sat down at the desk she had picked before.


Beatrix's brow curved upwards. She didn't usually read literature like that... But she definitely liked it. Even if it did depress the hell out of her. She continued to read the book, not noticing she let a couple of the books she had brought with her thud to the floor. Beatrix was zoned out too much to really notice anything going on around her. Beatrix didn't like being alone. Especially not nowadays. While she had used to always be by herself, she wasn't so much anymore. But she couldn't always be latching onto her friends and family.

However, she decided she would cut back on her alone time and begin hanging around Vincent more and simply studying with him. Or helping her sister. Hell, she'd even begin hanging around Tawse just to clear her mind. It was days like that one that made Beatrix lonely and depressed. She was thinking too much already. She sighed and bit her lip, "Why am I such a typical girl?" she asked herself, mumbling out loud. Beatrix quickly went back to her reading, even if the book was strange and sad. It at least distracted her from her teenage angst.


** "This is When I Became Empty," a story I wrote in the beginning of my Sophomore year when my brother moved. It was the only story I felt fit. :P

At this time of day, Landis was not used to many students being in the library. There wasn't anything particular about it; it just wasn't library rush hour. Activity slackened off in the late afternoon until after dinner, and Landis had by this point been at the library long enough that nothing in particular was left to be organized, so now he was methodically walking the stacks in the hopes that there would be something he could straighten. He pushed a book or two back into place, sorted a few others into the right order, and leveled a gaze of chilly death unto a couple he caught in the far back alcove, which made them spring apart as though they'd been stung. As he moved past, his gaze lingered pointedly on their rumpled clothing, and he left behind an embarrassed flurry of robe-straightening as he moved onto the main area.

He scanned the room - only a handful of students, which was expected, except, for a moment, he saw the back of one student's head and thought immediately of Dazmond. But this girl's hair had pink streaks instead of red, and was nowhere near as wild; Landis blamed his momentary flashback on the fact that he'd seen Dazmond so recently, which always put him in a nostalgic mood.

And that would have been the end of it, if not for the fact that, as he watched, the girl leaned so into her reading that several other books fell off the end of her table in a small series of muffled thuds. She didn't even look up, and there weren't exactly many other students around to do it for her, but those books were old, Landis could tell from here. He walked towards her from behind, eyes narrowed, and then stooped to pick up the books- three of them- and lay them back on her desk. Even the very faint sound they made as he set them down sounded disapproving. Landis didn't mean to fulfill the hawk-eyed librarian stereotype, but he couldn't help it; his younger brother would have said that Landis was made to act like he had a stick permanently up his arse, and unfortunately this was often true.

"I understand that your reading may be very engrossing, but please don't pick up more books than you can attend to." His voice was very mild. Stick up his arse or no, Landis was often soft-spoken unless he had a reason to be otherwise, and preferred to leave people guessing about how he was feeling rather than hint at it with his tone. Now, as he said this, he kept a pale, long-fingered hand resting lightly on the top book of the stack, as though he were afraid that as soon as he moved away they'd fall over again.

There was movement next to Beatrix and her eyes finally slid from the literature. Someone was setting down books... Did she accidentally let them fall? Her cold eyes took in the scene of the pale fingers on the stack of books and she finally followed them up to their source. She found herself locking eyes with the death glare of the Hogwarts librarian. Which wasn't surprising, yet she still hadn't expected him to ever have to scold her. Beatrix was a good girl... Even if she did throw her History of Magic book around. That was just a given. He began speaking to her and she had to take a moment to hear what he was saying...

"I understand that your reading may be very engrossing, but please don't pick up more books than you can attend to."

Beatrix's lips parted and formed a disgusted frown, but before she could say one insulting, detention-seeking word, her face went blank. "I'm very sorry, sir," Beatrix assured him, her voice quiet enough for him to hear, but not loud enough for him to get pissy with her. She wanted to tell him that not all librarians needed to be asshats, but that wouldn't have been appropriate. "I didn't mean to drop them, I won't let it happen again," her voice remained smooth, her stare never becoming warped or angry. Though that was exactly how she felt at that moment. Adults never cared about teenagers. He didn't understand how she felt.

