You left me only words....

Arthur opened his eyes and looked around. Good. They were all asleep. He stood up and walked around to his clothes, slowly. He put his long black robe and his black coat over it. Under the robe he had a white shirt and a butterfly tie. It was, actually a black tie outfit. He took his wand and exited the dormitory. The Common Room was empty and the lights were out. It was nothing strange, actually, since it was pretty late. He should be in bed right now, but every Monday, Wednesday and Friday were exceptions. Those were his special nights. Since he knew the Common Room well, he did not need a light to find his way around. He did not know the exact time, but he was certain that he should not be doing the thing he is doing.

Interestingly enough, he did not sneak about. He knew that both Wilson and McCoy would get him out of any possible trouble, which gave him a pretty large dose of self-confidence. But, he was not so vain to use that privilege and cause a havoc. He was calm and he did not walk with any dose of fright, but he was also not rude enough to cause any trouble, purposely.

The fact that his tower Common Room was above his destination always made him unexpectedly happy. The fact that he did not have to climb up, like some of his peers, but rather go down and climb very shortly up upon his return, always caused an unexplained wave of happiness and satisfaction inside his persona. He walked down the cold stony staircases and landed on the Seventh Floor. Naturally, there was only one place a student could visit on the Seventh Floor this late at night. The Room of Requirement.

Someone would think that he was having a date? No. He was devising a scheme of some sort? No. He was practicing magic and dueling? No. He was dealing with Dark Magic and Occultism? No. He was insane? No. All of these, pretty rational and, in a small dose, logical, explanations did not refer to his motives regarding his late night visits to that well known and much used Room. People used it to get privacy and that is what he did to. But why did he need privacy? People who knew him better, like Wilson or McCoy, knew what he was up to.

His father's name was Gregory Poe. He was a Muggle, a professor of History and Latin. When Arthur was still a kid, he had been working in one of the most prominent schools in London. He was an extremely kind man, a loving parent and one of the most intelligent men Arthur met. He was always calm, rational and would never quarrel, especially with his mother. He loved both him and his mother as much as a man can love. Arthur has never seen such a devotion to his loved ones as with his father. But that is not so important now, like the fact that his father was about 1,95 meters tall, with short, graying and never combed hair, big blue eyes and a short beard matching his hair. What is important is his knowledge. He was considered by many to be one of the best History teachers, not just because his vast knowledge, which included such facts as the length of Goebbels' feet or the occupations of Verdi's parents, but because of his teaching method and his communication with his students and peers. He was interested in all of History, not just the general History taught in books, but History of Science, Philosophy, Art and, what is most important for this digression, Music. When Arthur was 8, his father started working systematically on Music History, carefully studying the lives and works of such names as Mozart, Ravel, Stravinsky and many, many others. It was Arthur, who was also very fond of knowledge, as he is now, that approached his father and joined his studies. They learned, discussed and compared facts together, but also listened to some famous and some less famous examples of their work. It wasn't until hearing the famous ''Russian Waltz'', written by Dmitri Shostakovich, that Arthur decided to do something new - learn to play the piano. He asked his parents and they fulfilled his wish, buying him a piano and hiring a piano teacher, a man called Bernard Britten. He was a short, chubby man, but one of the friendliest and happiest men he has ever met. He had a very interesting method of teaching and Arthur learned quick and well. It took him five years, which was impressive, to master the instrument. Today, he is able to play even the most complex works.

But what is the point of this digression? Well, it explains what Arthur is doing inside the Room of Requirement. He approached the curtain, devised his ideal room and entered. A large room. Lit by artificial light. A large Persian rug, red in color and on it, a large black wooden piano. New and polished. He slowly approaches the piano, takes the seat and looks at is, satisfied with what his mind can do. At first, he plays some easier works, practicing his fingers. Today it was Wednesday, the only day reserved for popular music. Mondays and Fridays were reserved for classical music, but since he was also fond of modern Muggle music, he liked to play them too. With what to start? He thought for a moment and then it came to him. This was one of his favorite songs and one of his favorite bands. He began playing the famous Viva la Vida, performed by Coldplay. Although he is not such a good singer, he can whisper well and that is what he did.


