Chapter Text
1
The soul would have no rainbow, if the eyes had no tears.
Native American Proverb
— Known to muggles as the extinct Dodo bird, the Diricawl is, as a matter of fact, an extant species native to the Island of Mauritius in the Indian Ocean. It can be distinguished by its thick, hooked beak and bluish pink feathers. There are several accounts attributing curious magical properties to these feathers, though most of them disputed and unverified. At any rate, the only magical characteristic of the Diricawl that has been corroborated is its ability to disappear under the presence of threats. This being the one reason why they have been able to pass as a long-gone species to muggles for over three centuries now.
Satisfied with the short opening to her essay, Hermione submerged her quill back into the ink bottle. A couple of books were splayed open before her, and a handful of bluish feathers were scattered over the table.
— The Diricawl can weigh close to 50 lb and reach up to 3 ft in height, with males being larger and having slightly longer beaks than their female counterparts. They feed on fruit and a small range of nuts and seeds. As the non-magical penguin, the Diricawl is incapable of flying; and, in another curious parallel, they also mate for life…
The quill stopped.
No. Scratch that.
— … They feed on fruit and a small range of nuts and seeds. As the non-magical penguin, the Diricawl is incapable of flying; and, in another curious parallel, they also mate for life. As some non-magical bird species, the Diricawl is incapable of flying. It's also monogamous and can live up to 30 years.
Better.
The tip of the quill dipped back into the ink bottle.
— There's a particular subspecies of the Diricawl that has drawn the attention of one too many magizoologists: The Rainbow Diricawl. For unknown reasons, this variety of the Diricawl dwells only in a secluded valley in the north of Piton de la Petite Rivière Noire - a peculiar mountain with a quite distinctive peak.
Conferred with a multicoloured plumage, the Rainbow Diricawl has been the subject of numerous studies, driven by the belief that it must have obscure magical properties. To date, none have been discovered, and disapparition remains this bird's sole magical skill with any practical relevance.
That said, there's another peculiarity about this subspecies that has been documented.
While the feathers of the common Diricawl are a known ingredient to many disappearing potions - such as the ones used in disappearing inks - feathers from the Rainbow Diricawl have no use in magical potions. Many have claimed to use its yellow feathers for euphoria potions, but the plumes' contribution to the mixture has been largely debated. Others, however, insist that its pink feathers grant romantic luck, going as far as to call these creatures the magical lovebi -
An audible huff escaped Hermione as her hand halted mid-stroke. She couldn't understand how Madam Pince hadn't asked her to leave yet, as she could swear the ripping sound of dragging her quill over the parchment was unbearably loud.
Hermione pulled her hand away from the parchment to reread the last sentence, then decided to scrap it altogether.
Irrelevant information.
— … but the plumes' contribution to the mixture has been largely debated. Others, however insist that its pink feathers grant romantic luck, going as far as to call these creatures the magical lovebi Whatever the case, there is no factual evidence pointing to-
"Hermione?"
"Hmmm?"
"Are you alright?"
Hermione didn't bother raising her eyes to answer. "Perfectly fine, thank you."
The quill tapped eagerly on the border of the ink bottle, yet the proper words to continue with her essay eluded her. Even when the library was peaceful enough and she had the right resources to finish her work, concentrating was turning out to be a challenge. The unnerving stares Harry was most likely sending her way didn't help at all.
Were things different, I would be in the common room right now.
Hermione brushed that train of thought away. There was no point lingering in hypotheticals. With the egregious displays of impropriety she'd been subject to in the last few days, she better accept that the common room was effectively off-limits for the foreseeable future.
"Are you sure?"
Hermione's eyebrow arched. "About what?"
"About you being fine."
"Positive."
Harry didn't press her, choosing instead to continue with his own essay. The sound of his quill moving was a welcomed one, and it let Hermione focus on her own work. Or at least that was her intention.
Five days. It had been five whole days since Ron had thrown away her invitation to Slughorn's party as if it were rubbish before shoving his face onto the first airheaded bimbo he'd found. Hermione couldn't care less. She shouldn't. He'd hurt her and she ached for an explanation, but she wasn't about to go and beg for one. He'd made his choice, and seemed blisteringly content with parading that choice around. Hermione was free to make her own choice as well, and it was to not witness any of his nauseating spectacles if she could help it.
