Word Count: 582


Amelia huffs disdainfully, frowning when the wintry air makes her breath visible. Despite living here her entire life, she still has trouble adjusting to the cold weather. It's dreadful and dreary, and she just wants to go home and bundle up and escape this horrible chill. Unfortunately, she has an important meeting soon. The best she can do is slip into Flourish and Blotts and enjoy the bookshop's warmth.

"Madam Bones! Lovely to see you! Anything I can help you with?" the clerk calls.

"Just looking today," she says simply before ducking into the nearest row of shelves.

It isn't that she's being rude by being curt. Amelia just has too much on her mind, and she doesn't want to socialize. If she keeps her walls up, no one will try to bother her.

"Milly?"

She groans when she hears that voice. Only one man would call her by such a ridiculous nickname. When she turns, she isn't surprised to find herself staring at John Dawlish. The Auror adjusts his beige scarf and offers her a bright smile.

"It seems like ages, doesn't it?"

Amelia resists the urge to roll her eyes. "I saw you at the office just yesterday," she reminds him.

It shouldn't be this hard, but it hurts. John regards her so casually now. Once, he had been infatuated with her, and Amelia never seemed to be able to escape his affection. Now, he's moved on, and Amelia misses those days of simplicity and teasing.

She hadn't realized how much she wanted him until the affection ceased. Maybe she'd always assumed what she felt was annoyance and nothing more. Now, she misses those moments. She knows he could have been hers, but now the ring on his finger is a reminder that she has made a terrible mistake.

"I don't suppose I can persuade you to join me for a drink," he says. "My treat."

Her stomach twists itself into knots. He isn't hers to lose; why does it hurt so damn much? Amelia shakes her head. "I really shouldn't."

"Come on, Milly," he says. "I just want you to be happy, and I hear alcohol is a key to happiness."

A small laugh escapes her lips, and she shakes her head. John has always been a strange one. Sometimes she wonders if he actually thinks before he speaks, or if he likes to be just as surprised as everyone else. It had been annoying once, but now she sees it as endearing.

She turns her attention to the nearest shelf and traces a slender finger over the spine of a book. "I have a meeting," she tells him. "I don't think I ought to drink."

John chuckles. "Afraid you can't hold your liquor? What about after?"

Amelia glances at him before continuing her stroll through the aisle. "Why do you care so much?"

"I miss you. I know we never stood a chance, but…" He shrugs. "I value you as a person, and I want to be friends."

That hurts more than anything, but she manages to smile through. "I must be mad," she says, pushing a hand through her short red hair. "My meeting will be over around five. Meet me at the Leaky Cauldron around half past?"

"I'll be waiting."

She wonders if she's a glutton for pain. That has to be the only logical explanation. Or maybe there's nothing even remotely logical about this. Whatever the reason, she thinks maybe John is worth the pain.