@Katrina Walker | July 17th, 2021

It had been a relaxing summer so far for Bridget. Uneventful. That was what she wanted, and perhaps needed, after her third year of Hogwarts. While all in all it was a better, more peaceful year for her--no curses or anything--she'd been in proximity to much of the same disastrousness. Katrina had been kidnapped, Thomas subjected to a new sort of curse involving the distortion of his reflection, Santario had fallen down a well. And then there were all the Ravenclaws who'd been cursed by the shadows, Gryffindor's train car derailing, whatever had happened to Hufflepuff around the holidays. She could go on, but the point was, it was nice to be home.

She'd missed her family, of course. The homesickness of her first year happened rarely anymore, the brunette adjusted to the long months away. Still, the short bits of time she got with them never seemed quite enough. And though starved for time with them, they were all still busy with their own lives. Her mom had to work. Matthew was juggling continued recovery and online courses as he pushed himself to make up for lost time, Bridget just content he was okay again. Jonathan was in near-constant conflict with her parents it seemed, something about his poor academic performance this past year and what that meant for his sports. A clash of values, really. Ellie was angsting about dance or something. Something about the other girls? She spent most of her time in her room--their room during the summer--and Bridget gave her space, deciding she really didn't want to dive into that.

Between all that, she was, somehow, the least problematic child. It had been a while since that was the case. That was the way she wanted it to stay. Even with how purposeful she'd been in leaving out many of the details of the state of the school, adjusting to a witch in the family and the pieces she couldn't hide, like the curse, had made things rocky for a while. Speaking of the curse, well, she was doing her very best to avoid bringing attention to the black veins in her arm. A task that was impossible to achieve total success in, not in the summer, not around her parents. She'd downplayed the seriousness of the curse a lot last summer, scared they might pull her from the school if they thought it bad enough and hopeful a cure would be found before she came home again. Alas, a year had passed and little progress, if any, had been made. Hopefully they didn't ask too many questions. Lying to them wasn't something she was keen on, especially since it could easily be next summer, and the summer after that, with the black still very much in her bloodstream.

Steering clear of Ellie's haunt, Bridget spent lots of time outside. She read, mostly, some reading for fun scattered alongside her preparation for next year and trying to keep up on spells--chess combat was in August and she hated her inability to practice leading up to that--as well as dabbling in drawing. Her dad was the one she spent the most time with. Perks of being a teacher, he more or less had the summer free, and they spent that time working in each other's company, playing board games and trivia, and starting to plan a trip for next summer. An exciting prospect, especially with just how few places Bridget had actually been in the past few years. It was mainly just Hogwarts, Hogsmeade, Platform 9 3/4, and here. She didn't go too far from the house since they'd move to London between being unfamiliar with the area and visibly cursed. Sprinkle in a London Quidditch Stadium last summer camp, a few trips to Diagon Alley, and that was pretty much it.

She studied, she hung around her family, she played with Sherlock, she did what she could to stay in touch with her friends. That was how the first two weeks passed, peaceful. As peaceful as a house of six could be, anyhow. Then came Saturday. The clock read eight o'clock and Bridget could have slept a good while longer. Sleeping in was not a luxury she had or allowed herself during the school year, but here when there was so much less to do? It was kind of nice, not to mention needed from being chronically sleep-deprived. Today she would not get to rise of her own accord, hands gently shaking her awake. "It's time to get up, Bridget."

Being woken by her mom was something that had happened many times before. It just took a moment for her to remember what it was for this time. Oh. Right. Bridget rolled over and groaned into her pillow.

The creak of footsteps said her mom had taken that as a sign she was awake. Which was true. But that didn't mean she wanted to be, and she was tempted to not get out of bed. Eight was hardly an ungodly hour of the morning; that wasn't the point. The point was that getting up now so they could catch a train to Katrina's house was not worth it.

How had she even ended up roped into this? Normally, if she wanted to visit a friend she would ask her parents and make sure the other family was okay with it which, obviously, hadn't happened. Why would she want to go over to her ex-best friend's house? They'd basically not said a word to each other since their fight in May and Bridget was still mad at her. Hurt was probably the better word for it, actually. Hurt, mad, whatever the case, Katrina hadn't apologized and Bridget was waiting to see some sign of remorse, some effort on the redhead's part before she could try too, forgive her.

No, this was parent-organized. That was supposed to happen when you were five, not fourteen. But apparently their moms had stayed in touch after their families had Christmas dinner together, become something like friends somewhere along the line, and arranged this get-together. It should have been perfect, convenient for the four of them. Instead, Bridget and Katrina had a very much unresolved fight while their moms were still on friendly terms. How awkward.

When her mom shared the plans yesterday, Bridget had been firmly against it. Naturally. No, she did not want to see Katrina, much less hang out with her. Some explaining later--she hadn't exactly told her about the whole thing yet--and her mom got this little frown. Then came a rather long talk about how it was normal for relationships to hit rough spots, that they were too good of friends to give up so easily, that she should just try talking to her, and Bridget caved.

