Autumn Exercise

Amelia was not surprised when Peter admitted to not knowing of the Black Raven Bookshop. He was, afterall, from a completely different country, likely with their own equivalent of Diagon Alley and their own selection of bookshops. Even among students that went to Hogwarts and had lived their entire lives in England, the Black Raven Bookshop was not overly popular. They did not sell textbooks, which made them unpopular when school shopping came around, and the shop could be a bit messy.

While usually opposed to messes of any kind, Amelia had found that she was able to overlook the untidiness of the bookshop in light of the other benefits it offered. The shop had just about any book you could want, on any and all subjects. Non-fiction books ranged from magical theory to geography, and they had a wide selection of novels as well, written by muggles and magical alike. But Amelia’s favorite part of the bookstore was that the shop was, on most days, completely devoid of patrons, which meant she was free to peruse the shelves in silence and solitude.

When she mentioned Diagon Alley, Peter’s face lit up like a bottle rocket, excitement bubbling to the surface again. For what seemed like the hundredth time, Amelia wondered where this boy got all his energy from; it seemed impossible that anyone should be excited by so many and such a wide range of things, but no matter what Amelia said, she seemed to elicit some kind of positive response from the long-haired boy, which was unusual in and of itself. Even more astounding was how well this conversation seemed to have carried on, especially considering her usual ineptitude.

Sort of makes you believe in miracles, doesn’t it? Amelia’s subconscious intoned sarcastically, the voice sing-songy and dreamy in her head, as though that part of her mind was fully making fun of every other part of her.

Amelia was rolling her eyes at herself – a physical manifestation of what was going on mentally – when Peter got an odd glint in his eye, like he was up to something. Amelia had seen the same look on Keith’s face many a time, right before he did something he thought was sneaky. Having had this experience with that facial expression, Amelia was instantly wary of what was to come, especially considered that Peter’s all out grin had turned into more of a shy smile, like he was going to reveal another fact that fit in the pirate category.

But when Peter’s words came, Amelia was once again confused about the non-verbal cues that had preceded them. He wanted her to show him the bookstore she had mentioned; that wasn’t too far a stretch. She would likely have made the same logical leap. So why was he giving her that look?

He’s asking you on a date, stupid.

Although Amelia’s rationality had not inferred this information, her subconscious was all over it, and not at all hesitant to catch Amelia’s conscious mind up to speed. Immediately, this made Amelia’s face turn a blotchy red and her eyes fall to the ground, where she could see her weight being shifted from one tennis-shoed foot to another.

It was not surprising that she had not realized what Peter was doing, because in all honesty, people did not ask her on dates. Not unless they were being forced by her mother, that is. Amelia had made it such a point to be caustic enough to everyone to avoid these types of situations that she had been very, very successful. So successful, in fact, that she had absolutely no idea what to do in this situation.

“I… uh…. um….” Amelia stuttered unintelligently, her eyes still on the ground.

Come on, sweetheart. Full sentences. You can do it.

No, I can’t.

Can.

Can’t.

Alright, I’ll settle for a full word. At least three letters.

“Um… sure. I’m… good at… books,” Amelia stammered, sounding very much like she was the one whose first language was not English, instead of Peter. One part of her mind was still trying to rationalize the situation, convince her that he was likely not asking her on a date. He was probably just asking for help getting around, as would be logical and rational in a country with which you are not familiar. But her subconscious was still insistent that its analysis of the situation was not inaccurate, which was resulting in Amelia’s blush spreading down her neck and to her chest, while her eyes remained rooted firmly on the ground, now fully incapable of looking at the boy in front of her.

Peter watched her and realized she was beginning to a blush, a fact that made him want to blush as well. He would not deny that he was beginning to like Amelia- she was pretty, smart, and charming after all- but he had not meant it to be a formal date or anything. Peter was old fashioned in that he thought it was best to talk and hang out for awhile before actually dating. Now Amelia was sure to be awkward and not want to go... And he had really been looking forward to checking out the store and maybe meeting up with her another time.

A string of stutters followed and he kept his gaze on hers, though a little bit of dejectedness had entered his small smile and his eyes. He wanted to go back and rephrase that question, but he did not want to act as though he had mistakenly asked her out or something- he would like to leave open the opportunity to ask her out in the future if anything were to grow, but that would be awkward if he had already asked her out and backed out...

And then she agreed, confirming that she was 'good at.. books.' The dejectedness crawled out of his face and he smiled in a contented manner back at her, not beaming as he had before, but his face nevertheless alight with happiness and acceptance. So he had not scared her off and sent her running for the hills. That was... amazing.

"Great!" he said in a happy, jubilant voice. "Maybe we can get you zat way with conversation as well?" He smirked mischievously, his eyes twinkling to let her know that he was not making fun of her in the least, simply lightening the mood. "I'm sure you can recommend me some very nice books." He grinned widely. "When are you allowed to go visit?"

Amelia was still looking at the ground when Peter’s response came, far more enthusiastic than her own acceptance of his invitation. Then again, Amelia figured she was going to have to get used to being the less enthusiastic one if she was going to spend any measurable amount of time around Peter – and she still wasn’t sure she was going to, this was purely hypothetical, of course.

Although Amelia would have been content to keep examining the grass beneath her cross trainers, Peter’s following comment was enough to bring her eyes back to his, if only to check that he really was making a joke of just how socially inept she was. No one had ever actually called her out on how poor of a conversationalist she was, and although Amelia knew that everyone must think it, it was still a bold move on Peter’s part to actually say it aloud. More unexpected yet was that he had managed to say it in a way that did not incite Amelia’s ire – as usually happened when her mother pointed it out – but instead, allowed Amelia’s lips to turn up into a small smile. It was not easily that Amelia was able to laugh at herself, but in this case, she couldn’t help it. She still felt foolish for having just demonstrated the sentence structure of a first-grader, but Peter seemed to be taking her shortcomings in stride, which encouraged Amelia to at least try to do the same.