And he was finished. Another four minutes of pure delight. But he did not just come for these silly four minutes. He had to do more. But what next. Yes, he remembered. A lovely ballad he wanted to try for a long time. Sung at the Eurovision Song Contest, a Muggle music competition, several years ago. A lovely ballad that could, in a way, describe his current state of affairs, or status quo, as his father liked to say. Milim, or Words, a Hebrew ballad sung by Harel Skaat. One of the most beautiful songs he had heard during his lifetime. Although it was on Hebrew, there existed an English translation and he sung, this time with his full voice, the song in English.

As was growing frustratingly typical, Amelia once again found herself on midnight rounds of the castle. Although the headmaster claimed that the Imperium Squad would be one of the best things ever to happen to Hogwarts, Amelia was finding it to be the worst things ever to happen to her sleep schedule. True, she did not always set aside the amount of time for sleep that she ought to, but when she had the opportunity, she definitely took it. But what little opportunity she had had in the past was dwindling down to nothing now that duty had become her most time consuming extra curricular activity.

Why can’t they get James to do this? Amelia wondered scornfully, a typical thought on nights like these. The boy was obviously one of Majere’s favorites, which somehow exempted him from rounds, meaning Amelia and the others were left to pick up the slack.

As she took the last dragging step up to the seventh floor, a familiar but misplaced sound reached her ears. The sound was familiar, yes, but most times she had heard it she was the one producing the noise. The sound was of a rolling melody, one with which she was familiar, and she knew the only place on the floor from which it could be coming.

As she moved closer to the Room of Requirement, Amelia’s conjecture was proven correct. Pianos were scarce in Hogwarts castle, and Amelia knew that the Room of Requirement was one of only three places in the castle where one could practice. She had never before encountered anyone else who knew how to play, especially not at the times of night she preferred to practice, which is was peaked her curiosity as she reached the slightly ajar door, the syncopated rhythm of Viva la Vida coming through the crack, as well as a faint sliver of light.

Leaning close to the door, Amelia pushed it open just slightly more, her brown eyes widening at the sight inside. While Amelia typically preferred a bare room to practice in, the Room of Requirement had produced lavish decorations for itself and its inhabitant, who was the truly surprising element. At first she did not recognize the individual because she was taken in by the music, but as he turned his head to watch his hand placement on the base keys Amelia stepped back slightly from the door, realizing that it was none other than Arthur Poe.

He wasn’t singing along, as Amelia usually did, but she could hear him speaking the words. The song was coming to a close, and Amelia leaned against the wall, utterly silent as the last chords died away and a new song began. She was torn between her duty as a member of the Imperium Squad to catch and discipline those who were out after hours and her desire to avoid any unnecessary contact with Arthur Severus Poe. Despite their conversation earlier in the week in which Arthur had tried to tell her that he was not all that Amelia thought him to be, Amelia was not convinced.

But this next song would buy her some time to think. Amelia recognized the opening bars and knew she would have roughly three minutes to make up her mind, less if she was going to choose the latter option because she would need time to disappear. Trusting that she would not be heard from the hallway over the sound of the music, Amelia sang along quietly with the music, only because she knew it would calm her. Music had an effect on her like nothing else; it was the only thing which made her less high strung, and perhaps the thing in this world she felt closest to. Although she could hear Arthur singing in English, it was in Hebrew that Amelia recited the lyrics, a language dead to most of the world, but with her father being a spell researcher Amelia was well versed in dead or dying languages.

And he was done. He knew the song in both languages, but he preferred the cobination. Especially the last part. He would always sing it in Hebrew. He was not so fluent in the language, but he knew some basics which enabled him to memorize some texts. But if he'd said he could speak it, that would be a lie. He stood there, stiff, on his feet, pressing the keys of the piano that stopped producing sound a while ago. He just stood there looking at the black and white keys that excganged periodically thinking only of one thing.