She was regretting that now. When even was the last time she'd not wanted to do something so badly? But after staring at the wall for a minute, she steeled her resolve and pushed off the covers. Her mom likely wouldn't let her drop out, not without her acting like a stubborn toddler. She would suck it up and stick it out. For her mom, mainly, because she would feel bad for ruining today for her and Mrs. Sprigs. And, also, maybe a part of her was hoping this would make things better. After the time apart, maybe it would be easier to put their fight behind them. As she tugged on jeans and a t-shirt [x], she let that hope become something solid. She was even considering swallowing her pride and apologizing first when the words came back. You can do whatever the heck you want, I don’t care. But nothing you say is going to keep me from going. Was that just the product of the heat of the moment, or had Katrina really meant it? She didn't know. Even just recalling the words that were burnt into her memory made her chest ache and tears threaten to well up. It had been nearly two months, couldn't she just get over it? Sniffing, she swallowed down the sensation.

After a quick breakfast, it was out the door and to the train station. The whole time, she did her best not to think about it. Not that her efforts did much when she was heading straight for the redhead's house. In the end, she mostly stayed quiet, staring out the window as the world streaked by, as the distance between them shortened. Her mom tried talking to her a few times, Bridget's short answers fizzling out each attempt. She felt bad about it since they didn't get to spend a whole lot of time together with her mom's work. She just wasn't in the mood for it.

Her mom tried again after a long stretch of silence. They must be pretty close to their stop by now. "Have you talked to her at all?"

Looking away from the window, Bridget paused. The honest answer was not something her mom was going to like hearing, but why lie? "Not really."

There was that look again. The one she'd give to Ellie when she was being extra dramatic about whatever was going on with her dance class, the one Bridget received after telling her about the fight. "She made it plenty clear she didn't want to talk to me!" Her voice had risen, tone defensive. Didn't she get it? It hadn't been some silly little problem between them. She couldn't decide if it was better or worse when her mom didn't comment further.

At long last, there they were, standing in front of Katrina's house. They'd been there for a good minute, probably because Bridget's feet felt like they were sinking into the concrete. You know what? Nope. She didn't want to do this. Forget all those selfless thoughts she'd had about not ruining this for her mom. Who cared that going home would mean another long train ride? Certainly not her. Because... because she was scared. What if Katrina said something even worse? She already felt like a terrible person and even if their friendship had split off, the Gryffindor still had that power over her. Whatever she said Bridget was probably going to believe. And what if she messed up more? This was all her fault in the first place.

A hand placed itself on her shoulder, pulling her out of the spiral. "You have your phone, right?" Bridget nodded, reaching to feel where the device was tucked into her back pocket as if to check it was there. She didn't use it much, not wanting to get used to it and make parting with it for the school year hard. "I'll make you a deal. You try this for an hour. If you hate it and want to leave, after that hour you can text me and we'll leave. Okay?"

That was fair. One hour still seemed frighteningly long. But she'd try. "Okay." So when her mom walked up to the front door, she followed, doing her best to look calm, or at least neutral. It wasn't like their relationship had much left to lose anyhow. Right? Her mom rang the doorbell.

Summer. That word used to mean a few months in her parent's friend's home in Colorado. If it didn't get hot enough yet there might be some summer skiing. At the very least gondola rides and cookie dough. It meant Katrina's parents with their friends and Katrina and Liam with each of their friends that they only got to visit in the summer. Those were the days. The time the Walker's weren't in Colorado, they were back at their home in London. Katrina usually reading ahead for school or just reading in general. Liam out with his friends riding bikes or adventuring off into who knows where. They were fun, relaxed days that blew past with ease and were always much too short but packed full with fun memories.

This year--summer never seemed to end. After Katrina's blow up at both Liam and her Guardians last winter was never resolved, Katrina still felt guilty and ashamed. She'd never quite brought herself to apologize because everyone else just pretended it had never happened; which brought more worry to what would happen if she did bring it up. They had threatened to pull Katrina out of Hogwarts, she wouldn’t be able to survive without her home…
 
So, instead of addressing the problem like a respectable, mature teenager, she followed the route that was much easier to deal with. Self-isolation. She kept herself in her very large room or outside besides for dinners which were sort of expected to be eaten together. Since Neil was expected to do magic now and again, Katrina could get away with a little bit herself. Small things of course, she didn't want to get in trouble. When her guardians would have friends over she would do a little bit here and there, levitate a pen, change the color of a blanket, light her wand. Simple things that ensured her skill wasn't all but forgotten. When she wasn't trying to cast spells or read ahead with books, she was writing. She started up another daily journal, she sent letters to her two pen pals with Fluffles the family owl, she edited some of Liam's writings per his begging. She did have a phone, since their house didn't have all that much magic around, the phone worked well for the most part so she would do some of the normal teenager things.

The summer still seemed sluggish.

