NIGHT UNTIL MORN ,

The night was rolling in and the clouds were hovering overhead as a blonde girl closed her eyes, silence all around her except for the light splash of the water against the sides as the wind blew it softly left and right. Listening to the soft whispers, she was carried away into a world of dreams. Her dreams weren't so much dreams than nightmares, though. Tossing and turning, she was like the vast wind carrying the lake's water back and forth as her body was doing the same as her face looked as if she was watching something painful- which, in a certain way, she was. Ginevra could only see her dad ahead of her, and then his limp body falling to the ground near her feet. When she reached out and touched his skin, the temperature was ice cold. His eyes were stuck open and staring forward, unmoving and not blinking. His positioning was frozen how she had seen him while standing up and as the cackle-type laugh faded into the background, Ginevra shook awake. Biting her lip, she had her eyebrows furrowed together in the middle of her forehead. She was worried about her mother, as well as Darren. When he had said he would check if she was kidnapped, she hadn't actually believed him to do it. Now that she thought more on it, what if he did? That was pure danger for him and each and everytime she thought about it, nothing good could come out of that happening. She would just have to go with her original plan of checking herself. What was more important now though was the fact that a stick cracked in the distance, breaking the silence and catching Ginevra's full attention. Snapping her head to the side, she searched the darkness for who or what had joined her.

* sorry, it's lame.

((It is not lame!))

The darkness was beginning to grow thick around her as Amelia slowed her run to a walk, breathing heavily. Her path around the castle grounds had come to an end, several kilometers after it had begun, and she was entering the cool down phase of her run. The nylon leggings she had pulled onto her long, angular legs were keeping the chill away from her skin, but her exposed cheeks and ears felt the burn of contact with the cold.

While she was running, Amelia hadn’t noticed the cold. She hadn’t noticed much of anything, which is one of the primary reasons she had taken up running in the first place. Sure, her mother appreciated it because it kept her figure lithe to fit into designer gowns for gala events, and her father because it kept her out of the house while he was working, but that wasn’t why she did it. Amelia ran to get away; away from her problems, away from people, away from her own thoughts. Although her mind usually swirled with schedules and plans and what ifs, when she ran all that was left behind her. It was just her feet hitting the ground and the steady pulse of her heart in her chest.

She had reached the lake now, her feet falling on the frozen ground and crunching the grass beneath. The lake, which had been frozen only a week earlier, had thawed and was now rippling against a eerily lit shoreline. Most of the brush and flora which lined the edge of the lake was thrown into shadow because of the clouds overhead, but the moon managed to throw a few lines of light onto the scene. Amelia’s foot snapped a twig in half beneath her running sneakers, a noise which might have startled her otherwise, but she was still in the calm that came after a run, the endorphins still running through her and her thoughts yet to catch up.

Amelia didn’t spend much time near the lake – she preferred the more secluded areas on the other side of the castle where her peers were not so omnipresent – but at night it was usually quite serene. As she approached, Amelia spotted a large boulder near the edge of the lake and she was careful climbing onto it. Once upon it, Amelia let herself look down on the slightly choppy water, the reflection that would otherwise be looking back at her broken by the rippling surface. She let herself stare out at the water, becoming the girl in the picture she and Elijah had painted those few weeks ago, oblivious to her surroundings, including the girl who sat among the shadows Amelia had overlooked in favor of her current resting place.

One thing that Ginevra missed most was the fact that life used to be more than peaceful. The years she missed most were the childhood ones as when you were a child, you didn’t have the knowledge or awareness to know what a horrible place the world could be. You were usually fearless, happier and really, they were the easier times because parents made choices for you. Sure, this may be only how Ginevra had lived some of her life, but it was why she missed childhood times. Not only did she now have to make choices all for herself, but every choice she made was with the knowledge that even if she needed her parents’ opinion, she couldn’t get it. Life was a real b**ch at times, though Ginevra handled it with a level-natured attitude. Turning back to now, where she was paranoid because of a simple stick cracking, she wasn’t the little girl who had been fearless at a time. She was fearful, or at least more cautious, and couldn’t just let a sound go by without knowing exactly where it had come from. Her life wasn’t the type you could just stand around and let such things happen- not if you wanted to live, that is. Hogwarts was probably the safest place she could be, so why was it she always felt the exact opposite when actually in the school grounds? It was a real crazy thing that no one seemed to understand, not even Ginevra herself. Walking closer to the source, her wand was held up in front of her, the light just dimly lit so that she could see what was in front of her and where she was going.