Beatrix was going to address him once more, but she didn't know what to call him. What do you call a Librarian? They're not Professors... She took another moment to collect her thoughts before speaking again. "Mister Morgan, I wish to check those books out..." Her stare finally broke away and back to his fingers. He wasn't going to let those books ago, apparently. His hand remained on top of the books. "But if you feel I'm unfit, very well," She wished to insult him again, but she couldn't, and she wouldn't, channel her rage towards an adult.

"But is it really necessary to act like I'm a child?" She closed the book she had been reading and placed it down next to the other books. "I can attend to as many books as I think I can, I made one slip up, sir," Bea's face nearly morphed into a scowl. Her pink streaks began turning red... "I'm sorry," She said, blankly, before turning back around and staring straight ahead of her.

There was no need to treat the librarian like that... She couldn't believe she was sassing him. He would probably murder her. Stuff her body in the floorboards. The beating of her hideous heart! She decided that she shouldn't have even gone to the library. Morgan and Beatrix never had any trouble, she probably didn't even exist to him. He never had to scold her... Never. What if he kicked her out of the library for being so nasty to him? Where would she go when she's alone...

She would feel more awful about herself. She would die of loneliness or suffer and rot in her dorm. Of course, she was just being melodramatic. But she couldn't realize that through the panic she was feeling. "I just wanted to read some goddamn books," She told no one in particular. Beatrix didn't want to start thinking again... Her fingers curled around the book she had been reading and her eyes drifted from the bookcase in front of her to to the cover. Beatrix had never cursed in her life, she realized. What was happening to her?

"Sorry," Beatrix added, quickly, "I- though you probably don't care- I have not been myself lately," her stare turned back onto the man. She could feel a detention coming. Or perhaps her tongue being cut out. Mister Morgan was rather intimidating. She swallowed, hard, and kept her blank face. Today was not the day to be scolded by an adult figure. She already had so many problems. "I'll take care of your books, this won't happen again," She turned around again, hoping he'd leave. Though Beatrix wanted company... She had a feeling Mister Morgan wasn't someone she could talk to.

"I'm very sorry, sir, I didn't mean to drop them. I won't let it happen again. - But is it really necessary to act like I'm a child? I can attend to as many books as I think I can, I made one slip up, sir. . .I'm sorry. I just wanted to read some goddamn books ...Sorry."

Landis watched with mildly puzzled interest as the girl went through the most thorough display of self-contradiction he'd ever seen. Disrespect warred with deference in her tone; she seemed to waver between anger he'd caught her, anger at herself for slipping up, and a vague apologetic state to make up for both of them. Teenagers. Some bizarre mix of constantly injured pride and self-doubt; Landis was so glad he'd outgrown that.

As it was, he wasn't sure whether to reprimand her for her quick-flared temper or point her towards the self-help books.  She offered an excuse for her odd behavior, but that hardly meant anything. "I've not been myself lately." Meaningless words. Landis wasn't particularly offended, though. He recognized the girl- the Ravenclaw prefect, wasn't she? She had a twin in Slytherin, one of Landis' own, and the only way he could tell them apart when in uniform was their separate House badges. Of course, he hadn't spent adequate time with either one to be able to tell them apart. With twins, a little familiarity was all it took.

But they weren't just any twins- they were the Dark twins. Purebloods. Landis made a slight effort to hide his strong opinion on blood matters while at school, for professional reasons, but while her clothing and her manner were strange, she had good blood backing her. Beatrix's first impression just gained itself a little leeway.

"Don't get upset," he said shortly. "It was a reasonable request." The hand withdrew. "Of course you may check them out." It was a library, after all. He didn't tell her to be careful with them; she wouldn't need to be reminded after this incident. But instead of leaving then, he lingered; his pale eyes glanced down. "Bleak reading for a winter's day, Ms. Dark."

