Meeting in the Tower

It was as the first year, known by her acquaintances as Amelia Lerelle, began her ascent up towards the Owlery, that the quiet of the day was broken by the soft patter of her footfalls. Clutching a stark white envelope in her hands, Amelia sighed softly, her mind taken by the address and contents of her letter. The letter’s contents were the usual, addressing her progress with school, relationships and a not-so-interesting anecdote. The pang of homesickness hit her the way it did every time she clambered to the top of Hogwarts’s building with her letters addressed home. If only the owl could carry her and her letter home, Amelia would dream silently.

One might think that Amelia would get used to such a feeling, especially when it hit her so routinely, but somehow she never managed to. As an uninvited tear filled Amelia’s eyes, she paused her climb momentarily. Wiping her blue eyes with her hand, Amelia took her final steps up to the Owlery, a sad smile combined with the slightest amusement at her routine.

As Amelia entered the Owlery, she was so fixated on what she would say once she finally saw her grandmother and grandfather at Kings Cross, that it took her a moment before she noticed the other inhabitant of the room. Perhaps it was the refreshing smell of winter combined with the scent of the owls that made her feel like she could do anything she wished. Or maybe the fact that the Owlery had always been empty whenever she had visited before.

As Amelia’s shining eyes caught sight of the other figure she let out a rather high, “Oh!” accompanied by a small jump. Feeling her heartbeat begin to race dramatically, she could only thank herself that she hadn’t flown across the room. Regaining her composure, Amelia took in the appearance of the boy. His appearance was not only well kept with his brown hair and blue eyes, but Amelia couldn't help find him a little good looking.

“Sorry, I was just sending a letter….” Standing stone still in the doorway, she trailed off uncomfortably. Of all times to get scared and embarrass herself… Why couldn’t she do it in the company of the owls, and the owls alone? It would have been rather rude to reason with little Amelia that it was never owls that took her by surprise.

A small, slightly uncomfortable, yet still the sort of smile that lit a room, crept across the girl’s face. At least that was a less embarrassing natural reaction. Not wanting to intrude this boy's space, Amelia, still standing somewhat awkwardly by the doorway to the Owlery, waited for the boy to respond.

Amelia stood by the doorway, the stiffness etched through her body, the opposite of the free, whirling wind that whispered through the tower. And then he smiled. A smile that creased the corners of the boy’s eyes, and caused Amelia to smile back automatically. The tenseness in Amelia’s small figure melted immediately, from the effect of that one simple gesture. His words prompted the second wave of relief. There was a gentle kindness to his words that made her feel like there was some unspoken understanding between the pair. All she managed in response was a grateful smile. The boy continued on.

Amelia was not one to find herself lost for words, nor tongue-tied, and yet she seemed to struggle greatly with this response. “No, uh, sorry.” Gentle laughter traipsed around the Owlery.

Amelia turned to look out of the tower’s windows, taking a small step towards them, and found herself momentarily mesmerized by the stunning view. It was certainly true that there was no parallel to the sights up here. The girl’s eyes wandered over the mysterious forest, down to the grounds below, which seemed uncannily small, and finally came to rest on the horizon, where evidence of a setting sun was beginning to make itself clear. “I’ve never been up here this late, but it’s… different in the evenings. More stunning.” Amelia murmured so that the boy could hear but allowing the stillness of the Owlery to remain. It was undeniable, at least to those who knew Amelia well, that her poise had changed from the previous discomfort, to a slightly relaxed manner, although there was certainly a little way to go.

Amelia found herself beaming brightly at the boy, before adding a mock appalled “poor little owl, getting all your insults.” Whether her acting skills were up to scratch or if this would be seen as even vaguely amusing was something only this boy and the owls would ever know.

It was the moment that the boy finished his poetic monologue that Amelia’s opinion of him was firmly decided. There was something of deeply understandable in the words that were being spoken for Amelia, and a sort of vulnerability that the boy had just revealed that made Amelia immediately trust him. Like him. Feel as though she could rely on him.

For a fleeting second, Amelia permitted herself to sigh sadly, as she considered the rather insightful words of the boy. What would happen if she sent a letter to her mother? She wondered. Would she respond? Would the owl be able to find her? No. She would never show any effort to the woman who abandoned her. She had to get herself together, especially with… this boy.

