She didn't want to be on this stupid train. Not again. She didn't want to be going back to Hogwarts, not so soon, and she didn't want to face the harsh realities of schoolwork. But, her signature fake smile was plastered on, and it was the least she could do for her mom and dad as she boarded.

The hug she gave her mom was quick and fleeting, along with false promises that she would write soon. The hug she gave her dad was long, lingering, and reluctant- and awkward, considering she had to bend over quite a bit to embrace him in his wheelchair. Her frame was thinner, if that was even possible, although it was more due to her height more than anything- too tall to be a second year, she could easily fit in with most of the fourth and fifth years, if needed.

Quick kisses were exchanged, wishes of good luck and good tidings were bestowed, and last gifts were pressed into palms of hands. Without even realizing it, the redhead found herself traipsing down the long hall of the carriages, trying to find a compartment. She saw none of her friends, no familiar faces. This girl, in short, was a mess.

Everything, every passing day that flew by, had begun to blur together into some sort of awful, mismatched dream. Nothing made sense anymore, although she wasn't quite sure she wanted it to. Her mom was... pregnant? Her dad was in London, for some reason, with Thomas? Thomas was, well, still Thomas? Thomas was, well, in London? 

Ami, herself, had new burns, new scars, new scrapes, as well as short, unbelievably short hair. It was getting longer now, nearly shoulder-length, but it was still far too short for her liking. She no longer had her shield to hide behind, her source of confidence.

Was that someone else in the compartment she had just entered? Oh, blast it all, they wouldn't mind, right? Everyone at Hogwarts was so damn nice all the time, surely, this kid wouldn't be any different... right? Maybe? "Hey. If you don't mind, I'mma crash here." At least one thing remained the same- the sharp, harsh cutting of her American accent, somehow persevering against the waves of the British accents surrounding her. How sad it was that the only reliable constant in her life was her own voice- how self-centered did that sound?

Wait wait wait, reevaluate, here. Turns out, the kid was drop-dead gorgeous- or, at least in her opinion. Dark eyes that looked like they could see into your soul, a sharp jawline that you could cut yourself slapping. A sense of maturity that came from being the eldest sibling, from being studious. Freezing in place, suddenly fiercely aware of her own disheveled appearance, she twinkled her fingers and crooked an eyebrow in some sort of a hello.

Dropping her bag on the floor, she collapsed onto the seat across from the kid, kicking her legs out in front of her, taking up the whole bench with her lanky limbs. Toying with the silver band around her index finger, her gaze would slowly, analytically, examine the creature sitting across from her, the stare cold and emotionless. Her lips would remain unparted, and no words would be on the tip of her tongue.

Her gaze said it all- in some sort of scientist-versus-specimen way, he fascinated her.

    'I'll see you later, MUM!!'..... 'I'll miss you, Darling!!' Along those lines, that's all that was spoken from these ongoing families. They were heartfelt, passionate partings from the child to the parents or parent. Clusters of diverse backgrounds found under this stony building. Bellamy was interested to see that type of thing happen to him. He wanted to grasp the feeling of the enduring bond that jubilant families extended on to one another.


     Although this would be problematic for him to experience since he constantly entered the train early without muttering a single word to his family. For the moment, without a thought in his mind, Bellamy left his little sister (Valerie) to be the lone child who was caring enough to share her goodbyes with their mother, their father being in the back merely waving from a distance. He barely bothered to make a glance towards them. Hollowing rings of the final horn, puffs of vapor appearing from the front that obscured the locomotive's body from his perspective as Bellamy stared forward in from his window.

     Perching his fully flexed fist against his right cheek, He waits impatiently waits for the departure. The slight hints of vibrations that rocked his compartment kept his mind occupied as he moved stayed within his cabin. The minor glances from the cabin door to the window seemed to suffice as seconds passed but it didn't help when his sister stopped by to express a few words to him. "QUE DIABLE Bellamy!!?" The splash of her being flustered and the modest amounts of anger filled her vocals as she fired those words at him, "Yea, I know, I know." Admitting his lapse of judgment when he boarded without them was ill-mannered for him to do to his Mother, she didn't deserve that, not at all. "Tu n'as pas dit au revoir à Maman?!!" .... "I know Dads there but, jeezz?" The crippling feeling of his mistake left the room empty of words, which in turn made Bellamy's sister just return to her waiting friends, in her compartment.