She wasn't necessarily looking for company in Mister Morgan, but when he remained quiet as Beatrix went through her fit... Well, it was rather unnerving. She never really knew much about the librarian. He was eerie, quiet, intimidating, no-nonsense, and though Beatrix was never close enough to tell... He looked like he would smell of moth balls and other unpleasant old people smells even though he was young. But as he loomed over the small girl, she learned that no, he did not smell of old people. She wasn't about to turn around and sniff him, but she was certain he did not smell bad. She could not smell chortled milk. Or day old urine.

Maybe a little bit like books, but that was probably just because she was in a library. Her rambling thoughts were starting to really get to her.

"Don't get upset, it was a reasonable request."

A bitter taste began to form on Bea's tongue. How could she not become upset? She was a good girl having her socks scared off of her. By the moth-ball-smelling Librarian. She twitched, subconsciously, as he continued to speak. She never heard him speak before, really. It added to the eeriness. However, now that she heard his voice... It just added more to the intimidation. It fit his persona well.

Beatrix disagreed, anyways. It wasn't a reasonable request. It was a rather rude, mean request. She bit her tongue and nodded, slowly. She refrained from apologizing again. She had no reason to apologize. Beatrix wasn't much of a pushover... And she usually didn't say 'Sorry'. However, speaking to an adult figure was always a different situation. She cleared her throat and listened as he continued. Feeling a bit rude herself, she turned back to the man. Showing that she wasn't weak. And that she could take him in a fight.

"Of course you may check them out."

"Thank you, sir," Beatrix nodded again, still waiting for him to go on his merry, creepy way. She had nothing against him... Definitely not. Beatrix liked mysterious, quiet, and possibly dangerous people. Of course, he could just be an asshat librarian, as Beatrix had specified before. Or perhaps picturing him cracking open dumb skulls with the Dictionary and decapitating the poor fellow who turned in an overdue book with merely a piece of paper. Again, he could simply be a librarian. Beatrix just had a wild imagination sometimes. If only she used that imagination to her benefit in class nowadays.

But the man remained where he stood. Did he wish for company, also? Perhaps then he shouldn't come off as a rude git... However, Beatrix looked up at him with the thought lingering in her mind. Him wishing for company, that is. Maybe she was wrong... But company would do the Dark girl good. A glint of hope began to shine in her eyes, but her features remained blank. She wouldn't talk to him about her silly teenage problems... But a Librarian would definitely have interesting topics to talk about.

"Bleak reading for a winter's day, Ms. Dark."

An eyebrow rose on the Dark girl's face and she glanced over at the book she had been reading. "What do you mean by that, Mister Morgan?" She asked, politely, "Is this book not in your taste? I found it rather interesting," only because she was feeling rather bleak and melancholy herself. She wouldn't normally read books like the one she had snatched from the pile. Her blank face softened. Maybe he just didn't like depressing books... Perhaps he preferred to read about puppies and rainbows. A small grin formed on her young face. That's so nice!

"Perhaps it's only when one's in a certain mood..." She shrugged, innocently, "I don't think I'd like it if I weren't..." Suffering from teenage hormones, "Feeling so low lately," She stopped speaking, quickly. Beatrix always seemed to share too much. The man already seemed to be uninterested in her, why bore him with her juvenile thoughts?

"What do you like to read, Mister Morgan?" She asked after a moment of collecting her thoughts. It was a simple question. A nice question, in Bea's opinion. She secretly hoped he liked to read about puppies and rainbows. That would definitely be an icebreaker.

If Landis knew what was going through Beatrix's head at the moment, he would have been extremely offended. His personal hygiene was immaculate, and he certainly did not smell of mothballs. Or urine.

