[PATCH WHITTAKER]

It was getting cold. Not that Scotland was ever warm, but you know what I mean; winter's on its way. Patch wasn't sure where he was going, but he didn't have anything to do but sit around. He walked out into the courtyard after an hour's deliberation over where he'd actually end up, and he was carrying a potions book and a muggle studies book in his arm. His feet shuffled across the ground as he kicked the orange and yellow leaves from the trees around the school that had died and fallen off, all because of the cold weather that was too affecting Patch. Along with his general school outfit of a black Hufflepuff robe, grey trousers and a white shirt, he had a sweater to keep him a little warmer and then a scarf around his neck in his house's colours of deep purple and yellow. The weather wasn't cold enough for Patch to see the water vapour in his breath condensing as he exhaled, but it was still cold enough to make the end of his nose turn the pale red colour it usually did in colder temperatures, which had one winter even earned him the name of Rudolph.

He shut his eyes and turned his head as the wind picked up for the briefest of moments, not wanting dust from the floor to blind him, or make his eyes water at the very least. Because when his eyes were watering and his nose was red then anyone could walk out and assume he'd been crying, and he didn't need to add that to his resume of embarrassing moments at school. His list was already full enough, so he'd be glad to leave at the end of the year. Though he'd miss the whole idea of Hogwarts itself. He wouldn't be surprised if he left Hogwarts and ended up never using magic again, either because he got a muggle career or he might be too afraid to use it when he's around the house. And how would he explain to his wife? Hell, how was he going to get a wife? He'd never had a girlfriend; a wife was the least of his worries.

But when would the right time be to tell a muggle you're not normal? If you told them too soon after meeting them then you might not stick together, and yes you've trusted them with a pretty big secret. But if you waited until you were getting married then they might get pissed at you for keeping such a big secret from them. And still, Patch didn't need to think about any of this. He was far away from any kind of long-term commitment, even if that was exactly what he wanted sometimes, and he needed to just relax. And that was why he was outside; to relax. Fat chance with the wind, but he could at least try. Dropping his books on the wall and sitting down beside them, Patch then sighed as he wondered which he needed to read first. He knew plenty about muggles, being the son of two, but some things were just wrong in the wizarding world. Some of their facts about muggles weren't right and yet if Patch did try putting the real right answer, he'd be told it was wrong. He was starting to confuse himself. He decided to just grab his potions books

[CARSON TREMLETT]

Carson was muttering meaningless words; a surprising scowl was marking her features. She wasn’t the least bit pleased, a cascade of leaves had just fallen upon her unsuspecting head, a few fourth years thought it would be a laugh to prey on her. So they simply shook the tree as she walked past, blanketing her with dirty, fragmented, nasty leaves Carson now so ruthlessly hated. Fragments of leaves were still in her hair, she was having a tough time picking them out with her wool mittens. And of course, those fourth years were still cracking up behind her on the autumn grounds, pointing with frozen hands, not caring that were attracting quite a large crowd. She wanted back inside, where it was warm, dry, and not nearly so embarrassing. So why the hell was Carson parading around out here?

The answer was a simple one, yet again Carson was looking for a perfect photograph to send to her parents for the holidays. And no matter how much Carson despised the cold, she had to admit the colder times of year created a landscape that was a beautiful one. The trees blanketed in golden, rusty red, and orange leaves, the leaves then falling freely off their distorted branches. How you couldn’t quite see the sun but you still felt its presence, hidden behind the cool blue blanket of fog. How disgusting yet beautiful it was to the young photographer. Clutching her camera, Carson walked further along the grounds, her frozen eyes searching for the perfect shot.

She was freezing, literally, how was she to take a shot when her hands were shaking like mad? And her vision was becoming blurred, the very moisture on her eyes were becoming frozen. Cheeks a rosy red, you would still think Carson was embarrassed yet she was simply cold; her breath still couldn’t even be seen. And yet it wasn’t even snowing yet, you could still see the ground, yet it was becoming a gangly, nasty brown, the very grass was losing its summer color too. Lifting up her camera, Carson began to look through the viewfinder, pausing on a rather bare tree which held an array of crows. One cawed as if pleased he was having his picture taken after Carson took the shot. She then glanced at the screen to see the outcome of her photo. When she returned home for the holidays she would be sure to print it.