Today, Katrina was sitting on her bed, petting Boomerang and doodling a bit. Nothing too grand, just little doodles, barely scratching the surface of her mostly forgotten talent of drawing. A small violin, a cat on a dragon, a teacup, the shape of a werewolf in the moonlight, a dark forest, a flame shaped token, a train car midway tipping on the tracks. The doodles started to take a darker turn. She couldn't help it. Without another outlet, the trauma from the past year was overfilling at the seams. Katrina flipped over onto her back, leaving the journal and pen where they were. She raised her hands above her head, looking at the ink stains on them, she sighed, closing her eyes for a moment.

The loud ring of the doorbell startled Katrina out of her sleepiness. Must be more of her guardians’ friends. Katrina felt up to a bit of snooping and silently traversed the hallway that peered out over the entryway. It was two stories there, the hallway connected with some of the side rooms and had a grand spiral staircase down to the main floor. The door was visible from where she was, but it was tucked up away where visitors weren't likely to look as soon as they entered.

Katrina stayed mostly hidden as her grandmot-guardian mother, approached the door. She seemed excited, more than usual. Must be her friends. The door swung open and Katrina's eyes instantly widened.

Bridget's mom.

Katrina hid back behind the wall, completely concealing herself again. No. No. This can't be happening. She wasn't ready to deal with Bridget's mom. She was a nice woman, her and Emma had hit it off at Christmas and had become best friends. Emma talked about her a lot, sometimes sharing some harmless shenanigans of the Collins’ family. This summer Katrina would disappear at the mention of them. She had the whole summer to pretend her and Bridget's fight hadn't happened and she wasn't ready to address it yet. Bridget's mom would either know what had happened between Katrina and her daughter and would be bitter at Katrina, or she wouldn't know and her niceness would make the whole situation worse.

"Katrina! There's someone at the door for you!" The cheerful voice of Emma Sprigs was very easily heard from Katrina hiding place.

Wait. Wait. No. Bridget's mom wouldn't have come for Katrina. That meant-- Bridget was here. What was Bridget doing here?! Of course Emma didn't know about Katrina and Bridget's fight. Not much came up in conversation anyway. Which meant she probably still thought they were close. And Katrina might have led her to believe some of the letters and time on her phone were spent communicating with Bridget. But she certainly didn't expect Emma to invite them over!

Katrina groaned inwardly, just managing to keep from making the noise aloud. "Coming!" She turned her head towards the hallway, hoping to make the echo sound more like she was in her room rather than peering over the overhang.

Katrina raked her hands through her hair and uncomfortably adjusted her outfit. She tucked her phone in the sweatshirt pocket and started down the stairs, forcefully evening her breathing so she didn't scream at the universe for this specific turn of events. Katrina rounded the corner, seeing Bridget's mom at the door, Katrina gave a little half-hearted wave and came up beside her guardian mom. Emma and Bridget's mom were already chatting about summer and how it's all flown by and all of that 'mom' talk. The two of them headed inside, presumably to the kitchen for a cup of tea or something along those lines.

Katrina took a step to the side to allow Bridget in her view. She looked… calm. Almost fine. If they hadn't been close friends for the past few years, Katrina wouldn't have known Bridget wasn't how she appeared at first glance. Because of their friendship, Katrina could tell something was off. Also the fact that their last conversation had ended with lots of things being said. You can't save them. Stop trying to be some hero Bridget's most hurtful words echoed in Katrina's mind, she clenched her fists in the pocket of her sweatshirt, wishing that would make the emotional hurt go away.

Katrina took a breath, another one, then took one hand out of her pocket and gave Bridget a stiff wave. "Hey," Katrina forced herself to make the single word far less aggressive than she wanted it to be. Instead what came out was a little choked and scratchy.

Katrina tried again, this time making a better attempt at it, "Want to come in?" She gestured at the two mothers who were deep in chatter inside the house, as if to say-- if they're chatting, I guess we should too.  

Were the Collins' even here to talk? Maybe they were going to drop something off and leave. But that didn't make sense either, why travel the long way just to deliver a present? They didn't have access to Floo Powder or Apparation so it was a long train ride to get there. It wouldn't hurt to invite Bridget inside. Maybe they could just talk in the living room or something. It was supposed to be a surprise visit right? Maybe Katrina should have acted all surprised when she saw them. It was too late for that. How could they even hold a proper conversation? Katrina could see it now. “Hi Bridget, how was your summer?” “Oh fine Katrina, really, how’s your savior complex?” Yeah, like that would turn out well. Or worse, they just pretended it never happened. Or Bridget could still act scared of Katrina, like Katrina might actually hurt her.

Katrina pushed her anxieties aside, no point in dwelling on the ‘what if’s. Bridget was here already, now she just needed to figure out what to do next

@Bridget Collins sorry it took me so longggg

@Katrina Walker

There would be no agonizing in the time between the doorbell's chime and truly facing this, at least, the door swinging open pretty quickly. They were greeted by Katrina's guardian. "Hi, Mrs. Sprigs." She was a nice woman from what Bridget could tell in the few times she'd interacted with her and she was hosting them, unwanted circumstances aside. Being polite was no issue, and though fairly certain her mom would bring it up, she didn't want to give the impression her and Katrina's friendship was totally ruined. She wasn't even sure if that was the case; today, she'd find out.