Fortunately for both of them, Beatrix's thoughts stayed inside her head and so, despite her momentary fit of babbling, Landis was mostly finding her polite and agreeable as any prefect should be. He'd commented on her reading choice more out of mild surprise and curiosity than any real desire to start a conversation, but there was nothing unpleasant about talking with someone of Beatrix's background.

 "What do you mean by that, Mister Morgan? Is this book not in your taste?"

"No, quite the contrary." Landis preferred darker reading material, but rarely did he turn to them out of the melancholy that was driving Beatrix now. His ordinary selections just tended towards the dark, the morbid, the intellectual, or all three. "Only that some people would find the weather to be depressing enough without reading something to further it." Aware that this sounded vaguely like he was targeting Beatrix out for not being normal, he added, "I am not one of those people." He even managed to summon up a small smile for her.

"Perhaps it's only when one's in a certain mood..."

It only made sense. People thought that when someone was sad they should read a happy book to cheer themselves up; whether it was because Landis was a librarian or just a keen observer of human nature, he knew better. Reading a happy book when one was not in the right mood only caused bitterness and, frequently, the throwing of said book at the wall. Unhappiness colored one's perception of the world, and made the loveliest thing seem trite and unrealistic when viewed through such dour eyes.

However, the inverse was also true. A dark book could make a light mood plummet, and although there was bitter satisfaction in reading something as heavy as one's heart (an empathetic feeling Beatrix was surely experiencing), too much of sorrow and sorrow alone and one would never be able to bounce back to their ordinary mood.

Of course, this was a universal truth, and not limited to books. It was only because Beatrix had posed it in such a way that Landis thought of it thus.

Still, Landis wasn't in the habit of giving out advice to strangers, to students, or really to anyone he couldn't care less about. His observations were good ones, but only logical. He assumed that anyone who was too unintelligent to figure out the same conclusions he'd come to deserved the consequences of whatever bad choice they were making. So he didn't say any of this aloud to Beatrix, because she was a student and, while polite enough, no one he cared for. If she wanted to wallow in her own misery or soar in literary ecstasy - well, it really didn't matter to Landis either way. Besides, people who philosophized aloud drove Landis insane; he would never become one of their arrogant shallow number.

He did have a duty, though. Although his main priority was furthering the interests of the WBA, he would be loathe to have anyone accuse him of less than efficient, professional service unless that person was mudblood or something similar, in which case their accusation would be entirely correct.

"If you're interested in this type of reading material, I may be able to recommend an author or two."

"What do you like to read, Mister Morgan?"

Landis was surprised, although, given his penchant for perfectly unreadable expressions, this only manifested in a single raised eyebrow. Ms. Dark had taken the initiative to continue the conversation, and with such a question, too. Although, to be fair, it was a perfectly good question to ask a librarian. It was just that, although Landis never forgot his professional duty, he did forget the fact that librarians were viewed rather stereotypically. He knew that he was immoral, deceptive, and utterly ruthless, but the students certainly didn't. They were probably just surprised he didn't wear a sweater. They almost certainly expected him to enjoy reading and to spend most of his free time doing so.

As a matter of fact, Landis didn't particularly care for books much beyond the power one gained by reading them. He took offense on their behalf when they were mistreated - okay, okay, maybe he had a little real librarian in him - and he certainly had read books merely for pleasure in the past, but not recently. Beatrix's question made him have to think.

"Treatises on various things, mostly," he said, deliberate and thoughtful. "Potions books. Some fiction, although mostly not. I enjoy the works of Poe - " a muggle, unfortunately, but a highly twisted individual so there was some merit there - "Camus, Satre, Radagast, Atlantes, Shakespeare's tragedies, things like that." Some muggle, some wizards, some wizards posing as muggles - honestly, how anyone could think Shakespeare was run-of-the-mill mortal was beyond him. The wordsmith wrote of magic so casually, yet was never accused of witchcraft himself, probably because he was careful to depict witches and wizards as dark, horrible things. It had been clever of him.

