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Nova sat down at an empty table, placed a book down on the table with shaking hands, and tried to collect herself.

It had all started at Tomes and Scrolls. How was she to know that Porphyria would chose that exact time and day to browse the selection there? That would've been disturbing enough on its own, but she'd been there to buy a copy of Porphyria's new poetry book, hadn't she? Cemetery Verses seemed a significant title but she hadn't been able to discern much else about the book before the authoress herself walked through the bloody front door. Nova had almost thrown herself off the gallery in a panic of being caught by Miss Dempsey with her very book in her hands, she'd seem deranged or... or something else altogether undesirable. To her relief, Porphyria hadn't headed straight for her but in her relief she had done something truly mad. She'd swept down the stairs and straight out of the shop as fast as was possible without actually running. She stormed past three shops before she suddenly stopped and realized she'd just stolen the book.

She had to go back and pay for it, she wasn't a criminal, she couldn't let the shopkeeper think her some kind of book thief! But Porphyria was still in there, she'd probably think something perverse like her accidental shoplifting was impressive... or something. That was fine, she could maybe handle that, but she'd sooner throw herself under the Hogwarts Express than have Porphyria know it was her book she'd accidentally stolen. She couldn't have Porphyria knowing that she had a copy no matter how it was obtained. No, she was lucky enough that she'd probably gotten out of there without being seen by her, she'd just have to go back later and pay for it. Obviously - because fate was clearly tormenting her today - as she was having her moral quandary in the middle of the street, Porphyria emerged from the bookshop.

Nova clasped the book to her chest and tried to obscure as much of it as she could with her arms and scurried off down the street, not daring to look over her shoulder in case she drew Porphyria's attention. She had no reason to think Porphyria would actually approach her, she hadn't done so once in the entire year that had passed, but feeling guilty and having something to hide suddenly changed things. Nova walked briskly down the street, book smothered against her bosom, until she clocked the sign for The Painted Lady and decided she'd calm her nerves with some tea before she went back and confessed to her crime. It would also give Porphyria some time to go wherever she was going which was hopefully away from Hogsmeade sooner rather than later.

For a few moments, Nova just sat at the table while her heart pounded in her chest. As it finally seemed to be settling a little, she pulled the little book closer to her and, with a little difficulty thanks to her shaky hands and gloves, opened it. Her eyes scanned the contents quickly, she started to double take at what she'd thought had been her name, when the hairs on the back of her neck stood on end. Nova's face snapped up and she was horror struck to see before her P.B. Dempsey herself. Fortunately she hadn't received any tea yet, so when she yanked the book from the table to hide it in her lap, nothing was spilled. She thought she might take ill, she was trapped. How could she know that Miss Dempsey might be thirsty or had social plans in this very establishment? But there was also no reason to think that she wasn't going to continue avoiding her. At least the book was out of sight, that was a close save, but she could feel the slim volume in her lap as though it was burning through to her petticoats.

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Outfit | Tag: Porphyria Dempsey | Notes:

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To her violent dismay, Porphyria took a seat not only at the adjacent table, but in the seat directly opposite her. Every instinct told her it was intentional, but her mind was working overtime trying to convince her otherwise - after all, Porphyria hadn't even looked at her, probably hadn't even seen her! Except that would mean she hadn't been following her at all and it was just a coincidence and Nova was so uninteresting and unfamiliar to her now that people that looked like her in her periphery didn't even warrant a second look. No, either way it was a rejection of her. She couldn't blame her though. But then the book...? She'd thought she'd seen her name in her poetry book though... Was it a cryptic condemnation of her? Was she simply writing about the month? Nova pursed her lips and looked down at her lap. Would that she could look at it now but there was no way Porphyria wouldn't glimpse the book and recognize her own embossed name.

Nova barely noticed her tea being set down before her, her eyes were fixed on the far side of her own table as she tried to look at Porphyria without actually looking at her. How she'd taken for granted being able to look freely at her when she'd been able to! Her mind suddenly taunted her with the memory of just how close they'd been just before... She felt heat rushing to her cheeks and she looked directly down at her newly arrived tea cup instead so as to hopefully obscure her face. This was why their friendship was over, she'd ruined it and even now, a year later she hadn't been able to correct herself. Porphyria might forgive a one time slip, but if Nova couldn't purge the unwelcome instincts from herself altogether then they were doomed, it would only be a matter of time until she slipped up again.

Sometimes she allowed herself to consider the fact that Porphyria had been the one to initiate the kiss, as though there was a possibility it hadn't been romantic strictly in an aesthetic, intellectual sort of way for her either. She always shut these thoughts down quickly, it was a Pandora's box and the last thing she needed was hope, that was most dangerous thing of all. She'd allowed herself to follow these thoughts once and seen the danger, nothing good could ever come of wondering if Porphyria had felt the same because the only thing that lay down that path was ruin. Wasn't the way she felt wrong regardless? She couldn't possibly tell Gaius for fear of what he'd think which said everything, hell she hadn't even told Reuben, hadn't dared ask Aldous for his incomparable wisdom in what was proper and decent. She already knew the answer. Porphyria's avoidance of her suggested she did too, she might be a free spirit but she clearly had her limits.

