Try to Take Deep Breaths (and Go on Walks) Closed

Hunter, who’d been trying to tie a litter to a snowy owl’s leg, turned his head to look at her. “Oh, um, yes.” He put on a wide smile and leaned against the brick wall of the owlry. “Only If you help me. The owls...don’t like me.”
The owl he’d been trying to tie his letter to squared and flew off up into the rafters.
“No, no no! Come back!” Hunter called, waving his hands. His left hand was completely stained with ink, the letter in his hand a smudged mess where his hand had dragged across the wet writing. The letter didn’t even look worth sending, given that it was barely legible. “Animals dont really liked me, like my gran had a cat who hated me, he scratched my arm up a lot. You’d think that birds would like me since we both share a mutual enemy.” He cleared his throat. “I mean, yeah, I can help. What do you need? Though I can’t call the owls down, like I said they hate me.” He rubbed his left hand, staining his right palm with yet more ink. He looked incredibly scruffy, his white school shirt also stained with streaks of black, little tufts of straw sticking out of his beanie.

Ami laughed as the snowy owl flew away, then covered her mouth with her hand, trying not to seem rude. “Gosh, that sucks. I just need you to find a bird that looks big enough and strong enough to fly to America. Here, I’ll help you with your letter.” Obviously, she wasn’t going to tell him she actually hadn’t tried sending a letter yet- this would be her first one. Without realizing it, Ami reached over, plucking some of the straw from the boy’s beanie, rolling it in her fingers until it made a ball. Glancing down at his shirt, she remarked casually, “What, did your ink well decide to attack you this morning?” Then realizing that probably sounded condescending, she added, “Well, don’t worry if it did. I’ve been using pencils- quills just annoy me too much. Like, how on earth do you even hold them.”

With a start, Ami realized a) she wasn’t stuttering, like normal, and b) WOW this boy was really easy to talk to! She extend a hand, tucking her envelope under her arm. “Ami, the American imposter in Britain. Gryffindor?” she asked, craning her head to look at the badge on his robes. “Bah humbug. I would’ve pegged you for a Ravenclaw.”

“Okay, scrogue,” Hunter said, looking down at his shirt. “I’m left-handed, so writing with a normal pen is pretty much impossible, let alone with actual ink.” He didn’t seem to mind her touching him, or if he did, he made no attempt to show it. “Don’t they have wizard schools in America?” He asked, completely switching the topic. “I haven’t met any others.” He looked up at the parliament of owls above his head. “Maybe you could use two owls?” He suggested. “Or maybe you could have it stop off somewhere? Or maybe there’s a spell that’ll send it for you!”
Hunter could help the child-like glee he felt at the prospect of any kind of magic.
“ I thought tech didn’t work here.” He pointed to her CDs. “If I’d have know it did then I’d have brought my Xbox” (which he didn’t have) “or my laptop” (which he didn’t have). “I’ll have to send a message to dad and get him to send me them. Though I don’t think the owls would be able to carry them...” Hunter was starting to realise that there was a reason Muggles didn’t bother with sending mail via birds anymore. It was pretty impractical.

"Wizarding schools in America weren't good enough for my mother- and citizenship issues," Ami added, thinking about it. "I'm still a British citizen and stuff, so I guess they still don't trust immigrants."

"Two owls could work," she said slowly. "But if they needed stops, they'd have to fly the route of here, to Africa, to Antartica, to South America, and then up to America. I don't think they'd be able to fly over the Atlantic Ocean."

“I thought tech didn’t work here.” Hunter pointed to her CD. “If I’d have known it did then I’d have brought my Xbox, or my laptop.”

Ami's eyes lit up at the mention of technology. "You have an Xbox? What kind? One X? One S? 360? I actually really like the 360- the One X and One S are too expensive and fancy. What kind of laptop? i7? What brand? God, if you have a Mac..." Ami shook her head, sighing. "I might just have to kill you. Oh my god... sorry, I'm such a geek." Ami laughed nervously, tugging on her hair. "I blame my mom. She eats, breathes, and sleeps computers." Ami narrowed her eyes, looking at Hunter intensely.

"Say, I solemnly swear I've never dated a girl," she instructed, crossing her fingers behind her back.

Hunter knew nothing about Xboxes. Or laptops. Part of him had just hoped she’d ooo and ahh and leave it at that.

You’ve done that thing again, he told himself. You’ve dug yourself into a hole, now what?

Exactly. Now what. Hunter was extremely good (one might even call him an expert) at screwing himself over. He just sucked at fixing said screwed-over-ness. He tried to think and remember what type of laptop his dad had, but all he could think was it was black and made a loud noise whenever his dad turned it on. Almost like an alarm fixed to tell everyone HEY LOOK AT ME! I HAVE WINDOWS!!