He cleared the little sweat drops from his forehead and raised his hands. He took a deep breath and walked a few paces from the piano. He was not finished, but he needed a rest. Two very complicated songs and a vast energy loss which he needed to regain. Although, he only needed a glass of water to clear that, which was pretty strange. He conjured a small glass and filled it with water. He turned around.

Just as he was going to drink the water, he sad someone. Actually, he was a robe, but he did not know who it was. The person was in the hall and he could not see who it is. He carefully took his wand out and pointed it to the person. ''Lumos'', he fired to see who was spying on him.

The glass of water fell down, breaking, interrupting the silence that had taken over right after his spell. His eyes widened. It seemed like a twisted plot of some sort, but luckily, he did not believe in such nonsense. He quickly deduced wha she was here and why she had the possibility of being here. He had his wand, the light that was boldly emerging from it, pointed at her, motionless and speechless. No one, not even Wilson or McCoy or Mariana saw him here and saw what he was doing. And yet, she did. Out of all the people, her.

He was not embarasses, why would he be? But such an invasion of his privacy made him feel strange. If it had been someone else, he would have probably assaulted him or her, erasing his or her memory after the incident. But what was he supposed to do now? The same? Never. But what other possibility was there?

He slowly lowered his wand and lit one of the torches in the hall so that he could see her better. He was not mistaken. It was her. It was Amelia. He looked at her for another few moments and then put his wand back in his robes, sitting down on the chair he had sat on earlies. He looked at her with a strange expression, a combination of sadness and seriousness.

''Amelia... I... am sorry for being here at this hour. I know it is against the rules... but there is no other way to do this.'', he said. All of his eloquence, self-confidence and boldness, his cold sarcasm, all of that broken by the mere sight of her in this room. In this moment. He collected his strenght for this one, probably last, but miserable, semi-sarcastic sentence. ''I would advise you to give me some adequate punishment, because all of that mumbo-jumbo the Headmaster proscribes will just give me a few moments of waiting until Wilson cleares all of that.'', he said, lowering his head. This was not meant as an insult to her. This was a last, desperate try of a wounded soldier to win the battle, although... there was no battle here. He just said it, but in reality it had absolutely no meaning whatsoever. He raised his head, waiting for her verdict.

Amelia was aware of Arthur’s change of language, but it did not stop her silent homage in the hallway. Her voice was not loud enough to be heard over his as they both sung the last line of the song, the chords dying away as Arthur’s voice did. He was not an exceptionally gifted singer, but his skills on the piano were undeniable. It was not a talent she would have expected of him, but she really should have known; Arthur prided himself at being the best at everything. Why shouldn’t he also be musically gifted?

Her back still to the wall, Amelia’s eyes rested on the wall opposite her as she listened to the small sounds that escaped the door to the Room of Requirement. It was quiet enough that Amelia could hear Arthur’s breathing, his footfalls on the carpeted stone floor. Amelia heard him mutter a spell, but she hadn’t been able to discern exactly what until a moment later when she heard a heart-stopping crash of glass colliding with stone, about the same time as the illumination spell was shouted and the area around her became as bright as day.

Amelia blinked her eyes in adjustment to the light, shying away from it in a futile attempt to avoid detection. She knew that by firing the spell, Arthur must have been already aware of her presence, and so any attempt she made at anonymity would be lost to the light. Giving herself a few seconds for her eyes to adjust to the light, Amelia turned to face Arthur just as he lowered his wand, taking his figure out of relief, but lighting a wall sconce and bringing them both into full view. Defensively, Amelia crossed her arms across her chest and squared her shoulders toward the older Gryffindor boy.

The redheaded Ravenclaw could see the defeated expression on Arthur’s face, which was unexpected. She had anticipated defiance, excuses, anything except what she saw and heard next. He was admitting his faults, and not sarcastically as she had grown accustomed to. He seemed like a child who had just been caught doing something he oughtn’t by his mother; it was a curious juxtaposition of two people who were near strangers, except for the thoughts they had on each other – Amelia’s which were known and Arthur’s which were unimportant, at least in Amelia’s eyes. Whatever he thought of her, it didn’t much make a difference.

