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amelia gibbon ([info]gibbon) wrote in [info]possibilities,
@ 2008-04-20 21:52:00

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WHO: Creepy Barbary & Amelia Gibbon.
WHEN: After dinner and classes.
WHERE: Hufflepuff common room, then the kitchens.
SUMMARY: They need to make biscuits, obviously! There needs to be a flour war, because, wow! Flour in Creepy's hair!
RATING: PG? PG-13?
WARNINGS: Cursing, most likely, and details of Amelia's dream.
STATUS: Incomplete!

Amelia was nestled on her bed, staring down at all the loose bits of parchment she had scattered all over the place. They were usually neatly tucked into a folder or shoved in a notebook, but whenever she was in one of her moods she took them all out and read through them again, or added new little tidbits of random information she deemed necessary to remember. These were her notes, the things she could never live without having. She wanted to remember everything, and the only way to do that was by writing it all down and using all the ink she could get her hands on. She'd already documented things that happened each day since all the students arrived at Hogwarts after the summer hols, but she'd spent a special amount of paper on the days that were most important. Days like that included that one fight she saw two second year Hufflepuffs having in the common room; they had been arguing about who stole who's Charms homework. There had been angry words! Smacking! Shoving! And ultimately one unfortunate Hufflepuff had bumped into a table and knocked the entire contents of it down; parchment, someone's muggle artifact, a random bunch of books from the library, an open bottle on ink splattered everywhere. What a feast for the eyes that had been! No one had paid any attention to Amelia, so she remained free to curl herself into that cozy chair and stare with wide eyes. Why did people argue so easily? Why couldn't people find that common denominator that held their friendship together and focus on that and not the bad things? Amelia didn't understand friendship. She'd never really had someone who wanted to spend a lot of time with her and laugh and joke and do whatever it was friends did. Why?

But oh! Then there was Creepy, and he was nice. Was he her friend? He had kissed her cheek! She had kissed his back! And she'd had a dream about him, a fascinating dream that she was still thinking about at breakfast when she awoke the next morning. She'd spent the entire meal staring at him and trying to figure out the secrets that were hiding in the dream, just like the secrets that must have been hiding in his hair, the ones that she hadn't learn yet but would hopefully get to learn soon. If he wanted to talk to her again. She'd smiled at him at every given chance, but she herself didn't strike up conversation much, even when they were both alone and looking for something to do; he struck up conversation not too long ago when he handed her a backstage pass to something she still didn't understand. It seemed fun, whatever it was! And Creepy would be there, so she could look at him. He was so interesting to look at, she almost didn't need to speak to him! If only she could go back up to his dormitory and hear him scream again! What an interesting scream it had been. Something she could still hear in her head! Just like she could still feel what his body felt like under hers. Sometimes she randomly laid on top of her pillow and pretended that it was Creepy, but it didn't caress her back like he had done, nor did it bite her. Sadly!

It was a boring night, and Amelia had already finished all her work. She was done looking at her notes, so she shoved them back into a notebook and shoved it under her bed. She bounced around on her bed for a few moments before thinking of Creepy again and how his hair would look bouncing on a bed. Oh! Weren't they supposed to make biscuits? She remembered discussing it! They were supposed to make snow-things too, but that couldn't happen until there was actually snow on the ground. Winter would never come! Amelia stopped thinking and decided to act, surprisingly; usually she did the opposite. She raced out of her dormitory and into the common room, scanning her eyes quickly for the familiar big mop of hair. Once she located Creepy, she skipped over to him and joined him on the couch with a giant bounce.

"Wow, hello Creepy!" she chirped, staring at him.

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part one
[info]barbary
2008-04-21 03:34 am UTC (link)
The worst part about nighttime was when everyone was, for the most part, tired and not really up to doing anything. When Creepy wasn't tired himself, he'd be pretty hyper, considering how he could hardly sit in one spot for too long without getting restless. This was one of those nights: where he'd want to get up and do something, but have no idea what to do at all, so he mostly kept to himself. He wasn't up for going to the Ravenclaw dorms to see Crumbs, Donut, or Myron, nor was he up for finding Duke, who was more than likely with the Giant Squid, serenading it or some shit. Creepy never, ever knew about Duke, so he tried not to figure his friend out and just went with whatever flow there was.

While tonight was boring, Creepy's classes were even more boring; they seemed to drag on and on, never ending, almost. The professors droned on and on, without any signs of ever stopping anytime soon, so more often than not, Creepy would end up with his arm resting on the table in front of him and his head fallen on his forearm. A lot of the time, too, the professors would wake him up by embarrassing, and lately, it'd been by asking him (rather loudly) what the answer to whatever question they asked, which he clearly didn't know the answer to ever, for obvious reasons. But Creepy rarely gave a fuck what people thought, so he didn't make a huge deal out of the slight embarrassment he felt when a professor would say his name (Heathcote Barbary, why don't you give us the answer to this question?) and then shake their head at him when he would end up a bumbling idiot, more or less.

Besides his classroom embarrassment and not being around his friends all that often -- not even to practise, which they needed now more than ever -- Creepy hadn't been doing much since he last saw Amelia, and he wanted to see her very soon. Creepy couldn't help it; Amelia was so… intriguing. She was talkative and bouncy and cute. Yes, Creepy had come to terms with thinking of Amelia as cute, and friends could do that, couldn't they? Really, Creepy thought a lot of people were cute, so surely, it wasn't a bad thing if he thought of Amelia like that, right? Whatever it was, Creepy knew he wanted to get to know Amelia better -- get to know what made her tick, what made her smile, what made her laugh, and what interested her. Not to mention her strengths and weaknesses! Creepy was getting ahead of himself here, though, so he needed to backtrack and take it easy.

The last time Creepy had spoken to Amelia after their roll down the hill was when he gave her one of those backstage pass things that Esme had made, and he'd specifically asked for one for her. Creepy was still unsure of what the whole thing was in general, but he knew that he and the band were probably performing, or something like that. Or, well, that was what Creepy gathered so far, if he wasn't wrong. Or maybe he was imagining things, because he did that a lot with his overactive imagination. Though, he highly doubted that this was a dream or something.

Currently, Creepy was lazing around the Hufflepuff common room, watching people closely to see what they were up to, and also looking for ideas for himself from other people. So far, no luck whatsoever, because most of them were either doing schoolwork or playing chess, neither of which interested Creepy in any sense of the word. So yeah, he was pretty much only relaxing, half-lying down on one of the lounges, head being held up by the arm of it. His legs were bent and he had a journal in front of him with a quill, like he was about to write, but nothing was coming to mind, so it was a shock when someone plopped down next to him, almost kind of bouncing.

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part two
[info]barbary
2008-04-21 03:34 am UTC (link)
Looking up quickly, suppressing a sort of scream that was itching to make its way passed his lips, Creepy straightened himself up some and saw that it was only Amelia. Amelia! Yes, just the person he was thinking about! Such perfect timing! Such a perfect time to come to Creepy's rescue (kind of) and cure his boredom, considering he didn't plan on doing any schoolwork anytime soon. Maybe later, if he couldn't sleep some more.

A smile easily curved over Creepy's lips as soon as Amelia spoke, and he wouldn't admit it, but he'd been saying wow quite a lot recently, all because of her. It was like she was rubbing off on him, and soon enough, he'd be speaking exactly like she did. But that wasn't the point! The point was that Amelia was now here and he didn't need to wallow anymore because he was bored.