Not needing much guidance, the light was barley even lit. Clearly, she had a good sense of direction. Eyes catching a figure, she froze where she was so that she could take in who it was. Shutting the light off with a thought passing through her head, she had mastered non-verbal spells last year in her fifth year, something that took others far after Hogwarts times to accomplish. Recognizing the figure as a female, you could tell because of the curves she beheld and the fact that there was long, blonde wavy hair not too far off from her own hanging down her back. The girl was a fellow Ravenclaw of hers, and remembering faces and shapes very well, she let down her guard slightly as she stepped out into view of the moonlight. ”Late night run?” she questioned, her voice not too low but also not high enough to give the girl a good startle. Sweeping her sweater around so that they two sides touched, she held them there, crossing her arms overtop so she had some sense of security held up, as well as just an awkward yet casual way she could pose standing there. Last time she had seen the girl in front of her had been when she gave it to Christabelle, all because she wasn’t a fan of whom she had been presenting herself. Weird, wouldn’t you say?

Amelia’s reflection darted and returned with the passing of each wave crest, and each time, Amelia expected to see nothing different. It was a sign of mental instability, seeing the same action twice and expecting different results. Amelia knew that each time the waves fell away, she would see a pale, red-headed girl staring back at her, empty eyes and all. The water only further paled her complexion, lit as it was by the few bands of moonlight.

She was the girl in the painting. Amelia hadn’t realized it at the time, but when Elijah had forced the pencil into her hand and she had sketched – albeit poorly, she would admit – the girl by the water, she had unknowingly placed herself in just this position. The girl in the picture had looked staunchly solitary; a girl pressed up on the rocks next to a stormy sea whose waves matched the dark colour of the sky. The girl in the picture had looked sad, like she was waiting for something or someone; Amelia wondered if she looked that way now.

Sometimes it was hard for Amelia to tell what she was feeling. She stifled her emotions to ensure that she could control them, which worked for the most part, but it also dampened her awareness of them. Where most people felt the throws of happiness, sadness, anger, frustration, envy, and joy, Amelia felt… nothing. She was somewhere in the middle of all of that, somehow conscious of the feelings she ought to be experiencing, but in a different way than the rest of humanity. She understood emotions; she could process their meaning, observe them in others, and comprehend their purpose. But she didn’t really feel them with the intensity others did. They were like an entity detached from herself, part of what she was made of, but not who she was.

Lost in her own thoughts, Amelia hadn’t heard Ginevra’s approach. Although she was usually very aware of what was going on around her, when she was running she assumed she was alone. It wasn’t until the girl presented herself in a bit of moonlight and raised a question into the night that Amelia looked up from her reflection. It took only a moment for Amelia to put a name to the face, recognizing Ginevra from when they had met so many months ago in the Ravenclaw common room.

It had been an interesting set of circumstances the first time Amelia had met Ginevra, a party Christabelle had been throwing for herself after being declared Ravenclaw champion. Amelia hadn’t taken Christabelle’s showing off well, but that had been nothing compared to Ginevra’s response. Amelia remembered the girl’s… explosive personality, and remembered it now as she turned her body slightly toward her housemate, but not coming down from the rock on which she was perched.

“Astute observation,” Amelia commended Ginevra, keeping her response almost as short as the question had been.

“I can’t say your attire or demeanor give me as much to go on, though,” Amelia added, making note that she had no such guesses about Ginevra’s reasoning for being outside in the middle of the night.