She then pointed her camera to a rather lovely stone wall, which quite a few students had gathered around, all chatting happily in their school robes, talking animatedly with large, apparent hand motions. Reaching up to take another shot, she paused, zooming in on one particular student. The infamous Patch Whittaker, one male Carson wasn’t so pleased to say she knew. With another scowl she attempted to forget his presence, turning back to the previous tree. What a foul mood she was in today, things seemed to not turn her way. It was as if the world was out to get her, though Carson knew that wasn’t the case. No, a few students were out to get her that was and Mother Nature too. Click Another shot was taken, one similar to the previous one, but Carson didn’t truly mind. She supposed she would be heading in soon anyways, even when wrapped heavily in her winter robes and her favorite scarf, the cold still chilled her bones.

[PATCH WHITTAKER]

Patch could have been outside. Well, he was outside - the cold weather was very much proof of that. But he could've been outside. Not sitting down reading a book where he had to go over the same line five times before it'd sink into his brain; he could've been out in the grounds actually enjoying himself, even if the only reason he was there was to talk to someone. He liked talking. He liked listening, surprisingly, and he didn't hang around and listen to girls just to try and get on their good side and take advantage of their trust; he listened because he knew people felt better when they were allowed to just let their feelings out like that. Patch didn't often get to use anyone to let him just rant about his life, but he didn't mind. He just tried ignoring the bad points and thriving on the good ones, though there was always that one bad memory that he regretted, and that was the whole ordeal with Carson. He didn't mean for everything to end up how it did, but apparently she couldn't forgive him for what he did.

He was once again reminded of the ridiculous end to their friendship as he saw her with her camera. Patch hated having his photo taken, but he was sure that might not have stopped Carson. Even if Patch ever did tell her not to, what was Patch ever going to do about it?He was the most timid seventeen year old on the planet. Or in Hogwarts at least. The thought of him getting angry at anyone would've made them laugh and tell him to stop being a dork. Patch held his book in his hands, but it was just sitting there uselessly in his lap too. His eyes were just focusing on Carson as she turned away, and he he started to wonder yet again why he ever said no. But he just didn't think he'd have been any good at the dance. He assumed he'd be useless in any large gathering of people and that there was no need for him to show up. But after that he just felt bad about his decision because he lost Carson as a friend.

Patch wanted to make things better between him and Carson, even if it was just the one conversation between them from now until the end of the year. But they used to be so close as friends, and all of a sudden they were nothing. Well, Patch was nothing in Carson's eyes, anyhow. Patch just wanted things to be at least mildly better between the pair of them before the end of the year. So he figured that he could try now, because with so many people around he knew Carson wouldn't make a scene by yelling at him. Or, he hoped so, at least. So he left his books on the wall and he walked over, burying his hands into his pockets for both warmth and just so he didn't have them hanging awkwardly by his sides as he stood beside Carson, smiling in an attempt to seem friendly. He hated awkwardness, but of course there was no avoiding it today. "Hi." Congratulations; a whole word. Well, not even a whole one. He could've used something longer.

[CARSON TREMLETT]

Carson began to hum lightly, lowering her camera in search for another good shot. And in her typical fashion she tried to avoid the one gaze she felt baring into her back. Of course, since she was attempting to ignore Patch, she didn’t quite know if he was really looking, though paranoia was telling her he was. Who knew why, really, perhaps it was a vain part of her that thought he would be crazy not to stare. No, Carson knew that wasn’t it, she was a lot of things but vain wasn’t one. But as she turned to take another picture, one of some students laughing (she had no clue who they even were) Carson could have sworn she did catch Patch looking at her. Blinking, she let her eyes cautiously wander to her past friend, his eyes bearing into her. And she then snapped away, back to her camera, back to the scenery. Thinking about him would make her think about the past, something she wasn’t pleased with. It was a mistake to ask him to the dance in the first place, but being the best friends they were Carson would have expected him to go with her out of courtesy. Still, it was her own mistake for not forgiving him and for once Carson couldn’t bring herself to. She usually was forgiving to those she barely knew, but part of Carson didn’t want to let go of the hatred she had felt toward her friend. So it lingered, and it lingers there still.