“I suppose it is like that sometimes.” Amelia pondered aloud as she wandered to stare thoughtfully at the horizon. “You leave your letters, your dreams, your most valuable messages, to be carried away by a feathered deliverer. Then they glide away, with something of great importance between their claws. They hold the mysteries and the answers beneath their wings.” Amelia looked up, the seriousness washing off her face, and laughed in surprise at what she said. “I sound rather wise!” She giggled in a manner far more appropriate for her age, perhaps the effects of her uncomfortable thoughts.

Amelia looked up, into the boy’s eyes, who was looking at her with the intensity of true interest, not idle chatter. It was truly relieving that Amelia had gotten through her awkward phase, and wasn’t on the verge of tears now either. With a radiant smile, glancing towards the envelope, she asked in a slightly surprised tone, “How’d you know?” A pause and then, “Well, yes, I suppose so. They have to get their weekly letter, otherwise they might storm up here, insisting I come home.” Amelia joked, though her arm fidgeted by her side, a small clue to her slight discomfort.

How was it that they had gotten so close to the topic in the course of a few minutes? And why did she feel compelled to reveal her secrets to this boy? Why was she feeling so… unguarded? Eager to steer the conversation away from herself, Amelia managed a slightly hurried, “What about you? Home too?” Of course, she wanted to know about him, but that was undeniable that was not the reason the girl asked.

Mystery boy looked out at the horizon, and Amelia took his lead and followed his gaze, only pausing for a rather lengthy moment to look at him, and his hair being ruffled by the wind. It was just as beautiful as she had imagined, as she had been promised. The sky was an artfully painted watercolor, combining the gorgeous scarlets and pinks of a romance novel with the oranges and golds of a Christmas carol. Amelia stepped towards him, letting the wind dance with her hair and whirl around her clothing. There was no need to say anything. Surely, the beauty of the setting sun was better than a million words she could have said.

Finally, drawn away from her trance, a name was given to the boy. Mikey. Somehow, she didn’t worry about forgetting his name like she often did, for she felt as though she would remember him well.

Amelia hoped desperately that the bow was a joke, not a serious action, for without thinking the better of her action, she had dropped into a small, semi-graceful curtsy. Thinking of how her action could potentially be perceived, Amelia gave a small, half-apologetic smile, hoping it showed that she meant no mockery.

Then following his form, she took the pleasure of introducing herself, “Amelia Lerelle. Hufflepuff and…” She paused, trying to find something fitting to describe her that fitted the rules of alliteration. “H.. Hu… H… Human?!” Her words were spoken like a question, before she laughed gently. “Well, you definitely are more creative than me!” A thoughtful look crossed the first year’s face as she considered her other options and spoke mainly to herself, “Oh, I could have done humble. Or… humiliated in meeting, that would have been rather fitting.” Looking up into Mikey’s face she finished her inner, but technically outer, dialogue, “There were quite a few options actually…”

Amelia looked into Mikey’s face, with a small, unspoken question, before she turned again to the horizon. Reluctant letter writer. What did he mean? Not wanting to get into his business, she simply left her question unsaid hovering in the door. Perhaps Mikey would see it and open it, maybe not. That was up to him.

So, amid the not-so-exceptional smell of owls and the chill of the wind, the first year stood, eyes fixed on the disappearing light, mind considering her conversation with the boy. Mikey.

A bow is a very simple gesture. And yet, it can start a dance. And sometimes, when done among the flutter of owls and whirling winds, it can make a girl’s heart jump. As Mikey dipped into a deep bow, Amelia felt her heart skip a beat and her face tinge with pink. Feeling utterly tongue-tied, all she managed was a huge grin.

And then it was a thoughtful nod that Amelia gave to Mikey, completely enraptured by the beauties of the sky above, combined with his gentle words. For a moment, she found herself swayed into her thoughts and finally darted back to the present when she realized that Mikey was going to speak once more. There was a pause. A rather lengthy pause in which she suspected that he was uncomfortable about the topic that was being addressed. Considering her prior discomfort, she completely understood that.

It was once he began that Amelia felt both understanding and a slight distance from his words. “I know what you mean. I mean, I can’t really describe my classes and friends and activities every time I write home, can I? Though that’s what I tend to do,” Amelia returned, wondering for a moment if her grandparents were getting sick of her responses. Surely not - they were the ones who made her promise to write every week.

Amelia smiled reassuringly at his sincerity although she felt slightly inadequate attempting to do so. “I’m sure all he wants is to hear from you.” She wasn’t at all sure considering she hadn’t met his father, but that seemed quite likely and like the right thing to say. “And don’t apologize, the owlery seems to be an emotional place for everyone. You’re lucky you didn’t see me bawling my eyes out!” Why did I have to say that? Amelia chastised herself, her internal thoughts beginning a heated argument.

