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Post by ALBUS SEVERUS POTTER on Jan 16, 2015 23:36:45 GMT
At this point Albus was used to the tapping of the window, his racing heart, the piece of paper tied on the owl’s leg, and the tearing apart of the seal as he opened the note. With the beginning of this one though, he frowned.
Fear on both sides… that implied that A was on the other side of things. The side that killed his parents. Or he wouldn’t say that. But why bother with him, if A was a death eater? Once again, Al returned to his previous thoughts of “if he really wanted me dead, he would’ve already killed me.” It was possible that the man was just messing with him. But why like this? Why wait a year? Moreover… Al had reasons to believe he was really genuine. Conversations like that night don’t happen out of the blue.
And even though the correspondence was risky, Al continued to write. He said so himself in their last meeting: things happen for a reason.
A,
Seeing that you’re on the other side… or that’s what it seems like, anyways, you want me dead, do you not? So hit me. I’ve probably heard worse names.
Albus sighed. He was asking for it, yes. Ignorance is bliss, usually, and that was the reason they had kept their identity a secret. Would he have talked to him if he’d known his name? No idea. But he needed to know. If A can contact him after knowing his identity, then… Al supposed that it doesn’t mater as much as the two of them are thinking it is.
He closed his letter with another line:
To answer your question… yes. But tea is not quite as strong as coffee.
A
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Post by ALBUS SEVERUS POTTER on Jan 16, 2015 23:33:32 GMT
With the return of the owl, Al gave it a treat. It’s been flying back and forth a few times. Probably a good distance. He opened the note.
“I will not contact again,” the letter said. But is that really what he wanted? Is he okay with knowing just one letter of his name?
No, he decided. No he wasn’t. Al remembered that fateful night, the way the two of them had connected, the way he had been captivated—no, completely enthralled by that man, and how he had longed for him almost every day since. He’d pushed him out of his mind, tried not to think about it, but it all eventually comes back to him. And now he had the owl. And the letters—three letters, actually. And seeing the words in front of him, seeing the way he dotted his ‘i’s and crossed his ’t’s and all the little nuances in his penmanship after a year… well, it seemed surreal.
So, Al picked up his quill again to write a letter. He knew it was beyond dangerous, beyond impulsive. He needs to slow down and think and logic things through. But what about love is logical?
“Okay, A,” he wrote.
I’m sorry. I’m not unhappy that you found me. To be entirely honest, I was elated. You just caught me off guard. You know my name now, but you didn’t offer your own, and… I’m not in a better position than I was in a year ago. Perhaps worse off. So yes, I freaked out, but I trust you.
I do find myself preferring black coffee over anything else now, too.
A
He didn’t read over it again, fearing that if he did, he would just toss the letter instead. He tried to rationalize, make himself believe it was the right decision. If the man was anyone dangerous, wouldn’t he have killed him the night they met? Tying the letter on the owl’s leg, Al sent him back out.
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Post by ALBUS SEVERUS POTTER on Jan 16, 2015 23:29:55 GMT
As Albus waited—actually, he had no idea how long he should wait. The longer the better, he supposed, because if it took longer for the owl to return to him, that meant that him and the man were a good distance apart. Well, hopefully. He couldn’t risk being discovered, and he had no idea where the man stood on the side of things. That was why things were better as they’d left it. He was a Potter. And no matter the connection they felt that day, it was entirely possible that he would turn his back on Albus, kill him, give his location away… the list goes on.
He hated his last name right now.
His heart rate was still elevated, even after he closed the window and the owl was long gone. He collapsed back on the couch with a sigh. Next to him, there was a book. He’d been reading up on magic and learning what he could to try to finish his training, to best prepare for the worst… that was what he was doing before he dozed off and before the letter came. Al contemplated picking the book back up. But he couldn’t possibly concentrate on anything else now.
Should he even stay where he was?
So he paced. Waited. And before too long, the owl was back, the sharp rap on the window prompting the twenty year old to open it. He opened the letter to find the similar handwriting. Al let out a sigh when he read that he had no idea of his location. There was no reason he should trust him, at all. In fact, his instincts told him that he should leave, now, leave the letters and the owl and not write back again. But Albus acted against his better judgment. This time, he scribbled a longer response:
your owl suggests otherwise, A. and contacting me was not part of the deal.
what do you want?
There was no reason Albus should trust that this man didn’t know where he was. And he knew he should write a letter to Lily or James right now, telling them that he’ll be gone. And he should leave, just in case there was some sort of… tracking spell on the owl or something. He was at an extremely vulnerable position. The other person knew who he was, and all he had was a first initial. It could be anyone out there.
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Post by ALBUS SEVERUS POTTER on Jan 16, 2015 23:23:30 GMT
Tap, tap tap.