Why was she thinking about it? She was trying to shut all images out of her mind, so she took a rather angry shot at another group of crows, her brows furrowing in frustration as the picture came out rather blurry. Scowling once more she sat, in a rather aggravated fashion, onto a wooden bench, placing her camera in her lap, resting her chin in her hand. No, she wasn’t going to think about it, even though it was easier said than done. With her ex-friend sitting so close-by Carson couldn’t help but let her thoughts travel to the past. They did have some good times, even though Carson did most of the talking. But that was probably why Carson used to enjoy being around Patch so much. He was okay with not talking, he’d let Carson go on without stating a word. And in a weird way, Carson much preferred it that way. She missed it being that way. The Ravenclaw found that not many other people were like Patch, they felt the need to voice their opinion even if it contradicted with Carson’s thoughts. No, that wouldn’t do.

”Hi.” Carson looked up from her camera, focusing on the one person she was trying not to focus on. At first she all out ignored the Hufflepuff, turning back to her camera with a low sigh. But once more, Carson could be a lot of things, but she wasn’t that rude, even if she was speaking to a past friend.
”Patrick,” She finally managed in reply, her brows raising if only slightly as she looked to Patch. Her head began to cock to the side, curious to know why he had felt the need to come over here. Carson knew he didn’t speak much, let alone speak out to someone who wasn’t too fond of him. So why was he over here?

[PATCH WHITTAKER]

Not exactly a warm welcome, but Patch couldn't say that he expected a lot more. But he would've thought that Carson would've been able to forgive him. She always was forgiving for all the stupid stuff he did, but then all of a sudden this was too much. Maybe it was because he was just a douche for saying no. He would've said yes if he had any confidence in himself, but he'd said no. Maybe he just didn't want people to go "Is that Patch and Carson?" and then assume they were together and them act all childish about things. When really, why would anyone be childish? The whole novelty of Carson and Patch arriving together would've been nothing more than just someone going "Oh look, they came together as friends." Because, really, if Patch saw that then he'd assume the same. He was already starting to regret coming over. Just because those same feelings kept popping up and he felt stupid because of them. Back then he'd liked her as more than a friend, but never thought he should have brought it up. And then when he had a chance at anything, he'd obviously blown it.

So Patch hadn't had a warm welcome, he hadn't been expecting it, but now he wasn't sure what he was meant to do. His smile faded and he just turned his head to watch someone else who walked by. It didn't help that his crush on her had never left his mind, but it wasn't as if his thoughts about her would be changed because of something he'd done. Maybe it just meant he liked her more because there was every chance that they'd never even meet again. A kind of "want what you can't have" scenario, really. And it was pretty typical of Patch to just make his own life more awkward, when he could've at least tried to move on. Carson was another girl that used Patch to listen to her talk about anything that was on her mind. And it was usually how Patch found out so much about people. He knew so many things about them that no one else would know because they'd confide in him about anything that they needed to get off of their chest. He was like a confessional for the non-religious types of Hogwarts, and he didn't seem to even care.

He looked back at Carson and then just sighed. "Sorry." He wasn't sure was he was apologising for, but he abruptly turned away and just went back to the wall he'd once been sat on, deciding to focus on them rather than potentially bug Carson because of his presence. He buried his head in his potions book again. He still wasn't sure why he was apologising for. It was either because he'd walked over there and tried (and failed) to start a conversation with her when it was so clear she didn't want a conversation with him whatsoever, or he was belatedly saying sorry for saying no to Carson when she'd asked him to go to the dance with her. But Patch had never been to any dances, people never invited him to parties. He was just the kid in the background you could hang around with just so you didn't look like a loner. And he seemingly accepted that to be his role in life; never actually taking control of anything. Carson had even gone and called him Patrick, and he rarely let anyone call him Patrick. But right now he wasn't about to bitch at her for that.

[CARSON TREMLETT]

He just walked away. No questions asked, no puzzled looks, no sneers. Just up and gone with one simple word, the word Carson perhaps wanted to hear for so long but didn’t do anything about it. As her old friend walked away without out a backward glance Carson paused, frozen in place. What was she supposed to say? She knew a simple “thank you” or “not a problem” would suffice but once more Carson couldn’t bring herself to do anything. Her feet felt as if they were nailed to the floor, she was slightly numb and wasn’t able to budge. And even in the cold Carson knew the numbness was from shock. “I,… I,” She stuttered as Patch walked out of range, now Carson was missing her chance. She was going to be the one to ruin a perfect friendship. Or perhaps she would ruin one again. No, that wouldn’t do.

