Suddenly in Blue

As the winding staircase delivered him up to the Headmistress' office, Monroe was not the least bit anxious about what learning occlumency would be like. He was not worried about learning it from the headmistress, either. In fact, most of his thoughts were taken up with what he should call her.

Knowing Amelia Lyons, and Monroe prided himself on knowing everyone in Hogwarts better than they knew themselves, she would want him to call her by her title. That would just be awkward. A scant year ago they were in the same house, sleeping under the same banners, so to speak.

It was one thing to call her Professor Lyons in public, when impressionable little first years and people like Destrey who'd take any opportunity to tear a gaping wound in Amelia's perfect façade were around, but here, where nobody else could hear it would be far more comfortable to just call the girl by her first name as he'd done for the last six years.

However, the opportunity to consider was over, for Monroe had arrived at the door of the Headmistress' Office. It was still odd to think of Amelia as the headmistress and not for the first time he wondered what was behind her rise to the position. Though nobody could doubt Amelia was clever and suited to academic life, giving her the role fresh from Hogwarts was just as foolish as making him Minister for Magic next year would be. One needed life experience.

He knocked on the door.

Amelia Lyons had finally found a headmistress task that suited her: setting the class schedule for the Fall Term. She had always been good at organization, and attention to detail was a skill that was highly rewarded in this specific planning activity. The staff and governing board had given her free reign to set up the schedule any way she wanted, so long as all the classes were available without major conflict. This was a task she could complete correctly and alone in the comfort of her own office.

As she was adding notes to a section of Third Year Herbology, a knock came at the door. Glancing up at the large clock on the far wall of her office, Amelia realized that Mr. Ashcroft was a few minutes early for his appointment. Amelia appreciated his promptness, for it did no one any good to make a bad impression upon the first meeting, but then again, Amelia had known he would be early. Amelia had known Monroe when they were still students together, though they hadn’t interacted overmuch since she became the headmistress. In fact, she hadn’t interacted with very many of her former peers one-on-one at all since becoming Headmistress; many of them shied away from her new position of power, and Amelia had never been naturally socially to begin with. Overcoming the hurdle of their new position discrepancies only exaggerated Amelia’s ineptitude for breaking the social ice.

But Monroe had done the breaking of the ice when he approached her at dinner a few nights ago to ask if she would have time to teach him a few lessons in occlumency. Although Amelia had a lot on her plate these days with the new headmistress duties, she couldn’t turn down a former classmate who wanted help in something academic. Besides, when it came to keeping people away – whether through occlumency or other, less magical means – you couldn’t find much more of an expert than Amelia.

Rising from her seat, Amelia smoothed the linen of her pencil skirt and made sure her yellow cardigan hung evenly from her shoulders. It wasn’t particularly cold in the room with the roaring fire in the corner, but because of the illness Amelia had been experiencing, her appetite had all but vanished, leading to drastic weight loss from her already thin form. Her bones were beginning to become protrubent, so she was being careful to cover up more in order to disguise the changes to her body.

Pulling the heavy oak door back to reveal Monroe, Amelia greeted him with a professional smile that almost reached her eyes.

“Mr. Ashcroft,” the young headmistress said, stating his name as a way of greeting the younger boy, “Please, come in. Can I offer you anything to drink? I have pumpkin juice, tea, coffee, or water, but I could have something fetched if those are not to your liking.”

Amelia may not have the best social graces when put on the spot, but when it came to planned, stereotypical encounters, her mother had drilled her long enough for her to know precisely what to say. And when one had guests, one offered drinks.

Internally, Monroe winced to hear her use the formal form of his name. Of course, many teachers around Hogwarts addressed their students so, but Amelia Lyons was not his teacher... or rather, she had been his peer only a few months ago.

"Thank you, tea please," Monroe accepted as he walked past her into the office.

As he invited himself to look around at the decoration, the office struck Monroe as less lavish than he remembered it from the one or two times he had visited under other headmaster's rules. Either Amelia was the sort of person who valued practicality over luxury, or she had a need to be perceived that way.