Being so aware of your surroundings wasn’t something that came naturally to everyone. People these days tended to zone out into the distance, just staring. Ginevra had observed in the past that everybody who was always aware that another was around, like herself, was generally a more paranoid person than the average, everyday chum. Upon noticing that it was Amelia out with her in the darkness, she found herself surprised at the fact that she hadn’t been aware sooner that she had company. Seeing Amelia around when she actually found herself inside the castle, in places that weren’t classes, the girl was quiet and very self-kept. Truthfully, she reminded her allot of herself, though less moody by far. This right here was a first, since Ginevra hadn’t ever thought anyone could be like her. What she was most interested in was if they, Amelia and herself, would ever be able to .. get along. For Ginevra, getting along with anyone was a challenge- excluding Darren, but that was a whole new story. She always pushed people away when they were willing to become friends, or else just was so upfront that they found her to be no fun, and didn’t want to be around her any longer than they already had. Either way, it just didn’t get accomplished. Already she had clearly not given a good first impression. Because this didn’t matter to Ginevra, she just asked her question and waited for a response, somewhat glad that she hadn’t startled the girl. In the past she had witnessed others stumble and fall into the lake. She had to admit, it was a little funny but not when it was so dark, the wind was going and the temperature had dropped due to the time of day.

”You could say that.” you had to admit, this conversation was very causal but what else could you expect from two people who weren’t enemies, but not friends either? Nothing more than that of what was coming up, as far as this girl was concerned. What amused Ginevra was the fact that in the Ravenclaw house, you expected people to be witty. Some you came by were questionable on why they had been sorted into the house they were, others, like Amelia, never had you questioning for a second. Her vocabulary was different from other students. Wider-ranged was a good way to put it, as some wouldn’t even know what demeanor meant. Luckily, Ginevra wasn’t dim and did indeed know what Amelia was talking about. ”Most wouldn’t be able to guess.” she replied, shrugging her shoulders as she shoved her hands into her jean pockets to escape the frosty air. ”I like to spent the nights out here. I can’t sleep too often.” adding more of an explanation, it was at least nice to try and continue the conversation. Giving information about what she was doing wasn’t normal, but she felt like just putting it out there. Something about Amelia caught her attention; she just wasn’t sure what part it was. Taking a few steps forward, she looked at the ground as she did, her shoulders slightly shrugged before she glanced up with her brown eyes and stayed silent, listening to her surroundings, making sure no one else was going to appear. The statement about enjoying sleeping out in the darkness was a slight understatement. She loved it, and had an even more difficult time passing out within the dormitories. No one could ever get this, excluding herself, so she never tried to explain. Being somewhat of an insomniac, it wasn’t like she slept much to begin with.

In the time it took Ginevra to respond to Amelia’s prompt, Amelia took the opportunity to more closely examine the person with whom she had suddenly found herself conversing. Of course, Amelia had seen Ginevra many times before, being in the same house and a few of the same classes, but she had never been so close to her housemate, or at least not for any extended period of time. Ginevra was a lanky girl with long, slightly wavy hair, but that hardly said anything about her. The bits of grass that were stuck in her hair, though, might say a little something about Ginevra’s outside activities, though Amelia did not see anyone else hiding in the bushes from where Ginevra had come.

Why did you think that? Amelia’s mind demanded of her subconscious, which had been responsible for the initial thought that Ginevra might have been cavorting with someone else outside in the dark. Although it was not all that unheard of for students to find sanctuary for their…. extracurricular activities in the shadow of the trees near the lake, upon reflection, Amelia knew that suspecting this of Ginevra was foolish. Amelia didn’t know much about the girl who stood in front of her, but she knew enough to conjecture that it was not for another person that she was out here. Ginevra didn’t seem as social as many of her classmates, preferring, at least to some extent, the same solitude as Amelia did. It was doubtful that there was a boy crouched in the bushes behind her, if for that reason alone.