Landis omitted some things, Machiavelli, the dark arts manuals and ancient texts, things that a student need not know he read. He'd read Dumas once, but only liked it because of the manipulative and clever antihero; he'd found the action scenes predictably boring and irrelevant. Dante Alighieri was too religious, Voltaire witty, eloquent, but annoyingly chipper, and Nietzsche too purposeless. De Sade was also not something Landis enjoyed, but only because he thought the Marquis's novels were too tacky.

"No, quite the contrary. Only that some people would find the weather to be depressing enough without reading something to further it. I am not one of those people."

He made a good point. When one wants to be happy, they don't read depressing books. But Beatrix couldn't stand reading something happy when she was depressed. "Books that are meant to be goodhearted and to enlighten someone... Well, I can't stand them when I'm feeling down," Beatrix began, shifting a bit in her chair, "It's like the pages are mocking me... Saying 'This fictional character-' or real, depends on what I'm reading, 'This character is happier than you. And it's just ink on paper'," Beatrix paused and thought about what she just said. It sounded like she had just insulted books in front of the librarian. Smart move that was.

Perhaps it was the fact that Bea was feeling so down that got her speaking as if books didn't matter. They expressed feelings and thoughts, ideas and creation. But it was moments like that Bea would say such blasphemy. Her brow furrowed, feeling a bit bad about what she said. Surely it wasn't a big deal, but everything mattered to Bea when she was upset. The little things and especially the big things. What Beatrix had said was microscopic. But it was like a papercut, small... But it stings.

The girl decided to speak up again, as if she said nothing wrong, "Is there any such thing as happy books nowadays?" She asked, rhetorically or not. Every modern book she read was usually depressing, had an awful twist, they were never happy and never made Bea feel happy when she needed to be. Beatrix felt like she was depriving Mister Morgan from experiencing her true self. But would he even be standing there, talking to her if she was? Would he be able to listen to Bea's babbling?

"If you're interested in this type of reading material, I may be able to recommend an author or two."

"Um," Beatrix paused and then shrugged, "I guess you're right... I shouldn't really be, ahh..." She looked down at the book she had snagged before. Beatrix mainly just didn't want to bother the man. He probably had better things to do. He probably needed to clean the old person smell out of his slacks again. Though Beatrix still couldn't necessarily smell it still. She just knew it was there. Beatrix took a moment to answer his question, noticing that she wasn't technically answering him when she first started speaking. "No, thank you, Mister Morgan. But I think I'll skip the depressing books now that I think about it," she paused, "Why would I wish to make myself more sad as it is?"

Beatrix knew how silly it had to all sound to Mister Morgan. She was a young girl who believed she had a hard life. Since he was such an... Intimidating man, perhaps he didn't have the best childhood. Or was born into an awful family. He probably thought Bea was pathetic. Why was he even speaking to her?

"I'm sure you have better things to do," Beatrix gave him a faint grin. She didn't want to bother the Librarian with her silly ramblings. But if she chose to stay, well... Who was she to argue? If he wished to keep company with a strange girl with pink and black hair... Well, whatever floated his boat.

He spoke up about the books he enjoyed and Beatrix listened, completely interested. She hadn't read all of the authors he named off, but the ones she did, she really did enjoy. But she, too, didn't usually read for pleasure. She had in the past when she would hide in the library all day... But since the end of her fourth year she didn't so much. She had friends and she tended to study with other people. The last time she cracked a book (Before that moment, obviously) was when she was reading this thousand page book on Anger Issues that she left to sit in the dust, her bookmark only on page four hundred. It was interesting, she just sort of forgot about it.

"I... Um... I tend to do exceptionally well in Potions," Beatrix told him, not that he would really care, "I also enjoy reading books about it... And Poe, Shakespeare, all that..." But she was no Leon Monroe, that nutter. Beatrix's grin spread across her face, but she thought that maybe she was boring the man. Sure, he didn't sound as angry and rash as he usually did, but there was simply something about him.

