Recovery

“I hear silk goes up like a torch if arson is your particular brand of revenge,” Amelia replied, her conversational skills fortified by the fact that Jaquellene had at least smiled a little at Amelia’s attempt at comfort.

“But I suppose we can cross that particular bridge when we come to it,” Amelia added, feeling resigned but not wanting to show it to Jaquellene. Amelia was, to her very core, a fixer. When she learned about a problem, her first response was to design a way to make it go away. This is why she had always struggled with the more ‘touchy-feely’ problems people had sometimes brought to her (though she had no idea why they would choose her of all people…). Sometimes, people didn’t want you to fix their problem, and sometimes there was no way to fix it. Sometimes, people just wanted to share their problem with you so they wouldn’t have to carry that burden alone.

But although Amelia knew this theoretically, dealing with the helplessness of not being able to find a quick fix or even something she could do in the meantime was incredibly frustrating. But Jaquellene wasn’t one to give up easily; if there was something she and Amelia could be doing right now, the shorter redhead would have already determined what that was. So for now, it seemed the only goal they would be accomplishing was giving Amelia’s patience more practice.

Merlin knows I need it…. Amelia thought.

“So um… how’s the quidditch business?” Amelia asked. It was a pitiful segue in the conversation, and since Amelia knew about as little as one could know about quidditch and still live in the magical world, she hadn’t exactly known how to formulate an intelligent question on the subject. But she did know that Jaquellene loved the sport, just like her brother did, and to appease these people in her life, Amelia occasionally found it in herself to feign interest in a sport that essentially involved risking one’s life for the sake of… well, Amelia wasn’t really sure on that part either, come to think of it.