Only when the girl spoke again were Amelia’s eyes drawn back to Ginevra from her inspection of the bushes from which she had come. It was an offhanded comment, something that didn’t necessarily prolong the conversation or require a response, and thus Amelia said nothing. That was her general practice: speak only what necessary, and even then keep the answer as curt as possible. Although it was more than possible that Ginevra would cut this conversation short – she didn’t seem to be particularly gifted in the art of conversation, and neither was Amelia – Amelia found herself listening to a slightly shrouded continuation from the girl.

The answer was intentionally vague – having fashioned many of this type of answer herself, Amelia knew one when she saw it – but she had supplied it nonetheless. It was more than Amelia would have done, and she acknowledged the effort. She couldn’t understand why Ginevra would have made any attempt to prolong the mostly idle conversation, but mulling on that question would likely be fruitless.

“Rather cold out here for that,” Amelia commented, though she wasn’t cold now. Running had the effect of warming – or was it numbing? – her body, and so despite the wind she wasn’t shivering. Ginevra, though, did not look as though she had done much strenuous exercise in the last hour, nor was she particularly dressed for February weather.

“I prefer the study ro-” Amelia began, before cutting herself short, almost letting slip her own night exploits to someone who may or may not have reason to go tell the proper authorities and get Amelia into trouble she didn’t need. Amelia, like Ginevra apparently, had difficulty sleeping. Amelia didn’t take her problems outdoors, though, and instead opted to bring her violin to the study room and play until fatigue forced her to her bed.

“Ahem,” Amelia said, clearing her throat lightly to distract from her slip-up, “Sleep doesn’t always come easily, but I find if you are exhausted enough it will eventually take you.”

“How have you, um, been?” Amelia asked, her inability to make small talk showing in her awkwardness, but there wasn’t much she could do to improve her skills of conversation. She could practice, like her mother was always begging her to do, but Amelia preferred her pitiful social skills to forced conversation with people she would rather avoid.

[sorry it's real short, i have A LOT of homework this weekend. i just start science and pre-cal in school.]

Ginevra wasn't too sure why everybody always thought it was too cold. Sure, without the proper preperations it would be, but they were witches and wizards in this building who could preform magic. Simple heating spells weren't exactly advanced, though no one seemed to think them up! Ginevra would never get why something so simple got looked past so easily. "I have a heating charm upon myself." she explained, now outloud for the reasons of her mind not being able to be read by the girl in front of her, or anybody else for that matter. Eyes following where Amelia's were within her head, she knew this part of the grounds like a child knew their favorite playground. She was staring at the spot where Ginevra herself had just recently immerged. "..See anything interesting over there?" not quite sure what Amelia was looking for, clearly it had caught her attention for awhile there. She apprieated the thoughtful though, and didn't think down on it for a moment. Never would she have thought that the girl was assuming she could have possibly been fooling around intimately with another behind a bush though. If Ginevra was aware she had even considered it, excluding the fact that it had been ruled out as something her personality gave off towards something she would do, easily you could tell that they didn't know each other well. This sixth year girl had no interest in guys whatsoever, at least no ones at Hogwarts. She thought they were all immature and full of pranks, or just couldn't be trusted. She was also already in love, and couldn't think once, nevermind twice, about falling out of it. Clearly being the more social of the two, she wasn't completley but since she was willing to try, she dropped anything that could make it awkward, aware of what was going to be said involving studying. Why Amelia didn't feel like sharing what she pleased to do on her spare time was her problem, not Ginevra's problem or business. "I've been.. decent. I.. miss.. people though." trying to be truthful, it took her a few pauses but she did manage to get it back. 'Yourself?" returning the question was the least she could do, right?

Amelia was careful to avoid the question Ginevra had pointedly asked about where she had been looking before, shaking her head rather than giving a verbal answer that might give away her thoughts. Amelia had found that in any case where it was possible, a shrug or nod or headshake was always the preferable answer. There was only so much that could be conveyed with this simple gestures, and therefore only so much which could be concerned. Especially in cases where she was lying – or, similarly, when she was hiding her thoughts – non-verbal responses kept her from stuttering or trailing off at the end of her sentences, aspects of speech that the more perceptive might pick up on.

