Have We Met? Closed

When: January 10, 2020

Michael woke up like he did everyday, getting dressed half asleep, but still awake enough to remember to comb his hair. He yawned as he walked into the bathroom, he preferred the muggle method of brushing his teeth. Today was a sunday, so classes were let out. Michael decided he should spend the free day out and grabbed his bag, empty as he wanted to get more books.

He walked out his dorm, trying not to get clawed at for stepping on a unsuspecting cat tail. Now that he was out the main room, he had to get through the common room. Today is was mostly empty, as he was late getting up.

He walked through the halls, before going to the great hall. His hand moved to feel the walls, a comfort for him. He walked by many panting on the way up to the great hall, one who wanted to fight him, another that asked if he had seen her glasses. He smiled as he walked in the large dinning hall, grabbing an apple from the basket of them, a red one as it was the best, and walked back out the doors.

He knew today was going to be one of his best, just had to be considering the rest sucked. He ate his apple with perfect timing, throwing the core away as he got to the library. He walked in, skimming through books. Muggle history. Runes. Quidditch and the broom.

He was reaching up to grab a book about Herbs and their best uses, when someone tapped his shoulder. She was small like himself, so he guess she was a first year. He opened his mouth to ask what she wanted only to be interrupted.

"Wait. . " he said after she spoke. "You're a Miller?"

@Rhea Miller

@Michael Miller

Rhea paused, considering this odd reaction. Yes, she was a Miller. It wasn't an uncommon name. But they way he asked it, with such wonderment, could only mean a few things. One: he was a Miller, too. Two: he knew someone that was a Miller. Simple, really. She bit her cheek and watched him looking right back at her.

"Er, yes. I am," she replied finally. The thirst gnawed at her. She couldn't stop picturing an icy cold glass of water, drops of moisture rolling off the sides, the liquid filling her throat and soothing the dry, ashy feeling. It could take her headache away, too. She was torn; desperate for a drink, but also wanting to solve this mystery. The boy only looked more familiar by the moment. Something in his jawline, the shape of his nose... she couldn't quite place it, but there was a definite familiarity about him. She racked her brain for an incident where they had interacted, but couldn't think of one. Maybe he looked like someone she knew.

Oh, of course. How had she been so foolish? It all made sense now. That's why he had been surprised: they shared a last name. They were related. He looked familiar because he had some of the same facial features as her. She hadn't recognized it until now because, well, she didn't spend a lot of time studying her reflection. It made perfect sense, but she couldn't confirm the theory yet. She needed proof.

"Why, are you a Miller too?" she asked conversationally. "It's a common name, you know. Many people have it. Of course, we could be related." She pretended to think deeply about it (though not very well; acting was certainly not one of her strengths). "My father is named Marvin Miller. He's a muggle. He isn't much, nothing compared to the magic here, though he would like this library. He's an English professor, you see. Really enjoys this type of thing. We're very different that way. It's just so... dusty and big and-" Rhea broke of, realizing that she had spiraled. The boy was probably losing interest. "I apologize," she said quickly. "I got sidetracked. Anywho, my father, a muggle, is named Marvin Miller, and my mum, a witch, is named Anne Sondra Miller. She's dead now though."

Okay, that last part might have made him uncomfortable- death was a difficult subject to discuss. Nevertheless she waited intently for his response.

Michael looked over the girl as she looked over him. She didn't look familiar at all. But. . her eyes, they seemed like he had looked in them before, the jaw line, the curve of her nose.

She was his family, though very distant if her father is a muggle. He didn't know how to act. His father would say to pretend he has no idea whom she is and that you can't be family as she's a halfblood. But his granny and papa would tell him to great her with open arms and a smile. He didn't want to do either.

The girl looked tired and miserable, so he sighed. "We could be family, though i can't say for sure how close we are in the tree. Would you like to get something to eat or drink? We can talk about it more there." He said. He turned, grabbing the book he wanted quickly, and stuffing it in his bag, no girl, family or not will keep him from his reading.

He thought about the rest of her explanation, a dad who was hurt by dragons. Well he hasnt heard that before. A muggle being attacked? Something here was wrong but he couldn't figure it out.

@Rhea Miller

@Michael Miller

The boy's face was difficult to read. He was practically expressionless as he watched her. He had spoken finally, so that was a little bit of a relief, but Rhea desperately wanted to know what he was thinking. He was rather intimidating, honestly, and she had to remind herself that he was only human, same as her, and probably even the same age. He hadn't offered his name yet. She hoped he would. At least she knew now that he was indeed a Miller.

Rhea wasn't used to being the talkative one in the conversation. It wasn't a feeling she liked. However, she knew that this exchange needed to continue, and if it was left up to her like it appeared to be, she would relent.

Also, he was offering to get a meal with her. Her stomach rumbled, accompanying the unabating thirst. He had noticed her obvious weariness, probably, and pitied her. Or maybe he wanted to satisfy his hunger too. It was so hard to tell with him.

"Sure," she said at last. "I'm ravenous, and probably dehydrated too. I can tell from my headache and dry tongue. You see, I've spent hours in here, without so much as a drop of water. Now my my throat is painful, and the acid in my stomach is churning with no food to digest. At least, I believed that's how it works. Say, I'd like to be a healer someday. I've never thought of that. I could save people like my father, and I'm rather good at medical... endeavors..."

She forced herself to shut up. Why on earth was she doing this? She didn't even know the boy, and she didn't like talking, especially with people that were so impossible to decode. Perhaps it was to fill the silence? Rhea usually liked silence. She was used to being the one without the words in the conversation, and now that she had met her match, she was scrambling to fill the other roll. There always had to be one talker and one listener for a balanced interaction, she reasoned. That made sense.

The sad part was, she was certainly not in the mood (or physical condition- her irksome dry throat) to speak. After a moment of contemplation, she began to walk with the boy in silence toward the exit of the Library, deep in thought.