"Did you put in that bit about the Diricawls being lovebirds?" asked Harry.
"No," she replied sharply.
"Right."
Harry's quill got back to work, only to stop a minute later. "Oh, I'd almost forgotten. I got this. Reckon it might be useful for the essay."
This time Hermione did turn to look at him, but when she found him holding a bluish feather not much different to the ones already on the table, she snorted. "A Diricawl's feather? I've got a few here, in case you haven't noticed."
Harry gave a suspicious grin. "Is that so? Do they change colours with the light as well?"
"Change colour…? You don't mean…?" Hermione gasped. "Let me see that!"
As soon as Harry handed her the feather, Hermione took out her wand. She moved the wand and feather under the table, before proceeding to cast the Lightning Charm as quietly as possible.
"Lumos," she whispered.
The afternoon had grown dark, and the fleeting glimmers of light that snuck through the library's windows had dwindled in the time they'd been there. It made it easier for the light from Hermione's wand to spread unchallenged. Its glint attracted attention from the neighbouring tables, though thankfully not from Madam Pince.
Not like Hermione was minding any of them, however. Her eyes were transfixed on the feather that Harry had given her, which at the first touch of the light had shone in what could only be described as a carnival of colours. At times, unearthly violets and warm yellows danced in sync with a blaze of reds; at others, the dashing hues of greens and blues twinkled as if an emerald had fused itself into a sapphire.
Hermione gaped in awe.
"How— ?"
That stupid grin was still plastered across Harry's face. "Brilliant, isn't it? Slughorn let me borrow it earlier for this assignment."
With a mesmerised look, Hermione turned back to the feather in her hand. The light from her wand was waning, and with it, the beautiful colours on the feather faded as well.
None of the other feathers on the table reacted to light as this one did — Hermione had checked. As she had read in the 'Whimsical Menagerie of Winged Marvels' by Emmett Barkwork, the common Diricawl's feathers were unremarkable on their own. However, those of the Rainbow Diricawl would diverge into a variety of colours with adulthood. More remarkable even, just before they changed, the plain feathers of the infant bird were capable of changing colours in close proximity to a light source.
No useful magical properties had been discovered for such feathers. Still, the beauty of its light shades was fascinating.
Could this really be it?
"This looks an awful lot like a Rainbow Diricawl's feather. You know that, don't you?" Hermione told Harry. "Where did Professor Slughorn get it from?"
Harry shrugged. "Most likely from some former student who is now a famous explorer or something."
What they had in their hands was truly a small wonder. Diricawl feathers were by no means a rare ingredient in the Wizarding World, and were easy enough to get a hold of at Diagon Alley's Apothecary. Nevertheless, Rainbow Diricawl feathers were more difficult to come by, and the colour-changing kind — which had a small time frame in a bird's lifespan to be collected — were practically only heard of as mementos on some wealthy collector's shelves.
A few stray sentences to add to her essay were already forming in Hermione's head when she was hit with a sudden realisation. She narrowed her eyes at Harry almost instantly.
"Wait. Why did he only share this with you?"
Harry scratched the back of his head, not daring to meet her eyes. "Err, well, he asked me to take special care of it. Might have said something about contributing to my bright future."
"Unbelievable! Here's this amazing item that could help us with this assignment that he so promptly asked of us, and he chooses to play favourites?!"
Hermione put the feather back on the table in indignation. Noticing her outburst, Madam Pince hushed them. Hermione turned to look at Harry in defiance even after nodding embarrassedly at the librarian.
"It's not fair," she muttered.
"Come on, Hermione. We both know Slughorn is a long way from being the teacher of the year, but this is a mere curiosity. The feather has nice colours, but it has no magical properties to learn from," Harry argued, struggling to keep his voice low. "Besides, it's not my fault. I didn't ask for it."
"That's inconsequential. He's still playing favourites. And you're still using that dreadful book to gain privileges you barely earned," she retorted.
Harry grumbled and went back to his work. He was evidently aware that the Prince's book was an unfair advantage that couldn't be justified, yet he was in no hurry to stop using it. Honestly, if something happened because of that dodgy book — as it was ought to — Harry couldn't say that she hadn't warned him.
When will they ever listen? I ended up with a pair of stubborn boys for friends… Hermione thought, before quickly correcting herself. Or, better said, a single friend. I have one stubborn friend.
