A Confrontation ((Cue Christabelle))

Amelia could tell that by jumping to conclusions, she had hurt Christabelle. The girl looked visibly affronted by the accusation, just as she would have been if the tables had been turned. Amelia’s hand was back on her neck as Christabelle defended herself, nervous now that she had irrevocably insulted the girl. It wasn’t that Amelia was afraid of losing a friendship with Christabelle; they weren’t exactly close – that’s putting it lightly – but Amelia also didn’t like the idea of making Christabelle feel she had been unfairly judged.

When Amelia pushed people away without knowing them, it was she who was judged. People judged her as cruel and a loner, someone with no heart or feelings. Although this was a harsh definition, it was one she had chosen to live with. But if she pushed Christabelle away by accusing her of a crime she had not committed, Chirstabelle might unfairly judge herself.

Feeling guilty already, it did not help as Christabelle continued speaking from where she stood leaning against the wall. She described Selwyn’s personality accurately, from what Amelia had gathered in their brief meeting, and explained a series of relationships she had with the other champions, which added to Amelia’s files on the connective web of people inside and out of Hogwarts. With her last sentence, though, Amelia flushed red with embarrassment, knowing she would have to own up to her incorrect intuitive leap, but fearing the repercussions that may follow.

“Actually…” Amelia began, her fingers kneading uncomfortably into the back of her neck now, “Selwyn didn’t actually say you put him up to it. He just said someone did.”

Paused here, feeling extremely guilty already, but pressing on from lack of knowledge of how to deal with these kinds of situations. Her words, usually so focused and controlled, ended up slipping from her lips without direction.

“I just assumed it was you, without knowing for sure. I shouldn’t have, but I had no connection to the other competitors,” she chose here to leave out her “thing” (she called it this for lack of a better name) with Aden, because she didn’t understand it well enough to explain it to another person, “so I jumped to the conclusion that you were the one responsible.”

“Sorry,” Amelia added after several seconds of awkward silence, her face beet red with embarrassment.

"Well its Selwyn." she replied pushing herself off the wall and grabbing a hair tie and pulling up her hair. "You can't really believe a good bit of what he says." she continued to say. She was at a loss for words other than that. She knew she really shouldn't even be at school right now but she was. Toughing it out like the strong person she was.

"I'm sorry I'm a little on edge lately." she explained a little quieter than her normal voice. "Its just I don't really feel safe here anymore." she said confiding in Amelia without really knowing why. The girl had after all just accused her of something she didn't do but then again it could be forgiven because it was in fact Selwyn that had caused the accusation and not truly Amelia herself.

Amelia was astounded that Christabelle seemed to have forgiven her so easily, practically nonchalant about the entire situation. In a series of only about ten minutes, Amelia had come to Christabelle’s room with the intention of telling her off, found out the truth about Selwyn, and then had to apologize to Christabelle instead. The blond was a surprising individual, in more ways than one; Amelia didn’t think she could have found it in herself to be so forgiving of someone who had come in with such a chip on her shoulder the way she had.

Still taken aback by the easy forgiveness, Amelia was further surprised when Christabelle apologized to her. Amelia’s surprise was evidenced by a raised eyebrow, her body no longer in the rigid form of one who was trying to hold back anger. She couldn’t imagine what her housemate would have to apologize for, seeing as she had done nothing offensive to Amelia (though until a few minutes ago, Amelia had believed otherwise). Her quieter tone hinted that there was more to this apology than the scene at hand, and when Christabelle completed her thought a moment later Amelia became sure of it.

Why is she telling me this? Amelia wondered, lost for words. It was extremely rare that anyone confided in her; after all, she who does not trust enough with not be trusted. Christabelle, however, seemed to be offering Amelia an open door, one she could walk through or walk away from. Torn between the two choices, it took Amelia almost a full minute to respond.

“What do you mean you don’t feel safe anymore?” Amelia asked, keeping her physical distance from Christabelle although she could feel her mind reaching out toward the girl. It was enough that Amelia had chosen to walk through the open door, to allow herself access to this more private, intimate side of Christabelle; being physically close to the girl would probably have pushed Amelia beyond the boundaries she set for herself, resulting – no doubt – in her fleeing the room in an attempt to avoid the emotions Christabelle was feeling. The irrational fear that being around emotional people would make her emotional as well had plagued Amelia for the better part of her life.

She sighed. She was grateful Amelia had taken the open door she had just given her. She had felt that they could come to be good friends if the right chance was open and Amelia although coming probably to yell at her had given her that chance.

"Someone from this school murdered my father." she said looking at her. She sat down on the bed. She kept her emotions from showing in her face but she couldn't hide them in her voice. "All because they didn't like me. It makes me miss Beauxbatons honestly." she said looking at her.

Amelia nearly lost her ability to stand upright when she heard the words which escaped Christabelle’s lips. There was no need this time to check for signs of lying in the girl’s face. The way her voice wavered as she spoke, the completely serious expression in her face, the way she looked as if she might crumble if the wind blew in just the right direction; all of these confirmed that what the blond girl said was true.

Amelia did not want to believe what she heard. In fact, she wanted to rewind time a few seconds and choose to exit the door she had walked through ten minutes earlier instead of choosing to go through the door Christabelle had offered her. With that one sentence from Christabelle, Amelia realized she had gotten herself in too deep. This situation was so far beyond her emotional capacities it was scaring Amelia already.