If only this pleasant-enough moment would have lasted forever. But her mom gave her arm a little squeeze--one last attempt at reassurance, not that it helped--before heading inside, following Mrs. Sprigs somewhere. Panic lodged in her throat, mouth opening as if to ask her to stay. But she had no words to say and her promise to give this a shot wouldn't crumble that easily. Her mouth closed, and instead she watched as her buffer went away, already fading out of view. It was pretty obvious they intended to do their own thing rather than have the four of them together. It made sense--they probably thought, as teenagers, she and Katrina would much prefer to do their own thing. She should've seen this coming, should have prepared what to say beforehand, but it was too late. Katrina was right in front of her.

It had been so long since they'd last talked. How many times had she considered saying something, only to hang up those words with all the others, unsaid because she wasn't ready to face the rift between them? She stared at the girl who'd been her best friend. A beat. Her eyes dropped to the butterfly on her hoodie. Another beat. Finally, Katrina said 'hey', accompanied by an uncomfortable wave. "Hey." They were back to silence. An invitation to come inside was added. "I don't know what else I was going to do." Wonderful start. She entered, waiting just inside while Katrina closed the door, and then followed her as she led up the stairs to her room.

It was a nice bedroom. A sketchbook and pen were on the bed; Katrina must have been drawing before she arrived. She couldn't quite make out what she'd drawn from here, but would Katrina even want her seeing? Art was a private thing, and she wasn't sure it felt right anymore to let each other in on that. And it didn't matter, her eyes were simply wandering, picking out the room's details for something else to do. She was standing off to the side, arms crossed, wondering if she should sit but unsure where to. When in doubt, she would have gone with the floor, except that currently sounded worse. What if Katrina stayed standing? She didn't want to be looking up at her.

"So," she said finally, looking at the redhead for a second before her gaze darted away again. "How has your summer been?" It sounded more like a statement, the end barely lilting upward. This felt like the first few times they'd met, memories buried for how awkward they were. How did they end up back there? And worse, this brought to mind their very first meeting. When Bridget had snapped at her and stormed out of the library, before stopping to make a poor attempt at an apology. That had been nothing compared to this. The thought crept in that maybe the poor start had been trying to tell them they were never going to work out.

Katrina could tell that things weren’t going to be easy. It didn’t help that she was already on edge of the fact that this visit was sprung on her so abruptly. Then add on Bridget’s decently well-hidden resentment against Katrina. The whole situation was a moment away from disaster. And her guardians and Bridget’s mom didn’t even seem to notice.

The parents wandered away into the kitchen to talk or something, Katrina wasn’t exactly sure what was going on with them but she really didn’t care. Without her mom at her side, Bridget seemed quite obviously not at ease. Well, Katrina wasn’t sure if it was all that obvious, but as much as she hated to admit it, she knew Bridget well enough to know she when she was uncomfortable. And with the given circumstances, it was no surprise. Katrina sighed, uncrossing her folded arms, attempting to present herself in a slightly less hostile way.

Katrina sort of led Bridget to her room, both of them at least thinking the same thing when it came to that. What else were they going to do anyway? Her parents and her brother were downstairs and the last thing she wanted was for them to overhear. On her way up the stairs, Liam walked through the living room and gave Katrina a look she couldn’t quite identify. Somewhere between annoyed, confused, and mischievous. “Leave us alone” Katrina mouthed his way, disregarding her typical nicety, she wanted to make it very clear for him to not bother them. Not like saying anything would really stop it, just possibly dissuade it. The last thing she wanted was for him to cause more drama.

Katrina’s room was just as she left it: mostly picked up (more to do with the fact that her minimal personal belongings were just crammed into her closet). However, Katrina saw with rising alarm that her teenage angst fueled drawing session from moments ago was plenty visible from her open sketchbook. With an attempt at subtlety that really wasn’t all that subtle, Katrina walked over to her bed and flipped the page of the sketchbook to one that was significantly less alarming, just a page filled with cat paws at various angles and set it on her nightstand.

This wasn’t going great. The current feeling in the room was as tense and awkward as the first few times they had met. The abundance of awkward silence, both unsure of what to say and how, except this time Katrina knew Bridget and the fact that the last time they had talked had been that big fight kept a looming sense of tension over them.

Bridget looked at the floor as if debating whether or not to sit down and Katrina sat down on her bed, crossing her legs and pulling herself tighter. There was plenty of room for Bridget to sit down beside her without them being too close, now time would tell if Bridget was really still that wary of Katrina. The conversation started rather dry, more like what near strangers would say rather than ex-best friends.

“My summer has been…” Katrina’s attempt at returning the conversation died out before she really had the chance to formulate a whole thought. Katrina looked down to find her finger wound tightly in the string of her hoody, she thoughtfully unwrapped it, mind spinning a mile a minute. “You know I didn’t really—” This time she didn’t trail off, rather than consciously force herself to stop the thought half way. “I’m sorry, it’s just, I didn’t know you were coming over and if I’d known I would have—” What would you have done Kat? Pretended to be sick? Run away? Nothing? “I don’t know what I’m saying. My summer has been not great. Me and my par—basically everyone in this house aren’t on great terms and I really miss school and talking—” to my best friend... Could you sound any more desperate Kat? “To people my age, I guess,” Yeah, nice save Kat. The sarcasm in Katrina’s internal voice was more distinct than the awkwardness between Katrina and Bridget.

