Under Pressure

Remarkable. It was such a compliment to his story, to him. As the word had come from Wendy's mouth a smile had spread across Bertie's face. The Ravenclaw had received compliments on some of his work, novels he'd written, responses to the daily prophet but never a compliment about him. Sure the compliments for his creative works gave him a rush but, for once, he felt as though someone was seeing him before his work and it was s strangely incredible feeling.  

Quickly taking the pastry from Wendy Bertie hastily took a bite in an attempt to hide his happiness. Although after what Wendy said next Bertie was wishing he hadn't accepted the second pastry for his mouth was full and it was proving difficult not to spit the pastry out in shock. Not that hthe Hufflepuff's statement was controversial or anythingit simply wasn't what Bertie had been expecting. 

'I don't know if I can.' Bertie replied, with a slightly breathy voice once he'd managed to swallow the pastry. 'I mean, I think it would be fun but isn't it a bit, you know, spontaneous?' The thought of what his Mother would say about him leaving home and going travelling throughout the summer was a shadowing the potential exceitment Bertie could have got from Wendy's suggestion. Once you've seen your child fall gravely ill and end up in St Mungo's for half a year it's hard not to become overprotective and the Ravenclaw had a feeling his Mum would object to such a trip at such short notice.

The boy was glowing now, and Wendy felt her suspicions sadly confirmed, that the boy did not often have people to commiserate with him, though she did feel pleased to see that she had somehow eased his loneliness, even if it was momentarily. He took the pastry from him and she continued to smile, hoping to infect him with some of the carefree optimism she had always striven to attain, for no other sentiment was worth the trouble. If it could release him from his anxiety and uncertainty, than she would feel confident.

"Of course it's spontaneous," she chirped, "That's the point. It'd only be for a few days. I work as a nanny so I have to go on my off days, but I always spend my summers travelling. It reminds me that the world isn't this castle, isn't this country. It's an amazing world and we need to see it when we are still small and can perceive the vastness of it." It was a practiced speech, as her parents always attempted to stop her, though they never actually bothered enough to actually convince her otherwise.

"I do it all the time. It's safe, and totally worth it."

Bertie pondered for a moment. If the trip was only for a couple of days then his Mother might be more willing to let him embark upon an adventure. The only problem was that Bertie hadn't been on an adventure before and his Mother was one of the most unadventurous people the Ravenclaw knew. She was the over protective kind that would want to know exactly where he was at what time.

'Where are you thinking?' Bertie asked somewhat cautiously. If it wasn't too far a place then he'd probably ask his Mum about it, maybe try something new and simply slip out that he was going on a trip. If he approached the subject with more confidence then maybe his Mum wouldn't be so protective and more willing to allow her son to leave the nest.

'Do you think anybody else would be interested?' He quickly added. Wendy seemed like a nice girl but the truth was Bertie wasn't sure how long he'd be able to hold a conversation with her without input from other people. He was friendly, curious and easy to talk to but going on a trip with an acquaintance was a task Bertie wasn't sure he had the social skills to carry out.

Wendy could see that there was some interest in Bertie's face, as he considered the idea of travelling with his classmate. She had a feeling deep within her that the travelling could do the Ravenclaw boy some good. Not only to relieve him from all of that pressure and stress that was threatening to bury him, but if he was really serious about being a writer, he really needed to see more of the world than the inside of a book and the walls of a castle. It could change Bertie's whole life, if he would just take the chance.

He asked where and she smiled, sitting up on her knees as she began to get excited with the idea. "Anywhere, really! I mean, it's been a long time since I've been to Greece. But the French countryside is always worth it. My brother's been talking about the Great Wall of China for a long time! That could be lots of fun. Or the California coast! Ooh, yes - San Francisco, Monterey." She could feel her excitement growing with all of the possibilities.

He asked if others could join and, rather that being offended that she might not be good enough company, she brightened at the idea of a larger group. "Maybe my elder brother! My younger siblings aren't allowed to travel out of the country with me yet. Maybe Pippa. Or you can invite someone! I'm not picky!"

Not only did the idea of a trip flirt with Bertie's interests it gave him a slight rush. The Ravenclaw had thought Wendy was referring to a trip in Britain but at the mention of France, Greece, China, America, Bertie was blown away at the possibilities. He had only be abroad three times before and each time it had been the same beach holiday to Spain.

Bertie loved the beach, it was the one natural place where he would call home. He'd practically been raised on a beach and could even see the shimmering English Chanel from his Devonshire bedroom. One could assume a beach holiday to Spain would have been boring for Bertie, especially someone who is so engaged with his imagination and dreaming up new ideas and fresh scenes in his mind but they'd be wrong. Those three trips to Spain had been the best three of his life. For a start the Mediterranean Sea was a lot warmer than the English channel and there was a completely different culture to soak up alongside that. Naturally, the mention of the California Coast seemed most attractive.

'California sounds cool.' Bertie nodded, his eyes widening as he envisioned golden sands, the rippling blue pacific, yoga on the beach, rollerblading along the promenade, visiting one of those amusement fairs along the pier. Of course there was a lot more to California than the Los Angeles beach life Bertie had longed to enjoy for so long there was, as Wendy had pointed out, San Francisco. The golden gate bridge as certainly a spectacle the the Ravenclaw had even heard from one of his older cousins that you could have a tour of Alcatraz Island. Whether that was true he didn't know but San Francisco sure seemed like a place of history and culture wrapped up in a package by the Pacific so you'd still be guaranteed that cool sea breeze.

Once again his heart dropped as Wendy informed Bertie that her siblings couldn't travel outside of the country. The Ravenclaw was worried about telling his Mum that he'd be going on a vacation in Britain never mind someone halfway across the world. She wouldn't have that. There would be no way on this planet would the over-protective, ever-worrying, Mother of Bertie Nogard allow her son to fly to a different country let alone continent.

'My Mum wouldn't let me leave the country.' He replied sadly, his brown eyes dropping to the ground. 'I think before I go gallivanting off around the world I'd at least prove that I can survive without an adult with me in England.'

She nodded excited at his words. "California is beautiful. Wine country is woven throughout the routes to the coast, so there's some beautiful countryside. And the southern California coast looks like a tropical paradise, just with lots of people who know about it. The more north you go, the grittier the sand and the people become. It's wonderful. I looove Monterey. And there's this tiny little town called Half Moon Bay that I would move to in a heartbeat!" She was gushing again.

He kept coming back to the issue of his mother. Part of her wondered after the boy's relationship with said matriarch, as most of their peers cared very little for what their parents told them not to do. He must either have a very great, or a very horrid, relationship with his mother. She found that such mindful obedience only followed one of the two extremes.

"I could talk to your mom," she ventured. "I mean, I'm an incredibly practiced traveler - it's the thing I'm best at. Maybe if she knew that it wasn't a whim thing, but that it was planned and you were with people she trusted, maybe she would let you."

Besides, she had practically sold herself on California.