She quickly turned to the bench she sat at, gathering up her things, stashing them away into her bag. Taking one last sweep over the area to make sure she didn’t miss anything she mustered up her courage and paraded right up to Patch. Well, in her mind she did, Carson ended up stopping a good fifty feet short of her goal, doubting that it was the right idea. Both had gotten along just fine without each other over the years, did she really need to mend the relationship? She took a small step forward, biting on her frozen lip, the heat in her cheeks rising as if from embarrassment. What was she thinking? Of course she did, before her mistake Patch was practically her best friend. Sure, he didn’t talk much but they seemed to be the perfect match, Carson didn’t mind his constant silence and he didn’t seem to mind her constant chatter. Of course, she had to do this. Before was just one bump in the road that they chose to ignore. Frankly, Carson was beginning to think that it made too much of dilemma to ignore any longer.

“Listen, Patr- Patch…” Carson began, fumbling over Patch’s name, her eyes dropping to the floor. Why was the apology so difficult? Was it because Carson was so used to the other doing to the apologizing that she wasn’t used to the tables being turned. Either way, she pressed on. “I’ve… I’ve been a real ass, frankly, and I was wondering if you…” She paused. was it a mistake? Carson would find it a real blow if Patch couldn’t forgive her, but the old Patch she knew wouldn’t have the guts not to. But perhaps he had changed, for all she knew he could have started to hang out around a new crowd after she was gone. He could have been glad she had left, she was holding him back, keeping him away from his real potential. “Forgive me? Maybe.. I…” A hand lifted up to rest on the top of her head, her eyes began to slowly find their way to Patch’s face. “Well, I’m sorry.” Yes, that was more difficult then Carson meant it to be, but she had finally gotten it off her chest. She then firmly nodded, indicating at last she was done. “So, yea.”

[PATCH WHITTAKER]

Patch smiled to himself awkwardly as he thought about how much of a loser he was currently being. It really made no sense that one little doubt in his mind should've escalated to this. For the briefest of moments those years ago he'd thought that she was fooling around. He'd thought for the tiniest moment that she couldn't have been seriously asking him to go with her to the dance. And then that was it. That was more or less the last conversation they had together where they didn't have to just act as if nothing had happened because a teacher might've paired them together. For the few weeks following people had start to ask questions; they'd started wondering just why Patch seemed a little less happy and why they were seeing him and Carson apart when they were so often together. They were like a couple, in some aspects, but never officially. They hung out together too often than just friends would do, and Hogwarts is basically high school, so there's always due to be that gossipy feeling going around, and the gossip about Patch and Carson was that they were way too close to be just friends. But they always were just friends, and Patch made it sure that they didn't go any further once he'd said no to her proposal of going to the dance together. It was as if he was afraid of committing himself to a girl, as if it meant that he'd then have to grow up and start thinking about babies and marriage and how many bedrooms the house would need but what he just needed to realise was that he was being a total idiot. Carson had asked him to the dance but in no way did that ever insinuate that she wanted to marry him. There were bound to be guys who were far more attractive to her than Patch, either in personality or looks or even both. At some point things might've gone sour between them and then Patch's worries would've been for nothing, except then he'd have the trouble of finding a new best friend and finding someone to date. And when it'd taken seventeen years just to find out that Carson liked him then it would've been increasingly awkward for him to try and find yet another girl that liked him, seeing as he was the nervous wreck that he was.

Patch was never really planning on ignoring Carson because of his answer. He would've said sorry the very next day so long as Carson had been the one to walk up to him and start the conversation. Because, being the introvert that he was, Patch had decided to stand back just because he thought that was what Carson wanted. Instead of taking matters into his own hands and at the very least just apologising to her, he'd left it alone, thinking she wanted space. Then as time went on, it seemed more and more awkward to just bring the subject back up. They rarely went a whole week without talking to each other. Then two weeks passed. A month. And before he knew it, it was the end of the school year and he hadn't said anything to Carson since he shot her down. Each time he saw her, he just felt bad because of what he'd done, even though she hadn't forgiven him either. She could've been feeling the very same as Patch; wanting to bring it up but then feeling as if she'd left it too late. Or Patch could've just been telling himself that because he didn't want to put any blame on Carson, being the wuss that he was.

