The Library
After having gone outside for so long, being inside felt like being a large animal inside a bird cage. Untidy, squashed. A massive stack of three books was cradled in her left arm, while her free hand reached up to get another one. Taking it back to her table, she sat down and got out her parchment, ink and quill. She could hear the scratching of the quill and ink, pages rustling. It was very calming actually. Maybe, it wasn't like being a large animal inside a bird cage. Maybe it was snug, like her heart pounding in her chest. Maybe like a bird in flight. She flipped a page in her, dipped her quill in ink and started to write. Indigo words filled a previously empty page. Notes in her tidy handwriting, neat and legible in the soft arms of a paper. She smiled to herself, remembering her own home, the sounds of a cat purring, her parents somewhere downstairs, the washing machine going. She could smell the burnt toast of her breakfast, and the coffee that her parents drank. She shook her head. That was before, now she had to focus on writing notes. Now this was different. She was at a school, Hogwarts, for Merlin's sake. She had to focus, had to be good at subjects. She would write again, later. But now, it was just the smell of an old book, the sound of quill on parchment. This was the present.