"Hey! Hello!" Creepy said in return, eyes wide, his smile growing wider now. He crossed his legs so that he was sitting Indian style, closing his journal and placed it on the back of the lounge, situating himself until he was comfortable. "How are you?" he asked, keeping it short until he found out what Amelia was here for -- or what she wanted to do, whichever.

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[info]gibbon
2008-04-21 04:22 am UTC (link)
It was almost boring how fast Amelia seemed to finish her coursework. Since she didn't sleep much, she couldn't be completely surprised that she finished it all right away and had so much time on her hands that she could daydream, write, or both, one right after the other. There was never much to see when it was so late, and they weren't supposed to be wandering the corridors looking for things to do that late, either, so she was stuck entertaining herself in her dormitory or in the common room.

At least she had had that one adventure with the hill! She had never climbed out a window before, even if it had been more of a jump into a waiting Creepy who had, of course, managed to not fall over when she landed on him. It wasn't every day that people broke out of Hogwarts and found something to do on the grounds. She had wondered how many others had ventured outside when the sky was dark and filled with tiny stars. Not many, she figured. Many stars. A strong, cool breeze. Creepy in only pajama bottoms. A short ride down the hill. A bite to her neck. All of these things stayed fresh in her mind, and even if Creepy's bite hadn't left a mark, she still checked the mirror constantly, hoping that something would appear there on it's own. But nothing ever came, so she had to go back to analyzing just how hard of a bite it must have took to leave any real mark that was worth being exciting about.

Amelia often took her backstage pass out and stared at it. She tried to think of the possibilities that it held, things that could possibly happen and things that would never happen. Maybe it was like some sort of secret club! Interesting. She'd be in on all the fascinating little details of Hogwarts that so many others hadn't a clue of. And Creepy would be there, too. Oh, how nice it was of him to invite her! Did that mean he wanted to be around her more? Or maybe he was going to stay far away from her at this party thing? Oh well. As long as he wasn't so far away that she couldn't look at him, she could be content with the whole thing. He was mighty tall with his hair, so it wasn't as though he was hard to spot in a crowd.

She wasn't sure if Creepy was in the common room. What if he wasn't there? Well! That would surely be a disappointment, and she'd have to run back upstairs to make note of the fact that he wasn't in the common room. Would she have gone back up to his dormitory? Most likely. Maybe it would look different! But hopefully the next time she went up there it would smell the same. Such a good smell, it was. If Creepy had been in neither of those places, Amelia was positive that she would have explored the library and the Great Hall and all the other corridors of the castle until she had found him. All of this was racing through her mind as she descended the stairs into the common room, even if the trip down there was a short one.

This was her favourite couch! Creepy had such a divine taste in couches. He didn't seem to be doing anything of any interest, and he was alone. Interesting! This meant that she wouldn't be interrupting a possible conversation he was having with someone on his hair, as it seemed like a popular conversation to have with someone.

Amelia also crossed her legs and sat facing him, still bouncing slightly in place. Now she was giddy all over again, and she couldn't stop smiling, even as a contemplative look came over her face. "Oh! I am nifty, thank you. I hope that you are nifty, too. I'd hate to hear that you are feeling terrible," she made a face, tucking her hair behind her ears. But, alas! Now that this was out of the way, she wasn't going to waste any time in asking him about their biscuits. "Do you want to do it?" she blurted out, forgetting to ask what exactly she wanted to do.

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part one
[info]barbary
2008-04-21 05:51 pm UTC (link)
This whole meeting was something that Creepy was hoping would happen, simply because that small talk when he'd given Amelia the invitation-backstage-pass-thing just didn't suffice; it wasn't enough. Creepy loved to talk, as most people knew (especially Amelia), so there was a lot more talking that needed to be done between him and her. And now, it seemed like that would be happening! Brilliant, clearly. Except for the whole part where he came up with nothing to say? Yeah, that would provide a problem, he was sure.

Leaning forward some once Amelia started talking again, Creepy tilted his head to the side slowly, his hair also following suit. He didn't do much with it today, either; kept it simple and had his fringe in front of his face, almost covering his eyes, but not quite. It was rare that Creepy did anything with it beside run his hands through it to keep it moderately well-kept, but that didn't matter much, considering how much people appeared to dislike it. And they didn't matter all that much, because Creepy was used to getting asked if he had a dead animal on his head, which it wasn't, for the record. Not to mention the question of if his hair had a mind of its own, and sometimes, if Creepy was being honest, he thought that it did, though he'd never admit to that. It was too wild on occasion.

While he was thinking about his hair, Creepy remembered what his mother had done as soon as she saw what he did to it: she'd screamed at the top of her lungs (much like he did himself) and asked him what the fuck was he thinking. Of course, Creepy could only roll his eyes, because all he'd done was made the fringe blonde, the rest black, and kind of made it puff out a lot -- almost in a frizzy-like manner. Before, his hair was a simple brown colour and straight, for the most part, except for when it got wet, then it was wavy, in a way. Needless to say, it took Creepy's mother a long time to get used to seeing her son looking like he had a dead raccoon on top of his head, as she'd put it many times, and even longer for Hannah to accept the fact that her younger brother was weird. In that time period, Hannah (his older sister) had taken to not claiming Creepy as her brother, explaining to her friends that she had no idea who that Weird Kid was who happened to be around her a lot. Michael (Creepy's older brother) was neutral to everything and thought it was pretty fucking cool. Creepy's hair, that was. While his mother and siblings were all reacting differently to Creepy's Change of Appearance, he couldn't help but wonder how his father would've felt about it, and honestly, he thought he dad would've loved it; being his own person and all, but he tried not to think of his dad much.

Another smile was curving over Creepy's lips again, because Amelia's enthusiasm and apparent happiness to see him made him feel happy himself, so he tried to sit still and not start bouncing around like she was. It was cute, nonetheless, because for real, who wouldn't find Amelia cute? A small giggle passed his lips when Amelia mentioned being nifty, because what a word! Creepy hadn't heard that one in a while, so he made a mental note to start using it more often; nifty. How are you doing today? -- Oh, I'm just nifty, thank you for asking!

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part two
[info]barbary
2008-04-21 05:51 pm UTC (link)
"I am quite nifty myself, thank you," Creepy said in an airy voice, emphasising the word nifty, which caused a grin to form over his face. See, he was already doing it! Excellent! Not being able to help pushing his hair back, too, Creepy glanced over Amelia, slightly caught off-guard by her mentioning them doing it. What was it, exactly? Great, now Creepy would need to contemplate what it was. Hmm.

It could mean rolling down a hill again, of course, or something much less fun than that -- or even more fun! Surely, she didn't mean shagging, because when Creepy was younger, Hannah would refer to that as doing it. No, Creepy wasn't Sirius, and he didn't want to ruin his friendship with Amelia by doing that, or even thinking about it, so he stopped. What was it that Amelia meant by it? Curling up and doing absolutely nothing? Right now, Creepy was going through everything he remembered about all of their conversations -- through journals and the other night, when they'd rolled down the hill -- and he was sort of coming up with a blank. It? Wait! He got it!