The thought brought about a queasy feeling in Hermione, but her frown did a good job masquerading it from Harry. Soon, he informed her that he was returning to the common room, at which Hermione nodded absently. She watched him pick up his feather and leave, obviously keen to catch up with his less boring friends.
Hermione was in no hurry to join him upstairs.
For a while, working on her homework felt like a comfortable way of spending her evening. There was nothing keeping her from her task, no weary or sluggish faces lumbering her with distractions. No casual voices tempting her out of her duties. For a while, everything seemed adequate.
She could have proceeded for hours if that quietness hadn't become terrible off-putting. The chairs at her table suddenly felt too empty, and the whispers coming from the other tables too distant.
Hermione put the quill down and rubbed her face. She couldn't allow herself to cry in the library, so she took long breaths to ease the rising tightness in her chest. Ever since the Quidditch match, there was an ever present sadness threatening to devour her from the inside, yet that was only gust in a whirlwind of emotions. She felt disappointed and afraid, and whenever she closed her eyes and pictured Lavender wriggling around Ron, she felt disgusted as well. At times, she would even feel a sudden and unbridled anger that she could barely contain.
She was a mess, and pretending not to be so was depleting her of all her energies.
How could he do this to me?
Putting her feelings out in the open wasn't something Hermione did. Not in such a naive and blind manner. Not since she was a little friendless girl and the other kids mocked her for being so different. To be honest, even now few things scared her half as much as being told she was wrong. She'd never have a problem with schoolwork in that regard, knowledge made her fairly certain of the outcome before answering a question. On the other hand, with people she could never know for sure, no matter how much attention she paid. Whenever someone claimed that apparating inside of Hogwarts was possible, or she heard any other statement every bit as misbegotten as that one, Hermione would stand her ground and argue to the end of time with all the tangible facts she could gather. However, if Malfoy happened to imply that Harry or Ron were only her friends because she helped them with their homework, a small doubt would always creep in, if only for a heartbeat.
It had taken everything in Hermione to risk inviting Ron to that party. And she had done it because even with all her doubts, she had calculated a decent chance of Ron feeling the same way she did. She had done it because Ron hadn't said anything about how he felt, and it appeared the only way of breaking their impasse. She had done it because she had thought that he was worth it. She had allowed herself to be honest. Vulnerable. And for what? A few weeks of blissful ignorance before the truth was revealed?
I put my trust in him. A trust he so earnestly betrayed. If he didn't feel the same, why did he agree to go to Slughorn's party as my date in the first place? Did he want to hurt me for some reason I can't seem to fathom?
If that was his intention, he'd succeeded. She wouldn't admit to it of course, but he'd hurt her in a way she'd never been hurt. It was as if she was walking around with an open wound now, her feelings raw and exposed. She was even apprehensive of spending too much time in her own dorms, where she was an easy prey to the side stares and giggles that Lavender and Parvati shared.
What if they're making fun of me? What if Ron's telling them things about me?
The chair grated against the floor as Hermione pushed herself away from the table. Those girls mocking her behind her back was infuriating, but the thought of Ron taking part in it was downright painful.
No. Put yourself together.
Swallowing the lump in her throat, Hermione forced a series of slow breaths before standing up. She was well aware that the library's closing time was practically upon her and that she might be asked to leave shortly, so she gathered her belongings in haste and made her way to the exit.
As she had been doing for the last few days, Hermione took her time walking back to the common room, steeling herself for what she might find on the other side of the Fat Lady's portrait. Sometimes she was lucky and walked into an almost deserted room, other times… not so much.
It just so happened that this was one of the bad days.
Only a handful of students were in the common room when Hermione arrived, which coupled with the quietness and waning glow of the fireplace told her that most people had left for bed already. Hermione sighed in relief and hurried towards the girls' staircase, only to stop dead in her tracks when she overheard familiar murmurs.
"A bit eager, aren't we?" Lavender's muffled voice reached her.
Against her better sense, Hermione turned towards the sound. In a far and dark corner of the common room, Lavender was clinging firmly to Ron's neck. Their voices were being drowned by the crackling fire as Hermione stared gobsmacked at them, but she distinguished giggles as Lavender caressed Ron's ear and nuzzled against him.