The silence enveloped them, and then, once more, Mikey broke it. His words forced Amelia to giggle. Then taking cue from his bow, she lowered herself into a curtsy once more, this one being surprisingly graceful. In a voice, accented with poshness, she returned, “And you, Mr Mikey, Ravenclaw’s reluctant letter writer.”

From every word that this Ravenclaw, had said in their brief meeting, his next words were the ones that made Amelia feel her stomach tingle gently and made her feel just the tiniest bit dazed. He wanted to see her again! She couldn’t help wish the same thing as she considered his charming personality, along with his melodic or measured and always so truthful speech. As they locked eyes, Amelia saw that only truth radiated from his eyes. Amelia felt herself struggling to collect herself, and was surprised when she managed an evenly spoken, “Well, let’s see what fate has planned next time.” Only the last syllable betrayed her hopeful excitement

And then he grinned, a grin that seemed to say he had told the truth before, but perhaps no more awkwardness would occur. That in itself was what made her smile back. A shimmering smile that said almost all she felt.

The evening air enveloped the girl in its fresh scent, as it played carelessly with her brunette hair. The subtle smile that danced across the girl’s face, looked as if it had no intention of leaving as Mikey spoke in his charming manner. Time seemed to had slowed, as if someone has forgotten to wind the clocks, and part of her wished she could remain in the feather laden room with the company of the Ravenclaw.

The beauty of the sky had engulfed Amelia far beyond expectations, and she had lost all manner of time and her duties in the moment. A pulse of disappointment hit her at the mention of Mikey’s leaving, and her smile was carried away by the breeze for a moment. With hopes of seeming indifferent, she hastily pasted a smile back on her face. “Oh, right, of course! I should hurry too…” The words came out less enthusiastic than they should have and she took only a small step towards a snowy white owl, who was sitting lazily on a perch. While Mikey might not realize due to the short duration of his knowing of Amelia, the lack of reaction to being out after curfew said a great deal about the girl’s feelings towards the boy. For normally, she would have been racing down the stairs towards her common room without a seconds hesitation. The disappointment of the Ravenclaw’s departure was only hindered by the words he spoke next. A flush of scarlet highlighted the girls face, which Amelia could only hope wasn’t visible in the evening light. What was happening to her?

It took perhaps a moment longer than it should have for the girl to respond with a soft breezy voice, that almost hid her eagerness. Almost. “You too,” she murmured softly. She could have returned the compliment with ease, but something stopped her knowing that the words she might utter would have consequences of a deeper shade of red tinging her cheeks. “I’m sure I could bribe the house-elves,” she joked lightly before giving him a gentle smile.

Following suit to his farewell, the Hufflepuff raised a pale hand, “and you, reluctant writer of Ravenclaw.” As he vanished from the tower, leaving only the song of his footfalls, the small girl stood a statue, a heaviness falling. Only when the distant echo of his deep voice and the whispers of his descent had hushed into a silence punctured only by the calling of owls settling in for the night, did Amelia breath freely once more.

A smile had descended onto her face. One that would undoubtedly be impossible to wash away. With no way to describe the tingle that skipped through her skin and somersaulted through into heart, Amelia forced herself to address the long overdue task. Addressing the stunning white owl in the tone you might address a small child with, she began, “I know it’s late, but could you deliver a letter for me?” The girl expected no vocal response, for even in the dreamy state she was in, her sanity had not been lost. However, the bird ruffled it’s feathers and stood up a little more to offer her a claw. “Right, thanks! Now, you have to understand I’m not very good at this yet…” With the concentration one would expect in a study session before your OWL and a rather lengthy period of time, she managed to secure the envelope in a messy yet reliable manner. Relief that the Ravenclaw had taken leave spread through her, for as helpful as his company would have been, the experience would have been frankly humiliating. As the wind whipped at her hair ferociously, she pulled her scarf closer to her body and headed towards the stairs. Turning back towards the ready owl, “Oh and my grandparents might have more trouble than me with the postage system” she half joked to the waiting owl.

With a final glance at the darkening sky, she uttered her final two syllables in a swaying tone. “Mikey.” Then, her mind dancing with far too many thoughts, she descended down the tower’s steps. Yet, there was one piece of truth that she couldn’t ignore. Amelia was as sure she liked the boy, or at least as sure as you can be when you’ve never liked a boy before. And not as a friend. As… a boy.