These characters belong to J.K. Rowling.
Chapter Nine: Incidents
Quidditch did not interest Amelia at all. She found no enjoyment in watching people fly around on brooms, throwing things at each other and getting hurt almost every time. Most of the time, she avoided matches by reading in the dormitory.
However, this time was different. Today, her father was coming with the other senators to discuss the current problematic situation that was raging within the school now. Amelia knew that if she wasn't seen in the pitch with the rest of the students, her father would start asking questions.
She joined her classmates on their long walk to the Quidditch pitch. Everyone was in a generally good mood, save for Joyce who had received word that her canary back at home had died just the other day. They were almost there when they were stopped by Professor McGonagall, who seemed on edge.
"The match has been cancelled. Please return to your dormitories at once so your Head of House can talk to you."
Her words put them all in a sour mood. Amelia was worried. If the match was cancelled, had there been another attack? If so, who was unfortunate enough to receive the blow this time?
Daniella and the other girls ran farther ahead of her. They seemed to have forgotten about her completely. Amelia had almost made it to the common room when she ran into Neville.
"Mel! Aren't you going to the match?"
"Didn't you hear?" She asked, "It was cancelled. Professor McGonagall wants everyone back in their proper dormitories."
Neville's face reddened, "My dormitory is half way across the school. I don't want to get in trouble. Do you think I'd be allowed to stay in Hufflepuff's until the coast is clear."
Amelia wasn't sure the coast would ever be clear but she smiled, "Sure. I don't think anyone would mind."
He followed after her the rest of the way to the dorm. He seemed surprised when she merely knocked a simple rhythm and the door swung open. Not many people turned to look her way, and the few that did glanced at Neville before continuing their conversations.
"This is far different from the Gryffindor common room." Neville said quietly.
"How so?" She asked, curiously.
He shrugged, "I'm not sure. It's not as warm, I suppose. Darker."
"I wouldn't know."
"What do you do for fun in here? Most people in Gryffindor play chess or work on homework together."
"That's not much different from what goes on in here. Perhaps a bit more socialization. I tend to stay in my bed, though. I'm not one to carry a conversation."
"I know." Neville said, looking down at his hands. "Do your roommates talk to you?"
"Sometimes. Daniella talks to me the most. She's really my only friend in Hufflepuff, besides I guess Jude. He was assigned to answer any questions I had but so far he hasn't been very helpful." Amelia felt uncomfortable talking about people who could have been standing right behind her. What if she hurt their feelings?
He looked concerned, "Are you telling me the only friends you have are me and Daniella?"
"Does Draco count?"
"No, he's your brother. Besides, I've never seen you talk to him."
"Sometimes I do. He's more concerned with his friends. I don't try to force him to comfort me. That's not the way we work."
"Still, if I had a sister, I would talk to her and make her feel welcome. It's not fair that he ditched you."
Amelia blushed, "He didn't really. I just didn't want him to feel obligated to be with me. I can take care of myself."
Before Neville could say anything, Professor Sprout walked into the common room, a stressed look on her face. "Alright, I might as well get right to it. There's been another attack, two I should say. It's very likely the school will close down unless the culprit is found. Until that happens, there will be very strict rules regarding time spent in the corridors. Teachers will be escorting you to your next classes and the Great Hall for meals. Once the day is over, everyone is to stay in the common room, no exceptions. Everyone's got that, I suppose."
"Professor?" Jude asked from across the room, "Do the teachers have any idea what's causing the petrifications."
"Not at all. And I don't think we want to find out." Professor Sprout huffed loudly, then left the common room.
Neville wrung the edge of his sleeve nervously, "How am I going to get back to the common room?"
"I guess you'll have to stay here for tonight." Amelia said, "The couches really are quite comfortable, if you don't mind that. If you do, I think there might be a spare bed or two upstairs."
Ernie Macmillan came up to Neville and grinned, "Hey there, Longbottom, what are you doing here?"
"I was talking to Amelia outside your common room when I got the news. I'm stuck here until morning now."
Ernie laughed, "Well that's alright. You can use Justin's bed upstairs. He's not using it, isn't he."
Neville nodded, "Great. Thanks, Ernie." He turned back to Amelia, "I'd better go. Good night."
"Night." Amelia said quietly. She watched as he followed Ernie up the spiral stairs and disappear into the dormitory.
At the end of the night, Amelia's eyes hurt from staring at pages too long. She had been alternating between writing her own story to reading her newest selection from the library. Her wrists hurt and she had ink stains all over her hands. If her mother saw her like this, she would never be allowed to write again. Everything was soft skin and delicate features with her.
Everyone was still placed under quarantine the next day. The common room felt hot and muggy but staring at the same blank wall in the dormitory was driving Amelia insane.
Neville was talking to Ernie again and Zacharias Smith. Amelia didn't want to interrupt their conversation so she found an isolated corner and began writing again.
Her head was buried in her arm as she watched her quill move across the page. The sounds of people talking all blended together, becoming white noise. So, she hardly noticed when Neville sat across from her and began watching her carefully.
Only when her hand started cramping, did she set down her quill, rub her wrist, and look up.
Her eyes widened, "How long have you been sitting there?"
"Not long." He said, "But long enough that it's strange you didn't notice. What's got you all wrapped up? Did McGonagall give you a new assignment?"
"No." Amelia replied.
"Notes?"
"No."