But now that he was standing contritely in front of her, Amelia was torn between two options. This was perfect opportunity for her to put Arthur in his place, but the whole thing seemed altogether too easy. He was admitting defeat, she wasn’t taking it from him. And anyway, Amelia didn’t much fancy overseeing detention with Arthur, which would be her duty if she assigned that punishment to him. There were several minutes of silence in which Amelia merely surveyed the dark-haired boy, her lips pressed into a thin line as she debated, though for all the time she spent, she didn’t come to any discernable conclusions.

“You look ridiculous,” Amelia finally said bluntly, in reference to Arthur’s ensemble. Amelia usually played piano in whatever she happened to be wearing, whether her school uniform or a pair of jeans. She hadn’t been able to sort out what she ought to do in this situation, so instead she went with what she always did: blunt honest with a hint of pushing people away.

Arthur looked at her and laughed loudly. ''I cannot believe... all you... have to say... is that I look ridiculous? Well, then... we shall do something about that.'', he said and pulled his wand out. He made a hand gesture, and his 'clown outfit' turned into his normal, black robe. ''I do hope this is satisfactory and normal enough.'', he said.

He returned the wand back in his robes. He waved his hand to make the broken glass disappear, along with the water that made the carpet wet. He sighed. What was he supposed to do now? He was not afraid of detention, he had clearance with that, but what to do? How to react?

He could fight, he could use his usual defensive mechanism and just burst out of the Room in his usual, cold and sarcastic manner. But there was no point in that. Amelia had seen him and that was it and nothing he could do could change that.

He was not going to hex her or assault her verbally, another thing that would be completely purposeless and unnecessary at this point. But he needed to keep calm, he needed to keep his rational mind working. The only thing that could cause him some major problems would be an irrational reaction, provoked by the current state of things.

He looked at her, directly in the eyes, seeing her dilemma. But why did she have a dilemma? She caught him and not vice-versa. Why did she hesitate to do or say anything? She caught him red handed and she could do or say whatever she liked. But still, she was, again, debating with herself. Why did she do that? Why didn't she just use her advantage and make it easier for both of them.

He did not do what to do. To go? No. To stay? Again, no. But he could not just... disappear somewhere and still be here. That was not possible. He raised his head and looked at Amelia once again. It was always special, seeing her. ''You know... if you had been anyone else, you would have been obliviated by now and sent back to your room. But then again, it is you and you have always caused such... as you would say, unusual behavior, from my side. I have nothing much to say, nothing much too add. You caught me red handed, you can give me detention, but that would result in nothing. I just wonder why you hesitate to say anything. I... just do not know. Would you like me to leave? Anything... just, please.... say something.'', he said, calmly.

Amelia was initially taken aback at Arthur’s laughter at her comment, for if someone had said the same thing to her she doubted very much that laughter would have been her response. She probably would have had some flippant comment in return, or just walked away. Arthur, however, had already proven himself to be drastically different from Amelia, which was much of the reason they hadn’t really ever gotten along, though he seemed to be making an attempt at rectifying that, though Amelia couldn’t imagine why he would want to. Most people didn’t bother trying to placate Amelia; she wasn’t exactly someone that the general population wanted to befriend.

“It’s a start,” Amelia said bluntly in response to Arthur’s change, not sure she wanted to play along just yet with whatever it was that Arthur was doing. Arthur was smart enough to be a threat to her, and definitely smart enough to be plotting something. He had never before expressed any sort of interest in Amelia, but recently Amelia had caught him lingering too long while looking at her and paying specific attention to her in class. Amelia would have preferred that he thought of her as invisible or unapproachable, as did the rest of the student population, but she wasn’t having much luck shaking him off.

