Aleks carefully packed the Serbian Bajadera—a layered sweet—into the box. Beside it, he placed the Licitarska Srca, which was red-decorated gingerbread heart with Aiden’s name and birthdate written across it in white sugary script. The last addition was the chestnut. Gently, he rested it atop the heart and inspected his handiwork. There wasn’t much room left in the box, and he couldn’t afford to ship a larger one. It will have to do, he thought, as all things. Only the card was missing now. It lay ready to be written on, freshly bought and waiting beside him on the counter, the one placed specifically at the center of the post office for finishing last-minute notes, addresses and signatures on documents. “Are you sure you want to spend your birthday money on a package?” asked Mrs. Morris in a gentle voice, Aleks’s neighbor. The elderly half-blood witch had kindly come with him to the shop, offering her help with the shipment. Unbeknownst to her, the young Slytherin knew this place better than he should. He at least spent once a week at the post office, helping his mother with understanding English documents. Still, while Aleks had mailed things through public post before, it never was something private, and never without the tedious weight of paperwork behind it. “Yes,” he replied—quieter than he usually was but kept the confidence in his voice. With a thoughtful look, he reached for the quill resting in a stand beside him. It was frayed and blotched with ink in that particular way only a public-use quill, handled by hundreds of witches and wizards a week, could be. “I’m sure. I guess… I’m gifting myself a chance at making a friend.” Mrs. Morris furrowed her wrinkled brow. Aleks didn’t need to look up to hear it in her voice as she reckoned “Well, if you’re sure.” Aleks nodded. He didn’t want to seem pathetic, spending his birthday money on a shot in the dark—but the chance mattered more to him than his pride. Aiden felt like a little ticket to freedom, like having him as a friend might mean seeing more of the world than bleak grey offices and the watchful eyes of stern adults. In his best handwriting, Aleks tried to drag the scratchy quill across the card’s surface. He prayed to whatever deity was listening, that no blotch of ink would gather: Dear Aiden, You are 12 now, and this means you started your 13th year on earth. I hope you have a wonderfull time and that you are celebrating this milestone with a lots of fun and care. I wish you lots and lots of happiness, health and success, also for the next year aheat and all those months at Hogwarts! I don‘t know what things you like, we did not get to talk lots. So I packed some Serbian candy for you to try and a chestnut. Chestnuts stand for good luck!I hope it brings you some. Happy Birthday! - Aleks (from the bed next to yours, in case you forgot) With a more critical gaze than what usually rested in his blue eyes, he scanned his handwriting and the content of the message. He hoped there were no spelling mistakes—but he wasn’t feeling all too confident in his mind. Slowly, an expression of such stern concentration settled across his face that Mrs. Morris placed her bony hand on his shoulder and, with a gentle pat, assured him it looked absolutely lovely. Aleks closed the card and tucked it gently on top of the package’s contents. As he did, he exhaled the question that had been burning at the back of his mind since buying the sweets. “What if he thinks it’s stupid?” Or rather, what if Aiden thought he was stupid? For a moment, Aleks wanted nothing more than to scoop the box under his arm and bolt straight out of the shop. Mrs. Morris must have sensed it, because the neighbor, and once his babysitter, gave him a stubbornly affectionate smile. “Don’t say such things, Aleksandar. Only a cruel child would think that about a gift, he is surely not that.” By now, the air in the shop felt heavier, almost too stuffy for his taste. Aleks folded the flaps of the package shut. From the corner of his eye, he gave Mrs. Morris a small smile—one which barely reached the worry lingering in his gaze. He had to agree with her: Aiden surely wasn’t one of those kids! He just didn’t seem like it, even if most of what Aleks remembered were those eternally rolling green eyes. The memory sent a horrible thought spiraling into his mind: that beautiful face opening the box, only to roll his eyes at it. Maybe he’d take out the chestnut and throw it away first thing? Aleks’s fingers froze mid-motion as he hovered over the box, about to seal it. That’s when Mrs. Morris slapped the pre-cut tape down onto the opening with firm finality. “There! It’s going out like this. And it’s going to be wonderful.” The young Slytherin gasped. His head snapped toward the old woman, mouth agape, just as she now stood beside him with a stubborn grin. “If you don’t get a move on, the shop’s going to close,” she said pointedly. “I didn’t crawl all the way here at snail pace just for you to chicken out!” Aleks paled. Right before actually sending it, his courage wanted to bolt—just like all the nice things in life seemed to do: sweet unfamiliar dogs, alley cats, and squirrels. Still, at her urging, he pulled himself together. With tense shoulders and quiet movements, he lifted the sealed package from the counter and carried it over to the front, where he gave the post clerk the collection address. Aiden had handed it to him before Christmas break, preferring it over sharing his real address. Aleks could understand it, especially after Aiden had asked if he was wanting to send him a stink bomb. Once the parcel was on the way and his wallet yet again empty, at least he went home with high hopes of having planted a positive seed.

Interaction: @Aiden Sinclair ──────────── Speech: #84319f 26-28/12/2024 Blablala-Whale-Song-Singing-Dominance-Asserting