Amelia was deeply invested in her reading, as she usually was when books were involved, and thus she was mostly oblivious to the few students passing through the entrance way on their way to the dining hall or outdoors. The redhead was quite accustomed to staying inside when others were keen on getting some fresh air; quidditch games were a perfect example of an event which brought most of the castle outside, leaving the library blessedly deserted for Amelia to study. There were a few rowdy first years that put a small dent into her mental block of the world, but they passed quickly and thus did not draw her from her reverie.
And so she remained mostly oblivious to the world, lost in her studying until the sound of guitar chords penetrated her mind. If it has been voices or footfalls, Amelia would likely have been able to block the noise out, but her mental barriers were not impervious to music; they never were. If there was one thing that made it past Amelia’s defenses – both mental and emotional – it was music, and it was the first bars of an unknown song that lifted her eyes from the page. The entrance hall being as deserted as it was, it wasn’t difficult to discern from where the music had come.
There was a boy sitting at the base of the steps which led to the Great Hall, his dark hair falling over his eyes as he leaned over the neck of his guitar. He looked to be much younger than her, but it was difficult to tell without getting a good look at his face or being able to gage his age from his height. His music was not offensive, in fact he was rather good considering he looked to be so young, but Amelia still wasn’t overly pleased to have her silence interrupted in the last place left to study in peace.
Why, why, why can’t I ever be alone? she wondered mentally, shaking her head lightly in a why me? sort of way.
She continued to stare at him for a few minutes while he futzed with a few chords on the guitar, hoping that he would look up and notice her and take the hint her pointed stare was giving, but he didn’t seem to feel her eyes on him. If he did, he didn’t much care, as he just went on playing. Knowing she would have to take more initiative, Amelia cleared her throat quietly, hoping to draw his attention. It took two more of these interjections, each progressively louder, before Amelia believed it would be impossible that he had not heard her.
“Ah- hem,” Amelia cleared loudly for the fourth time, tapping her fingers on the open page of her book, which only added to her pointed interruption of the boy’s not-so-private performance.