Go! Leave! What are you stupidly waiting for?! You know what comes next…
Still, her feet were helplessly nailed to the floor when Lavender's eyes found her. The blonde girl grinned wickedly as she pulled Ron down by the shirt for what must have been their umpteenth snogging session that evening. Ron was initially startled, yet he gladly complied, never even noticing Hermione.
In the impossibly large common room, the slurping sound that followed echoed so loudly that it almost punctuated Hermione's ears. With the next crackling of the fire, she felt her heart crumble, and dashed upstairs, her books held so tightly against her chest that she had trouble breathing. Keeping her eyes wide open and dry was a daunting task, but one that was soon over. The moment she closed her bed curtains and cast the silencing charm she had so vocally reviled, Hermione finally surrendered herself to the tears.
The next day, Hermione rose almost two hours ahead of the sun, well before anyone else in her room. She showered with a heavy heart, and got dressed quickly, making as little noise as possible. Once done, she headed downstairs, determined to not let the thought of Ronald Weasley ruin an otherwise acceptable day.
Hermione braved through the morning lessons with fortitude. She was the first to arrive at each classroom, and always left before anyone tried to approach her. Whenever she had a break, she would spend it alone with some books, usually at the library. She wasn't keen on starting conversations with the likes of Neville or Ginny, and even avoided talking to Harry if she could help it. Today, she felt like hiding in a corner of the castle, being invisible to any intruder. She thought that if she only concentrated on schoolwork and didn't let her mind wander, then perhaps it wouldn't hurt so much.
The plan was far from flawless. Hermione still had to attend classes, and even when she kept her gaze towards the front at all times, Ron's murmurs were still too distracting and she would feel his loud presence behind her even when he didn't speak.
Hermione didn't relent though.
It just so happened that one of the assignments she was working on required precisely to turn herself invisible. Not entirely so, because the Disappearing Concoction Slughorn had asked them to do wasn't all that effective. It wasn't remotely as good as Harry's cloak to conceal a human being, and even paled in comparison to the level of effectiveness that a Disillusionment Charm could achieve. Nevertheless, the Disappearing Concoction was the base for more complex projects, like disappearing pastes that could be applied upon solid objects, and it was a technique Hermione should master. Even more importantly, Hermione had to prove that she could do it the right way: without relying on dubious claims in some dodgy, old book.
Unfortunately, the library was hardly the place to brew a potion, and ever since that dreadful day, Hermione also avoided empty classrooms like the plague. With no other viable option, she ended up heading up to her dormitory during the first break after lunch, knowing quite well that it was a time slot when it would be empty.
For the most part, Hermione worked in silence. She liked to concentrate on what she was doing, and being free from unpleasant disturbances even brought to her a much-needed peace of mind. She arranged a large area on the floor where she could gather all of the required ingredients ahead of time, then followed each instruction with due diligence.
Hermione almost made it to the end of the potion without anything distracting her. However, as she added the final ingredient — one of her Diricawl's feathers — her thoughts betrayed her and she had to stop. She held the innocent-looking feather between her fingers and stared at it. As much as she tried, she was incapable of letting it fall into the cauldron, or of brushing away the memories from the day before.
Maybe Ron and Lavender are like Diricawls, the traitorous thought came to her. Maybe they'll mate for life.
A painful knot formed in the pit of her stomach, and she felt slightly short of air. She fought hard to regain focus and finish her potion, but she just couldn't find the motivation.
It was truly vexing how this could torture her as it did. Especially since the mere idea was stupid and laughable. Of course Lavender and Ron wouldn't stay together long. Lavender was completely wrong for him. Anyone who knew anything about Ron — anything meaningful at all — should be able to know that. Lavender was just too accommodating… too self-centred, too… too obnoxious.
But… What if he didn't see that?
The idea of Ron and Lavender being life-long partners sounded preposterous. Nevertheless, she still pictured him marrying Lavender in a posh ceremony packed with people and frisky flower decorations. In the most monstrous of betrayals, she even imagined Harry as the best man, happily toasting in the couple's honour.
I wouldn't even be at that wedding. I would rather be turned into a toad.
There was an emptiness to her thoughts though, because as much as she hated to admit it, the undeniable truth was that she still missed Ron's friendship. Whatever else she had once hoped would happen between them, romantically speaking, Hermione had at least expected that they would remain friends. That they would be part of each other's life for many years to come.
That was of course before he decided to cast her aside as if she were nothing, ruining everything they had.