         When the silence of the room was the only thing left, Bellamy struck his armrest in protest for the continuance of sound, "Je suis si bête!". This toxic poison that he had engrossed onto his image of his father was potent and vile. 'Mon sanctuaire' was what looped continuously in his head, when he hastily boarded the train. He needed to gain the most distance he could get from him, even Summer Camp in a way represent a part of his home, though when it was time to come to his substantial home, He was certain that the people waiting for him to come home weren't going to be happy parents, especially his father. Bellamy practically ditched his own family during half of Summer just to avoid coming back to that house. Although once again, Bellamy goes a vast distance away from his parents to comeback to the stony castle that he labels home.

        He felted the gaining of the wood against his index finger as he glided over the grooved wooden frame, it gave this slight resistance, a sticky grip that felt crummy to the glide. It was the given assumption that the previous students had no regard to what they touched as they most likely ate away on whatever they bought from the trolley that came around; botched. When he had the feeling that train would leave promptly, he wanted to close his cabin's door so the silence would be filled with the loud thumps of the train cars moving over the railway's joints but before he could make a muscle a clamorous girl carrying her bags in blocked his way. Her unexpected appearance surprised him as he didn’t think many would go all this way to this part of the cart. Scaling down from head to toe she fit the common talker that he would so avidly avoid. As a result, he thought he could get away with the fact that he spoke French. “Ahh, Mon anglais n'est pas très bon....ughh sorry?”

Translations:
 
QUE DIABLE = WHAT THE HELL
Tu n'as pas dit au revoir à Maman?!! = You did not say goodbye to Mom!??
Je suis si bête! = I am so stupid!
Mon sanctuaire =  My  sanctuary (Thoughts)
Mon anglais n'est pas très bon = My english is not very good

Her nose crinkled at the French flowing out of his mouth. She didn't speak the language, but she could definitely identify that it was French- what other language sounded as beautiful? Possibly Italian, but that was entirely beside the point. Anglase, or whatever he had said, would obviously mean English- it was a cognate, like when you said inglés in Spanish.

She watched his mouth move, forming consonants and syllables with grace and ease. He was clearly somewhat fluent, which impressed her; French came naturally to him, obviously, for him to have just up and splurted out a sentence like that with such ease and grace. 

Well, two could play at that bilingual game. It was rather mean to do so, and yet, delightfully fun at the same time. Honestly, she just couldn't help herself- she had been speaking Spanish with Thomas over the summer when they hadn't wanted her parents to overhear them. "Perdón, perdón," she said smoothly, blinking slowly at the closed-off figure in front of her. "Usted habla francés, ¿verdad? Lo siento, no hablo ese idioma- solo hablo un poco- ah, pues... no, no poco... hablo español, e inglés." 

There was no way that he didn't know at least a little bit of English- he was, quite obviously, at least slightly older than a first year, meaning that he had to have at least spent nine months in England, speaking English. Thus, being immersed in such an English-oriented environment, even if he wasn't fluent in English, he would've improved by now, enough to pass his classes and to communicate with the teachers. After all, why else would you go to school but learn from people older and wiser than yourself?

With a far less menacing smile than before, she grinned at the lanky figure sitting across from her. He had a face that was elegant and beautiful, a face much better than her own. Tugging on the ends of her hair self-consciously, she met his eyes with her own, a question etched into her pupils. Who are you, and who gave you the right to be so beautiful?

   At first, Bellamy spiked or tensed up when he saw the girl speak in another language knowingly something close to his language. He didn't occur to him at the time to know if the girl knew another language entirely other than English itself. However, Bellamy knew it wasn't his homelands language she was speaking in. As when he listened to how she pronounced certain words as to 'perdón' instead of pardon, it was clear that it was another language. The majority of the words she spoke were unknown to him for most of them were different forms of the words that would be different in his language. He could only nitpick from the particular words that were relatively in the same ballpark as French. "Ehhhh... in- gless ? Eeett.... eS-Pañ.. oL....?? Donc, vous êtes un orateur espagnol et anglais???" He wasn't sure what to do at this point. He wanted to avoid talking to her as much as possible. Despite that they were stuck together being that she was in the cabin now with Bellamy, he could no longer take short glances at the girl, she practically had his complete attention.