He smiled, flashing his crooked teeth at her, "The next great British novel?" He said this like he was joking, which only discouraged Amelia.
She snapped the notebook shut. "Not exactly."
Neville's face grew blank, "Is that it? I didn't know you wrote for fun."
"Because it's not really something I do." Amelia said, "It just happens."
"Are you any good?"
"I don't know."
"Can I read it?"
"N-no!" Amelia blushed.
"I don't think it'll be bad. Please?"
Amelia eyed him carefully. Out of everyone in Hogwarts, how was it he was the only one she completely trusted?
"Okay." She said, quietly.
"Really?"
"Yeah. But can we go somewhere else? I'd rather the whole of Hufflepuff didn't hear my story."
Neville stood up quickly, "Of course. Lead the way."
Amelia smiled and started out of the common room, up the stairs to the girls dormitories. Neville looked hesitant to follow at first, but eventually gained his courage to do so. She went past all of the dormitories, going higher than most of the girls knew was possible. Daniella had discovered the secret room a few weeks before while she was doing some exploring. She had told Amelia of it immediately.
Although she had not been there herself, she had fantasized about all the possibilities that the room offered to her. A quiet place to read, a niche to do her writing, a place to escape. She had hoped to have the place all to herself. But now, she was glad she could share it with Neville.
The room was small, smaller than expected, but also beautiful. A large window looked out over the Black Lake, which was currently glittering in mid-afternoon sunlight. Birds fluttered from here to there, some even landing on the windowsill, looking in at Amelia and Neville.
"This is nice." Neville commented, "I don't think anyone's going to hear you up here."
Amelia allowed herself to laugh, "No, I don't think they will."
He sat down on a worn ottoman and looked up at her, "I'm ready when you are."
She looked anxiously for a place to sit until she finally settled on squeezing beside Neville on the ottoman. She cleared her throat, glanced at him in uncertainty, then began.
How was she expected to work in a place like this? The constant beating of fists and screams of disapproval made it so that Alexandra could hardly think, let alone attempt to finish her cross stitch.
Her mother looked at the door in fear. Thomas had thoroughly mess up, again, and was getting another lecture from Father. Probably having something to do with investing in businesses that weren't sound.
Try as she might, there was very little she could do to ignore the shouting men so she threw down her embroidery, stood up sharply, and dashed off to the nearest door leading outside.
Alexandra had to cover her mouth and nose with her handkerchief to breathe properly. The smog coming from nearby factories had long ago polluted any chance they had at getting fresh air. But that was life in the city, she supposed. No room for weakness.
"Miss." She heard a distant and familiar voice call her.
"Yes?" She replied, looking down at the street below.
A short boy with a pudgy face and yellowed teeth squinted up at her. Nicholas Lewis was a boy she had known all her life, despite their class differences. Their father's had been friends in the war and when they returned and Nicholas was old enough, he began an internship at her father's company.
"Is there a reason you would not be able to accompany me to the shipyard this afternoon?" He was grinning up at her in an angelic sort of way.
Alexandra looked back at her family and made her decision in an instant. "I'll be right down."
She swept past her oblivious mother, the housekeeper, and her brother and father. Not that they would notice even if they were trying to pay attention.
Nicholas greeted her shortly when she joined him on the street before leading the pair down the path they usually trod.
They were not going down to the shipyard. This was a secret code between just them. When one of them wanted to get away for a little while, or talk just the two of them, without chaperon, all they had to do was request a trip to the shipyard. "Do you," he began, sticking a blade of grass between his teeth, "ever wish that we didn't live here?"
"Not live in Manchester?" She said, crossing her legs and throwing herself onto her back. "What a wild idea."
"It would be easier for you to get away than it would for me." Nicholas decided, "I'm fated to be here forever, aren't I."
"Of course not." Alexandra said indignantly, "You've got dreams and ambitions, don't you? You've got enough spunk to get yourself out of here, no strings attached. The only way that I could leave that would be proper would be if I marry a wealthy man of great position. My father would not settle for anything less."
Nicholas was silent. He was ambitious, certainly, and there was a better chance of him finding a decent job somewhere far away from Manchester and its busy streets. But Alexandra was trapped, a pretty bird in a cage that was soon to be passed off to another man who would ogle her and show her off to his friends for appearances. He found that he pitied her and her fine things.
Amelia stopped reading abruptly when she heard a bird flutter outside. She had more to read, but the interruption gave her a good excuse to stop. She had developed a permanent blush on her face the entire time she had been reading and she didn't like the way Neville was looking at her.
"Wow." Neville said after a short while. This was all he said, looking down at her wrinkled pages.
Amelia didn't take her eyes off him. She was so, heart-wrenchingly nervous. Maybe he didn't like it at all.
"That was amazing." He finally continued. "You have quite a gift, Amelia. Is that it or is there more to the story?"
"There will be." Amelia was blushing again. "I just haven't gotten that far."
"Well, let me know when you do." Neville looked at her sincerely. "Thank you for sharing that with me, Mel. It means a lot."
"Don't worry about it, Nev. It's the least I could do for my best friend."
"Best friend? Me? You're joking."
"No, I'm not. You're my best friend."
Neville grinned at her, "Good. Because I think you're mine."
For the first time in a long time, Amelia smiled without blushing. Her face didn't feel warm and she felt relatively normal. This was a welcome feeling, a good one. Amelia hoped to feel it more often.