Amelia huffed skeptically as Arthur claimed that if she were not who she was, she would have been obliviated. She would like to have seen him try. Arthur may be a year older than her, and certainly talented in his wandwork, but Amelia was no stranger to defensive spells. He would have been lucky to get a single spell off before she had him on his back. The redhead wasn’t one to go looking for a duel, but if she was presented with the option of taking a spell or sending one, she knew how to put people in their place.

The rest of what Arthur said was essentially lost on Amelia, mostly because she hadn’t found much of worth in it. He was essentially restating what he had said earlier, admitting defeat again. It was curious to see Arthur in such a position; the picture didn’t quite match up. It was like seeing a dog dressed in a sweater. You knew it was possible, but you also knew that it didn’t belong there.

Amelia did not immediately abide Arthur’s wishes for her to say something, primarily because she wasn’t sure herself what she ought to say. The process of punishing Arthur was futile in itself; as he had said, he would just be exempt from the punishment as soon as McCoy or Wilson were brought into the situation. But letting him off without reprimand would surely bring the hand of the headmaster down on her, not to mention show Arthur compassion, which she was not sure he had earned. She still was not very happy with him, both because she disliked his personality in class and because he had all of a sudden decided that he would be making attacks on the castle she had built around herself. Yes, he was annoying before, but now that he had actually started talking to her and probing into her thoughts, Amelia found him all the more frustrating.

“I don’t see what I can say,” Amelia said finally, having sorted through several scenarios and always arriving back at the same place, “We seem to be at an impasse. You deserve to be punished for breaking the rules, but whatever punishment I can dole out would be forgiven by the professors you have already mentioned. Therefore, it would be a waste of both my time and yours for me to do much more than verbally reprimand you for being out past curfew.”

“So Arthur,” Amelia said, wanting to get this over with so she could go back to being alone. She disliked rounds, but she disliked being alone with Arthur more. She had no idea what to make of him, but she knew he annoyed her, and that was enough to search for a quick escape, “You ought not have been out past curfew. I would appreciate it if in the future you remembered to obey the rules of the castle,” she said curtly, reciting exactly the phrase that applied to this situation and nothing more.

“And now, goodnight,” Amelia said dismissively, nodding to Arthur and turning her back to him, taking the first step back toward the dark and deserted staircase.

((Clearly she is not actually leaving right now. That would be a relative waste of this thread. But it is not in her personality to prolong this conversation, so you will either have to stop her from leaving or let her leave. Your choice.))

Arthur smiled as she commented on his little change. It was not much, it was said extremely bluntly, but it still had a very meaningful effect on him. He looked at her, still waiting for her reply. The more he looked at her, the better he felt.

But, also, the more he looked at her, the more noticed her dilemma. Why was she like that? Weren't his feelings obvious? Why did she always had to doubt his motives? Yes, she considered him a challenge, a competition, or whatever she defined it as, but would he have to act drastically to change her opinion? Why did she always suspect him and his behavior? He mentioned that he could be different and still, she was suspicious every time they met.

And now, after that short comment, silence again. This was, probably, on purpose. But, why torture him? Technically, it was not torture, but still, why such irrational defiance? If anything, she was not irrational, which is why he did not understand her behavior. She was, again, debating with herself, but why did such a rational and cold person even need that? Her reactions, replies and thoughts were pretty obvious and clear, which is why he always wondered why she had to debate with herself that much. Why she had to reveal, with her beautiful eyes, what was going through her mind. It made her... in a way, weak... although she was everything but that. But to someone more observant and more intelligent, it was obvious that she had an inner conflict, whatever the subject was.

But still, he was calm. The only difference between her and him was that he was able to keep calm and not show that he had such inner debates, although, he himself was not immune to such actions. But he knew how to hide it.

And then, she decided to speak. Her remark was correct, but her verbal ''assault'' on him was pretty humorous. He smiled, restraining himself from laughter.

But then, she wanted to leave. She turned around, and he was till sitting. Is he going to allow her to leave? No, of course not. But this had to be good.