Albus had dosed off on the couch in his tiny, one-room apartment when he heard the rapping of the window. An owl. No, an owl that he didn’t recognize. Unfamiliar owls weren’t something he saw much of, nowadays. He recognized owls from his siblings and family, but that was it. Those people, and a few of his Hogwarts friends (who weren’t dead) were the people who had access to him. There was a reason he moved often, and the apartment he lived in, in the outskirts of muggle London, was protected by countless charms and protective spells as to make sure he doesn’t get found.
The sight of the owl actually made his heart pound with fear. Was the spell not working? Did he have to leave, now? Or maybe death eaters were outside his door. Despite that, he went to the window and opened the latch with shaking hands, anticipating a flash of green. His left hand gripped his wand tightly.
But there was no dark wizards outside his apartment. It was just an owl. And when Al untied the letter on the owl’s foot, it waited patiently on the window sill. Waiting for his reply.
Albus unscrolled the letter to find a careful script. No signature. But whoever it was knew him. I found you.
Three seemingly threatening words, actually, especially since Al didn’t want to be found. But the mention of coffee brought him back to one year ago. He remembered the man all too clearly, the events, the morning after.
He plopped down on the couch and read the letter again. And again. Then a fourth time. The twenty two little words that he had no idea what to make of. So he’d found out about his identity, and he still didn’t know the other man’s. He wasn’t sure if it was a prank, and the thoughts of danger, the thoughts of death eaters right outside his door came back to his mind. But the mention of coffee… that was a somewhat reassuring thing, right? It was specific. Nobody else could’ve drafted a letter and mentioned that.
Albus got back up and went to his desk. Taking out a piece of parchment paper, he wrote a reply. It consisted of only one word, followed by his first initial:
How?
- A.
If he was to have this owl travel back and fourth between him and the man, he had to make sure he was safe. Maybe he’ll receive a vague reply, or not at all… Reconnecting with the one guy he’d met a year ago and longed to meet again since then seemed too good to be true. He had to be cautious.
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Post by ALBUS SEVERUS POTTER on Jan 16, 2015 8:19:12 GMT
[nospaces] [attr="class","EWtitle1temp1"] [attr="class","EWtitle2temp1"] ALBUS SEVERUS POTTER [attr="class","EWtable1temp1"] [attr="class","EWtable2temp1"] [attr="class","EWcontainer1temp1"]  [attr="class","EWcelebnametemp1"] MATTHIEU BARNABE [attr="class","EWbox1temp1"] MALE [attr="class","EWbox2temp1"] FORMER RAVENCLAW [attr="class","EWbox1temp1"] 20 [attr="class","EWbox2temp1"] GAY [attr="class","EWbox3temp1"] SPECIES [attr="class","EWbox4temp1"] UNEMPLOYED | [attr="class","EWcontainer2temp1"] it's been a very good day so far. saturday. abigail had finished all her schoolwork that needed to be done last night, which meant that she was free to do whatever today, with that out of the way. she can kick back, relax, practice quidditch, or even do nothing at all! that is to say… she would much rather practice quidditch than do anything else. that’s exactly what she planned on doing. she woke up earlier than usual, thinking that maybe if she arrived early the pitch would be empty, and there would be nobody but her. that’s what she wants… to practice alone. well, practicing with a teammate is alright, or several other people, but abigail disliked the crowded pitch later in the day when everybody is trying to use it. little second years practicing who wants to try out next year as well as players from all four houses will be passing quaffles, throwing bludgers, and flying around. abigail usually tries to avoid that. after checking the schedules and double checking that nobody reserved the team for today, abigail headed off to the pitch. typically, people are going to start heading off to the pitch at around nine… which would give abby about two hours of being by herself. that’s great. she wore her gryffindor quidditch robes and took her wand along with her – like most other wizards, abigail does not like going anywhere without it. going around without a wand made her feel a little uneasy, even within the castle grounds. she also took her beater’s bat and her broomstick… but did not bring a bludger. well, first off, she doesn’t own one, and anyways, it would be much too heavy to carry it everywhere. plus… who actually buys individual bludgers? the idea of that amused her, either way. hogwarts has a few sets of quidditch equipment for practice – there wasn’t any need to bring anything else. she arrived at the pitch, with only one other person flying around. she was pretty glad about that! the chest of quiddtch balls was already out. though before she shouted out a greeting to another player or kicked off the ground, she realized who else was on the pitch. the gryffindor scowled. great, just who she wanted to see this early in the morning! lucas flint. ach. for a moment abigail wondered if she should just turn around and leave… but then she would have gone for all the trouble of waking up early and getting to the pitch quickly for nothing. instead, she released a bludger from the case and hit it straight at the other boy. |
| [attr="class","EWaliastemp1"] ever [attr="class","EWintrotemp1"] x [attr="class","EWnotestemp1"] i have created 0 characters and wish to birth another into this world. i live in country where the zone of time is est. you can contact me via pm. this character is finished and ready for judgement. |
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