"Biscuits? Let's!" he said excitedly, grinning widely, because of course that was it. That should've been the first thing he thought of, because really, flour fights and sliding in their socks seemed to be such an amazing picture in his mind, that he wished he would've dreamed about it. Sadly, though, he didn't, so he definitely thought they needed to do that now. Right now. "That's what you mean, right?" he asked, just to be sure, his head tilting in the opposite direction this time, an eyebrow arching at Amelia in question.

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part one
[info]gibbon
2008-04-21 09:50 pm UTC (link)
How easy it was to have small-talk with Creepy! He was, perhaps, the one other person who really understood that small-talk could be as interesting as a deep conversation about something that was really important. Amelia never understood why people always had to be discussing something important. Wasn't it alright to talk about the small things? They could pass the time just as well as anything else could! Talking about the snow and how to make different shapes in it was just as fun as discussing world events. Or at least she thought so, but she had always been different. At least she had Creepy.

Amelia lost track of thought for a moment and immediately had to watch the way Creepy's hair moved when he tilted his head. It seemed different today! There was something about it that seemed different. Maybe not enough people had run their hands through the hair? Maybe Creepy was waiting for someone to start styling his hair! Even if it was, most likely, too late to start changing one's hair style. Oh well. She liked the way she could just barely see his bangs under his fringe. There was something mysterious about it. More mysteries in his hair that she was going to have to learn about soon! Mysteries that lured the eyes to the hair. Like a bright light and a bug. Or something like that! Amelia really needed better comparisons. Instead she leaned in even further and grinned.

Amelia wondered what sorts of things Creepy went through when he was back home. She'd heard him talking about his mother and the kind of person she seemed to be, the sort who was always complaining about something and didn't seem happy with Creepy for various reasons. She wanted to know why this was. How did his family dynamic work? What happened to his father? Had she ever heard about him and forgotten? She didn't know! But she hoped that she didn't forget, as she hated it when that happened. Her own family was much too boring to ever think about for this long, hence why she never did think about them, or why she never spoke about them. A mother, a father, both worked, both did their own thing. She'd once had a grandfather who was an author and a grandmother she adored dearly, but what did that even matter? Perhaps it helped to explain what went on in Amelia's psyche. What made her tick. What made her think. There was probably a lot of thinking to be done on her part, but she would rather wonder about Creepy and what his family thought of his fuzzy-wuzzy hair! And the Professors! Did they ever think he was hiding notes in there and cheating during class? Or that maybe a really, really tiny person was sitting in there and whispering the answers to him during a test? Oh, Creepy's hair! Hairy thoughts made for a good night.

Bounce. Bounce. Bounce. This couch wasn't nearly as good for bouncing as her bed was, but it was getting the job done and it was managing to calm her giddy sense of adventure, the one that had been creeping along inside her all day and was finally so overwhelming that she needed to go and share it with Creepy. He was so nifty for asking her how she was! A huge ball of, not yarn, but niftiness. Wow! Did Creepy ever play with yarn? He could make bows out of yarn for his hair...multi-coloured ones!

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part two
[info]gibbon
2008-04-21 09:50 pm UTC (link)
Amelia laughed, clapped, and stuck her tongue on her top lip in an attempt to make a face at him all at one time. "You're nifty, too? That must be some sort of coincidence! Fascinating, that. I've never known someone to be nifty while I was nifty, too, but I suppose the niftiness is in the air and soon everyone will be feeling nifty," she said, managing to use different versions of the word 'nifty' without believing she was over-doing it.

She was so excited that she forgot to mention just what exactly she intended 'it' to be, but for the most part she would be interested in doing whatever it was Creepy thought 'it' was. She had been, of course, thinking about how interesting it would be to have a flour war and even pretend that the flour was snow, just so they could make shapes in it. And biscuits would hopefully get made during this flour war. Vanilla biscuits! Though if Creepy liked chocolate, they could make chocolate ones, too. Maybe he was secretly really good at muggle cooking and could whip anything up the muggle way.

"Biscuits! Yes!" she nearly yelped, rolling off the couch and leaping to her feet in a graceful fashion. "You know, I reckon that it has been much too long since we discussed doing this, so I was thinking...why let any more time pass! Because, wow! And...I have even my socks on, so if we happen to slide," she said, raising one of her feet in the air," we will get a lot of friction between the feet and the ground! I heard that makes it fun," she continued, reaching down to grab Creepy's hands so she could attempt to yank him off the couch.

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part one
[info]barbary
2008-04-24 04:43 am UTC (link)
The excitement that seemed to simply come off of Amelia so easily was quickly making Creepy happy, a smile now seeming to be a permanent fixture on his face, yet again. Amelia tended to have that effect on Creepy, it appeared to be, since he always found himself grinning like a fool when around her, whether it was for no reason or just because she was… well, herself. She wasn't like all of the other girls, in Creepy's opinion; like she didn't care about what people thought. Wait! She had told him she didn't care before, so yes, that was an appropriate thought. Creepy thought that was what he liked so much about Amelia.

A small giggle passed Creepy's lips again because of how much Amelia used the word nifty, even in the different ways, but it was interesting (he needed to stop thinking and talking like her, too). If Creepy started saying nifty a lot now, he would probably end up screaming loudly, but this time, for a reason, because hello, he normally didn't pick up on people's ways of speaking. He already said wow without even realising it, so there was no telling what else he'd pick up from Amelia. Not like he could say it was necessarily a bad thing, though people could very well pick up on how he started to sound like her unintentionally, then jump to their conclusions that they were sure to do. But this was where Creepy needed to get in the mindset Amelia had and not give a fuck what other people thought. Yes, that seemed quite appropriate, too.

"Most of my friends are nifty when I'm nifty! You don't talk to a lot of people on a daily basis, do you?" Creepy asked, slowly tilting his head yet again, but only briefly before he straightened up completely. Alright, so he kind of really wanted to know more than he already knew about Amelia, because honestly, how else was he supposed to call someone a close friend? Maybe he was jumping ahead of himself for wanting that, but Amelia was such an intriguing person, and fun to be around; she also seemed to enjoy Creepy's company, so why not? Close friends could happen in the future, if they knew each other well enough, though it depended on how much the both of them were willing to tell. Creepy rarely told anyone about his father, if he could help it.

Like a lot of kids who lost one of their parents, Creepy had gotten into a lot of fights when his father's death initially happened and someone thought it'd be a good idea to insult him when in an argument. It was never Creepy's intention to pick fights with people, which he wasn't even doing, really, but he didn't like people speaking about his father, when he didn't even do that himself. If he didn't, why should other people? So, he generally fought with whoever spoke lowly of his father, and they normally didn't know who he was, and it was never a good result. Creepy's mother would shout at him for getting into said fights, but deep down, he knew that she could relate; she was worse off than any of them. Always yelling and screaming, not to mention the cursing and the constant smoking of fags, which she hadn't done all that often before her husband died (they liked to say it was a natural cause death). Regardless of all that, Creepy didn't like talking about the bad parts of his family, though he seemed to find himself mentioning his mother a lot to Amelia; Hannah and Michael weren't a big deal, because they were only his siblings. Sigh.

After shaking his head a little at his own little train of thoughts that appeared to keep going on and on, with some sort of dreamy expression on his face (though it was anything but dreamy, and rather vacant), Creepy turned his attention fully to Amelia and offered her a small, reassuring smile for his brief short attention span moment. It happened to everyone, Creepy was sure, so it wasn't a big deal if he went off on some thought process that he hadn't even meant to go on in the first place. Sometimes, he really, really hated his brain. Sometimes.

