A search for happy memories (James)

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@jae For many, the Christmas holidays meant a reprieve from the constant work load – well that was perhaps for many of the younger years. Amelia, however, found the expansive holiday a wasteland in which thought and work withered away. So true to form, she had found a silent spot up on the astronomy tower to practise her spell work. The sun was resting against the horizon. The grey of the surrounding sky made it look sickly. It strained to hold its position. Amelia disliked the winter time. Leaving an expanse of darkness on either side of sunset and sunrise, the sun set too early. Amelia had brought with her a fuelless portable flame that sent waves of warmth into the chilled air. Her DADA book lay open next to her, flipped open to the pages on patronouses. It was one of the most difficult spells she had encountered. The reason for this was beyond the technical skill of the spell, but rather she lacked the ability to muster up enough emotion to make it work. She had been attempting since the early morning. With each failed attempt her frustration grew. A thin film of silver wavered in front of her before extinguishing. Amelia gritted her teeth. It was not that Amelia had had a terrible life. In fact, she had had one of comfort and knowledge. Emotional intelligence was far from her grasp. She tired, clutching her wand in both her hands. Failure was a taste that she was unfamiliar with. She rubbed her eyes, mustering enough strength to continue into the growing darkness. Memories swirled inside her mind, but none of them seemed strong enough to break through and transform the weak silvery sheen into something of substance. Perhaps it was silly, but Amelia feared the animal that would take shape. It was said that patronouses reflected something innate about a wizard or witch. Amelia was, perhaps, not ready to know.

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James  found himself mindlessly wandering around the halls of the school with no real destination in mind, just a desire to keep moving and doing something other than sitting still, even if that something was... nothing. He ran a hand through his hair and he walked, an empty sort of feeling inside of him that he couldn't really understand. Why did it feel like there was absolutely nothing to do, anymore? A lot of people were hanging around the common room but after watching what must have been the dozenth game of wizards chess, James just couldn't take it anymore. 

Eventually, he found himself heading further and further up the school until he reached the steps that would take him up to the Astronomy tower. Suddenly, the idea of watching the last of the sunset from the highest point in the school sounded like a great way to spend some times, so James headed up. When he got there he noticed a light, and followed it to the source when he stepped out. There was a small flame that was radiating a load of warmth in the immediate area, and by it, someone practicing their magic - a patronus, if the silvery wisps of light were anything to go by. James's eyebrows pulled together when he realized who the caster was - Amelia was a sixth year... surely she should be able to cast a full corporeal patronus by now... "Amelia?" He stepped further onto the tower, "Everything alright?" 

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What frustrated Amelia the most was that she was brilliant -- for the most part, she was exceptionally capable at most spells. There was little else that she was good at in the world, so her inability to conjure this patronous brought her to the brink of tears. Her hand clutched her wand just a little tighter, as she watched the silver glimmer begin to fade away. Her level of frustration made it impossible to grasp another tendril of happiness to practice once more. A sigh escaped her lips, with a breath of steam.  She stiffened as she heard someone approaching. Her eyes darted nervously to the entrance to the tower, unsure of who to expect. The astronomy tower was notorius for couples sneaking up for  late night business. Amelia was also not really prepared for someone to see her having difficulty. She lowered her wand into her lap, her eyes wide. A breath escaped her lips as she heard a familiar voice. James Kaminski. The seventh year Hufflepuff was a nice guy.  "James," she responded, her voice a little uncertain. "I'm alright. What brings you up here?" She was a little flustered, unsure about what to say to him. She smiled awkwardly, her fingers fumbling with her wand. James was true to the values his house embodied. He was kind and compassionate, characteristics that many of the hormonal students at Hogwarts lacked. Amelia, although she could not emmulate his ability with people, had respect for that. Her mother had always tried to instill in her that intelligence was not everything to life and often people meant more. However, Amelia could not say that she had experienced such a world. People reacted... strangely to her. Many of their reactions mystified her. But James, he knew how to make people feel special and cared for. "I'm just practicing... feelings," she said, stumbling over her words a bit. Red lit up her cheeks conveying her embarrassment.

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"I'm alright. What brings you up here?"

She didn't sound alright, and she didn't look it, either. It looked like there was really something on her mind, bugging her, and he had a feeling it had something to do with the patronus, or lack of, that she was practicing. She seemed to be avoiding even looking at him, preferring to stare at her wand in her lap. He could understand she probably wasn't feeling too good about not being able to cast the spell, especially seeing as Amelia was usually exceptional when it came to her spell casting.