He jumped up from his chair like a wild cat. He even resembled one, because of his height. Rapidly, he walked, or jumped, yes, that would be the better term, and took her hand. He did not grab her by the arm, which was usual, but he took her hand, gently, stopping her. Her hand was warm (I hope you to not mind me saying that) and soft. It felt like the most beautiful and most sensitive type of fabric. This was an extremely unusual feeling for him, but it felt good. This was the second time that he had touched her. The scene in McCoy's classroom was still, although he even managed to kiss her hand, nothing in comparison to this situation. This time, they were alone, which meant that she could slap him without hesitation. He held her hand for a few moments, his own hand trembling during those moments. He then let her hand go.

''Sorry... for the hand... but, please, just... stay, do not leave. I do understand that you have nothing much to say, but... just... do not leave, for my sake. I know that you do not owe me anything, but... still.'', he said, looking her in the eyes, This was the nearest he got to her after the class. ''Would you answer me... why do you still doubt everything I do? Haven't I told you that I can be different? Why do you still think that there is something beneath, something behind the curtains? Why?'', he asked.

Amelia was already three steps into her retreat when she heard movement behind her, only seconds before she felt Arthur’s fingers closing around her hand. Although the motion itself was not violent or aggressive, it would enough to send Amelia spinning on the spot to face Arthur, her eyes wide with indignation. There was anger etched in the lines of her facial expression, her personal space invaded yet again by the insufferable Mr. Poe.

Did he learn nothing from the last time? Amelia yelled internally, fuming and furious, though Arthur did not look afraid. Everyone in the school knew Amelia was a solitary creature. She had made it a point to make that clear to everyone around her. She liked her space, both physically and emotionally. Arthur, someone whom she had never even spoken to a week ago, had somehow convinced himself that these rules did not apply to him.

Amelia yanked her hand out of Arthur’s, though he let go at the last second, making the gesture less impactful. Amelia drew the hand he had touched into a fist and held it tight to her chest, the knuckles which from the strain her fingers were threaded with. Every time she thought she was making progress with Arthur – at least to the point that she could stand to be within 10 meters of him – he found a way to provoke her back to her infuriated state. If he had such qualms with her being annoyed with him, why did he go out of him way to anger her? Wasn’t anger worse than annoyance?

In her indignation and anger, most of Arthur’s words were a blur to Amelia. Her mind was reeling with the current options, the most appealing of which involved physically impaling the boy who stood in front of her. He might be able to defend himself with a wand, but Amelia doubted very much that he stood a chance against her in a brawl. She had an older brother’s teaching.

“Stop…. talking,” Amelia interrupted, closing her eyes as Arthur’s words jumbled themselves in her mind among the plots for physical harm. He was doing that thing again where he posed a series of questions to her. Most people asked questions one at a time, but not Arthur. Oh no. He had to string several of them together, as if that would somehow make any of them easier to answer.

Amelia took several deep breaths with her eyes closed and tried to backtrack to what Arthur had said. It was the usual series of questions inquiring as to her dislike of him. What did it matter her motivation? Did she really need to explain the inner workings of her thought process in order for Arthur to believe that she wanted nothing to do with him?

Pressing her fingertips to her temples, Amelia opened her eyes and spoke slowly, looking directly at Arthur with a stare that she sincerely hoped would convey her immense displeasure.

“You telling me that you can be different does not make you different,” Amelia said, her voice even and her words precisely chosen, “And to be completely honest, being different might not even make things better for you. I don’t really like people in general, as you may have noticed, so adopting a new personality – or showing me different facets of yours, as you claim you are doing – probably isn’t worth your time in the first place. I like to be left alone,” she stated bluntly.

“And I do not like to be touched,” Amelia added pointedly, her words like razors.

Oh, dear. It seems that he has gotten her mad. Now, he did not want that, did he? He looked at her, solemnly, waiting for her reply.

Her reaction to him taking her hand was more than expected, but still, he had not anticipated such level of anger. He knew she disliked people, but so did he. He also disliked people, but still, he could make exceptions. She was, as it was obvious, one of them.