Patch looked up to Carson as she.. well, did she really walk over? she'd just grabbed her stuff and started talking to Patch from a distance. Patch was never the loudest of kids, really. He had a quiet voice, probably another thing he did because he didn't like attracting attention to himself. That was why he didn't sing, he couldn't shout, he couldn't and wouldn't do anything eye-catching. He just wished he didn't suck at being conversational. He just watched Carson quietly, wondering just what she wanted to say, because he was pretty surprised she bothered to reply to his poor effort at an apology. Patch looked down at his feet as he saw Carson's eyes meet his, in his awkward little way, and he held his books to his lap using his forearms as he tried thinking of something to reply with. Patch looked up to Carson, trying to be less awkward but having to clear his throat before he spoke. "It's fine, Carson." Patch smiled a little, but felt awkward and just looked away again. "I mean, it was my fault I guess." He laughed at himself. He knew he always said it was his fault if anything went wrong. If someone walked into him then Patch said he was sorry for not looking where he was going. Even when he accidentally nudged his cat with his arm he'd apologise. And it was only a cat. "So I don't need to forgive you for anything cus.. it was my fault?"

[CARSON TREMLETT]

Everybody knew everybody in such a small school, gossip spread like wildfire and once something was out there was no chance of it ever coming back in. Of course, it was typical of students to twist words and make up lies, “Carson and Patch are just friends” wasn’t exactly an exciting topic. And Carson well remember how defense Patch would be to the twisted gossip, exclaiming how they were friends and nothing more. Yes, it rather seemed he wanted it to be nothing more. ”Well shit,” Carson thought silently, cursing mentally. After all these years she just realized the simple fact before her. She had screwed things up, pushing their relationship so far when it was clear Patch was content where he was. She felt like slapping herself; perhaps that would make up for her clouded mind. It was has if Carson thought slapping herself would uncloud her brain, even if it was a little too late. The heat rose in her cheeks once more though it was nearly impossible to tell, they were already a rosy red due to the cold. Still, her eyes wandered sheepishly to the ground as she began to rock on her heels. All these years were her fault, no matter how much she didn’t want to believe it, no matter how much Patch would deny it. And she knew he would. In typical Carson fashion she had been too narrow minded to even consider her friend when asking him to the dance. She thought he’d be absolutely delighted, just for the chance to attend the gathering with his friend. Carson knew she didn’t have to ask him, they would have gravitated toward each other as soon as the gathering had started, they were attached to the hip and everyone knew that. Yet she felt they need to know that they were actually going together, friends or perhaps more. Typically, that had been her downfall; she wanted a little bit more. Glancing once more sheepishly to Patch, she bit her lip. All the years of silence had been her fault, no matter what Patch had said.

Of course, Patch would blame it on himself, even after the years of being apart Carson still remembered the ways of her friend. Sometimes it was nice; it was as if Patch was reassuring her in some matter. Other times it annoyed her, the fact that Patch couldn’t stick up for himself. ”It’s fine, Carson.” Carson couldn’t help but giggle slightly, she had been waiting for those words. Merlin, when was the last time she laughed near this boy? ”I mean, it’s my fault, I guess.” Carson, for a bizarre reason, was tempted to begin cracking up, though smiled wildly instead. Yes, this was the same old Patch, the once she knew for so long. She felt another urge, to embrace the boy, they hadn’t spoken in quite some time. But instead she resisted both, rocking once more on her heels instead.

”I knew it,” She began, nudging him lightly in a playful manner. Perhaps they were on the road to being friends again. Their conversation, no matter how small it was, was bound to attract attention, by the time Carson got back to the common room later people would be saying Patch and Carson finally made up and then left to go well… No, people weren’t that bad when it came to gossip, or so Carson hoped. But people were bound to think that they were the best of friends again, promising nothing would ever break them apart. Maybe Carson hoped she could say it was true. ”Ol’ Patch has to take the blame.” She sighed slightly, still smiling. ”No, I think this one really was my fault. And not just the dance but the fact that I didn’t talk to you for… How long has it been?” She nodded after the statement, every part of what she had said had been the truth. Still, Carson smiled slightly, watching Patch curiously. ”But what I’d like to know,” She began, her brows arching, her arms attempting to cross across her large coat. ”Is how this was all your fault.”