"I'm just practicing... feelings,"

James moved towards her and joined her on the ground, taking a moment to look at the page she had open in front of her. It was the Patronus, just like he expected to see. Okay, he could understand how it could be hard to find just the right memory to use, and Amelia always seemed to have a few problems with connecting to things, emotionally. The feelings were there, sure, he just got the feeling that she didn't really know how to react to them, and tended to lock them at bay.  "What memory are you using?" 

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James was special. Amelia knew that with a strange confidence. The older student had a gentle way around people. He settled down next to her with what Amelia perceived to be wonderful calm. The frown she wore settled deep into her brow. She keenly noted his lack of response to her question. It was as though he saw her deflection. She smiled wryly. Although James had not said much this night, Amelia respected his sharp insight into the minds of people. His question, however, caught her a little off guard. It was rather intimate, for her. Well, she remained guarded about most things that required her to delve into her emotional life.  "Well," she started, giving him a nervous glance, "I was remembering when I got my letter to Hogwarts. It was amazing for me. But, I suppose the memory is more complicated than just happy. My parents spoke about the scientific implications of the magical world for days while my best friend, who also got his letter, was disowned. So, maybe not happy enough." She fell silent, thinking about other possible happy memories. None clearly came to mind.  "I'm sorry," she finished uncomfortably.

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James watched Amelia's responses, trying to get a feel of what was going through her head in that time. It wasn't easy for her to admit she was struggling with a spell, he knew that, but there was also the fact that the patronus was a very emotion-built spell, and he knew Amelia well enough to know that emotions and feelings were, in many ways, one of her greatest weaknesses. Still, James wasn't about to give up hope that he could help her out with this particular spell. He had a feeling that it wasn't one she would easily be able to accomplish on her own, simply because she found it hard to willingly let emotions run free. 

He listened as she described  the memory she had been using, and the mix of emotions it stirred up at the time. Amelia looked thoughtful for a moment, so James stayed quiet, waiting. The silence ended when she apologized, but James just shook his head and sent her a smile. "I think you need to find something that is more... consistently happy. That memory holds you back because as soon as you think of it you remember all the bad stuff that followed." He shifted around to face her and held out his hands towards her, indicating she should take them and giving her a quick grin. "Okay, don't call me crazy. Just close your eyes and relax. Forget the spell, forget work, just block out everything that's going on in your mind until the only thing you hear at the birds singing in the forest. Trust me."

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There was little more in the world that Amelia wanted right now than to change the direction of this conversation. She would find herself practicing at the dead of night if she needed to.  His next words set her off on a rant. "There are no moments that are consistently happy, when properly considered. Life is more complicated than a string of simple emotions and thoughts. Life is messy and complicated," she said in a flurry. "How could a person find one emotion, untainted by others? I mean, happiness comes in several different forms and they are entirely dependent on the context in which they occur. Excitement is a form of happy that is transient and lacks enough substance to create a patronous. Other types of happiness may involve fear, uncertainty or sadness. Contentment is also a type of happiness, but is not always linked to a specific memory. And when memories are thought of logically, it is possible to diminish the emotional importance of them. Context is important for memories. Things always have layers. I can't not think about everything else that surrounds a memory." She took a breath and eyed the Hufflepuff incredulously. She dipped her eyes to his hands. She pulled her lips in response to the discomfort gnawing at her stomach. Tentatively, she placed her hands in his. She found it very difficult to be physically intimate with someone. Well, most people would not find this particularily intimate, but for Amelia, touching another person took a great amount of trust on her side. Well, that and the ability to repress her urges to pull away. She disliked people touching her because she could not gauge their intentions. Well, her thoughts were now digging her into a deep pit. It was not that she thought their intentions were nefarious or salacious. She just didn't understand them. Oh, and when someone said trust them, she immediately wondered why. Were they asking her to trust them just for this moment or trust them in a larger context? How far did they expect this trust to go and why did they not just trust that the trust was there? Trust was a word often brandished about carelessly without really understanding the depth of the word. She bit her lip in order to stop these thoughts from spilling out of her lips.  "I feel like we are about to have a seance ," she said awkwardly, showing a final display of resistance to the idea before shutting her eyes. She took a deep breath and tried not to think. As she attempted to silence her mind she became extremely aware of her hands placed in his. The texture of his palms against her own filled up her consciousness. She became increasingly aware of her eyelids, pressed down uncomfortably. This was ridiculous. Her hands tightened around his unconsciously. Tension showed in the rigidity of her body and the folds of lines that creased her eyes and brow.