Not that you really have to worry about many perceptive people here, Amelia’s mind thought harshly, but not completely unwarranted. Amelia knew that much of her ability to remain a mystery to others was because most of her fellow students were not overly observant, nor did they study people the way Amelia did.

Ginevra, however, was one of the anomalies Amelia knew could be dangerous; Amelia had seen her watching other students out of the corner of her eye, or listening to them while pretending to read a book. These tactics were similar to those Amelia employed, which was why she could recognize them in someone else. Amelia knew to tread carefully around Ginevra – she wasn’t a particularly good liar, just a good avoider – so as not to reveal more than she intended.

The girl’s answer to her question was slow in coming, the type of slow that hinted at the weighing of words before saying them aloud. Amelia was a bit perplexed by the honesty in Ginevra’s answer, especially to such a common question, but she didn’t say anything about it. Clearly Ginevra’s social skills had surpassed Amelia’s own – no surprise there, most everyone’s did – and she was carrying the conversation with the truthfulness of her answers. If Ginevra had avoided the question, Amelia would have done the same, and the pitiful attempt at social interaction would likely have ended there.

Amelia thought about Ginevra’s answer before starting to contemplate what she would say to Ginevra, mostly because a specific word in what the girl had said was stuck in her mind. She had said she missed people. This was a concept foreign to Amelia. Amelia intentionally avoided getting too close to anyone because she was afraid of being hurt. Most of this stemmed from big hurt, like heartache and abandonment and unreciprocated feelings – those sorts of things. But Amelia also recognized there were smaller types of hurt that were associated with close relationships, like the feeling of missing someone. It seemed Ginevra’s guard around herself was lower than the one Amelia had built, if she had withdrawn it enough to miss someone.

Not everyone who builds a wall builds a ten-foot-high ice castle, Amelia’s subconscious reminded her, causing Amelia to blush at the accusation and rush into an answer for Ginevra, who by now was probably wondering if Amelia had gone suddenly mute.

“Stressed,” Amelia answered bluntly in her rush to say something. The answer was honest, Amelia reflected, as she thought about classes and her appointment to the Imperium Squad, keeping up with her parents’ expectations and somehow figuring out what was going on with Elijah. On top of all of this had been added her appointment as new Champion for Ravenclaw in the Hogwarts Tournament, which wasn’t helping her stress levels any. She didn’t think she wanted to mention this to Ginevra, however, because judging from the way she had reacted at Christabelle’s self-thrown party, she might not be in a congratulatory mood.

“I just have a lot on my plate right now, I guess,” Amelia added, summarizing everything without outright stating the components which were spreading her so thin.

[i had the reply to this, but I deleted it.. i thought i had posted it. -.-]

Deciding that it would be best not to look past everything Amelia was trying to shield from her, it was a thing she was doing only this time around, and giving her the comfort she would need without nosing in. Ginevra knew that she personally hated when people butt into her business, or made accusations that were wrong. Though half of the time, or even three-quarters, when Ginevra took a guess at what they were thinking she found herself to be right, it didn’t matter. Either way, guessing and being right or guessing and being wrong, it wasn’t right or something she knew that the girl in front of her would enjoy in the least bit. To say the least, in a small way, she already had some understanding on what was going on with Amelia, or at least how she worked socially and emotionally. Reminiscing through her own thoughts, she was stressed as well. There were things with her mother, Darren, and the fact that she was a half-breed floating around everywhere, blocking smaller thoughts out of proportion for the time being. It seemed to happen that way every time. Focusing on the one thing that she knew Amelia must be stressing about next, she had to let out a soft chuckle before speaking, ”Just to get it out in the clear, I’m not going to freak on you about the Ravenclaw Champion thing. Christie just doesn’t hit the right nerve with me. I’m not a fan of gloating before you’ve earned it.” ending, her eyes kept on Amelia’s features, trying to at least read that she got the message. Ginevra was telling the truth, no pun intended. Continuing after musing over a few other things in her head, she let out a sigh and twisted her hair around her left shoulder, fiddling if she may. ”Personally, I see you as the right choice, Amelia. I was the last champion for Ravenclaw, and I won, so I know what it takes. You have it in you, as I can take a wild guess at saying you’re terrified, but you’re also determined enough to prove that you can do it.” tilting her head, she wondered if she would be told she was right; receive a shrug or just no reply at all. Either way, she waited in silence, her eyes staying on the only company she had in the dark, breezy night passing slowly by.