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part two
[info]barbary
2008-04-24 04:44 am UTC (link)
It was like one second, Amelia was there, and the next, she wasn't, and it almost made Creepy think that she left him completely for one reason or another, but she hadn't; she simply kind of hopped up to her feet. Creepy looked up to her and grinned widely, all of his fang-like teeth showing, head tilting to the side yet again, because it could. Merlin, she was so enthusiastic! How could anyone not want to be in Amelia's company? That concept was lost on Creepy, because seriously, he would prefer Amelia's company over almost everyone else's that he knew in the castle, besides his band. So far, maybe? Depended.

No fight was put up when Amelia started tugging on Creepy's hand to get him to stand up, which he did quickly, looking down to his feet to see that he had his socks on, too. Perfect! Everything was almost panning itself out to work with their plans to bake biscuits and slide around the kitchen floors. What could be better than that? Once he was stood up, Creepy kept his hand in Amelia's and started pulling her toward the kitchen, mumbling over his shoulder, "You're right, I don't think we should've let it wait this long, come on," without even thinking of what he was saying, but it didn't really matter.

It didn't take them long to get to their destination, and Creepy looked both ways to make sure no one was here or any of the elves, then he slipped the rest of the way in and continued to tug Amelia until she was in the kitchen with him. He shut the door and turned around, bringing his hand up to his mouth to think for a moment, then went to the first place where he assumed the flour would be -- he'd do everything the muggle way! Nothing more fun than that, since he'd learned how to from his mother, before she became the Big Bad Bitch.

"What flavour of cookie do you want to bake? Chocolate chip, peanut butter, sugar… what else is there?" Creepy asked, turning around to look at Amelia with a crooked smile, the flour in his hands now, sort of already spilling out from the opening. Alright, well, this was fun. A giggle was quickly let out at how quickly he was already making a mess, and okay, maybe not everything would be done the muggle way; they may or may not use magic to clean up. It depended on how they were feeling at the end of it. "I'm pretty indecisive, so you choose! I can bake a lot, it doesn't matter what flavour, because it's basically all the same. To me," he added, nodding his head shortly, then got an idea in his head.

Walking to the end of the kitchen, Creepy opened the flour completely, being careful not to spill more than he already had unintentionally, sticking his hand into it and then started sprinkling it down the aisle. There, this would be perfect. "To make us slip more! Hannah once used oil at home, but… I'd rather not use oil. We might fall, but where's the fun in all this shit if there's no falling?" he asked rhetorically, reaching his hand back into the flour to continue his way with what he was doing, getting every spot of floor he thought would need to be floured. He was already slipping just a bit while he was walking over it, so he sighed lightly and turned to Amelia, saying, "Be careful, though," quickly, finishing up.

Once everything with the flour being sprinkled onto the floor was done, Creepy went over to a counter and sprinkled some of the white powder onto there, patting it out until it was spread out some, setting the bag off to the side. Hmm. Now what? Sugar! After a moment of hesitation, Creepy sort-of-maybe slipped his way over to where he got the flour and pulled out the sugar, letting out a small, "Check," to himself, like he had a mental checklist. This was going to be fun, no doubt.

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part one
[info]gibbon
2008-04-24 06:28 am UTC (link)
Amelia was the sort of person who always seemed to be excited about something. And while this was true to an extent, there were some things she did even if she didn’t find them to be that interesting. Fights, for example, where a thing she always had to go and watch. But watching a fight was not the same as spending time with Creepy. Creepy made her think about things that she never really thought about, and in a way he made her more excited than she had ever really been about anything. It was a new discovery, really, something she hadn’t paid attention to when they would randomly discuss things while in class during previous years. She could hardly care to remember her first year at the castle, so she certainly didn’t remember what he was like. Hm.

The last time she had felt such a warmth cascade through her body like this was whenever she was with her grandmother and they would be reading together, or exploring the bugs in the backyard and planting flowers. Amelia was always so excited to spend time with the older woman, just like she was starting to feel with Creepy. This was strange to her, because her grandmother had always been the one sort of sacred person that no one could even compare to, but here she was thinking about Creepy in a similar light.

Even if people thought her habits and way of doing things were strange, Amelia just couldn’t bring herself to actually care about their biased opinions and whispers and whatever else was being said. People didn’t normally pay that much attention to her, actually, which made it loads easier for her to slip under the radar and do as she pleased without anyone constantly questioning her, so thankfully she’d never been confronted in a way that would scare her away from this comfortable way of living. She wished that others could feel this same way. She often saw that people were riddled with constantly worry over how they were going to be perceived. She’d seen many students crying over this or that, too, so much so that she had to make three different pie charts.

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part two
[info]gibbon
2008-04-24 06:28 am UTC (link)
Did she talk to a lot of people on a daily basis? No, not really. She watched people on a daily basis, but that was normally was far as it would go before she would move on to a new person. Talking to people meant opening up, meant sharing things about your personality that you weren’t always comfortable with. Creepy was such a fascinating person that he never had anything to worry about in that regard! But Amelia knew that she didn’t have any juicy secrets, any hidden talents, and gifts that no one else knew about. She was just the 6th year Hufflepuff who was petrified, secretly, of letting others know about her out of fear that they would want to leave her, just like her grandmother had left her, even if that was completely unintentional. “I don’t talk to a lot of people on a daily basis,” she agreed. “There’s not really a lot to say every day to people other than you,” she added, nodding solemnly and blowing a stray piece of hair off her lip.

Where was Creepy? He seemed to be somewhere else right now, and Amelia felt that sense of abandonment coming over her again, starting in her chest and fluttering along to her stomach. She returned Creepy’s smile after he seemed to return to the current moment and simply looked at him for a few moments, quietly studying his features, even if she had never forgotten them.

After a few more moments of that intense studying, Amelia decided she had him memorized all over again and instead took to hopping up and down on one foot. Doing so was no fun alone! She needed Creepy there with her, even if he had been sitting there comfortably. He was easy to tug! And he was fun to tug! As long as his arm didn’t pop out of the socket, of course, but it didn’t seem like that was going to happen…as interesting as that could have possibly been to watch, if not slightly disgusting. But Creepy was amazing, his limbs didn’t pop that easily! There was always something knew to learn about Creepy’s body. Not that Amelia was spending much time thinking about it.

What a long trip to the kitchens, wow! It had never seemed to take this long before, but the excitement from knowing what they were about to do and the excitement from the warmth of his fingers intertwined with hers was too exciting to contain, and she had even started humming a random Christmas tune during their adventure through the castle. It was a bit quiet, thankfully, otherwise Amelia’s attention could have wandered elsewhere and she would have wanted to go and study what was going on with other people. As long as Creepy came along, too, however. But, wow! Once they were inside the kitchen Amelia immediately jumped onto the counter and attempted to slide a bit on it. She didn’t go anywhere, however, so she instead looked to Creepy and pouted slightly.

But oh, a question! Biscuits! Wow. What kind of biscuits did she like, really? Amelia wasn’t the sort who ate a ton of sweet food, mainly because it was just that, too sweet. But whenever she hadn’t had any in a while, like now, she did get a sudden craving for biscuits of any flavour. “I really do like peanut butter,” she commented in a far-off voice, staring up at the ceiling from her place up on the counter. “But oh, chocolate chip is lovely. I’m not too sure about the sugar ones, though.” Her eyes widened as she watched Creepy letting little dust clouds of flour make a mess on the floor and the counter. She wanted nothing more than to take a bag of flour and dump it over her head.

