Brinley hadn’t been looking to play delivery-boy Saturday morning. He’d started the morning quietly nibbling a bit of English muffin and jam at the breakfast table while reading the latest potions quarterly, his every gesture a wall against the students around him, and his master plan for the day had been to do a few loops around the pitch to keep himself fit and then perhaps to spend the afternoon in the library finishing his schoolwork—nothing social in the least.
As he packed his journal into his satchel, however, he noticed a battered envelope on the floor nearby. He hadn’t seen anyone drop it--just the envelope itself--so it was impossible to know if a student had been irresponsible or if an owl had managed to mislay it in the rush of the morning post. Frowning, Brinley stooped and collected the envelope. He flipped it, reading the name on the front—Scarlett Fate—and vaguely recognizing it as belonging to a blonde girl he shared most of his core classes with. He sighed heavily, resigning himself to a morning searching for some girl he barely knew, and was preparing to tuck the envelope into his satchel when another name—this time on the return address—caught his eye.
It was a name he recognized even more than Scarlett’s name. Langloire had been in his year at Hogwarts—Slytherin to his Ravenclaw, though not a terrible sort as Slytherins went. They hadn’t been friends or anything, but they’d tackled a couple of group projects together and gotten on well enough.
What in the world was Langloire doing communicating with someone all the way over here?
Curiosity piqued, Brinley set out with more energy to find Scarlett. He took a moment to remember her house—green crest, house Spencer—located a prefect, and finally got pointed in the direction of the Games Room in Southern Cross.
Her blonde hair was impossible to miss. Brinley crossed to her, stepping into her view so as not to startle her.
”Pardon,” Brinley said. ”You’re Scarlett Fate, right?” He slid his satchel towards his hips and extracted the envelope he’d stowed so carefully less than an hour prior. ”I found this and thought you might appreciate the return.”
He waited for her to take it before clearing his throat again. ”I… apologies if this comes across as forward, but I couldn’t help but notice the return address… Is that the same Rosemarie Langloire currently in attendance at Hogwarts? I don’t mean to pry, only… Well, I went there myself for the past two semesters, and I couldn’t help but wonder…”
His voice trailed, and he ducked his head, embarrassed by his own impropriety but too curious not to have asked.