He was almost thankful when Ami told him to repeat after her. Thankful, but also extremely confused.

“Eh?” He blinked dumbly for a moment. “Why? And I can’t anyway cause I dated a bunch of girls at my old school.” He tried to ignore the cackling at the back of his head. He’d never dated a girl, he’d never even held hands with a girl. Not unless you counted that one time in year 1 when Rosie Parker has given him a clump of tinfoil taped to the he end of a stick, said it was a rose and declared them boyfriend and girlfriend before they were even old enough to know what boyfriends and girlfriends where.

“Eh? Why? And I can’t anyway cause I dated a bunch of girls at my old school,” Hunter explained. Ami nearly choked on air (which was a new all-time-low, even for her)- wasn’t this kid, like, eleven? Geez, either a playboi or a genuinely nice kid. Personally, Ami was leaning towards really nice kid. A little too young to be a playboi, Ami decided. But maybe a ladies’ man? That was certainly possible.

“Say it,” Ami insisted, tugging on her hair again. “You sound familiar, and I don’t know why. Probably your accent, but still. Say it. C’mon, please?” Ami put on her best puppy-dog face, pouting, and momentarily, her normally stern and serious face was one of a puppy’s. She even added in a few begging and pleading sounds for effect.

Looking up towards the rafters, she whistled, calling an owl down, and tied Hunter’s letter to its leg. “There you go. Incentive. Be grateful you didn’t get your eyes clawed out, yeah?” She stroked the owl, cooing to it, babying it. “Who’s a good little birdie? You, that’s who, that’s right...” To her utter mirth, the owl seemed to side-eye Hunter, and then proceeded to preen as Ami stroked him.

Hunter took two sharp steps back. He wasn’t convinced that the bird wasn’t going to just jump at him and try and peck out his eyes. Of all the animals in the world why did they have I use ones with such sharp claws!?

“Fine!” He said, giving an over dramatic sigh. “I solemnly swear I've never dated a girl. Are you happy?” He couldn’t help but be confused. Part of him wondered if it was some kind of magic spell. If he was walking into a trap, or some kind of curse.

The thought made him uneasy.

His mom had told him about certain forbidden spells. Ones that should never be spoken. Ones that could kill a person with a single look or make them hurt so much their eyes bled. She’d only told him about these once and they’d frightened him so much he’d had nightmares.

‘You don’t have to worry about them’ his father had told him when he’d come crawling into his parents bed. ‘Magic isn’t real.’

But magic, as Hunter now knew, was very real. New and exciting, but also completely terrifying.

“Why do you even care if I’ve dated a girl?” He asked, crossing his arms over his chest. “I don’t even know you.”

“Why do you even care if I’ve dated a girl?” Hunter asked, crossing his arms over his chest. “I don’t even know you.” Ami looked up sharply from the owl, and said, “You’re gay, aren’t you?” She raised her eyebrows. “You sound like it. That’s why you sound so familiar.”

Hunter sounded familiar because he sounded like Thomas, because they were both gay. To Ami, all full-out gay people had the accent- no one believed her, but they did. She played her perfect pitch for that, but to her all gay people sounded the same. Hey- Thomas was gay, and Hunter was gay (probably); why not set them up? Ami cackled in the back of her head, her evil little match-making self rubbing her hands together eagerly. This might just actually work.

OOC: I solemnly swear this trick works in real life. I have done it so many times, I swear it works. I promise you, homosexual people say it a different way. Either that, or I have a spot-on Gaydar.

Ami rubbed her nose, and opened the window of the Owlery. The bird- okay, owl, whatever- she had chosen hopped over, eager to start flying. “Hey, last chance to edit your letter. Where’d you say this letter was going, again?”

"My father," Hunter said, hugging his arms around himself. He listed off his address, talking mostly to the Owl than Ami herself. "And I'm not gay!" He'd never given it much thought to be honest. He was only 11 after all. Besides, he'd always been too busy to be stuffed with that kind of thing. Plus it wasn't like anyone at his old school actually liked him.
No! Of course they liked him! He was Hunter Keith. He was the cool guy. He had a tone of friends.

"And people don't 'sound gay'," he pointed out. "Not really. I mean. And even if I was it's none of your business. And like I said, I've had a tone of girlfriends at my old school. But I had to break up with them cause I came here. I bet they all miss me a bunch. Dad'll probably send me a whole bunch of letters from them once he gets my owl." Yeah. Totally. "You'll see." He sounded like a complete and utter brat, his lips pursed into a childish pout as he listed off yet more lies.

There was a part of him--admittedly a very small part--that sighed whenever he stretched the truth. A high-pitched ringing at the back of his head that screeched WHAT ARE YOU DOING?! whenever he opened his fat mouth.