((No worries. I'm just glad you haven't completely forgotten about it ))

There was a brief moment in which Amelia debated taking offense at Ginevra’s laughter at her stressed situation, but before Amelia’s redhead temper could flare up her housemate continued, saying aloud that which Amelia had intentionally avoided mentioning. It was a curious thing, that Ginevra could read her so well as to anticipate what Amelia might be concerned over, but then again, the Hogwarts Tournament was not exactly a secret. Amelia had known when she put her name in the goblet at the beginning of the year that the action might mean the dissolution of her anonymity, but the allure of proving something to herself and her parents was too strong.

For all her life, Amelia had made only the “right” decisions. She did what her parents told her to, did the responsible thing instead of the easy thing, took the path that would lead to success instead of the fork which led to fun. But the little scrap of paper with her name on it? That had been her decision. She hadn’t even told her parents about submitting her name, not wanting them to be disappointed if she wasn’t chosen or putting up a fight if they thought it was not a ladylike endeavor.

When her name had not originally been chosen, Amelia had thought she made the right decision by not telling her parents, but now that the circumstances had changed, she was faced with a new challenge: telling them. It was too late now to back out of the tournament, and she could hardly avoid telling her parents at all. If she didn’t send them an owl with the news soon, they were bound to hear about it through the grapevine that entwined its way through the upper crust. Amelia could only imagine the howler she would receive from her mother if Antoinette had to hear about Amelia’s championship from someone other than the primary source.

Ginevra’s explanation of why she had behaved the way she had around Christabelle seemed reasonable enough. Amelia too had not been altogether thrilled with Christabelle’s gloating over her position, especially to the point of throwing herself a party as well. She had not been quite as vocal about her distaste for Christabelle’s actions, but her feelings had not been that far off from Ginevras. Amelia merely nodded in response to this, listening as Ginevra continued, playing with her hair as she did.

Amelia blushed at her housemates flattering statements, though Ginevra was rather reserved with her congratulatory remarks. Amelia actually preferred it this way because she didn’t want to build anyone’s hopes up too high only to let them down. Amelia had exceedingly high expectations of herself, not to mention those placed on her by her parents, the headmaster, and her professors. Quite honestly, she didn’t know how she would respond to the pressure of her entire house weighing on her shoulders as well.

It’s only a matter of time before they find out… Amelia’s more logical side reminded her, causing an involuntary twisting in her stomach.

“Terrified is probably putting it lightly,” Amelia agreed, though Ginevra probably wasn’t referring to Amelia’s fear about her housemates or the loss of anonymity. To Amelia, these were more terrifying than anything the school could possibly throw at her in a tournament. True, the challenges would be difficult, but Amelia trusted herself with a wand far more than she trusted herself with other people.

“I didn’t know you were the champion last time,” Amelia admitted, not trying to be offensive, but rather stating a fact. Amelia had never been one for social events, and thus the last time the tournament had taken place Amelia had strayed away to the library. She had heard that Ravenclaw had won the tournament – it was hard to ignore the celebration in the common room – but had never really taken the time to find out to whom she owed the glory of her house.

“Any helpful hints?” Amelia asked with a slightly nervous laughter, finger combing her hair back from her face in one of her countless nervous ticks.