These characters belong to J.K. Rowling.

Chapter Eight: Inspiration

Time stood still when Amelia was in the greenhouses. They were a temporary safe haven for her from the world. Plus, Neville was there and he was quickly raising up to be her closest companion.

The snow added extra work for her but she didn't mind. She loved caring for the plants, covering them with warm blankets or placing them under heaters.

Richard had grown very used to Hogwarts. He even enjoyed wandering around the common room on his own, finding small niches to curl up in and take a nap.

In many respects, Amelia found he acted just like a cat without all the shedding. He spent most of the day on his own but he always ended up leaping onto Amelia's bed at night to nuzzle himself into her arms. Richard was a great comfort to her.

Late in January, Professor Sprout came bustling in with Madame Pomfrey. Neville ad Amelia looked up, somewhat concerned. Had there been another attack?

"I'm afraid the Mandrakes aren't mature enough, Poppy. I've got my hands full with my classes. Any extra time I have is dedicated to grading papers or caring for my house."

The nurse sighed, "I'm getting a lot of pressure from the senators and the Minister to get those children unpetrified. I can't brush them off. Is there any chance they could be ready soon?"

"The soonest I can offer is at the end of April. And even then, you'd have to brew the bloody potion, pardon my language."

"Professor Sprout." Neville piped up, uncomfortably. "Do you need help? I'm sure Amelia and I could make it easier on you. We could do anything."

"I appreciate that, Mr. Longbottom. But I'm sure you and Miss Malfoy have better things to do more important classes to study for."

"No, I don't." Amelia said suddenly. "I have absolutely nothing."

Madame Pomfrey and Professor Sprout looked at each other before smiling and agreeing to their offer. Amelia was glad to help, to ease the heavy load on her favorite teacher's shoulders and to spend more time in the greenhouses with Neville.

When Amelia finally left the greenhouse, the sky had completely darkened. Amelia and Neville walked happily to the Great Hall where dinner was already waiting for them.

"That was fun." Amelia said.

"Who knew there was so much to Herbology?" Neville said, awe in his voice. His eyes were wide, which made Amelia want to laugh. "That's it."

"That's what?"

"I've decided what I'd like to do. When I graduate, I mean. I'd like to become the Herbology teacher. I didn't realize how much I enjoyed it and enjoyed learning and interacting with people in the greenhouses and the plants. I have you to thank, partially. Teaching you what I know about Herbology was just a reminder of what I love."

Amelia was blushing furiously. "Wow! That's really great, Neville. I'm glad."

Neville smiled down at her. Then, something seemed to dawn on him. "Did you get my gift? I sent it but I wasn't sure you'd get it."

"I got it." Amelia confirmed.

"And?" It amused her how hopeful he was. He was looking at her with wide eyes and a kind smile.

"I love it. I finished it in a day and a half." Amelia raved, "Thank you, Nev."

She froze. She had accidentally let her secret nickname for him slip.

"What?" He replied, laughing. "Is that what you call me?"

"No." Her face was flaming. Neville found it hilarious.

"I don't mind. I've never had a nickname before."

"It's dumb."

"No it's not. We're friends so we're allowed to have nicknames for each other. Would it make you feel better if I made one for you?"

Amelia nodded.

"Okay…like what?"

Amelia's face scrunched up. "Not Melia. My brother calls me that."

"Then that's a no. What about Mel? Short and simple."

"I like it." Amelia said, smiling. It's nice."

"I'm glad we could come to this decision. So, Mel, would you like to sit at the Gryffindor table tonight? I'm sure the others wouldn't mind."

"Th-that's alright. I think Daniella wanted to talk to me about something anyway."

Neville didn't see through her fib. "Okay, I'll see you tomorrow, then." He said, as he walked over to his friends.

Amelia stood in the doorway, watching him for just a moment before walking to the Hufflepuff table.

"There you are!" Daniella cried, "We were getting worried."

"Nothing to worry about." Amelia said with finality, "Just running a bit behind."

The other girls looked at each other in confusion before Violet said, "What's wrong?"

"What do you mean?"

"You're cheerful? You're never cheerful. Only mopey and somber."

"I am not."

"Yes, you are." The girls said together.

Amelia frowned and ignored them for the rest of dinner, looking only at her plate of delicious food.

The other girls found this most amusing and attempted to get her to break her ow f silence and standoffishness.

It wasn't until after dinner and right before she climbed into bed that they finally attacked her, pnning her onto the bed and tickling her sides.

Amelia couldn't help her wild giggles, a sound no one in the room had ever heard before.

"Wow!" Carmen said, "That's a sound I've ever heard before."

Amelia blushed, "Sorry, is it terrible?"

"No, it's great!" Joyce said, "It's always nice to have a good laugh and you've got one."

Amelia was too embarrassed to say anything else so she nodded sheepishly, straightened her pajamas and climbed into bed. When the curtains had been drawn around her, she let out a shaky breath and smiled.

The following night, she was bed-ridden because she was nearing the end of Pride and Prejudice again, this being the second time she read it.

She felt herself tear up at the final words. These tears were far from sad, they were hopeful tears. Maybe one day, she would find a love as pure and passionate as Elizabeth and Mr. Darcy's.

When the book was complete, she closed it feeling satisfied, yet strangely incomplete, as if there was something she wanted to say but she just couldn't figure out how.

Suddenly, she remembered the diary that Draco had given her for Christmas. She pulled it out of her night stand and opened it. She was slightly disappointed in herself when she saw no writing in it whatsoever.

Taking one of her more beat-up quills, Amelia dipped it in ink and began writing. Her words were far from her own story, however, She knew that would make for a boring tale. These were her own imaginings, things she created in her mind.

Everything came out all at once and before she knew it, the clock was striking 1 AM and she had filled ten pages with her story.

Amelia rubbed her eyes sleepily and set the book aside, deciding not to read a word until the next day which she was sane.

Still, that night, as she dreamt, she saw visions of the story she had begun to create and her characters becoming more alive and more real with each unforgiving scene.

In the morning, when her head was clear, Amelia picked up the notebook and looked over her words. Some of it was illegible, mere scribbles from hurried writing, but most of it she could understand.

Her cheeks flushed as she realized that this was not the intended use for the notebook. Draco had wanted her to use it as a diary, something she could confide in without fear of judgement. She wanted to tear out the pages she had used to entertain a silly notion on and start from scratch. He wouldn't have to know that anything else had ever been in the notebook.

But why?

A voice in her head whispered this to her.

Draco doesn't need to know everything about you. You are allowed to have secrets. There's nothing wrong with indulging in something that makes you happy.

The thought made Amelia's palms sweat. She had never kept a secret before. Even when she was young and had attempted to do something mischievous with her brother, their parents had caught them because her face had given it away.

But this was different. This was Draco. He trusted her. And she, him. Unless she did something truly unforgiveable, he wouldn't go to their father over something she did. He only told him about Neville because he was concerned. Surely, he wouldn't tell him about a story.

Amelia was still nervous as she set the notebook aside, leaving it as is. Her head was whirling and her stomach was growling. The other girls had already gone down to breakfast. She quickly got dressed in uniform and packed her school bag with the proper materials.

She was just about to leave the room when she stopped. Something didn't feel right. Her bag felt empty. She looked down at it before looking back over at her notebook. It sat there on her nightstand, waiting to be picked up by any of her room mates.

Amelia quickly picked it up and stuffed it into her bag. No one was going to read her writing. Not for a long time. Maybe not ever.