“I’m sorry, I’m rambling,” Katrina stopped and took a breath before turning back to Bridget, “How has your summer been?”

@Katrina Walker

Katrina's room was relatively empty, probably the cumulative result of not having lived in this house all her life and being away at Hogwarts the majority of the year. Bridget's would no doubt look similar if she didn't share it with Ellie, who had plenty of stuff for both of them. It was this lack of other things to catch genuine interest that made it hard to miss Katrina flipping her sketchbook to a different page, and while there were probably other reasons she could give her the benefit of the doubt for, she couldn't help but take it as confirmation of her thoughts just a moment ago: they were not privy to things so personal anymore. All that was acceptable for her to see was cat paws.

On they forged through their awkward conversation. It was honestly getting worse, what with Katrina's newfound inability to get a complete thought out. She counted four times she'd completely changed directions, the tally more out of desperation for any distraction than judgment. All things considered, the redhead's answer was surprisingly honest. Maybe she'd been denied view of her art, but here she was letting her into, however vaguely, the struggles of her summer: family issues and what was probably homesickness after three years at Hogwarts. With people held at arms-length, you tended to keep it at something like fine, even if it wasn't.

As was the beauty of small talk, now it was her turn. The fact Katrina had been open left it to her to set the tone of this. At least the truth for her was nothing sensitive. "Pretty uneventful, actually. The rest of my family is kind of busy, but I've mostly just been trying to prepare for chess combat." There was a certain amount of satisfaction that came from being on the victorious House, and she took pride in it, but she didn't plan on being obnoxious about it. And it was just on her mind a lot as of late for obvious reasons.

"And, it always does feel off when I'm away from my friends over break." Another honest string of words, though she hadn't entirely thought through the word choice. Friends? Was she including Katrina in that? Usually yes, yet not this time, because a weird distance had spread between them even before summer vacation. She glanced away to examine anything conveniently decorating the walls.

The single word that had possibly just derailed their attempt--weak as it already was--to get conversation going, was where the start of their problem lay, wasn't it? Bridget was just bad with words. Maybe not all the time, but maybe that was just because half of the time she didn't say anything. Their fight surely stood out as the crowning example of this, from a butchered introduction asking Katrina to not attend the ball with her that accidentally implied she was an idiot and set them down this whole train wreck to really everything said after that. Recalling all the things she'd said, the fight lodged in memory, she knew she'd meant them, but maybe not in the way they'd sounded, and with where they were now, she would take them back if she could.

But the damage was done, and a sincere apology that, yes, I meant the things I said but wish I hadn't said them didn't sound the most conducive to reconciliation. And besides, the question remained of if Katrina meant everything she'd said. The last thing, especially, had implied she was done. With the conversation, with their friendship. Whether that was what she truly meant was the difference between this being a bump in the road or the end of it. "Did you really mean it?" It felt blurted out, but it wasn't; she'd been turning this over in her head for months. "What you said when you left."

It was a bit of a jarring transition, she knew that, but she needed to know. Otherwise what were they doing here, ignoring the elephant in the room? Maybe she should have waited until closer to the hour mark so she could leave if this turned ugly, though. It was impossible to keep the hardness out of her tone, and considering the disaster that had been what she was bringing up, she wouldn't be surprised if that was where this went. She wasn't in the mood for another fight, but nor was she for stilted small talk.

Above everything else, Katrina could almost palpably feel Bridget's judgement despite herself. It wasn't that it was undue bad feelings, after everything Katrina had said and their lack of communication since it had happened. Although there was no surprise that there were still hard feelings, the almost disdainful look over of Katrina's room didn't go unnoticed by the room's main inhabitant though. Katrina wanted that insurmountable distance between the two to go away but she wasn't exactly sure how that could come to be. After all, if Katrina said everything that was on her mind at this very moment it wouldn't exactly heal their friendship. More was needed-- and less-- at the same time.

Thankfully, Katrina managed to get a solid sentence out, her struggle to formulate a full thought brought back cringe-worthy memories to the first year of their friendship when Katrina was near incapable of normal human interaction. Now, though, her stuttering was not validated and she knew she was plenty capable of not doing it. It was a relief when Bridget didn't even bother mentioning it and responded in a plenty proper way. At least it was less superficial than the 'how are you doing?' 'fine, you?' that Katrina had originally anticipated.

Katrina almost thought she'd gotten away with small talk without something hurtful said when Bridget said the f word. Friends. Well, then Katrina caught herself. Bridget hadn't excluded her from the generalization exactly. Being away from friends over break. Well, they weren't away from friends right now, if Bridget was still considering Katrina a friend at this point. Which was the most pressing thought on Katrina's mind.

Where did they fit at the moment anyway? They weren't enemies. They certainly weren't best friends. Ex-best friends? That’s what Katrina had been thinking prior to this communication. Katrina's mind tumbled around the possibilities, desperately looking for an title that fit properly. None rose to the front of her mind.