“Wow!" she declared, scooting over a bit on the counter so she could reach for a bag of flour. She sprinkled some onto her head, looking up at her fingers letting it slowly slide out, almost as though it were snow. She let out three sneezes in a row and giggled, placing the bag back down and jumping off the counter in a giant leap. She fell victim to the first one who was thisclose to falling over on the slippery floor as she gave a lot squeak and grabbed for Creepy. Her arms wrapped around his waist as she steadied herself and tried to not let her body move backwards.

“Oh, wow! Do we need eggs?” she asked, letting go of Creepy after a moment so she could look at his progress. “Hm. It really is interesting, how this will all eventually turn into a biscuit.”

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part one
[info]barbary
2008-04-25 02:21 am UTC (link)
All of Creepy's attention was on Amelia and her alone, listening to what she had to say about how she didn't speak to people on a daily basis. Well, that was quite saddening, really, because why wouldn't she want to talk to people? Why wouldn't people want to talk to her? Amelia was so interesting and Creepy loved being around her, but he chose to ignore some other things he thought about her, though they were nothing bad. "You should talk to more people," Creepy said decisively, not adding anything onto that, leaving it open to let Amelia interpret it as much as she'd like to, because it wasn't his place to tell her what to do, although it sort of seemed like he just did.

Oh well, really, because Creepy was also worried about what if Amelia did start talking to more people? Then that meant less time for him to talk to her, didn't it? Especially if she found someone else she'd prefer to have long conversations with about Absolutely Nothing and do random, childish things with? That would be devastating for Creepy, so in a way, he wished he could take back his previous statement, but he knew he couldn't, so he simply go with the whole kitchen-destination thing.

Creepy hadn't let go of Amelia's hand until the last possible moment, because he didn't want to lose the warmth of their skin pressed together, though he knew he had to if they expected to get anything done. Except for the part where he would've preferred to hold her hand for as long as possible over baking biscuits, even if he'd never admit that to anyone openly -- besides his close friends, maybe, depending on how open he was feeling. Creepy was rarely the most open person in the world, but he did have his moments, regardless of how rare they seemed.

As they walked, Creepy didn't fail to notice the way Amelia hummed a Christmas tune, he assumed, under her breath, and he was tempted to join in with her, even if he couldn't sing for shit. Humming was hardly the same thing, and sometimes, when Creepy was walking down the road or from classes, he'd hum songs that he and the rest of the band were working on to make sure they sounded alright, although they normally sounded strange without actual music to go along with it. The band didn't practise half as much as they should've, but that didn't matter, because sometimes, they just winged it with whatever they were doing -- occasionally a downfall, other times, a breakthrough with their music.

Glancing over to Amelia who was now sat up on the counter and appearing to try and slide, then the way she pouted, made Creepy internally melt and kind of squirm around where he stood, rolling his eyes at his own girlishness towards things. Whatever, he was entitled to feel girly sometimes (right?). It wasn't like Amelia could read his mind and see his thoughts and how he was adoring the way she pouted slightly, even if it was something so simple as sticking her lower lip out and nothing more than that. Okay, time to stop those thoughts, which he did quickly and turned around to finish what he was doing with the flour once he had it out and all.

"Hmm," Creepy mumbled thoughtfully, mostly to himself after he had the sugar and everything he'd had on his mental checklist out, minus a few minor (read: important) ingredients for baking biscuits. "Maybe both. Peanut butter tastes good with chocolate, no? So what do you think?" Creepy asked, looking up to Amelia through his hair that was falling into his face a bit, so he blew out to make it move, though it didn't completely get out of the way. Bringing his hand up, forgetting about the flour that was covering his fingers and his palm, Creepy pushed his bangs out of his face, only ending up making a patch of white showing through the blonde of his hair. He didn't even notice that until it was in his face, then he snorted at himself and shook his head quickly, knowing it wouldn't do him any good; the flour was still there -- he'd need to get it out with a shower. After they baked their biscuits, though.

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part two
[info]barbary
2008-04-25 02:22 am UTC (link)
If Creepy could've taken his eyes away from Amelia when she took the flour and sprinkled it on her head, he would've, but he couldn't, so he let out a giggle with her after her sneezes, mumbling out, "Bless you," a few times, shaking his head, this time more slowly. Amelia was still so quirky, and it was making Creepy like her even more -- most girls would try so hard to not look strange, or like they were being childish, but she didn't care. So admirable.

Right when Creepy was reaching for the flour to do the same thing Amelia done, he felt arms around his waist and holding on tight, then he didn't realise it when his own arm went out to grab around her shoulders, to ensure that she didn't fall over. His fingers were gripping on a little tighter than they needed to be onto her shoulders, slowly letting his grip loosen as he helped her straighten up again, an almost-shy smile on his face when he took some of the flour with his other hand and sprinkled it over his head. He didn't sneeze like Amelia had, but the black parts of his hair was now covered in white powder, like his blonde bangs were, causing a wide grin to form over his face without him even needing to force it; these things came to him easily when he was around her.

"Yes, yes, we do," Creepy finally said after a moment of hesitation, then went over to the fridge and pulled out as many eggs as he thought they needed, setting them on the side of the counter to make sure they wouldn't roll onto the floor and break, like he'd had happen to him so many times before, and that only caused his mother to throw a bitch-fit, which was very like something she'd do on a daily basis. After a few times of that happening, Creepy had grown to learn to keep the eggs as far away from the edge of the counter as he could, rolling his eyes at himself with how he did know what he was doing in the kitchen; most men thought women belonged in the kitchen, not the other way around. Regardless, if Creepy were a female, he knew he'd make an amazing housewife, and that was a strange thought, so he stopped it before it went further than it already had.

Nodding in agreement to Amelia's statement of this all eventually turning into a biscuit being interesting, Creepy took a bowl out of a cabinet and looked over to her with another crooked smile, setting it off to the side, kind of near the eggs. "The best part is when I sneak cookie dough, because it's always fun and sweet -- I love sweet things," Creepy said thoughtfully, thinking momentarily of anything else they'd need. Coming up with butter as well as brown sugar, Creepy went to find those things, having a problem with the latter, though he eventually did find it and set it on the counter with everything else. Salt, baking soda, chocolate chips, peanut butter, and the proper things to measure out everything topped off what they needed, and he already felt semi-accomplished. "There!" he declared, doing a small turn on the tips of his toes, grabbing onto the edge of the counter before he made himself fall, due to the flour he'd spread out on the floor.

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part one
[info]gibbon
2008-04-25 12:05 pm UTC (link)
Amelia didn't know what she had done to warrant that look that Creepy was giving her, or the looks he always gave her when they were together. Most people just looked at her normally. Normal expressions on their faces. Creepy always looked happy about something when he was looking at her, no matter what she was rambling about, or even if she wasn't speaking about anything at all. It was nice to have someone who actually appeared to care, as different as it was. Oh, Creepy, you are very nice for actually looking interested! Maybe he was the sort who didn't need a lot to be entertained, just like Amelia. Someone could start talking about their first steps as a child and she would be swept into the story.

