Chapter 82 - Try — What Was Lost

Praeris's reply was forceful enough to cut through the page: "I suspect someone has been releasing an aerosolized modified Love Potion at school. Hogwarts looks like it's been pickled in teenagers' dopamine by now!"

Stella replied with a letter full of nothing but "hahahaha," the senior alumna's schadenfreude overflowing between every line.

"Can't you stand the comments?" Praeris said to Hermione. "Do you need me to borrow the keys a few more times?"

Hermione shook her head. "No, it's fine. It's not that I can't stand the words — they're just so loud they interrupt my studying. Praeris, if someone told you the sun rises in the west, would you get angry? We both know Rita Skeeter's words are nonsense. So why get angry at all?"

What truly bothered Hermione was Harry and Ron. "They clearly both miss each other. Why won't they just talk?"

Praeris said plainly, "Stubbornness isn't indifference. Sometimes it's precisely because they care too much."

Hermione no longer needed the Astronomy Tower. For Praeris, going back there many more times was going to be difficult.

Miles was like an enthusiastic large dog, always eager to cut her off and corner her. He pursued Praeris in an almost clumsy way, as if he genuinely believed that in matters of the heart, effort earned reward.

Praeris wrote to Winnie: "I once knew someone as foolish as Miles. She believed that giving a sincere heart and hard labor could buy other people's goodwill."

"It didn't help. In the end, the reason she could live like half a normal person was that she traded one pound for a piece of black bread. People got something out of the deal, so they occasionally said a good word for her. That was all."

Winnie and Ms. Prim held different views on this.

Ms. Prim's handwriting: "Praeris, love is sometimes foolish. People who are too clever are often afraid of it, because clever people always see the dark side of things. When a sudden bright light hits them, they go blind."

"Why not give it a try? Our lives are so short. Having someone who sincerely loves you is something worth being glad about. You've lacked older women to guide you. Dating doesn't mean you're fully responsible for that boy, and it certainly doesn't mean you have to plan out the rest of his life."

Winnie's handwriting: "My first partner was interested in all kinds of strange things and gave me a love of collecting odd little trinkets. My second partner was a Muggle-born wizard who loved novels, and he's the reason I chose to become a writer after I left the Ministry."

"I also briefly got involved with a Death Eater, only to find out later that it was arranged by the Dark Lord. But that Death Eater did teach me one thing: being a Death Eater has no future. You can't even decide your own feelings. My third partner was a Muggle who loved to travel, and he healed the restlessness in my heart after the war. What's the big deal about dating a few people? It just means you're popular!"

Ms. Prim's handwriting: "Prae, don't listen to Winnie's nonsense. Marriage deserves careful thought, but dating can be free. Nobody has ever decreed that a girl can only meet one boy in her lifetime. Love is simply two free souls crossing paths on life's road. You share some happiness for a while, and you take strength from each other."

Winnie's handwriting: "When the train is about to leave, you can choose to buy a ticket on the same train as him and travel the rest of the way together. Or you can board a different train and meet the next traveler fate sends your way."

Praeris sat beneath a large tree by the Black Lake, the letters from her family held loosely in her hands.

She had always had clear goals. She could write out long, detailed plans for the future: what to learn, what to do, what to have. Those plans had served her well. They had given her knowledge, strength, and wealth far beyond what her peers possessed.

Love was not in any of those plans, and she had no way to simply force it in.

Draco's particular feelings for her were still vague enough that she could look right past them with a clear conscience. But Miles's feelings were direct and warm, and she could find no room to dodge them.

In the past, something like this landing in her life would have been dealt with swiftly, the way she'd handled the Chamber when it threatened her survival.

But what had arrived this time was love. Love that could not be handled cleanly.

"Praeris!" Miles jogged toward her, his gait a little awkward.

Looking more closely, she could see why: he was carefully cradling a tall-stemmed goblet, the kind kept in the common room cupboard. The pale yellow liquid sloshed back and forth with each of his steps.

