Hugo turned the quill over in his hand, ink dripping onto the parchment in dark blue splotches. In the corner, his older sister Rose sat immersed in the latest issue of Quidditch Quarterly, her feet propped up on the table. Hugo sighed and wiped the latest splotches up with his sleeve. When Rose didn't look up from her magazine, he sighed again, this time loudly and over-pronounced. He paused, expectantly.
"You alright?" asked Rose, not looking up from her magazine.
"Oh yeah. I'm fine. Totally fine," said Hugo.
"Good," Rose answered. She licked her finger and turned the page with interest.
"Actually…"
"Go on, then," she said, still not looking up.
"Well, I'm working on a letter…and I don't know where to start."
"Letters usually begin with a salutation," said Rose.
"A salu-what?"
"You know, a 'Dear So-and-so…Hello, old chap…Attention, Mister whoever…that sort of thing."
"Right," said Hugo, turning back to the empty page on his desk. Rose turned the page in her magazine, landing on an article about their Aunt Ginny, one she'd read before. She smiled at the photo as it moved-Ginny Weasley on her broom, gliding in circles and catching the golden snitch in her hand. Her brother let out a few more groans and sighs of frustration. Her interest peaked, she closed the Quidditch Quarterly set it down on the table.
"Who are you writing to, then?" she asked, standing. She stretched her arms overhead and gently massaged her shoulder, which was stiff from both sitting so long and from an old Quidditch injury.
"Just…a friend."
"You have friends?" she joked, standing behind him.
"Shut up." Hugo moved to punch Rose's arm, but she was far too agile. She sensed that behind the playfulness, Hugo simply wasn't having it today. She gentled.
"Seriously. Let me help you," she said, drawing up a chair to sit by him.
It was what he wanted. Why was he now so nervous to let her in? They were fairly close, as siblings went, and he didn't embarrass easily, despite her merciless teasing. He gave her a fair share of it himself, most days.
"So," said Hugo, dipping the quill in the ink again, "there's this girl…"
"Ugh," said Rose, making a fake vomit sound in her throat. She stuck her tongue out in mock disgust.
"Are you going to help or not?" Hugo glared at his sister.
"Oh, of course I am," she said. She leaned over the desk to check on his progress. "Blimey, you've got nothing."
"Rub it in, will you…"
"Ok, so. Start with, 'Dear…" Hugo traced the word on the parchment, then looked up at Rose, waiting for the next thing.
"What's her name?"
"Maysie," said Hugo, turning pink. He said it like it was the most beautiful word he'd ever uttered. Rose scrunched up her face, thinking hard whether she knew anyone named Maysie.
"Someone from Hogwarts?" she asked, not coming up with anyone. And she was a Prefect, she knew most of the students by name. A difficult task to be sure, but one she prided herself on. She may or may not have used a memorization charm.
"Well, not exactly…" Hugo trailed off.
"Yes or no?" asked Rose.
"That'll be a no, then." Hugo looked down, unable to meet his sister's eye.
"A muggle?! But that's brilliant!"
"Shh!," said Hugo, glancing around, suddenly paranoid.
"No one's home, silly. And even if they were, you know mum and dad wouldn't mind."
"I don't want them to know that I like anyone," said Hugo. "It's weird. They still think of me as the baby of the family. "
"Because you are. But don't worry, you're secret's safe with me, little brother," said Rose with a grin.
"You look a bit too much like Uncle George when you say that," said Hugo.
"Thank you," said Rose. "I choose to see that as a compliment. So, does this girl know you're…"
"Magic?" Hugo ventured.
"A little git?" Rose finished, mussing his brown hair.
"Am not! No, of course she doesn't know I'm a… wizard. That's why I'm at such a loss. What am I supposed to say to her?"
Rose smirked, folding her arms in front of her.
"What?" begged Hugo.
"Only that…well, as a muggle, wouldn't she find it strange to receive a hand-written letter at all, let alone one on parchment, with our family seal in wax, delivered by owl? It makes the Grangers giddy with delight, but…"
"I was going to send it by Muggle post," said Hugo, looking affronted. "Oh, you're right. It's hopeless!" Hugo buried his head in his hands.
"No," said Rose, "not hopeless. You just need a different approach. I don't think Muggles go in for the hand-written letter much these days. Too formal. It's odd, I know, but, they've got their methods." Hugo scowled and picked up his blank parchment, crumpling it in his hands.
"Don't waste perfectly good parchment," said Rose. Hugo thought she reminded of him way too much of mum when she said that. She took it from him and smoothed it down with her hands, then put it back in the drawer.
"Let's see," she mused, crossing to the sofa. "I dare say, times have changed since our parents were young, but I think I recall dad mentioning that he used to call mum up on the telephone every summer. He had no idea how to use it properly, but he tried, anyway. I think they still have those, telephones, I mean."
"You mean like a call?"
"Yeah. We talk to Grandma and Granddad on their cells. I think technically they are a kind of telephone.."
"No way, Rose. I can't make a phone call. That's so…personal. Besides, I don't have her numbers."
"You mean number."
"Whatever." Rose paced the length of the living room, hoping for an idea. Grandpa Weasley had all kinds of muggle items in a sort of collection. She tried to think of whether this included a telephone book or two. But then she remembered something mum had said about phone books being obsolete these days.
"Well, you can't make a call without the number, that's true. So, you'll have to ask her for it."
"Ask her? But…you're suggesting…I'd have to talk to her."
"I think if you'd like a relationship with her, talking is a good place to start," said Rose, amused.
"Relationship? Blimey, Rose I'm only thirteen."
"Dad always said he knew by thirteen that mum was the only woman for him."
"That's not the way she tells it."
"Well, both of them change the details so many times, I don't know what's true and what's not. But who cares? The point is, you never know. It's romantic." Hugo gulped. His parents love story really did put the pressure on, didn't it? Not to mention Uncle Harry and Aunt Ginny, among other prominent relatives. Was a bloke really meant to find the love of his life at such a tender age. He'd only just been allowed to play Quidditch in the yard with Rose last summer. Granted, Rose was something of a prodigy, and his parents didn't want to see him discouraged, but still…how in the world had they figured it all out so quickly?
"It must have come naturally to them, this stuff," said Hugo, looking torn between admiration and disgust.
"I doubt it," said Rose with a laugh. "It sounds good now, in theory…but I think they must have been just as lost as you are."