But after everything that had been said, was it even reasonable that Katrina still cared? It wasn't like she couldn't. It wasn't in her nature.

Bridget interrupted Katrina's silent musings, breaking that uncomfortable silence that had descended over the room in that time. 'Did you really mean it?' The tumble of thoughts ceased entirely. Her first thought was of their fight that seemed so long ago. Maybe Katrina had said something else. Did Katrina really mean that home life had been a bit rough? Well, clearly. Why else would you say something like that?

Then the clarification: 'What you said when you left."

Katrina allowed the silence to continue for a few moments as she recalled not what Bridget has said. But what she had. Through the number of times Katrina replayed their fight in her head, she hadn't given much thought to what she had said. Which seemed shallow even to her now that she was thinking about it.

'Well at least I'd been doing something to help other people'
'I'd rather be looking over my shoulder all night than hiding away somewhere like a coward while the rest of my friends might be in danger!'
'I don’t think I can save them but I don’t know how I would live with myself if I just sit aside'
'And the least I can do is go and offer some of my skills, or at least pretend to enjoy myself for one evening'

Almost with the thought of their fight, Katrina's own words rushed into her head. Calling Bridget a coward. She couldn't live with herself if she stood aside. Pretending to enjoy herself. All of the things she'd said. Did she mean it all? Truthfully, to an extent. When you're angry, the essence of what you truly think comes out but it becomes all twisted, unintentional things spilling out as well.

'You can do whatever the heck you want, I don’t care. But nothing you say is going to keep me from going'

Katrina's gut twisted with her final statement she'd made to Bridget. She did care. She cared too much. That's why she pushed Bridget away. Katrina wanted to go, to protect, but she didn't want Bridget to go because it was dangerous. She didn't want her closest friend in danger.

Katrina looked away from Bridget, anywhere but at her ex-best-friend. The silence after Bridget's question had gone on too long. Her first reaction was to deflect 'Did you?' Bridget had called Katrina a wannabe hero, told her she was deluding herself thinking she could save people, that she wasn't enough. Well, those weren't the exact words, but rather what Katrina had internalized.

"Some of it," Katrina said quietly, a small part of her gut twisting painfully with the admittance. A moment of silence, then the rest came rushing out, "But I don't think you're a coward and I do care. So much. That's why I pushed you away," Months of hurt bled through with her words. Katrina closed her mouth, kept herself from saying more. She knew she was at the point where she was near either pouring her heart out or lashing out. Her only attempt to prevent either of those was to just stay quiet.

At last, Katrina spoke again, her words quiet, almost afraid to ask, "Did you?"

@Katrina Walker

Her question wasn't the sort you answered right away. Doing so would seem insincere; something with this much gravity needed contemplation. And yet waiting for Katrina's answer brought the urge to squirm like a little kid, her stomach doing slow flips with each passing moment. The rejection had been sharp the first time, and by allowing herself to entertain the possibility Katrina hadn't truly meant it, was she just opening herself up to be hurt by it twice? But the alternative was what? Giving up on one of her closest friends without even trying?

Her mind ran through fragments of potential responses. 'No, I didn't.' 'Yes, and I wish you weren't here right now.' 'What do you think? I haven't talked to you for months.' 'I'm sorry.' Katrina looked away, but Bridget kept her eyes on her, trying to make out any clue. Did she look sorry? Guilty? Just because she was struggling to figure out what to say didn't mean she had reconciliation in mind; if they'd meant similar to each other, admitting she really did want to move on would be difficult. And so her hopes were left in an odd middle state, fluctuating between rising and breaking and those extremes being shut down before they could take root.

When Katrina did answer, it first didn't fully make sense. Bridget had been talking about one very specific statement, and it seemed a black or white, yes or no sort of thing. Either she could get her friend back, or she couldn't. It made more sense when she said the rest of her piece. She was referring to what she'd said as a whole, and if, as she said, she cared, then the answer to Bridget's exact question was a no, and that was enough for her tight-lipped expression to tilt upward.

The rest of the things said that day were hurtful, too, but easier to move past. Being called a coward certainly hadn't felt good, and she had been appalled when Katrina talked about the serious risks they faced, their peers hurt and facing death, as if she wasn't all too familiar with that. But when she'd reflected on many of the criticism, she found herself agreeing with Katrina. She was being selfish. It hadn't felt right, her plan to keep her friends tucked safely away and leave everyone else to their fates. It just seemed impossible to try to help everyone, because she was just one little girl who despite trying to be otherwise was still so limited in what she could actually do, so maybe all she could help was the handful of people she couldn't go without. It had been wrong to project that same pessimism on Katrina, who was still willing to try.

Arms still crossed over her, though now for comfort rather than defense, she looked down when the question came back around. Did she mean it? She had already thought about this a lot, spent restless nights picking over her words and trying to figure out where she'd gone wrong, what she should have done differently. Needing only a moment to gather those thoughts, she matched Katrina's quiet tone and talked slowly to hopefully not mess this up again. "I don't think you're an idiot, if it sounded like I meant it like that. You're not dead weight. And I did... kind of mean the hero thing. But only because, like you said, people can die, and that means you too. You probably can save people. I just don't want you to keep putting yourself at risk for them." She paused. "I don't want to lose my friend."