"How are you finding... all this?" he asked,

A sweep of his arm showed what he meant; the new position, the office, the desk piled with paperwork, her.

“I hope Earl Grey will do,” Amelia said, closing the door behind Monroe and crossing to the side of the room where a small pot of tea sat above a bowl of bluebell flames. With practiced movements, she poured two cups of tea, leaving room for tea and sugar. She had a small tray sitting next to the teapot, upon which she set the two cups, along with a bowl of sugar, a small amount of milk, some honey, and a bowl of lemons.

While she was preparing the tea, Amelia could hear Monroe walking around behind her, no doubt observing what she had made of the headmaster’s office since taking charge. As a professor, Amelia had had a bit more privacy when it came to her office, because she could use her classroom for most meetings with students and colleagues. As headmistress, however, she was forced to do a great deal of meeting in her office, which meant this part of her life, at least, was visible to whomever asked for an audience with her.

It wasn’t as though anyone could learn much about her, Amelia knew, from the décor; at least, nothing they didn’t already know. The room had been barren when she first came into it, but she had done little other than to add practical touches, such as a large area rug in front of the fire, some office supplies for the desk, the few magical tools she owned, and, one of the only personal affects she had really wanted for her new, larger office: a mahogany brown grand piano, which took up the large area that extended off of her office to the left. She had also placed some of her awards in a curio cabinet behind her desk, and a photo of her parents stood next to her primary ink well on her desk, both of her parents looking stoically out at her, though her father with a hint of his intellectual smirk. There was also a stack of papers on the left hand side of her desk, but they were orderly and prioritized; Amelia was nothing if not organized, even in the midst of all the stress of her new position.

After preparing the try, Amelia crossed back to her desk and set the try down on the front side of it, closer to the guest chairs. It was at this point that Monroe posed his question about how she was liking ‘all this’, which Amelia, of course, understood immediately, but she took a few seconds straightening all the items on the tray to give herself time to think before answering.

“It is certainly a change,” Amelia admitted, speaking slowly to make sure her answer was both accurate and diplomatic, “Certainly from being a student a year ago, but also from being a professor. It is a lot of responsibility, and there are a lot of people to answer to. Also a lot of people to talk to,” Amelia said, not without a hint of regrettable truth to it.

“But I am adjusting,” she added, shrugging her shoulders, “Slowly, but still, it’s getting better as it goes.”

At this point, Amelia knew she ought to ask Monroe a similar question, something to even the scales of socialization, but she didn’t know what would be too personal or too superficial. Small-talk had never been her strong point, so instead, she did what she always did: got straight down to business.

“So I understand from your earlier request that you are interested in learning occlumency,” the headmistress said, “And that you thought I would be an appropriate teacher. You understand, I am sure, that it will take a great deal of time and self-control to be proficient at this skill?” Amelia asked, fairly certain she already knew the answer, but unwilling to begin until she heard it verbally from Monroe. She wasn’t going to waste her time if he wasn’t serious about this.

For occlumency or anything else, Monroe thought Amelia would make an acceptable teacher though not an appropriate one; especially not for the tutelage of a boy - almost a man - only one year her junior. Though Amelia was oblivious (she seemed oblivious) to the power dynamic at play, Monroe was acutely aware of its existence. Indeed, he intended to take full advantage of it safe in the knowledge that as a student he could not be held accountable for the actions of their young headmistress, even if they were actions he encouraged and even desired.

"Do you think I lack for either of those things?" he asked.

The question was pointed, but softened by the tone with which it was delivered. Amelia's conviction that she was the only person in existence who could devote time and effort to anything was enraging, especially when it caused her to condescended to fellow Ravenclaws, however Monroe intended to fix that flaw in her personality.

He accepted the tea; Earl Grey would suffice for now but Monroe made a mental note to send Amelia some jasmine tea in thanks for this lesson. He picked up a cup from the tray and let the contents warm his hands though he still remained standing.