It was probably nothing. Just Bea's imagination. She enjoyed Morgan's company (Heaven knows why) and she was a nice girl. No matter how awful she tended to be.

"Did you always want to be a Librarian?" Beatrix asked, out of the blue. Perhaps Morgan was always an asshat and always wanted to scare children. Perhaps he wanted to be a real Professor and they denied him and he's bitter and angry about it. Perhaps he was a spy. A super spy! But Beatrix, of course, didn't actually believe that, the irony escaping her. "Just wondering..." She added, politely. She meant no offense, if he were to actually find offense in her question. Beatrix merely thought a lot. Another question she wanted to pose was "Do you have to wash your coat three times a day". But she wouldn't dare.

"Books that are meant to be goodhearted and to enlighten someone... Well, I can't stand them when I'm feeling down. It's like the pages are mocking me... Saying 'This fictional character-' or real, depends on what I'm reading, 'This character is happier than you. And it's just ink on paper.' "

Ah, yes. Landis nodded. Beatrix sounded like she was thinking aloud, musing, offering a little explanation for her actions. He shifted his weight, leaning his hip against the table and crossing his arms comfortably. This was turning into a conversation, and so he was settling in.

"Yes. But fictional characters hardly count, and real people - " are never fully happy - "hide their feelings, even in books. You're hardly alone." Reassuring nonsense, that last bit - utter shite. Everyone was alone. But Landis' tone, although casual, was convincing enough. He could easily preach what he didn't believe.

"Is there any such thing as happy books nowadays?"

Landis gave her a sidelong glance. The question seemed rhetorical, so he didn't answer. It hardly seemed worth offering his opinion on the matter.  As a matter of fact, he didn't have an opinion on it - Landis made a mental note to investigate the more optimistic reading material in the library. As the librarian, he was probably expected to know about that.

She declined his offer of assistance - that was fine. Sheer formality, his offering. She thought about his personal hygiene again, which of course Landis had no way of knowing. And she realized it for herself - these sad books wouldn't help her. Smart girl.

"I'm sure you have better things to do."

Landis gave her a charming smile, the slant of his smiling mouth something he would be horrified to know he shared with his brother. "Not at all, Ms. Dark." What else did he have to do? Organize the sign-out cards for the 27th time? Better to get to know the students. He was supposed to be on the look out for potential recruits, after all.

And if he started with this girl, well, all the better to find that she did well in Potions. Landis's smile became much more genuine. "An admirable thing to do well at it," he told her, just before she went and surprised him again.

"Did you always want to be a Librarian?"

Good thing he hadn't been drinking anything at the time (not that food or drink was allowed in the library, of course). Landis would have choked. As it were, he stared for a moment, his face gone totally blank, before he composed himself.

"No. No, I didn't... always want to be a librarian." Quickly, Landis tried to think of alternate jobs that the sort of person who became a librarian might have considered. "I would have preferred being a professor. However, the Potions position was not available." Well, that was entirely truthful. Landis would have felt more at home in the dungeons, and he knew Potions very well.  He'd yet to measure up to Dazmond but, he was working on that. "Lawyer might have been a good choice, or accountant, but you know, there is something about Hogwarts that tends to draw its students back."

Landis had been an angry teenager, bitter at the world and its unfairness in that peculiar way many teenagers have. Erin was the same way, although where Erin lashed out, showing his emotions for anyone and everyone to see, Landis had turned his anger inwards. Calm and cold on the outside, Landis had seethed inside: at his foolish ineffective parents, the stupidity of his peers, the uncomprehending authorities, and at the mysterious turn of fate that left him feeling so terribly disconnected from those around him, his talents unrecognized and his bloodline unstable. He knew now that most teenagers felt that way at some point, but it had no impact on his certainty: the life he led now had been inevitable. He'd never had a choice but this, and never wanted anything but darkness. So to try and think of normal careers... it was difficult. They'd never been an option for him; he really couldn't comprehend anyone ever choosing them.