Hermione blinked rapidly to hold off the tears she'd promised herself wouldn't come. Would she like for Ron to suddenly appear? To apologise and mend their relationship? Of course she would. There was nothing she craved more. However, that didn't mean she was willing to forgive his cruel behaviour if he didn't even make an effort to make amends. Especially when it was clear that he didn't value her anywhere near as much as she had valued him.
"Oh, thought this place would be empty…" a voice said by the door, almost by reflex.
Hermione was so taken aback that the feather she was still holding finally fell into her potion. Not like she minded. It was supposed to go in there anyway, and her attention was now fixed on Parvati and Lavender, who had just entered the dormitory.
"We just came to fetch a warmer jumper," Parvati added as she eyed Hermione with caution. At her side, Lavender's smile had dropped into a straight line.
Hermione nodded at them while feigning disinterest in their presence. But as she started tapping her wand on her cauldron, she couldn't help but wish she'd picked an empty classroom to work instead.
To her credit, Parvati didn't waste time in picking up her jumper. She was soon back with Lavender, who waited for her with her arms crossed and her eyes narrowed on Hermione.
It was rather uncomfortable. Hermione wished they would just leave. However, Parvati stopped and peeked over Hermione's cauldron with interest. "Is that Slughorn's disappearing potion? We heard it was due soon."
Hermione knew neither of them had Potions this year, and didn't want to ask who had told them about the potion.
"It's due next week," she said, expecting her tone to be a conversation ender.
Perhaps she wasn't that clear, because Parvati leaned forward. "Is it done?"
"Yes. I only have to test it," Hermione explained in a dry tone.
"It's a shame we're out of that class now that Snape is no longer the teacher," Parvati complained before turning to Lavender. "Has Ron finished his potion?"
Lavender was caught off guard, but she regained her composure with a shrug. "Not sure, why?"
It took some effort for Hermione not to snort.
"I just thought he might've mentioned something," Parvati insisted.
"We haven't been doing a lot of talking recently," Lavender admitted with a giggle that made Hermione fume. "He hasn't said much about that stupid potion. I think it's supposed to be blue or something," she added lazily.
Parvati's eyebrows raised, turning to Hermione, "Why isn't yours blue?"
Blue? Of course mine is blue! What colour does she think— ? Oh!
Hermione's potion wasn't blue. She stirred her cauldron several times, but the intended blue never arrived. Instead, the potion before her had a rich variety of colours that startled her. The shades waved and twirled over the surface, refusing to blend together. At times they appeared like a plaster of colour that had melted from an artist's canvas, at others, like a rainbow dancing harmoniously for her delight.
"Did you skip a step by any chance?" Parvati tried to guess, marvelled as well by the liquid kaleidoscope on Hermione's cauldron. Lavender made a point of appearing impatient, though she couldn't hide her surprise either.
Hermione shook her head. Mentally, she went over each step she'd taken with the potion, but she didn't think there had been any errors.
"Maybe one of the ingredients was spoiled. I wouldn't drink that if I were you."
She had a point of course, suspicious potions shouldn't be drunk. Hermione was about to answer her — a tad too sharply, if she was honest — when Lavender chipped in.
"Oh, please! She botched it up! It can happen. She isn't perfect."
"I didn't!"
"Oh, for Merlin's sake! You're wrong. Why is it so painful for you to accept it?"
Hermione stood up. Her blood was almost boiling now. She couldn't let Lavender win. Not in this. Schoolwork was all she had left. "I made no mistake! The potion is good!"
A mocking huff was Lavender's answer. She spared a derisive look at the multi-coloured potion, then turned back at Hermione. She raised her eyebrows expectantly, almost as if daring her. Behind her, Parvati appeared worried and tried to drag Lavender out of the room.
In all fairness, Parvati was right. Hermione should have studied what went wrong. No one should consume potions carelessly, even less so if they displayed a colour different to the one intended. Nevertheless, she was too riled up to back down now.
She gulped a whole vial of her potion.
The girls all stayed silent for a moment, giving the potion time to take effect. Hermione stared at her hands, waiting for them to disappear with growing worry. As the seconds passed without a hint of translucent skin on her, Hermione started heaving. The potion hadn't worked. She had proved nothing. And Lavender had witnessed it all.