His eyes were bright. He held the goblet out toward her like he was presenting a treasure. "Madam Rosmerta said no takeaway — she wouldn't let me walk off with one of the pub's glasses. So I grabbed a goblet from the common room. Do you want to try some? It's mead."

Praeris looked at him for a long moment.

"Praeris, you restored an entire wall of paintings all by yourself!" Father Dowling said, astonished.

Little Praeris nodded and looked up at him, expectant.

"Quite impressive, your devotion is truly —"

"Oh!" Sister Maeve cut in suddenly. "Father! Fiona said this afternoon that her wound is hurting again. I was thinking, should we have Matthew go buy some painkillers?"

Father Dowling nodded. "Have Matthew set out early then, before it gets dark. As for Praeris, Fiona can't manage her chores, so you'll take on her share as well. May the Lord forgive you!"

That was the first time she had missed a chance to go to school. Father Dowling had promised her: finish restoring the mural, and she could attend.

Praeris felt an impulse rise in her. An impulse that, for her, was almost bizarre.

She reached out and took the goblet. A bright smile broke across her face.

"Alright."

Beneath the tree by the Black Lake, the wind moved through the leaves with a soft hush.

Praeris added, unhurried, "Sure. We can try."

Miles went still. He looked down into her dark eyes, and something in his expression trembled. "You mean, try?"

"Mm. Try."

"Try me, or try the mead?"

"It's just trying."

Both of Miles's eyes lit up like a pumpkin lantern on Halloween.

He covered his mouth with his hand, as if that would do anything, it didn't hide his curved eyes at all. "Really? I'm not dreaming?"

The excitement peaked. Then, a beat later, he groaned. "Merlin, at a moment like this, and I don't even have flowers!"

Praeris tilted her head. "You want flowers?"

She extended her hand. A yellow double-petaled bloom opened in her palm.

Wandless magic.

She held it out to him. "Same color as your mead."

Miles stared at her. The color rushed to his face in seconds. He took the yellow flower with both hands, careful as if it were made of glass, and asked quietly, "What flower is this?"

"A sunflower. Muggles say it blooms brilliantly with just a little sunshine," Praeris said, smiling.

Miles immediately understood she was teasing him. He rubbed his face with one hand, embarrassed.

Miles Bletchley!

You are 2 or 3 years older than her!

How are you this easy to wind up!

By the time Praeris finished the mead, Miles had finally recovered himself.

He sat down on the ground beside her, then slowly, inch by inch, slid closer to the girl he liked, until his sleeve was touching Praeris's sleeve.

"Prae," he said quietly. "Can I call you that? I've heard Parkinson and the others use it."

"Mm? Of course," Praeris said.

Miles hesitated. "Prae — why did you suddenly agree to... try?"

What he actually wanted to ask was: why did you choose me? Compared to Draco, his only real advantage was that he had been the one to act.

Draco was in the same year as Praeris, the only male classmate from her year she was genuinely close to, practically childhood friends. The two of them understood each other well, knew nearly all of each other's friends, and one had even saved the other's life.

And yet Praeris had chosen him.

Miles was not the type to let himself spiral. When something was on his mind, he asked.

Praeris hadn't pinned up her hair today. The autumn wind caught her black hair and sent it drifting through the air. She looked at him. "Did you used to ask your dates why they chose you? I thought you were confident."

Miles scratched the back of his head. "Yeah, but my current date is you."

Praeris laughed. She had done something a little foolish, and she was, unexpectedly, happy about it.

"You what?! You agreed to Miles?!" Pansy stared at her. "Do you really like him?"

"More or less," Praeris said, unbothered. "And it's not agreeing. It's trying."

Pansy looked lost. "You don't even like him that much, and you still chose him. That doesn't sound like you at all."

Praeris shrugged. "Nobody's clever all the time. Sometimes we do something foolish to comfort the foolish part of ourselves."

"I really can't figure you out." Pansy slumped against her with a groan. "And I can't figure out Jacob either. He came to find me. I had already worked out exactly how to turn down his attempt to get back together. But he never said a word about getting back together, he just did all these strange little things."