His was of talking obviously annoyed. But then, that was the goal. Not to annoy her, of course, but to ask so many questions at once. That was not his usual way of speaking, but he achieved the desired effect, not just with her, but with many people, by speaking in that way. Those questions seemed to either confuse or irritate his companion, which was not always the goal, like here, but in the majority of cases it was.

''You dislike people? Well, that is nothing I could not have deduced, is it? Your lack of socialization, your barrier, the barrier that you have built around you, that all is rather obvious. But, as I am no ordinary person, as you may have observed, to which you will add the fact that I have also created a barrier around my self, through which I only let several people in. Your barrier seems impenetrable, but, as I am sure, I am not the first one to try, nor the first one to either fail or succeed. Although you do give that impression of someone whose barrier, whose wall, truly is impenetrable, I am certain that there have been some people, in history, that have managed to breach it. You may or may not have been hurt by them, but you have been disappointed in them. That is for sure.'', he said, calm, but defeated.

He took a moment to breathe. To clear his head and to assemble his thoughts. ''Sorry for the touching... I just... I was not sure you would listen to me if I'd only called. But, what I am... or was, trying to ask... why do I do this all? Why do I... bug you? What is your opinion of my whole behavior towards you, of my change.'', he asked.

His response, once again, sounded more like a lecture in personality theory than a conversation between two teenagers. Arthur and Amelia certainly had the mental capacity to have this conversation, but it was growing increasingly clear that Amelia did not have the patience. His analysis of her personality was nothing extraordinary, nothing that everyone else had not already deduced. Her barriers were obvious – everyone knew about them, and unlike Arthur, just about everyone respected them and kept their distance. Of course people had tried to get past her defenses before, but as he had already said, those people had hurt her.

The fact that he had realized her motivation for building up her walls meant that he looked somewhat closer than the other students, who took her ice castle at face value, but it didn’t make him different. It didn’t make him better. It didn’t make him an exception to the set of rules Amelia had created for herself. If anything, it made him even more frustrating, because instead of just letting her be, he wanted to analyze every aspect of her personality at a deep level, which Amelia readily avoided. Pushing people away meant no one looked to close or even had the chance to. Arthur was pushing his luck already.

“Arthur, for the thousandth time,” Amelia said, the exasperation she felt evident in her voice. There was no reason to hide it anymore; Arthur was clearly well aware of her feelings for him, and the effort it would take to disguise them would be wasted, “I have no opinion of your change because, as far as I can tell or care, you haven’t changed. Unless you become mute and dumb, I won’t trust you. Unless you intend to stop asking so many questions, I can’t be around you. I’m guarded for a reason, part of which you have deduced, but the full extent you could never understand. This isn’t a personal vendetta; you are not the only person I have pushed away, and you will not be the last.”

“If I thought I disliked you before, it is nothing compared to now,” Amelia said hurtfully, though she didn’t intend to scald him with her words. She was merely saying the blunt, honest truth, repercussions be damned, “You were less of a threat to me when I only had to worry about you cutting me off in class. Now, you pose a threat to my solitude, something whose value to me I cannot explain.”

“And so,” Amelia said, with a tone of finality in her voice, “In order to protect that solitude, I am going to take my leave. Please do not follow me,” Amelia said, though the request was made in such a way to suggest that if he did try to stop her again, she would be forced to take action to stop him. In as many words, Arthur confused, annoyed, bewildered, and scared Amelia, feelings she would never admit aloud but could not deny to herself. It was a means of self preservation that she remove herself from his presence. It was the only way she could survive in the world she had created.

And so for a second time, Amelia turned away from her older classmate, not rushing her steps as she walked away because she was fairly certain this time that Arthur would heed her warning and let her go. He didn’t really have a choice in the matter.

((Amelia exits. I know this thread could have gone on longer, but I feel like it is getting redundant with the questions, and in order for their plot to progress we really need to have the thread in the RoR party. So we’ll just end this one here and then start up again there. If this doesn’t work for you, please PM me.))