I can’t even handle my own emotions. How do I hope Christabelle deal with hers? Amelia’s mind was in a panic, reeling against every possible solution she came up with. What does one do in a situation like this? Offer words of consolation, give a shoulder to cry on, swear revenge? Amelia, having never encountered someone so willing to share such an intimate and emotional experience, was at an utter loss. She stood stunned in the middle of the room, staring at Christabelle for what she knew was an uncomfortably long time.

“That’s…” Amelia began, her voice coming out strangled because she was still unsure of what to say, but knew she had to say something, “That’s terrible, Christabelle.”

“I’m sorry for your loss,” she continued, knowing this was a completely impersonal and overused phrase, but it was one she knew how to use. Her mother had provided her with so little guidance when it came to these types of situations, somehow skipping over what one says to a girl who reveals that her father has been murdered by someone in the school you both attend, perhaps someone you know?

I mean, it isn’t exactly a situation you expect to arise… Amelia mentally admitted, but that didn’t stop her from wishing her mother had thought to include it in her etiquette lessons.

“How…” Amelia was growing frustrated with her inability to finish a sentence on the first try, but her mind was so thrown by the situation that there was little she could do about it, “How do you know it was someone from Hogwarts?”

The question was probably inappropriate, but Amelia couldn’t help it. The rational side of her wanted the details to make what she was hearing make sense, to make what Christabelle was saying more logical. But, as Amelia was finding out recently, not everyone nor everything adhered to her rules of logic.

"It was a vampire." she said looking at Amelia as she took a breath to start explaining. "One who has attacked me several times for something I'm not even a part of." she continued to speak. Her words and face rang truth to them. "They found several of his possessions near my father's body. One of those being a dagger that was covered in blood that was a match to a set this creature owns."

She had to take a breath again. This was really getting to her though she was trying for it not to. The last thing she needed was Amelia thinking she was crazy. Granted after being under the cruciatus by Matt Lestrange a few months prior to this she somewhat still wasn't stable.

"I'm sorry I shouldn't have told you." she continued to speak, "Its just I didn't want you to think I was acting horrible or anything without reason. If I act like that please tell me so." she said more so asking.

Amelia’s mind, though it shouldn’t have, relished in the details Christabelle provided. It wasn’t as though what the blond girl said painted an appealing picture; that was not the case in the least. The images conjured left an eerie and clearly disturbing picture wavering in Amelia’s mind, one that, if Christabelle could have seen it, likely would have let loose the tears she was currently holding back. Amelia didn’t like the story the details told, but she did like the details.

The more rational side of her found it easier to deal with the situation if she had a logical, quantitative explanation. It was difficult for Amelia to tap into her more emotional side, mostly because it was underdeveloped from years of laying dormant. When Christabelle provided details, it gave Amelia something to grasp onto, to root herself in the situation instead of the emotions which surrounded it – a much more flimsy hold.

Amelia could tell Christabelle was distraught by the situation, but she had a hard time relating. She spent most of her life pushing people away from herself to avoid situations like this. Her entire “Ice Queen” persona had been developed to prevent Amelia from getting to close to any one person. If she had learned anything in this lifetime, it was that people, on the whole, were temporary. Temporarily your friends, temporarily around, temporarily alive. She didn’t get close to people because when you depend on things which are temporary, it is only a matter of time before you get hurt.

The redheaded girl had said nothing since Christabelle revealed the details, the logic behind her accusation. She could think of nothing to say except more questions, and she didn’t feel as though her housemate would want to continue on this train of thought. It was clearly distressing her – for reasons obvious even to level-headed Amelia – and Amelia had already overstepped her boundaries by asking the first question.

No more questions. If she wants to say more, she will. If she doesn’t, it isn’t your place to ask.

Amelia nodded nearly imperceptibly, more in response to her own thoughts than anything Christabelle had said. Although she hadn’t said anything to indicate she was uncomfortable, Amelia supposed it was showing in her face and posture, because Christabelle was apologizing. Amelia put up a hand to stop the blond, for she hadn’t done anything wrong. She had, to be certain, put Amelia in a situation with which she was not familiar, but that was not a crime.

“You aren’t acting horrible,” Amelia replied, her voice even and calm, despite the irrational fear she had of the emotional conversation she was partaking in, “You’re acting human. I may not understand what it is to feel what you feel,” – or much of anything at all – “But nor will I fault you for it.”

Sighing, Amelia took a breath and closed the space between her and Christabelle, turning to sit on the edge of the girl’s bed. She still maintained about a foot of physical distance from the girl and she was perched as delicately as she could be on the four-poster, but she was trying to balance her own need to maintain distance and Christabelle’s need for support.

“Look,” Amelia said, meeting Christabelle’s eyes and deciding to be honest. She wasn’t going to be all-revealing as Christabelle had been – she might self-destruct from that – but she could give Christabelle an honest assessment. “I know we’ve had our disagreements in the past, and I can’t exactly say that I like you very much, but I don’t dislike you either. We are simply different. I don’t know why you chose to tell me this, but you didn’t make a mistake in doing so. If you wanted to keep this a secret, you picked the right person. I don’t really have anyone to tell, after all,” she added, knowing that what she just said may not have made the blond girl feel any better, but it was the truth.