Praeris put an arm around her. "If you don't know what to do, just do whatever you feel like doing right now."

She was saying it to Pansy. She was also saying it to herself.

Slytherin boys' dormitory.

Miles walked down the corridor carrying the sunflower. Derian Pucey craned his neck to get a look. "I thought it was something amazing! It's a flower. You're carrying it like it's a diamond."

Miles cradled it and shot him a withering look. "What do you know. This is my diamond."

"Prince accepted you?" Warrington, standing next to Derian, said with wide eyes. "You've actually got moves. Tell us, how'd you pull that off?"

Miles glared at him too. "No! But close enough. Why are you asking, why are you even asking, since when are you this invested in other people's love lives?"

"We're just curious about when Prince is going to do away with you out of sheer mercy! Hahaha!" Derian said, very pointedly.

Miles swung his right leg into him. "Prae! Is not! Like that!"

"Ooh la la, Prae's~ not~ like~ that~ hahaha — run!"

Derian and Warrington sprinted off, laughing.

"Bah!"

Miles spun around in irritation and kept walking, and walked straight into Draco Malfoy's pale gaze.

Draco gave a cold laugh. "I'd never have guessed — her taste is this poor."

"On the contrary." Miles's grin was wide and easy. "I think Prae's taste is excellent. Mine too."

The next day, the Slytherins poured out of the classroom like snakes flooding out of a den.

Praeris walked with the crowd as usual, turning over her experiments in her head, until Pansy jabbed an elbow into her side.

Following Pansy's gaze, Praeris saw Miles by the staircase, waving at her.

If the Astronomy Tower was built for watching the sky, the clock tower windows were made for watching the ground.

Draco stood behind the enchanted clock in the clock tower. Through the gaps between the gears, he watched the two figures on the distant lawn practicing magic.

Behind him, a magical violin played the first movement of Rachmaninoff's Second Symphony.

This was the second time he had felt it, that refusal to accept something. The last time was when he lost to Saint Potter.

The two feelings were completely different. Last time, Praeris had been right beside him, pulling him back to his senses, offering him her counsel. This time, there was no one beside him at all. The only thing that had woken something in him was himself.

Miles was as happy as if Slytherin had just won the Quidditch Cup. The joy of it lit him up from the inside.

Miles had plans. He wanted to read with her, eat with her, share a butterbeer, see a field of flowers in bloom together, though it was November now, which meant nothing but yellowing leaves and the slow approach of winter.

He wanted the blooming days to come quickly, and also didn't want to miss Christmas. He wanted to spend New Year's with Prae. He wanted to find a sprig of mistletoe and kiss her beneath it.

Praeris was an excellent person to spend time with. She listened, really listened, when he talked.

Miles wanted to pour out every experience from his sixteen years and lay them at her feet. He wanted to watch her blink and ask him: "Where is the village of San Antonio de Caleo?" "What's Edinburgh like?" "And Calton Hill?"

Whenever Praeris looked at him with that focused attention, he could see his own reflection in her dark eyes.

Her eyes are full of me, he thought.

Praeris found that dating Miles was a genuinely pleasant thing. Miles never spoke to her with that cutting, sideways sarcasm. He also didn't, stop.

When Praeris had decided to give Miles a chance to try, she'd also decided to put away the other person who drifted into her thoughts from time to time. That was her most basic principle.

Miles had short brown hair, brown eyes, a straight nose, and well-defined features. As a Keeper, he was tall and solidly built. Standing next to Praeris, they looked like Beauty and the Beast, a fairly handsome Beast, to be fair.

That last part was Millicent's assessment.

Back in their first and second years, she hadn't described him that way. Miles had still been wearing a face that looked permanently put-upon. He'd already been a cheerful, outgoing boy, but his features had worked against him.

Things were different now. Boys change, and Miles had grown into the full bloom of a British man's prime, and he had found, at last, the flower he had been devoted to all along.

➤ Next: Plagued by Doubts and Fears