“Of course not,” Amelia said defensively to Monroe’s pointed question, realizing belatedly that she had crossed some kind of invisible social boundary. She was always doing that, accidentally offending people. She hadn’t meant any offense to the younger boy, only wanting to be certain her time would be put to good use, but of course she said exactly the wrong thing and ended up coming off more icy than intended. It was what had gotten her so ostracized from her peers when she was a student, and so much grief from her former classmates when she became a professor. And if she wasn’t more careful now, her lack of social graces stood to get her into even more serious trouble now that they were on display for the world.

“I was merely attempting to gage your seriousness for the topic and my time,” Amelia said, trying to explain herself though she knew the damage was likely already done.

She was grateful when Monroe took his tea from the tray, because it gave her permission to take hers as well. Amelia took her tea plain, so she was able to raise it to her lips and blow delicately across the surface of the water to cool it before taking a tentative sip. The hot beverage assuaged some of her nerves, but meeting with former classmates one-on-one now that she was the headmistress would probably never be entirely comfortable for the redhead.

“Please, do take a seat,” Amelia encouraged Monroe, gesturing to the chair beside him. This was more for Amelia’s benefit – she couldn’t sit until he did, him being the guest – but hopefully it would read as a polite gesture intended for the younger student’s comfort.

“If I may be so bold as to ask,” Amelia began, trying to steer the conversation back toward the topic at hand before she tripped herself up again, “What sparked your interest in learning occlumency?”

Monroe took the remaining chair in the room, but only because he felt he'd monopolised the power dynamic in the room for long enough. Amelia was attempting to interrogate him yet again.

"I'm going to have to learn it eventually. Better sooner than later," he replied.

Amelia’s lips pursed into a tight-lipped expression when Monroe gave her such a curt answer to what she believed was a very polite question, but she didn’t call him out on it. She had been working on gaining better control of her temper over the past year, especially since many of her former peers had been testing the outer boundaries of it and she could no longer afford, as headmistress, to say anything that came to her mind. Amelia had a barbed wit when she was angry, which was as likely to cut as to merely sting.

“Fine,” Amelia replied, equally brief with Monroe as she moved to the carved mahogany chair behind her desk, the seat and back cushioned in deep navy suede that drove Amelia crazy because it showed every single line when someone touched or sat on it. Now that Monroe was seated, she could be as well, which would help to keep her temper in check.

“I suppose we can get right to it, then,” the young headmistress stated, pushing aside all pleasantries as would have been easier in the first place. Someone ought to tell her where that sort of thing was mandated and where she could do away with it, because she strongly preferred the latter but found herself more often in situations requiring the former.

“You’ll excuse me if I teach your private lessons in much the same way I conduct my larger classes,” Amelia said, not asking for permission, but merely informing the younger boy, “I am accustomed to this method, and I do not see any strong reason to change the format dramatically.”

“Occlumency,” Amelia began, with no further prelude, “is the act of magically closing one's mind against Legilimency. It can prevent a Legilimens from accessing one's thoughts and feelings, or influencing them. I am trained in both Occlumency and Legilimency, and these lessons will primarily consist of me attempting to use Legilimancy on you while you use what I have taught you of occlumency to try to block me from your mind.”

“The most basic form of Occlumency,” the redhead continued, “involves clearing one's mind — making it blank and empty — in order to prevent a Legilimens from perceiving one's emotions and thoughts. Eventually, we will work up to you suppressing only those thoughts and emotions that you wish to block from the person invading your mind, but that will come later.”

“So I will ask you in a moment to clear your mind, and then I will attempt to penetrate your defenses. You will need to use immense focus and willpower to keep me at bay, but as you seem to be quite confident in your abilities, I am sure that will be no trouble,” Amelia said, not without a hint of sarcasm that lingered from her earlier annoyance with him.

“Do you have any questions before we begin?” the headmistress asked, taking another sip of her tea and looking over the desk at her dark-haired former peer.