     Taking a notice to the girl's appearance more, she was admittedlyyy... appealing. The boy struggled not breaking focus from her as she continued to stare at him, smiling. She was practically sneering at the boy as she stayed focused on him. He didn't know if his little act was convincing the girl. It was a gamble to be fair. The likely hood of him not knowing a drop of english is irrational to where he was going. He entrapped himself in this situation that made him look dumb, this stumped him. Bellamy just wished now he just moved out of the cabin he picked then to stay in it. Noticing she was fiddling with her gleaming red hair. Bellamy followed the strand that led up to the girl's face again, connecting with her eyes.

      They were not as dark as his eyes but they were brown. The rich chocolate brown that intensified in the sunlight was captivating to gaze into. When he finally took a long stare at her. Below those eyes, he noticed the smile, she gave with those lips of her's for they were undeniably noticeable. Glancing out the window framed cabin door. Bellamy's eyes found themselves looking out into the carts other windows in the hallway, tracking all of the trees that past his eyes. Briefly in those moments of him just being quiet, he put an end to the act he poorly constructed. "Hhhhhhh... I.... I speak fluently in English." His resistance was dimming as he was quickly burnout. The whole things he had going at home withered his defences. The mental drain he felt about his family made him succumb too easily.    Within those seconds after he stared out the window, he looked back towards the girl faintly grinning, "Bellamy.. Orvelle.. Landon... That is my name." Throwing his left leg over the right, perching his head upon his hands that rested on his legs, Bellamy smirked towards the red locked girl. "sO! Who are you?"

Translations:

Donc, vous êtes un orateur espagnol et anglais??? = So, you are a Spanish and English speaker ???

Ami had to stifle a laugh as the boy attempted to imitate her Spanish, although a look cast towards his face made her sober up immediately. There was something about him that made her want to earn his favor, to impress him- perhaps it was just the way his mouth curved when he spoke, or how he seemed so much older than she was, like he had lightyears of wisdom and experience under his metaphorical belt. It was unfair, the way some people just seemed to have their lives together, and Ami envied them for it. He seemed to give up at trying to copy her words (thank god for that, they were worse than nails on a chalkboard) and spluttered out a question in French.

She fell silent, waiting for either a translation or a white flag- and, to her surprise, she got the surrendering English words falling from the boy's mouth, but not before the two of them seemed to analyze the other almost microscopically. As she tried to suck his soul out of him using just her eyes, the French boy seemed to want to beam her through with laser beams, then to toss whatever charred remains were left out the window, never to be dealt with ever again.

At least she could say that she made an impression on him.

"Bellamy... Orvelle... Landon..." she said slowly, mimicking the way he had hesitantly spat out his name before with a smirk mirroring his. It was long, strange, and seemed kind of elitist, but she expected something of the sort for someone who spoke both French and English fluently. Her Spanish was good, but she wouldn't count it as anything close to being fluent, so his complete bilingual-ness made her arms prickly with envy.

He inquired after her own name, as was expected, and her smile grew as she only sputtered out, "My name is Ami." AH-mee, not AY-mee, as her name seemed to spell out. "Es un placer conocerte." It was her last sentence she would speak in Spanish for the rest of the train ride, carrying a note of finality to it. "It's nice to meet you," she added as translation, if only for his benefit.

An uncomfortable silence hung in the air between them, and Ami realized that for the first time in a while, she didn't know what to say. Normally, she was bursting with words and thoughts, eager to share them with the world, no matter if the world wanted to listen or not. In front of Bellamy, however... suddenly, everything she had ever said seemed childish in comparison to his beautiful French and regal expression. Thus, he would have to make the next move. Her hands, twitching as she itched for something to do with them, continued tugging on the ends of her hair as her eyes met Bellamy's, both of them clearly uncomfortable with the situation they had found themselves thrown into.

Oh well.