The Letter
When the next morning rolled around, Tom was blinking back sleep from his eyes and still cursing Tenny. He couldn’t be sure if he’d gotten more than an hour or two of sleep, not with having to stay up to rewrite the essay again and studying for his Charms exam. He forced himself from his bed and shuffled to the Great Hall in a daze. Thank Merlin they served coffee.
He sat down heavily and poured a mug for himself, along with plenty of cream and sugar.
“Morning, Tom,” said a voice next to him. Tom managed to drag his eyes up from where they’d been fixed on his coffee and blinked blearily as his vision focused.
“Morning, Charlie,” he said with a yawn. “How’s it?”
“Alright,” Charlie said. “How’s it with you? You look tired.”
“I am tired,” Tom said. “Stayed up for that effing essay and then that Charms exam – it’s wiping me out, mate.”
“I hear you,” Charlie said, nodding. “I – wait. What Charms exam?”
---
Charlie having rushed back to the dormitory in a state of panic to grab his Charms notes, Tom sipped at his coffee and piled food onto his plate. He was beginning to feel slightly more human, at least, and less like he would fall asleep at any moment.
Across the table, a pair of Gryffindors got up and left, leaving an open space in the sea of students. Tom glanced up briefly and then did a double take.
What were the odds?
Two tables away, he could see Scho sitting at the Hufflepuff table, also sipping at a hot drink. Probably not coffee, though – he seemed more like a tea person, the kind who’d get fussy about how long the water boiled and such. He even had his pinky extended like he was about to have tea with the bloody Queen or something. Tom snickered at the thought.
As if he could sense any and all merriment in his general vicinity, Scho looked up with a tired scowl on his face. It morphed into a look of confusion, however, when he saw Tom.
For a moment the two of them just looked at each other. Seized by an unknown impulse, Tom raised his mug in a quasi-toast. He waited, mug still lifted, as Scho tilted his head to the side in what appeared to be consideration. Then Scho raised his own mug a tiny bit. His expression was unreadable.
“So as I was saying,” Charlie suddenly said beside him, nearly making him spill his coffee (which at this stage would likely have warranted at least one Unforgivable). “I absolutely hear you. I knew fifth year was gonna be rough with OWLs – why’d they have to have everything else, too?”
“I – yeah,” Tom said, trying to steady his breathing. “It’s bullshit.”
He drank more coffee and began shoveling fried potatoes into his mouth.
“Hey,” said Charlie, “isn’t that –”
He pointed to Scho, who had gone back to his own breakfast.
“’S rude to point,” Tom said with his mouth full of potatoes. “But yeah.”
He continued eating, vaguely aware that Charlie was still staring.
“I just can’t believe he’s helping you,” Charlie said in an undertone.
“Technically I’m helping him,” Tom said. “And he’s not that bad.”
“Really?” Charlie sounded doubtful. “What about all that stuff Gregson and the others were saying?”
Tom shrugged, suddenly uncomfortable. “I mean – yeah, he’s a bit of a prick. But he’s alright.”
He hadn’t told any of his mates about sneaking out to find the Boggart, or Scho helping him. It felt like something he ought to keep to himself – and besides, Scho probably didn’t want it getting around that he could actually be somewhat nice.
“I can see some folks who might disagree,” Charlie said neutrally. He gestured with his spoon at Gregson, who was sitting a few people over and glaring daggers at Scho. Scho, for his part, either did not notice or did not care.
Tom frowned. “Well,” he said, trying to sound casual, “it’s none of my business, really. And it’s not like we’re mates. He helped me, and I’m helping him, and that’ll be the end of it.”
“If you say so,” Charlie said doubtfully. “He just seems like –”
He was cut off by the cries of owls, signaling the start of Mail Time. Tom automatically scanned the air for Myrtle’s form as he ate. Surely his mum would have written back by now.
After a moment he caught a glimpse of her, holding a thick envelope that was also tied to one foot. His heart seemed to stutter in his chest, though whether it was from excitement or fear he could not tell. Tom managed to pull his plate back just before she landed – a little less gracefully than usual, considering the load she was carrying. He grinned and rubbed at her beak as she shuffled upright and held out her talon with the letter attached.
“Hello, love,” he said. “Glad you made it.”
“Hello Myrtle!” Charlie said excitedly. “How’s my favorite girl?”
He attempted to pet Myrtle as well, but the owl twisted her head and pecked at him with an irritated hoot. Tom laughed at the dejection on Charlie’s face.
He untied the letter from Myrtle’s foot, tucking it away for later, and petted her again. A new heaviness was on him, even as Myrtle preened. He managed to smile at her.
“I’ll bring you some treats later,” he promised. “Thanks very much.”
She chirruped at him and took off again for the Owlery. Charlie sighed wistfully, still holding his hand where Myrtle had snapped at him.
“She didn’t get you too bad, did she?” Tom asked.
“It’s fine,” Charlie said. He peered at the spot and sniffed dramatically. “Think I’m starting to get a callous. Maybe then it’ll hurt less.”
Tom snorted.
“Hey – look,” Charlie said, elbowing him and pointing to the Hufflepuff table. “You’re not the only one with mail.”
The two of them watched as a light grey Great Horned Owl flew down to Scho and dropped a bundle of envelopes in front of him. Without looking up, Scho reached up an arm for the large bird to grip onto, lowering it carefully to the table.
Tom abruptly felt wide awake. It occurred to him, apropos of absolutely nothing, that it probably took a lot of arm strength to hold a bird that size. For some reason, the thought bothered him, and he shook it away.
Scho petted the owl while scanning the return addresses on the envelopes. His face betrayed no emotion as he lifted his arm to let the owl fly away.
“Who d’you suppose writes him?” Charlie asked in a stage whisper. “Has he mentioned it?”
Tom gave him a disbelieving look. “You know as much as I do, mate,” he said.
They watched Scho tuck one of the letters inside his pack with special care. The other letter he set alight with his wand, without even opening it.
“Jesus,” Charlie said, watching as the unopened letter burned into ash. Scho completely ignored the burning letter, as did the other Hufflepuffs at the table, which made Tom think it must have been a fairly regular occurrence.
“Yeah,” Tom said. “Um. Well, he didn’t do that.”
In his pocket, and at the back of his mind, the letter waited.