"Yes. But fictional characters hardly count, and real people hide their feelings, even in books. You're hardly alone."

Even Beatrix knew Landis's words were untrue. Even if people were feeling the way she did, they were hiding it, as he said. And therefore abandoning her to sulk and shiver and cry all by herself. "I don't even think real people, outside of books count," She said, "They... Like you said, hide their feelings... Ultimately making them fake and just like the characters in a book," if any of that really made sense. Beatrix really didn't like how people hardly expressed their feelings. It made her wonder if everyone is just pretending or lying to her or trying to hide their true, hateful emotions of her. Like Erin Harper. Though Beatrix definitely saw him more as a sociopath. Like her cousin, Razzy. Or any serial killer that ever existed.

He didn't answer her question, thankfully. Perhaps she was right. Perhaps happy books didn't exist anymore. "I think it's safe to say everyone is unhappy. We're all just so used to hiding our feelings from each other that we're starting to believe that... We are... What we aren't," She was probably depressing the hell out of everyone who was listening to her. And possibly the Librarian, though he was seemingly unfazed. Or perhaps he was hiding his emotions, too. It was likely since that was basically what all men did.

"Not at all, Ms. Dark."

Bea's eyes fluttered as he smiled at her. It all seemed familiar. Too familiar. It couldn't simply be that she visited the library often, since she had never seen him smile before their conversation. Where could she have possibly seen that smile before? Beatrix's transfixed gaze finally pulled away and back up to the man's eyes. She decided that she was having one of those deja vu moments that never really happened. Strange how the human mind worked. Little did she know that Landis was indeed the Harper boy's brother and that they shared some characteristics that would bother Bea to no end. Though it was definitely best that she didn't know that at that very moment. "Well, thanks for the offer anyways," She smiled, her face notably a tad confused.

"An admirable thing to do well at it,"

"Thank you," Beatrix smiled much more warmly at the man, "I... I also do well with Herbology... I'm hoping to maybe, one day, be a potioneer," or a member of the Quiberon Quafflepunchers. Either way, they were bad ass jobs. She wished to be like Dazmond when she got out of school. Only she wouldn't smoke, nor would she roam around the world instead of settling down with her hilarious husband. Though Daz was talking about living with Nathan. It was all for the best, really.

"I would have preferred being a professor. However, the Potions position was not available."

Bea's face quickly lit up but then flinched. The spot had been open for a short time. Morgan could have been the Potions Professor instead of the strange American woman. She was happy that the two of them shared something in common, wanting to work with potions. But... With Darling stealing a spot that Beatrix was now believing that Mister Morgan should have had (Simply because she was liking him a lot more than some other Professors in the school) she didn't know how to react.

"Though... You really are a great Librarian," he was strict and tidy and kept everything in order like the proper man he was, "It would have been nice to have you as a Potions Professor. Darling is a little bit..." Unprofessional, odd, not-as-cool-as-Landis, "Well, we already have a Professor like her. Woolfolk. Only... He doesn't give us candy," he gives them liquor if they don't shut up, "Well, from what I've seen, you would have definitely helped the Potions... Ah... Program? I'm not sure with Professor Darling if people will be fully willing to actually study Potions," to Bea's sheer horror.

Beatrix thought Darling was, well, darling. But she didn't want to see Potions become another Astronomy where no one liked the Professor and they simply sat around listening to them answer questions. Though... That was actually pretty fun. But not if Beatrix wanted to pass her OWLs and NEWTs with flying colors.

"Perhaps I don't know what I'm saying. It's simply what I believe," Beatrix shrugged, lightly. She didn't feel like she was kissing butt, but she felt like she shouldn't be criticizing Darling's work. If someone were to listen and tell her, well... Then... Beatrix could probably kiss her perfect 'O' goodbye. "Even then... The Library is such a lovely place when you're in control... Imagine if someone like Darling was in control of it," Bea's eyes widened after a moment. Frightening. Simply frightening.