Strange Meetings ((Dylan))

[August Reid R7]

It was the day before break. August had finished all his exams and thought that he did fairly well in all of them. At least, he hoped that he had. But he was fairly certain that he had. Exams had never been a big issue for August. He rarely studied and when he did he didn't put his heart in it. August's philosophy was if you didn't know the material from class there was no way that one night of studying was going to change that. If you didn't know, you wouldn't know it. Many students that he tried to explain this way of thinking to thought he was nuts. They were firm believers in study habits. August always found that when he study for a test that he became nervous about that test. Therefore he didn't do well. But if he didn't think about the test he was much more relaxed and actually did well on the exam. It was just an exam after all, there was no reason to give yourself an ulcer over it. His hardest exam was probably Divination but he struggled immensely with that subject. Not because he didn't know about the placement of tea leaves or the objects in dreams or the lines of a palm, but he just didn't care. He disliked Professor Trelawney with a passion. He often debated in his mind whether he disliked Professor Snape or Professor Trelawney more. He had gotten through many a class with either teacher debating it in his head. He never could come to a conclusion though. Professor Snape was mean to his students, unless you were in Slytherin, but at least Potions made sense. There was logic to Potions. Professor Trelawney on the other hand had a loose screws and her subject was pointless. Looks like Professor Trelawney won the debate today.

August was on his way to the Student Lounge. He was trying to find his brother Jack. Jack had decided, as he always did, to stay at school during the holiday. But this would be the first holiday when their mother was crazy. It was important for the entire family to be there. August had seen or spoken with Jack ever since meeting with him in the library. Jack and August had just argued and nothing came of the meeting. What about? The usual. Jack for some odd reason had it in his head that their parents disliked him. That was untrue. Their parents cared about all their children. True, they had their problems, but who doesn't? So tonight was one final attempt to find Jack and sway him to come home for the holidays. If nothing else it would be nice for the brothers to spend a Christmas together. They hadn't done that since Jack had first gone to school at Hogwarts. August could still remember getting the owl from Jack informing the family that he was not going to come home for the holidays. Jack of course didn't know but his family had been devastated. Their mother wore a hollow smile on his face trying to convince everyone that she was fine with his decision. Bronsen and August didn't think it was right or fair to open presents without their elder brother present. Their father came home later and later but that might have been because he was cheating on his wife at that point. August could never really remember when he started having affairs.

The sun was quickly setting in the west but it still shed enough light into the windows that August did not light his wand. This part of the day was probably his favourite. It was the part of the day when it was not quite night yet not quite day either. It was in the middle. Just like August. Stuck in the middle. The middle child. For the rest of his life. The corridors were practically empty as most students were probably in their house common rooms celebrating the end of term. August hoped that Jack was not in his common room. If he was then there would be no way to access him. He supposed he could ask a Slytherin to fetch him, but they would probably come up with a rude retort and deny his request. That's why August wanted Jack to be in the Student Lounge. He walked swiftly along the corridors as they would soon give in to the cold of night and be freezing. To his right was a large window that faced west and August looked out to see the setting sun. The sun was further along then August had realised and darker too. Still he would not light his wand until he needed to. Looking right he wasn't watching what was in front of him. What was in front of him was a silhouette. The silhouette of a boy. A boy that he crashed into. Stepping back he could barely make out light brown eyes in the fading light. "I'm so sorry. Are you all right?"

[Dylan Caoimhe]

Dylan was in a good mood. Well, he was always in a good mood at this particular time of year. Tomorrow, a hugely significant amount of students were leaving to go home for the Winter Holidays, and Dylan couldn't wait. He loved it here at Hogwarts when it was somewhat barren. It was nice, and peaceful. Even the noisy cheering and celebrating that was going on in the Common Room he'd left not to long ago didn't affect him. They'd be gone tomorrow. The girls that were constantly chattering in the Library. Gone tomorrow. Little annoying first years. Gone tomorrow. Bothersome prefects, mainly Wynd, gone tomorrow. But Dylan had given the latter a little thought.

Dylan was on the Quidditch team now, and so was Wynd. He figured why not make amends with him. Or at least, get things to the point where they were pleasant too each other. He looked out to the left at the sky. It was a nice evening. Wasn't to dark. Wasn't too light. Maybe he'd go back to the Common Room to get his broomstick and fly around the pitch? Unnecessary, Dylan thought. He could go out after he finished working out the finishing touches on his spell. He nearly had it down packed. Then he could go out to the pitch, and Accio his broom to him. Dylan looked over to the right, after hearing a rather exaggerated scream. Apparently, a Hufflepuff girl was just bumped into by a Gryffindor boy, who was trying to balance a Fanged Frisbee on his index finger. "Good job, idiot," Dylan mumbled to himself.

That was another thing about the Winter Holidays. You never had to worry about people bumping into you. The corridors were always nice and clea--. Dylan's thought was interrupted as he turned the corner and bumped into something, or someone. It was a boy. Dylan steadied himself, and sighed. The boy apologized and asked if he was alright. The boy was obviously in a lower year, though he looked a bit older, Dylan was sure he wasn't in his year, so he must've been a fourth year. Dylan straightened himself up. "No, I'm not alright, actually," he said sarcastically. "You knocked the wind out of me. I can barely stand--." Dylan narrowed his eyes. He felt like his throat had suddenly shot up to his mouth, his heart sank into his stomach, and then his stomach plummeted to his feet.