"Should I?" she echoed, putting on a curious face. She didn't know why, exactly she should talk to more people. Watch more people, yes, that was better. But speaking to them, that involved the sharing of thoughts and ideas. With Creepy, that was easy to do. But with a lot of the others it was easier to just ask questions so they could keep on talking about themselves or whatever the topic at hand was. Besides, she would rather give Creepy more questions so she could hear his voice more!

The Hufflepuff was always humming something. Silence was strange! People needed to be talking more around the castle, it was much too quiet to be considered normal. Perhaps Creepy could start singing and she'd keep humming, though judging from his screams she figured it would be best if he just screamed in tune with her hums. That could be interesting! It made her think of the backstage pass she had under her pillow again, too. Would people be getting a head start on the Christmas holiday and start singing about Rudolph with red noses? Why did he have to have a red nose? What would Creepy look like with a red nose? Could she touch it if it suddenly turned red?

Amelia had been in the kitchens before, but it had been quite some time. Things were always changing around Hogwarts, so she was excited to see what may have been going on down here. It was quiet, as another meal for the school wasn't needed for quite a few more hours. This was good, because Amelia figured that trying to make biscuits out on their hill, the one they had rolled down all those days ago, would not have worked as well as it did when all the typical muggle equipment was scattered about and easy to get access to. She wondered, briefly, what it would have been like to hold Creepy's hand for an entire day, non-stop. Sweaty, perhaps! But fascinating to see who would let go first! Who would need to be alone first!

Well! Wow. These counters needed to be much more slippery for the eager butts who wanted to slide along them! Who was in charge of the slipperiness of the counters? The House Elves? Though, in a way, maybe it was better that Amelia hadn't been able to slide very far, because then she could have slid right off and fallen to the floor. That would've lead to a dozen questions about how she was feeling and if it had hurt, and that was certainly a bit too much for her to want to answer all at one time. Instead she continued to pout before she sucked on her bottom lip and looked up just as Creepy was looking away. She felt rather pleased that he had watched her, for some reason, even if she hadn't been doing anything interesting.

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part two
[info]gibbon
2008-04-25 12:06 pm UTC (link)
Amelia wondered if the biscuits were going to taste any good, or if they were going to end up complete rubbish. Either way was just fine with her, as this was certainly better than digging around the castle for something fascinating to watch. This itself was fascinating! What was it about biscuit making? Amelia started to bounce her legs against the counter a few times as she thought about Creepy's words. "I think it does!" she declared. "Chocolate and peanut butter sort of fancy each other, really. Or maybe it's true love. The chocolate and the peanut butter, together forever!" she continued, somehow making the peanut butter and chocolate sound as though they were real people and not some random ingredients found in food. "Wow!" she changed the topic, as she had been intensely watching Creepys's fingers as they danced around his head. "You looked a bit like snow freshly fallen on a wonky plant. It was rather exciting," she beamed.

It was the first time Amelia had ever poured flour on her face, though she had once dumped salt down her shirt because she thought it would make bubbles come out of her ears. Sadly, that had never happened, there were no bubbles. But the flour, it didn't really have much taste, so even as she inhaled some of it and sneezed, she just felt as though there was some sort of powder creature attacking her nose. "Oh, thanks!" she responded cheerfully, sticking her tongue out so she could lick the flour off her top lip.

There was nothing to grab but Creepy was she was slipping, and even if she wasn't one to really care that she was falling over and possibly making a fool out of herself, there was still something about the moment that made her want to wrap her arms around Creepy, if only for those few moments where he was helping her get her footing. More firmness. There was always something about the boy that was firm when she touched him, it was entirely fascinating! She returned his smile, beaming at him again. "Oh, wow, thank you! I reckon my stockings and the floor are rebelling against each other," she added seriously, watching as Creepy grabbed the bag of flour. He looked like a crazy plant again! "Oh! Wait a moment!" she declared, noticing that A, she was still standing close to him, and B, the flour was coating in a large spot on his forehead. She used a finger to make a little heart on the smooth expanse of his flour-covered forehead. It was the only shape she could think to make! "There," she beamed once more.

My, my, he seemed to know exactly what he was doing with this whole cooking thing! From what she often heard, Amelia didn't think that blokes liked to appear this interested in baking, but it was another thing about Creepy that she liked. He was taking control of getting ingredients, but she was taking each one and measuring out what she thought was the right amount for a fair amount of biscuits. How many biscuits did they even need? She didn't know! But enough to have some left over, of course. "You eat the dough before it's cooked?" she asked, finding the idea to be completely foreign, though very interesting. "We'll have to sneak some once we get the rest of the stuff added and mixed!" she bounced a bit. She was about to speak again when a giggle escaped after watching his turn.

"Do be careful," she chirped, playing innocent as she stuck a finger inside the flour bag. She made like she was going to flick it into the large bowl, but instead she reached for Creepy and tapped him on the nose, rubbing the flour off on his skin.

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part one
[info]barbary
2008-04-26 10:47 pm UTC (link)
Creepy hadn't replied to what Amelia asked, because then he'd have to elaborate what he meant, when all he wanted to do was take his words back -- tell her that no, there was absolutely no need for her to speak to anyone else whatsoever when she had him. Then again, that was Creepy being selfish and not wanting to let go of one of his friends, namely Amelia. And it wasn't even as though Creepy and Amelia were the Best of Friends, but they were friends nonetheless, so he was allowed to feel like he would lose her easily, wasn't he? Creepy convinced himself that he was, at least, so that was all that mattered to him at the moment.

Turning his head to look at Amelia again, a small smile formed over Creepy's face at how she made chocolate and peanut butter sound like two people who were indeed in love, then he shook his head and bit on the side of his lip for a moment. "You know, if they were people, I'm sure that they'd be in love. After all, they taste brilliant together, so why not?" he asked rhetorically, starting to crack eggs into the metal bowl he'd taken out, starting to hum under his breath without even realising it. Well, it seemed that Creepy picked up on other people's habits more often than not, and pretty soon, he'd be talking like Amelia. Oh, wait… been there, done that.

"Make me feel special, why don't you," Creepy said teasingly at Amelia's subject change, sticking his tongue out at her playfully, concentrating on not breaking any of the eggs to where the shells would end up where they weren't wanted. Many times, before he knew how to crack eggs properly, Creepy had gotten so many pieces of the shell where he was trying to crack the egg, and that never turned out well, because occasionally, he ended up not even seeing the little white parts until it was too late; in other words, after they were made into whatever he was doing with them, and he'd be the one eating a shell and choking when he realised what it was a little too often. At least Creepy eventually learned, though, with a lot of help from his mother, before she became the World's Biggest Bitch.

Alright, Creepy could be honest with himself and say that he was reluctant to let go of Amelia's shoulders, even after she was straightened up and okay, but he murmured a soft, "You're welcome," underneath his breath, a small smile curving over his lips again. A lot of the time, people Creepy knew back home would say his lips looked pouty -- his mother would constantly tell him to stop pouting about something or another, which was usually when he didn't get his way with things, but he normally wasn't pouting at all, it wasn't his thing. But right now, Creepy could say he was pouting, because he liked feeling close to someone, especially Amelia. Regardless of that, it was barely even noticeable, so he chose not to dwell on the fact that he was pouting at all.