She swallowed the thickness settling in her throat. It was her first time actually verbalizing that fear, partly because it seemed like something that sort of went without saying, partly because she hated even thinking about it. And yes, she'd said friend. Their relationship was still up in the air, but she was willing to hope, and the concern was still there; were something to happen to Katrina today, it would be just as painful as if it had happened when everything was right between them. Was that enough to make up for it, the hurtful words and months of avoidance? She didn't know. She also didn't know what more to say.

The tension in the room had only grown. It was a new kind of apprehension though, it was fueled by guilt. There was a part of Katrina that fully understood that she shared at least half of the blame for the hurt feelings as well as the uncomfortableness. And there wasn’t an easy fix. She couldn’t just slap a smile on her face and make a joke or slip around the discomfort of the situation. It needed to be dealt with and that meant surviving that silence.

Katrina could feel Bridget’s eyes on her, probably trying to read her expression. At least, that’s what Katrina usually was doing if she looked at someone in that way. Either that or it was accusatory and she didn’t want to think about Bridget judging her. The guilt is the main reason why Katrina was avoiding eye contact, she couldn’t bear to look at her best friend as she openly admitted that some of what she had said was true, it felt wrong. The fact that Katrina hated lying just as much as she wanted peace was a painful tug of war inside her.

As Katrina’s admittance that she had meant some of what they had said in that argument aired, she felt Bridget move slightly beside her. Katrina finally braved a look at Bridget’s face to see it in some complicated expression. Katrina’s first note is that she didn’t look mad or hurt, more puzzling. Her arms were still crossed but not angry or defensive. It was Katrina’s turn to have her stomach tie in knots. Everything was sort of pivoted on Bridget’s reaction. This could either be the end with their feud resolved or relit it to a new fire.

Bridget started slowly, at least the contrast between this and their first fight is the issue was the words were coming too fast and it was hard to hold back. But now this meant her words were likely how she was really feeling or what she really meant.

Well, she didn’t mean to call Katrina an idiot, at least she had that going for her. Katrina felt a weight she didn’t realize she’d been hiding lift off of her. Sure, she didn’t really think Bridget had meant it, but she honestly put so much trust into Bridget to begin with that she couldn’t help but feel like the words Bridget said were truth. Bridget also didn’t think Katrina was dead weight. Those words were even more relief.

The next words were a punch in the gut. “I did kind of mean the hero thing” Katrina felt the burn of tears behind her eyes despite herself. She turned away, blinking them away. If anything else she wasn’t going to stoop so low as to give Bridget that satisfaction. ‘Stop trying to be some hero’, ‘Don’t delude yourself, you can’t save them’ the words echoed in her mind again. Bridget continued that she was concerned for Katrina’s safety which is why she didn’t want Katrina to be the ‘hero’ that she already made clear she didn’t think Katrina was. Katrina’s gut twisted painfully as she internalized the words, already very clearly taking it out of context before she could help herself.

Bridget went on about how Katrina could ‘probably’ save people. Katrina heard a good bit of doubt in Bridget’s words. Well, she wasn’t sure if it was actually there or if she was just hearing it but insecurity started to burrow deeper in Katrina, reopening the wound she had nearly finished closing up.

Bridget’s admittance of how she was feeling ended with ‘I don’t want to loose my friend’ and Katrina stopped her internal spiral. Friend. Despite it all Bridget truly did want Katrina as her friend. Katrina was silent a moment, simply debating how to respond and what to say. She did want to be Bridget’s friend, right? That’s what this was all about. But if Bridget had been able to hurt Katrina so deeply once what was to say it wouldn’t happen again. Katrina took so long to build trust in someone and it was so hard to regain it, Katrina knew she was this way but, alas, there was a reason, right?

Making up her mind, Katrina swallowed, “I’m sorry,” She allowed the words to hang in the air a moment. Throughout their entire conversation, she realized neither of them had apologized. They had almost admitted to being wrong but they hadn’t actually apologized. “Our friendship means so much to me. I’m sorry that what I said came out wrong. I didn’t mean to hurt you. At this point it doesn’t matter if I’m right or wrong or any of that I just want to fix whatever I messed up with our friendship. I don’t really have anyone else I’m as close as I am to you and I don’t know how I’m functioning without my best friend,” The words rushed out before Katrina could think them over. She was done with this idiotic feud they had created, it was petty and it was getting in the way of the closest she’d ever been with someone. The last thing she wanted was Bridget not being her friend, Bridget knew things no one else did and although there were still things Katrina was keeping from her, Bridget still knew her more than anyone else did.

“I’m really really sorry,” Katrina said, trying to meet Bridget’s eyes again.