"I thought so," Lavender let out with a chuckle. She didn't have to say anything more.
Parvati finally convinced her friend to go downstairs. Lavender waved her perfect blonde hair in victory as she made her way back to Ron. Meanwhile, Hermione was left with her hideous, messy hair and a stupid potion that didn't work.
"Argh!"
Clank.
The cauldron spilled most of its contents at Hermione's kick. It felt like the only way of letting her frustration out, but it was also a rather thick-headed thing to do. Hermione's foot hurt from kicking the hard cauldron, and she knew she would have to clean the mess she had made, because no way was she making a house-elf pay for her childish outburst.
However, before she did any of that, Hermione sat back down with the weight of her failure upon her shoulders. A couple of hiccups came to her, and she was crying before she could stop herself. Exactly as she had promised she wouldn't do.
The rest of the day wasn't much better. Hermione managed to get a hold of herself before her eyes turned too red or too puffy. Then she swallowed her feelings and went on as best as she could.
Hermione continued to work on other school assignments, quite aware that she would need to revisit that potion and decipher why it had failed. She was also making a good effort to not think about Ron, or the fear that he might be somewhere around the castle with Lavender laughing at the story of the botched potion.
On top of all, she had a small stomach ache that she attributed entirely to drinking a bad potion. A discomfort that should have been easy to avoid.
I should have known better.
It didn't take long for Hermione to discover what had happened.
"Hermione! I've been looking all over the place for you! We need to talk," Harry hurried as he dragged her to a side in the corridor leading to the common room.
"What is it?" she asked, not meeting his eyes.
Hermione didn't want Harry to know that she'd been crying. Besides, she still held some resentment against him for being Ron's best man in that wedding she had imagined. Irrational as that was.
"It's about the Diricawl feather, the one Slughorn lent me."
Hermione huffed, "The one you didn't legally earn. How could I forget?"
"Are you— ? It's not—" Harry mumbled, passing a hand over his messy hair. He sighed. "Do you have it?"
"The feather? Of course not! You took it with you yesterday," she reminded him, indignantly.
"That's what I thought, but look…" Harry pulled out his feather, and with a Lighting Charm he quickly demonstrated that it wasn't the right one. The blueish thing remained unchanged, as the perfectly ordinary feather it was. "I must have taken one of yours by mistake."
Silence hung heavy for a moment. Hermione's eyes widened, fearful of the suspicion that had begun to form in her mind. Her subtle stomach ache grew more pressing than earlier. With a nervous movement, she pulled out all of her feathers from her pockets, then passed light through them, hoping.
Nothing. None of them was the Rainbow Diricawl's feather.
"Are these all of them?" Harry asked, desperate.
"No," she replied in a low voice. "There's another."
What were the odds? Is this Fate's idea of a joke?
The expression on Harry brightened and a large smile appeared on his face. "Brilliant. Where is it?"
"I used it."
"You… used it?" he asked in bewilderment.
Hermione nodded, looking guilty. "Yes. For Slughorn's assignment. It's gone."
It took a couple of seconds for Harry to register the words. He was gobsmacked.
"I didn't mean to! I thought it was one of mine!"
There was a string of words that Hermione used to justify herself, but in the end, none of them really mattered. The truth was that she had used a priceless item as an ingredient to a simple school potion, and she had drunk from it, not even knowing what kind of effect it would have on her.
"Merlin! Guess I won't be Slughorn's favourite anymore. Can't say I'll be too bothered if he rescinds the invitation to that Christmas party," he joked.
His smile didn't reach his eyes, though. He looked visibly worried about how he was going to tell Slughorn that he'd lost his valuable memento, and all because he'd been too careless.
Unfortunately, Hermione couldn't provide much help aside from promising to corroborate his story. Moreover, she had problems of her own to handle. Like that stomach ache she had gained from drinking the Rainbow Diricawl's potion in a rush of pride.
She didn't tell Harry about that part. The discomfort was too small to needlessly worry him. At any rate, the change of ingredient had been so minimal that it might not affect her at all.
It was so that Hermione went to sleep without bringing any attention to herself. Her stomach ache would hopefully be gone by the morning and, considering that the weekend had just begun, she might as well go through the whole day without seeing Ron or his obnoxious girlfriend.
After what happened last weekend, spending some alone time wouldn't be half-bad. Merlin knew she could do with some peace and quiet.