Merlin's fucking beard, Severus. It's like you've never been hugged by a distraught woman before. Just go with it.
Or don't, because Darcy is perceptive enough to recognize that he's actually doing quite the opposite of what she would do if their roles were reversed, and so she's quick to extract herself again. If not quite swift enough. (Or never having begun at all?)
"I better go," she says. Making the decision to leave her own. Not that she thinks he'd make her leave, but she's actually starting to feel bad about inflicting herself upon him now, even above and beyond the hard knot of dread in her stomach. "Thanks. For... you know." Telling her to do something that actually makes sense, rather than screaming like a banshee in the hall and demanding miracles.
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Or don't, because Darcy is perceptive enough to recognize that he's actually doing quite the opposite of what she would do if their roles were reversed, and so she's quick to extract herself again. If not quite swift enough. (Or never having begun at all?)
"I better go," she says. Making the decision to leave her own. Not that she thinks he'd make her leave, but she's actually starting to feel bad about inflicting herself upon him now, even above and beyond the hard knot of dread in her stomach. "Thanks. For... you know." Telling her to do something that actually makes sense, rather than screaming like a banshee in the hall and demanding miracles.