It was a family failing, this lack of trust. As soon as Amelia had uttered the words "will ask you to clear your mind," Monroe had envisioned a door and stuffed all of his secrets behind it. Amelia was welcome to rifle through his mind as much as she wished and she wouldn't find anything revealing. He hoped.

Still, Monroe was aware how crude his defences were. If only he had time to refine his tactics.

"No," shaking his head, he rejected her offer to answer more questions.

“Then we begin,” Amelia replied when Monroe declined her offer for questions.

The Headmistress took a deep breath and looked directly at Monroe, his blue eyes hard before her as he concentrated. For Amelia, legilimancy had come harder than occlumency. Her father had taught her the latter earlier in life, so as to guard the secrets of the new spells he was developing and practicing with Amelia. It had come easy to the young girl who, with Raoul already having run off, was used to pushing people away from her and blocking them from knowing what she was thinking or feeling. Extending that response to her mental defenses had been a natural progression.

Legilimancy, however, had been more difficult, because it went against Amelia’s nature in sending her mind out into another’s. It left her more vulnerable, should the subject of her probes prove too strong, but Amelia had done some checking ahead of time and knew Monroe was not trained in legilimancy and likely would not be able to turn her attack back on itself. Just for added precaution, though, Amelia put up a few mental wards of occlumency of her own before raising her wand to chest height and letting her mind navigate the space between herself and the younger boy.

Once her mind connected to Monroe’s, Amelia took a moment to get familiar with the space. The most obvious thing she found when she arrived was a large door on which Monroe was concentrating completely. This made it very obvious that anything she might want to see would be behind that door, but as Amelia had said, students of occlumens often made it very obvious at first what they were trying to hide. The real mistake here had been choosing something so penetrable; doors with handles were easily opened, all Amelia had to do was envision herself doing so in her own mind and Monroe’s wards swung open as easily as their physical manifests.

Behind the door, the first memory Amelia encountered was Monroe watching a dark-haired girl cross the courtyard, his eyes lingering too long on her chest and her swaying hips as she passed him, teenage hormones rising at the thoughts. Typical boy memories.

The next, however, was more interesting, and certainly more revealing than the first. Monroe's memory fogged over to reveal another snippet of his past, this time of his shared past with his sister. In the scene Amelia was bearing witness to, Destrey was kneeling on the floor, a small animal cut open in front of her. As Monroe moved closer, so did Amelia's perspective, and she could see that the animal was a cat, and from Monroe's reaction, the cat belonged to them. The thing was clearly dead, and Monroe had to take a moment to compose himself before beginning to calmly ask Destrey about what had happened to the cat. His reaction, Amelia found, was what she likely would have done in the same situation, but watching it from an outsiders perspective was still surreal. And it was certainly something she hadn't known about Destrey before.

As she watched, the scene started to shrink at the edges. Monroe was trying to keep Amelia out of his memories, but he was slow at it. He wasn’t acting proactively, but instead having to do damage control after her felt her in a specific memory. Still, he was doing a fair job for his first time, and after that last memory, Amelia needed a moment to evaluate what she now knew and be able to move on without dwelling on it, so she stepped intentionally back out of Monroe's mind and settled back into her own, orderly scheme.

"Interesting," Amelia commented, not cruelly, but merely in a way that conveyed the word meant exactly what it said; his memories were interesting to her, because they revealed something about his character and his past that Amelia would not have been privy to otherwise.

"A good first try," she said, "Although, as you noticed near the end, you were not keeping me out completely. Do you have any questions before we go again?" She was intentionally not commenting on the memories she had seen. No matter what she saw, she wasn't going to make Monroe talk about it unless he brought it up, and she certainly wouldn't tell anyone what she had seen. She was private enough to think that was a huge taboo.

((OOC: I am making up these memories based on your bio, but I didn’t have overmuch to go on. If anything is really out of line or you just want me to change it, let me know. If you have something you would like me to include specifically, let me know that as well.))