@Katrina Walker

It was probably fortunate she didn't have the courage to meet Katrina's eyes as she commented on past words. Such courage would have been flimsy, easily shattered if she'd seen the redhead's reaction of rapid blinking and reddening eyes to Bridget's admittance the bit about being a hero had not been a mere shot summoned from the void in a moment of conflict. Katrina's shift, movement caught blurrily in her peripheral vision, was enough to inject a short beat into her explanation, but she kept going, eyes on the steady, solid, unflinching floor.

Being the one talking held one anxiety, that of not messing up, and waiting in silence another, this of what the reaction might be and wondering if she should interject with more, if she should have said less. The wait was not so long this time, ended by two simple words. I'm sorry. Such interesting words, hard to say when you truly meant them and easy when it was a lie. An out from consequences, an instinctual apology for mistakes, or something humblingly raw. They had both messed up, and judging by the way this conversation was going, it was almost certainly the latter.

Just those two words would have been enough, and in the pause, Bridget was starting to work up to saying it herself. But then followed a rush of words, boiling down to want for a friend back because some argument really, really wasn't worth this. It occurred to Bridget, listening to the desperation, the note of not being sure how she was functioning, that Katrina might not have other good friends like Bridget did. Going without the Gryffindor had sucked, but she still had Thora, Illowy, and Flash. Katrina of course had other people she was familiar with, liked being around. That wasn't necessarily the same. You could be friendly with people without them knowing much about you. She hadn't spent the last two months of the school year more or less alone, had she?

Saying, finally, that she was really, really sorry, Katrina had finished. They were taking turns, and now it was Bridget's. Two words, how hard could it be? But she wanted to mean them, and that took a little more consideration. She was sorry. That they'd gotten here, that their friendship had suffered, that her words had hurt her friend. She felt horrible thinking about how Katrina might have been without someone to confide in since May. Still, some days she didn't feel so guilty, rather frustrated at Katrina for escalating what was, at worst, a poorly-worded invitation. The things said, pre-meditated or not, were hurtful. And as much as she wanted, apologizing was not going to magically get back what their friendship had been, as much as she wished it would.

Yet this had to be a step in the right direction, so why wouldn't she take it? "I'm sorry, too." Gaze rising from the floor, she cautiously met Katrina's hazel eyes, smiling a tight-lipped smile; they were going to be okay. Okay but... now what? She glanced as inconspicuously as she could at her watch. Yeah, there was a lot of time left until the hour was up. And apologies were a start, but not exactly the equivalent of a repaired, functioning friendship. Finally deciding to join Katrina on her bed, she drummed her fingers on her knee, hoping the movement would buy her some time and she grasped around for something to talk about. She landed on the last thing they'd had a conversation about before this all fell apart. "So. Have you made any more wand holsters?"

The silence that ensued after Katrina’s rushed apology were even more gut-wrenching than the previous silences. This being, there was nothing more she could do. If Bridget decided that despite it all she wasn’t ready to accept an apology or to do something to regain their friendship, there was nothing more Katrina could do. The best decision at that point would be to honor Bridget’s choice and leave her be, move on without Bridget in her life anymore. That thought was one of her deepest fears. To know that her relationships with her friends didn’t just fizzle out (which admittedly was horrible as it was), but rather know that it was partially your fault a friendship came to an end.

But Bridget had called her a friend. That had to mean something. If she was still considering Katrina her friend, there was no way she could turn back on Katrina, right? Unless she had said the word ‘friend’ in the ‘someone I talk to’ way, rather than the ‘someone I choose to associate myself with’ way. But, no, years of a friendship doesn’t just end up being the first option. At least, to the extent of Katrina’s knowledge that wasn’t how it worked.

Bridget shifted her gaze, the movement of her head catching Katrina’s eyes. There was a brief moment of eye contact and Bridget reciprocated the apology. She even went the length of offering a smile. A smile that offered more than just a simple apology. A desire to continue their relationship. To stop avoiding one another. To stop dwelling on one bad fight that happened months ago. It was a peace offering. Katrina was too afraid a matching smile would seem to forced so she rather nodded her head knowingly, attempting to express the reciprocated feelings in any way possible.

Now that they had addressed the most pressing matter on what seemed to be both of their minds, there was a lull in what to do. Katrina ran her fingers over the teal streak in her hair, glancing towards her door to make sure Liam wasn’t snooping. Bridget finally took a seat on the bed and that little motion cemented Katrina’s faith that it was time to move on.

Bridget thankfully came to the rescue breaking the silence by offering up a completely different topic. In fact, the exact one they ended on prior to the fight. Wand holsters. “I’ve made a good deal of them sewn into most of my outfits,” Katrina nodded to herself, trying to find more words to say, “I never did sell them though. The idea just never came to be I guess,”

Something to say, something to say… Katrina bit her lip trying to think of a topic. Wands, spells, duelling? Bridget and her both dueled last year. “So, you planning to duel again this year?” Yes, that was good. Some even ground.

Katrina still felt her tensions running high, but as time went on they began to settle. It was almost like she had been tense for the last few months and at last she’d been able to relax but because she’d been tense for so long it hurt and ached to stop, but also had overwhelming relief. As it continued, she would be stronger, and the pain would fade.