Amelia caught Creepy off-guard when she started tracing something onto his forehead, and he couldn't see it, as much as he tried to by looking up, though that just made his eyes cross, and probably made him look quite ridiculous. Tilting his head to the side, eyebrows furrowing only a little, Creepy said, "Thank you, I think," unsurely, but his voice was still friendly and happy, though he wanted to know what was now on his forehead (besides flour). If he could've seen his reflection in the metal bowl, he would, but Creepy didn't want to be obvious and look with Amelia standing rightthere, because that'd be embarrassing, most likely. It wasn't even that big of a deal, really, so he chose to ignore it. For now, at least.

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part two
[info]barbary
2008-04-26 10:48 pm UTC (link)
Nodding a bit to Amelia's question once over his little trip down Memory Lane, Creepy offered her a wide grin, watching as she added everything to the eggs he'd put in the bowl. Well, at least she knew what she was doing, too! Or appeared to, at least, if nothing else; one less thing for Creepy to do, he thought. "I do. Mum always bitched at me for it, because they were meant to be baked and something about eggs raw not being good to eat, but I didn't give a fuck," he paused there, then continued with, "still don't, in face," with a small giggle, shrugging a shoulder up slightly.

Creepy was nodding again when she told him to be careful, then his eyes were crossing as her finger rubbed flour over his nose, watching where it went. Pressing his own ten fingers into the flour once he was balanced again, Creepy reached out and made lines going down Amelia's face, his nose scrunching up jokingly. Revenge, clearly, but all playful and fun, because that was the point to this all. Where was the fun in baking biscuits with a friend without having a flour war or making a mess? That was also lost on Creepy, so he took a very small handful of flour and tossed it up into the air, being sure to not look up at it as it fell down, so it didn't get in his eyes, allowing the powder to fall over his and Amelia's head. Creepy was giggling again, shaking his head, though not much of the flour left its place in his hair now that it seemed content there, which caused a small scowl to form on his face, though it wasn't serious whatsoever.

"I love making a mess," he informed Amelia, in case she hadn't already gathered that much, a mischievous tone to his voice as he left her side to go slide his way down the aisle he'd made of flour on the floor. On his slide down the floor, he almost fell once, but he caught himself on one of the counters, a manic laugh passing his lips quickly, head tilted back and chest heaving. The simple act of almost falling got Creepy's heart beating fast, because to him, that was dangerous. He could've possibly hurt himself if he'd fallen, but he didn't, so he slowly turned to look over his shoulder at Amelia, an eyebrow quirking up a bit. "That was fun!" he declared and slid his way back over, his arms flailing around to keep himself steady as he stopped, now back by Amelia's side to continue helping with getting everything ready. By this point, Creepy's chest was heaving, the grin not leaving his face at all.

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part one
[info]gibbon
2008-04-28 01:17 am UTC (link)
Curious, that. Maybe Creepy was worried that she would somehow be swept away by another who enjoyed rolling down hills and receiving late-night visits from her. It didn’t seem like there was anyone else out there like that, like Amelia, except for Creepy. If there was someone else out there, then wow! But it was too late for them, really, she was already opening up to Creepy more than she opened up to anyone else, even the other girls in her dormitory. She was still too innocent to understand why talking to someone else, why caressing their hair and rolling down hills with them would upset Creepy, but if she thought about it a little more, as she would most likely do once she returned to her dormitory, perhaps she would figure it out.

Peanut butter was like a sticky treat! And chocolate was often hard and sometimes boring, so Amelia thought that they balanced each other rather well, hence the comparison to two people in love. Or something like that, she didn’t entirely understand what love was, but if there was love in the world, it would be between peanut butter and chocolate! “I think that anything that tastes brilliant together has to love each other. Unless they were fighting, then I fear our biscuits would taste a bit wonky. I surely hope they’re not fighting tonight!” she replied, her eyes wide and worried. The worry turned into a look of amusement as she watched him crack an eggs. Eggs were so funny! The innards were slimy.

“Well! I can understand why that would make you feel special,” she said seriously. “Not many people could get away with having a snow-covered plant on their head, and most people would probably have Devil’s Snare or some other dangerous plant growing from their head! But your hair-plant is my favourite,” she finished, looking back to the fascinating process of cracking eggs into a bowl. She didn’t know if he was an expert at cracking the eggs, too, but Amelia herself had never really learned how to crack an egg. You could simply just drop the egg into the bowl from a high height and watch it crack, right? Or perhaps not, because that would make a mess. But! Messes were so fun! Maybe that was why so many people liked to eat; because of the process that came before the eating. Muggles must’ve really enjoyed always getting to cook without magic!

It wasn’t as though this little moment had been some sort of life or death situation. Nothing was falling on her head, she wasn’t close to breaking any bones, there weren’t any flames erupting from the walls and closing in on them. It had been a simple slip on the slippery floor, but seeing as Amelia was Amelia, she thought that being rescued by Creepy was fascinating. Did he often rescue children and kittens and puppies who were in danger? Maybe he was some sort of superhero! Regardless if anyone else thought that, Creepy was Amelia’s superhero. He was bound to deserve the warmest, softest, best biscuits that they made. He could take his pick and have whatever ones he wanted!

The shape she drew went back to the discussion of peanut butter and chocolate, and their undying love for each other. A heart seemed friendly and proper enough! She could’ve drawn a star, but that seemed a bit too confusing, and there may not have been enough flour left on his forehead if she had messed up the star and needed to start over. The fingers that weren’t tracing the design tickled the other side of his forehead softly, almost sort of guiding his head to stay still as she focused on her heart, placing her face a bit closer than would probably have been needed to get the perfect heart drawn. “There. I think it looks lovely, even if it’s a bit lopsided. But we are all a bit lopsided, really, so it doesn’t matter too much,” she said, clapping the flour off her hands.

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part two
[info]gibbon
2008-04-28 01:18 am UTC (link)
Hm. Fascinating how all the ingredients went together in a bowl like that! And they all actually liked each other. The sugar wasn’t telling the eggs to go away, and the flour and the peanut butter weren’t fighting. “Well, I think your mum should have left you have half, while the other half could’ve been baked and enjoyed then! But I don’t want you getting sick! Are raw eggs that terrible? Do they give you a headache?” she asked.

She wanted to take her time, to make it seem like rubbing flour on his nose took a long time, but it would’ve lost that teasing factor if she’d spent too much time deliberating how much flour was too much to cover someone’s nose with. She hadn’t been expecting him to retaliate, so when she felt her fingers on his cheeks she giggled and blew air into them, puffing them out so she looked a bit like one of those silly fish that prowled around the bottom of the ocean. Wow! She could hardly tell that she was slowly, but surely, starting to resemble one of her favourite snow-animals. The flour was so light! When Amelia saw Creepy throwing the flour in the air, she took a safe step back, not wanting to bump into him, and began to twirl quickly, so quickly that she was feeling a bit dizzy by the time she stopped and noticed that Creepy was doing something else.

“Oh, me too, wow,” she responded, her vision still spinning slightly as she gave him a rather drunk-looking smile. “Wow!” she nearly yelled excitedly, expecting him to fall, but then being surprised all over again when he didn’t fall. His balance was brilliant! Oh, that slide was brilliant! The floors were being nice today and allowing them to slide. Suddenly a dangerous thought came to her, and once Amelia was sure that Creepy was safe and sound next to her, she even gave his heaving chest a few friendly pokes just to make sure, she stepped over to where the flour was most messy on the floor and did a quick cartwheel. Both her hands and feet slipped as they met the messy ground, and she ended up squeaking loudly and falling into a rather crab-like position instead of standing up again. She was on all fours, though with her bottom facing the floor and her face facing upward. “Wow!”

