She’d expected him to gawk at her at least. To balk and tell her that she was mad. But instead, he merely looked down at her and frowned. He didn’t even blink. It was infuriating. If she wasn’t so tired, she’d want to reach up and shake him. Or maybe her fatigue was the reason why his reaction triggered such a rise in her. But she was betting that he’d at least had experience in it more than she had. The most exposure she had of the art was from word of mouth and the books she’d consumed in the recent days.

At least she’d been right about his experience in the matter. It didn’t surprise her that a Malfoy heir would have experience in Legilimency, Occlumency or darker arts. Rowan knew that she was the one who had tutored him at school, but fact of the matter was, she was limited by who she knew. “But you know how to do it.” She clarified, her expression level.

In a state where you're practically begging for me to see inside your mind.

She was. Malfoy knew her by now, knew how much she hated to ask for help. Going to him and directly asking was begging for him to help. To let him inside her mind. He stepped closer and his sharp angular features were thrown into greater relief. When he did, she was able to see his face better. Rowan froze. He looked exhausted; haunted, and a little more gaunt. She had little time to process this though. Instead of merely confronting her by staring down at her, he reached out to catch her chin. To make her meet his icy gaze. If this was an intimidation tactic on his part, Rowan was loathe to admit it was working. With the sleep he obviously wasn’t getting, his aristocratic gaze looked more than a glower.

Rowan swallowed, her lips parting slightly as she stared back at him. “I need to know what happened to me. I need to know what happened so I can help my sister. My family.” She searched his gaze still, tempted to grab his hand and clutch it to her chest but she stayed still, frozen where he had her. “Please, Raphael.”

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