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James listened without saying anything as Amelia went into a bit of a rant about how life is complicated, and so are memories. It was true, of course. Nothing was ever simple, nor was anything ever constant enough that you could feel one thing without feeling another. He hadn't worded things quite as well as he could have when he said that, and she was right to say it was impossible to do. "The way I see it, life is a pile of good things and bad things. The good things don't always soften the bad things, but vice-versa, the bad things don't necessarily spoil the good things and make them unimportant."

It was with some reluctance that Amelia took his hands. The look on her face was enough to tell him that she wasn't overly keen on the idea, but she did it anyway. Clearly, she trusted him to some extent - at least enough to give his words a chance. James didn't move his hands at all once she took them, hoping that it would make things easier for her if the contact was minimal, at least to start with.

"I feel like we are about to have a seance,"

James laughed softly and just shook his head in reply, waiting until Amelia closed her eyes. His own stayed open. He could see she was visibly tense, and that only seemed to get worse the longer her eyes were closed. Clearing her mind clearly wasn't very easy - but then, who could just switch off instantly?  One thing was clear though, this wasn't working quite the way he'd hoped. James shifted his hands so he had a better hold on hers, thumbs pressing lighting into the palms of her hands now, and he kept his eyes on her. "Breathe, Am. Have you ever tried to meditate?" That was sort of what he was going for here - just get her to relax and clear her mind enough to open herself up to her memories and her emotions.

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Amelia smiled weakly at James' response. She supposed he was right. Perhaps. just for this night, she could try understand how to stretch beyond her rigid ways of thinking to expand herself for this one night. Her parents had always emphasised the importance of her seeking out new ways of being. They thought that the only way to confirm what she knew was to seek out things that disproved it. It was an interesting theory, probably based on some psychological theory that her mother had learnt. The very powerful and the very stupid have one thing in common. They don't alter their views to fit the facts. They alter the facts to fit their views. Which can be uncomfortable if you happen to be one of the facts that needs altering. That is what Amelia held onto.  "No," Amelia replied, feeling a little stupid. She responded to his firmer grip by relaxing just a bit more. She concentrated on the feel of his thumbs pressed against her palms and attempted to ignore his intent gaze. Amelia felt that James could see right through her in some aspects. So, she took a breath. At first, it was difficult. The air lingered at the top of her lungs and for a moment she felt like she couldn't breathe. She glanced up quickly, looking intently at James. A moment of panic found her. She was just too aware of his gaze. The second breath was easier. It filtered down a little further. The panic broke a little. Her hands clasped his a little tighter. Oh god, he must think I am an idiot, she thought to herself, utterly dismayed. A little bit of red touched her cheeks. She took another breath, this time achieving a normal intake of air.  Then she laughed. She felt ridiculous. Here she was, making a complete fool of herself in front of James.  "I'm sorry, James," she said awkwardly, a smile still on her lips. "I must look like a complete idiot."

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((Sorry, I thought I'd replied to this ages ago!!!))

James wasn't sure whether holding her hands tighter was helping any, but he had to try. He certainly wasn't going to give up on her. He believed that she was capable of casting the spell she wanted to cast, she just needed to open herself up to her own emotions just a little bit more than she was generally willing to do. She was capable of it, though, he was sure of it.

He was pretty sure that he saw her relax just a little bit, and so watched her, hoping that he was right and that somehow this was working. James stayed as quiet as he could, so he didn't distract her, but before long he felt her grip tighten. Was that a good sign or a bad sign? He didn't have much time to think about it before she started to laugh, and even though I meant things weren't working quite as he'd hoped, he couldn't help but laugh too.

"I'm sorry, James. I must look like a complete idiot."

James send a grin her way. "And who's going to tell even if you do?" It wasn't like he was going to start telling the school or anything. He hated the gossip chains around the school, and he'd do anything he could to avoid them at all costs. The last thing anyone needed to deal with were out of control rumors, because you could be certain that the facts would never stay the same from one person to the next. "Maybe you should keep laughing, instead. Laughter's good."