Having managed to avoid looking at her for what felt like hours, Nova finally allowed herself a proper look thinking the odds of being caught looking had lessened. It was hell. If she'd thought for a moment that she'd done enough penance to be cured of her untoward feelings, it was plain to see now that it had all been futile. Somehow it was strangely shocking to see that she hadn't changed at all, she was still so much herself and yet Nova now had to observe it from a distance that was painful because it was both too close and too far at the same time. It was when her eyes dipped to her lips and she was reminded of where they'd been that she finally shut herself down and snapped back to staring down at her tea cup.

She ought to leave. It would be strange and abrupt behavior but it would be safer. It would also be a blatant rejection of Porphyria and while she'd not written to her all year, an absence of behavior was not the same as a clear cut choice to leave a building because Porphyria was in it. She'd thought Porphyria as the wronged party ought to be the one to reach out and when she hadn't she'd simply allowed the distance to continue. It was passive, to leave now when they both knew they knew they were there and there was no other reason for an abrupt departure would be proactive avoidance and Nova had never sought that. Except when she'd fled the bookshop but there had been no formal acknowledgement of each other and so she could claim she'd not realized Porphyria was even there, nor had Nova had any room for priorities other than making sure Porphyria didn't know she'd bought a copy of her book.

Listlessly, she began to prepare her cup of tea. As she did so, she suddenly felt the sensaton of something moving on her lap. She must've shifted her legs causing the book to slip. Panic-stricken, Nova grabbed it just in time before it made the final plunge to the floor. Porphyria probably couldn't see it properly from where she was if it had hit the floor but she didn't care to risk it. Now reminded of the book, she realized she might be able to discreetly read it from her lap. The print was perhaps a little fine for such a distance but difficult wasn't impossible. What if she had seen her name and what if there was something to do with her in its lines? It felt a little arrogant to suppose Porphyria would want to write about her when she clearly didn't even want to write to her anymore, but the motivation for writing hardly followed logic. The decision to publish however...

Nova bit her lip and opened the book, trying her best to look down at it without tilting her whole face downwards. It was hard to concentrate knowing Porphyria could be watching, might she be able to guess that she'd taken a copy of her book and was now reading the spoils of her little crime? It took her longer than usual to scan the entire contents properly. There was indeed a poem with her name - or merely that of the month - in the title. It wasn't the only title that seemed to jump out at her hinting possible significance. The title of the book itself did too, but it wasn't strange to want to write about cemetaries, they were very inspiring places. Part of her wanted to believe it wasn't a coincidence but surely it had to be? The word 'bog' leaped out at her but that too could be a coincidence. It was 'Of Late — November' that cast the most doubt on it being a coincidence though. It could mean anything but - maybe out of wishful thinking - she couldn't help but feel like it was addressing her specifically. If it was, how could she possibly read it with Porphyria right there? That was too much. Nova glanced up fearfully to make sure Porphyria wasn't watching her.

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Outfit | Tag: Porphyria Dempsey | Notes:

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Nova's heart leaped to her throat when she saw that Porphyria was looking at her after all. Her face snapped back down to her lap so fast her neck twinged in complaint. She could feel her palms growing clammy and she couldn't read another word on the page, even if she wanted to. Whether Porphyria Dempsey was a Legilimens or not, Nova was sure that she'd somehow be able to deduce what she was reading if she allowed herself to comprehend a single word more.

What could she do now? If she looked up, Porphyria might still be looking at her and then she'd have to look anywhere but at her which couldn't be done subtly. She couldn't continue to read, but now she also felt compelled to look at her skirts instead of the book as though she could forget it out of existence.

The sudden shattering of china right next to her almost made her jump out of her chair with fright. She had gasped so violently the force of it nearly choked her. As it was, she'd flinched so badly the book had slid clean off her lap. It took her a beat to recover herself enough to snatch at the spot on her lap where it had been only to find it empty. For a fleeting moment her face was fixed with a stricken look that would've inspired Edvard Munch had he not already painted The Scream. The only thing that mattered in that moment was that Porphyria did not see the book.

Already lightheaded from her racing heart, Nova ducked her head under the table and looked about frantically for her ill-gotten tome. Nevermind that her skirts were now splattered with tea, nor that she'd vaguely felt some of the scalding liquid hit her foot. The book had slid across to the other side, just beyond the central leg of the table. It was hopeless but she tried to reach for it nonetheless. Between the distance, awkwardness of her posture, and her inability to contort herself beyond the limitations of her corset, she may as well have been reaching for the moon. She let out a helpless, frustrated sob and strongly considered throwing herself under the table in a last ditch effort to save the situation. A glance just beyond the book to the hem of Porphyria's skirts was enough to take the wind out of her sails. As an alternative she seriously considered trying to dash herself on the floorboards, maybe the force would be enough to cause permanent amnesia or, ideally, death.

Her vision started to fill with static and with some difficulty pulled herself back up to sitting at the table just as it clouded over completely. She thought she might lose consciousness but it seemed she'd sat up just in time. She couldn't see anything, maybe Porphyria hadn't and wouldn't notice the book. Maybe she somehow hadn't noticed Nova panicking under the table. With a sudden jolt of adrenaline that made her vision worsen again, she realized she had one last option remaining to her. Porphyria!

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Outfit | Tag: Porphyria Dempsey | Notes: