i'm alright with a slow burn

Amycus had learned quite some time ago that to look other people in the eyes was to make them uncomfortable; as if there was something written behind his eyes that told them that there was something wrong with him and that they should stay well away. That he was strange and unnatural and wrong. For some people this had proved a blessing — Amelia was not one of those people.

Instead, he stared hard at his hands, trying his best to consider whether or not he should be trying to escape with what little dignity he had left in tact before Amelia did that thing she had a habit of doing where she treated him like he was normal. “I like History,” he replied, forehead furrowing faintly after the admission that had come from nowhere. He’d never been good at this small talk. “It’s much more interesting than — than potions,” his nose wrinkled pointedly, as if Professor Slughorn might sense his displeasure from here down to the dungeons and Alecto along with him. Potions had always been her subject, one she derived great pleasure from excelling over him in. “I’d rather listen to Professor Binns than hear Professor Slughorn talk about his friends.”

And if there was just a hint of envy buried in his voice, he could hardly be blamed. Professor Slughorn was not a man who had overlooked Amycus’s more offputting qualities.

And Amycus was more than willing to expound upon that subject, if the way his shoulders hunched upwards and he wound up indignantly, hair already sliding out from behind his ears to drape back into his face, but then Amelia was back in his space, reaching out as if to prod at the tender spot throbbing in his skull before pulling up short. His jaw clamped shut, eyes darting upward to meet the questioning look upon her face.

Why would she want to help him? That was the real question. He’d never quite figured out Amelia, despite Alecto’s frequent claims that she was just like the rest of their peers, that she only wanted to humiliate them. Finally, he nodded his head faintly as if to grant her permission, chewing down on his lower lip as the skin on the back of his neck grew hot and shivery, his hands clenching at his side.

“I don’t need to go to the Hospital Wing. Madam — Madam Pomfrey said we don’t have to go, that we aren’t—” and that was a whole other kettle of fish he didn’t want to examine, “She said we are perfectly healthy.” We, we, we. “It was just a book.”

He hissed, drawing back indignantly as Amelia’s fingers gazed a tender spot and conceded, “A large book.”

The corners of Amelia’s mouth ticked up into a small smile. I like history. “So do I.” Amelia answered simply, her eyes glittering with a tender fondness for the boy. One thing Amelia had always admired about Amycus was his mind. She would find herself watching Amycus as he studied from time to time. His brow would always furrow when he was reading something particularly mind-blowing, Amelia thought it rather cute. She imagined her friends would think she were strange but it wouldn’t deter her fascination.

“Slughorn is just a bag of hot air.” Amelia snorted. Maybe that was a little mean but Amelia knew exactly what Amycus was referring to; the slug club. While not an evil person, Slughorn definitely played favorites. Those favorites usually being from families with more money and connections to well-known names in the wizarding world. There were a few muggleborns and half-bloods mixed in but Amelia couldn’t help but roll her eyes at Slughorn’s list of members. “He’s just looking for talented students so he can ride on their coattails....At least that’s what I heard McGonagall telling Kettleburn one afternoon.”

Amelia took Amycus’s silence as permission to touch him. She felt her stomach flutter as she probed gently for the spot where the offending book had hit. Biting down on her lower lip, she pushed those feelings away, instead listening to Amycus insist that he were fine. Amelia almost believed Amycus but a sudden hiss from his mouth told her something different.

Faintly dazed in a way that Amycus had long come to associate almost exclusively with Amelia’s presence and her seeming invulnerability to all his most off-putting qualities that kept the student population at a distance, Amycus reached up to gingerly inspect the tender spot where ’Hammer Your Anvil: The Metal Charmer’s Anthology’ had bounced off his head and skidded away beneath the stacks, wincing at the sharp ache of response to the gentle pressure and hastily sat up. 

In the way that she had always had of somehow worming her way into his presence, Amelia was suddenly just there, a book on maces in her hands and doing her very best to look like she didn’t want to laugh at him. A part of him, a very small part of him that he resolutely denied existed, appreciated the attempt. Few people ever bothered with such courtesies.

“I do—” he sat up a little straighter and made an attempt to sort out whatever mystery was playing across his face, tugging at the hem of his school sweater where it had rode up in the kerfuffle and tucked his hair uneasily back away from his face, behind his ears. Mother always told him not to hide behind it. “I do not need to go to Madam Pomfrey.”

The persistent throb of his head seemed determined to give a counter-argument, but Amycus knew better than to trust hospital beds. One never knew when they were going to get back out of them. “It’s just a—” his tongue stuck determinedly behind his teeth, like it was mocking him just the same as the rest of the world and he soldiered through it, biting out a determined, “—a bump. B-barely even felt it. What are you doing here?”

He sniffed, pulling at the sleeves of his sweaters that continued to determinedly slip down over his fingers and carefully pushing them back up his forearms, avoiding eye contact in favour of his own hands. “I— I didn’t think anyone else did Professor Binns’ homework.”

Amelia leaned forward on her knees, before shifting her weight and raising herself back up to full height. She sat the very worn book on medieval maces she had clutched in her hands on the edge of the nearest desk. Looking down to give herself a once over, she brushed the small dust bunnies from the length of her grey, pleated skirt, mouth ticking downward as she took note of the new run in her stockings.

“Are you sure you’re fine?” she asked as her attention was turned back to Amycus. Amelia raised her eyes to look at him like her mother did when Amelia and her brothers tried to fib about anything. The book in question had looked rather cumbersome. Amelia distinctly remembered ANTHOLOGY flashing before her eyes in gold lettering before the book made its hasty escape under the nearest shelf. That had to have hurt pretty badly.

Crossing her arms over her chest, Amelia tilted her head, observing him for any signs of injury. She watched as Amycus pushed his long hair behind his ears, clearly uncomfortable after being caught in such a vulnerable position.. “Ah, Binns isn’t so bad.” Amelia answered quickly, deftly dodging the question of exactly why she was in the library. “Those who complain about him are just being overdramatic…If they can’t make their way through his readings, I don’t see how any of them expect to do well in any other course...It’s fairly easy reading if not a little arduous...”