No, he thought. No. It was just a trick. His mind. Yeah, that was it. His mind was playing tricks on him. Dylan was paralyzed. He couldn't speak. He couldn't move. All he could do was stare. Thats all that seemed rational. It was the only thing to do. Was just to, stare. He couldn't believe it. Never again, he thought, would he see those eyes. Never. But yet here he was, staring into them. But wait, this isn't her, he thought. Dylan rubbed his forehead, which felt like took all the effort in the world. He felt slightly dizzy. This wasn't happening, but yet it was. Dylan couldn't understand. He had never felt anything like this before. His mind was racing, struggling to think one solid thought. "Excuse me." The words were out of his mouth, which surprised him, and he started to walk pass this, guy.

[August Reid R7]

August's first thought was that he had bumped into a Slytherin. His sarcastic answer would have fit well in the world of Slytherin. Slytherin's always had a sardonic demeanor about them. As if that was their only emotion. Maybe that was their only emotion. As if the millions of other feelings escaped their comprehension. Jack, his older brother, was in Slytherin. Although Jack was sarcastic most of the time he had only emotions. Like anger. Or hate. Yeah, that was it. Anger, hate, and sarcasm. But that wasn't true. August knew that deep down Jack had more emotions than that, but he just had not seen them from his brother lately. But he rarely saw Jack at school. Maybe he was different with his friends. Regardless, August was use to this type of response from Slytherins. When this stranger responded to August's very innocent question with sarcasm, August was prepared. He had been dealing with Jack for fifteen years now so this type of behavior was nothing new. What was surprising was that the stranger choked on his words. This type of behavior was something that August was not expecting. August re-thought his initial reaction and was thinking perhaps this mysterious stranger was a Gryffindor. Gryffindors could be rather rude also. Many of the students in that house thought they were mightier-than-thou just because Harry Potter and Neville Longbottom were both in Gryffindor. August had talked to many people in Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff and they all agreed that Slytherins and Gryffindors were very similar despite "hating" each other.

This strange boy was staring directly into August's eyes. The other boy seemed not to breathe, not to move, as if he was frozen in time. "Yes? Is there something fascinating about my face?" August asked this other boy. His question was not stern but a genuine question. What was so interesting about his plain features? This boy standing in front of August obviously found something extremely interesting for he seemed to forget how to function. Maybe I remind him of someone, August thought. The light brown eyes were penetrating though. August looked away and scratched his head. "Um... well, I didn't mean to bump into you like that. I'm very sorry," he said continuing to look away. He couldn't look at the boy staring at him. His strong features focused on August.

The break in eye contact seemed to help the boy find his voice again. "Excuse me," he said to August. August looked back at the boy but only saw the back of his head instead. The boy was moving away from August. August stared after him and slowly turned back the original direction that he was headed. "Well that was odd," he told a painting that was near him. The inhabitant of the painting, an old witch, merely scoffed and didn't answer. Where was he going? It took him a moment to come up with an answer. The Student Lounge. To look for Jack. Right. His left foot stepped forward followed by his right in a pattern that his body recognised as walking. Jack, Jack, Jack. Those light brown eyes. Jack. Brown eyes. Jack. Brown eyes.

[Dylan Caoimhe]

Dylan needed to go somewhere. Where, he did not know, just somewhere away from everyone and everything. He felt his heart thump in his chest, and his mind was swimming and racing to what felt like nothing. It had been almost a year and a half since he'd seen Alanah alive. A year and a half since he saw her eyes, and yet today, he saw them once more. The same exact shade. The same exact shape. He saw them while not in anyway prepared to see them. Dylan found himself upon an empty classroom, and went inside closing the door behind him. He went to a corner, layed up against the wall, and allowed himself to slide down until he reached the floor.

He wanted to scream. He wanted to hit something. He wanted to make something hurt as much as he was hurting right now. He closed his eyes, determined not to let one tear fall. "So this is it, huh? This is where I break down right?" Dylan laughed, but it wasn't his laugh. It was completely different. He didn't know who he was talking to. Why was it every time Dylan was in a half way good mood, something just always had to happen to spoil it? Dylan laughed again, but this time as he did so, his eyes filled to the bursting point with tears where his eyelids could no longer contain, and they trickled warm down his cheeks. He knew what was hurting him, but he didn't want to accept it. He didn't want to deal with it. He couldn't deal with it. It was too much for him, and he knew it.

A year and a half, and not once did he cry for her. Not once. Not because he thought her unworthy of his tears, but that he didn't think she would want him to cry, or hurt for her. Would she? Dylan pursed his lips, and suffocated a sob. Hadn't Alanah always told him it was okay to hurt? Okay to cry? She even told him once that after you cry and get everything out, you feel better afterwards. But this was different, he thought. Or was it? At Alanah's funeral, he sat and stared at her face. Her dead, empty face, and accepted that she would never open her eyes again. Never would she be there to give him advice and guidance. He wasn't ready. He wasn't ready for her to leave. He needed her. He still needed her. He felt alone. Like he had no one in the entire world.

Dylan opened his eyes. He wiped his nose on his sleeve, and wiped his face with the back of his hands. This was enough. He had to get himself together. He closed his eyes again, and drew slow, steadying breaths. As he did so, his head seemed to swirl with every slow inhalation. Why was it so hard for him? Was he making it hard for himself? Was suppressing everything and not allowing himself to feel anything the reason he was so out of it lately? But, he only did that because he didn't want to hurt, or feel pain. He had enough of both. But Dylan never felt the way he felt now. This was something completely new to him.

Drawing his knees up to his chest and locking his arms around them, he stared out an open window at the newly dark sky. For some reason, it seemed so appealing, like it was calling to him. He took one last deep breath and stood up. He gave his face another once over with his hand, and then proceeded to the classroom door, opening it as quietly as he could, and slid out, leaving the door ajar. All he wanted to do was go down to the Quidditch pitch, get on his broomstick, and fly.