With a smile tugging at the corners of her lips, Amelia found that she was able to maintain eye contact with Peter for longer than a few seconds, and she even felt the heat of her blush begin to dissipate, though not disappear altogether. It seemed Peter knew enough to keep the conversation moving along so Amelia wouldn’t dwell on her awkward response, and he was mostly successful in his attempt. Although a small part of Amelia remained disappointed at her lack of social grace, most of her thoughts followed Peter as he moved to the topic of setting an actual date for their Diagon Alley outing.

Outing is a good word. Much better than date. It’s not a date.

Sure it’s not.

“This weekend is actually an open campus weekend for us,” Amelia said quickly, forcing herself to step out of the mental ping-pong game that was still going inside her head, “So we could go on Saturday. The store is usually pretty empty then, so we would have plenty of time and space to find just what you are looking for,” Amelia finished, trying to sound non-chalant, although internally, she was freaking out that she was actually agreeing to another meeting with a boy who, 45 minutes ago, she was considering running away from before even the introductions had come to pass.

Peter seemed to have coaxed her back to the conversation with his joke, and he was relieved she was not offended. He knew his humor could sometimes be considered rude, even though he always meant it so that people would feel less awkward about inherently awkward situations. If he made it seem like it was no bid deal, they usually could laugh it off and he could continue on.

Amelia's eyes met his and her blush began to lessen, her mouth curving into a small, but fitting smile on her face. He grinned at her, his eyes still twinkling, his expression open and rather innocent, simply contented by her smile, her acceptance. She had seemed unsure of him for most of the conversation, but she was finally beginning to find her pace.

She informed him that the next opportunity to go to this bookshop in the infamous Diagon Alley was the coming weekend. She suggested Saturday when the bookshop would probably be clear of other patrons and he smiled. He had always liked shopping in his small stores when they were nearly empty, leaving him to explore pages and sift through odd instruments. It would also mean more lovely conversation and hopefully more insight on Amelia.

"Saturday sounds wonderful," Peter said. "And zat way, I will not frighten customers away when I am suddenly 'opping about, pretending to wield a sword." He laughed. "Only kidding." Though something about the way his eyes sparked said that this may not be entirely true. "And should we meet at ze Ravenclaw table?" He was becoming quite familiar with Hogwarts already.

A smile. How surprising. Amelia’s subconscious commented sarcastically as Peter once again gave his usual response to her words. The smile was fitting in this case, because she had accepted his invitation, but it was still part of the never-ending stream of grins, smiles, and general positivity that seemed to leak out of Peter’s every pore. Maybe it was some kind of infection that had made him this way. Maybe he was still contagious, and that was why Amelia had agreed to go to Diagon Alley with him.

Nah, it’s probably the all the smiling… Amelia thought to herself, Smiles are tricky and deceptive.

The fact that she was already considering her agreement to go to Diagon Alley with Peter to be something she had been tricked into was not a good sign, but having no reasonable explanation for her actions at the moment, she was falling into old habits. Really, though, she didn’t need to rationalize it. She was merely helping out a foreign student, showing him around. This was nothing, and the more she repeated that mantra to herself, the less stressful it would be.

Amelia nodded along with Peter as he agreed to Saturday, though why she was even making an attempt at being as excited as he was was really beyond her. In that endeavor, she was fairly certain she was doomed to fail. When he mentioned the bit about the sword, however, Amelia found herself once again looking at Peter with slight disbelief, completely incapable of determining whether or not he was serious. Considering what she knew about him so far, he could be perfectly serious about the sword business, and Amelia, not being sure she really wanted to know whether he was truly planning that or not, merely laughed sporadically along with him, trying to sound genuine.

“Yes, Ravenclaw table will be fine,” Amelia responded automatically, some of her flight response starting to kick in now that she could sense an opportunity for escape coming. Their conversation had reached a natural close, and Amelia thought it best to leave sooner rather than later, because the longer she gave herself with Peter, the more likely she was to take back her agreement to meet him on Saturday, and at least some part of her didn’t like that idea.

“So I’ll um… see you on Saturday,” the redhead said in an awkward sort of dismissal, slowly stepping backward from Peter as she did, putting space between herself and the boy. When she had put a few meters between them, she gave a sort of awkward wave and turned to run back toward the castle before he could see the blush that was creeping back into her cheeks, though in this case, she was going to blame it on the exercise.

He nodded as she agreed to meet him at the Ravenclaw table and she seemed to take it as the time to depart. He nodded, "Yes, see you on Saturday. Eet was nice talking to you. Zank you for ze company." He grinned and she began to back away. She gave him an awkward little wave, which he returned with gusto. And then she turned and continued on her run.

He waited a second, watching her red ponytail bounce on her back before he turned and strolled back towards the center of the field, keeping his broom shouldered. He looked up at the sky, his sandy hair falling back on his face and brushing his shoulders as he closed his eyes against the gleam of the sun, his cheeks warming.

He let out a sigh and began to mount his broom, but he hesitated, and then carefully re-shouldered his Firebolt. He was already smiling. There was no reason, no need for him to go ride now. He had decided to simply come out and fly for the innocent reason of making himself happy, but it seemed that he had achieved that by other means.

He turned and began to make his way off the pitch, a bounce in his step and a smile plastered to his face. Adam was going to be so jealous.