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part one
[info]barbary
2008-05-02 04:29 am UTC (link)
For the time being, Creepy didn't have much to say to Amelia, instead deciding to concentrate on his thoughts that were coming at him full-force. Maybe he didn't actually have a crush (that was its proper term, right? For what he thought he had on her?) on Amelia, and was simply making it all up in his head. Maybe he wanted to feel close to someone, if only in his head, who wasn't anyone in the band or his family. Maybe he was giving himself false hope with thinking that if this was a crush, that Amelia would like him back at all. But then, once he went through all of these thoughts, Creepy knew he was lying to himself; he had a crush, as juvenile and foolish as it sounded. Regardless of how well he knew Amelia (or didn't know her, really), Creepy knew there was something about the quirky girl that he absolutely adored, more than any Just Friend should've. There was no fighting this little… thing, he had for Amelia; it was pointless.

But really, now that he thought about it, he doubted he'd ever confess any of this to her. Why embarrass himself, especially with the possibility of Amelia not liking him back in the same sense? While he pondered over his, Creepy started to use his already-floured hands to mix the cough once all of the ingredients were well-incorporated together enough, and Amelia knew his hands were clean, so he had nothing to worry about. Now that the thought came to mind, maybe Amelia did like Creepy back. She never showed any signs of dislike, at least, which was something, wasn't it? She didn't blow him off (…that sounded better when he thought about it vaguely, and not concentrated on it) like most girls did, nor did she tell him to back the fuck off all the time; she seemed to enjoy Creepy's company, if anything, and with that in mind, he decided he may have had a chance with this crush-thing. Maybe. But Creepy didn't plan on telling Amelia this thing anytime soon (since he'd have to eventually, if he planned to get anywhere), oh no. He wasn't that stupid -- most of the time.

Being brought out of his little Train of Thought by Amelia speaking, Creepy looked over to her with a crooked smile, knowing that he definitely liked that about her; she was still so different and could seem so childish, yet appear to be completely serious about whatever it was she was talking about, whether it was chocolate and peanut butter arguing or not, or rolling down a hill. She had this… air to her, or something like that, and it made Creepy lean in to listen to her more intensely, showing Amelia that he was, in fact, listening quite well and not ignoring her; he simply had nothing to say to that, but only nodded in response. That only lasted for a minute, though, because as always, Creepy rarely ever had nothing to say regarding biscuits or anything else.

"If they're fighting tonight, we'll simply bake another batch. Granted, we'd probably be up for like, ever, but you know. That doesn't matter! I could always do it alone, if you got tire--" Creepy started, then scrunched up his nose at what he was saying, shook his head, and let out a slow exhale before continuing on with, "never mind," because he'd almost forgotten that Amelia rarely slept, so how could she get too tired to continue baking biscuits with him? Funny thing, that was, almost forgetting (again, maybe?) that Amelia didn't sleep much. And it wasn't even like that was a foreign concept to Creepy, because he didn't sleep all that much himself (or not well, at least, when he did sleep), but he chose not to ramble on about how he was about to make a mistake with what he was saying.

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part two
[info]barbary
2008-05-02 04:29 am UTC (link)
A lopsided grin was shot Amelia's way at her next small ramble, shrugging a shoulder up, then let out one of his short, manic giggles. "Hair-plant. Hmm. If someone ever decides to shit-talk my hair again, I can tell them it's a lot of peoples favourite plant, no?" he asked rhetorically, immediately thinking of Caradoc, and holy fuck, Creepy didn't realise how much he truly hated that guy until just now. Dearborn was too cocky and acted like he knew every-single-thing in the world, and it was hardly something that would attract someone to be his friend -- or more, if Creepy were into him like that (Merlin forbid). But that was a completely different thought process to the one he was thinking of now, finishing up with the before he'd decided to use his hands to mix things, staring up at the ceiling curiously. Maybe Creepy was making too much of a mess, but really, could he be blamed? It was so fun! He'd have to get Amelia into this eventually.

As Amelia traced something onto her forehead and her other hand came up to the side of it, Creepy's face leaned forward a bit as well, his lower lip being brought into his mouth briefly before he instead let one of his slightly (read: very) messy hands come up to wrap around her wrist. It wasn't a rough grip, or even hard at all, but he wanted to feel closer to her than he already was, and he felt his eyes shutting slowly as he relaxed, but only for a second, then opened them again to see he'd leaned in a little farther than he thought he did. Straightening up when he was sure Amelia was done with her shape or whatever it was, Creepy let go of Amelia's wrist and smiled at her after taking a deep breath, making sure to not let his exhale pass out over her lips, like he was sure his breathing had been before he realised how close he was to her. Everyone made mistakes, so there was no harm (or foul), right? Was that even a mistake? Fuck if Creepy knew.

"Either way, lopsided or not, I'm sure it looks perfect," Creepy murmured, keeping his voice low, adding, "care to tell me what you actually drew, by the way?" quickly, an eyebrow quirking up some, a small grin forming over his face. Either way, if he made a mistake or not, Creepy couldn't help but continue to be nice to Amelia, for the simple fact that how could anyone not be? That was the real question that should've been asked, but Creepy never did, seeing as how the answer was lost on him; he'd never be able to be too awkward around her, or even mean to her. She could've said the most random thing (like she hadn't before, right), and it might've come out wrong, and Creepy still wouldn't give a fuck -- he'd probably like her more, for simply being her.

Thinking for a moment, Creepy tilted his head to the side thoughtfully, his nose scrunching up again as he thought about Amelia's question rather seriously. But she was right: his mother should've let half of the dough be left raw to pick at and the other half be baked, but Creepy and his mum never did see eye-to-eye on most things. "No. But Mum always said it wasn't good to eat raw eggs, but like. They were never raw and by themselves -- they always had some form of friends, you know," Creepy said, instead of asked, feeling like he wasn't making much sense, but it didn't matter; Amelia was like that a lot, too, but he still found himself understanding what he meant, somehow. "They've never bothered me when raw, though. Mum just. Warned me about it all the time," Creepy finished casually, rolling his eyes at the thought of how his mother would act like eating biscuit dough raw would kill him or something equally dramatic.

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part three -- AKA: I'M A CRAZY FUCKING BITCH
[info]barbary
2008-05-02 04:30 am UTC (link)
The way Amelia blew air out and made her cheeks puff out when Creepy was rubbing flour down her cheeks made him grin rather widely, mimicking her, though he ended up simply pulling his hands away before she twirled away and pressed the palms of his hands against her cheeks so they wouldn't be blown out anymore. Creepy would constantly do that when he was younger and out with his mother and siblings, just because of the noise his lips would make when his cheeks would be sort-of-but-not-really slapped back together, because it always made whoever he was around give him strange looks; he lived for that kind of shit, really. A slight giggle passed his lips at the noise, then he was quickly letting go of her to go do his small show of sliding across the floor, to and from, though he didn't do that until after he saw Amelia spin around, and that only caused him to grin wider than he had all night (or it felt like that, at least).

Creepy stood in place when Amelia started talking, although she didn't say much, his chest still heaving a little as he watched her, head tilting in the opposite direction than the one he'd done earlier. His eyebrows furrowed at the pokes to his chest, looking down at Amelia's fingers poking his chest that was quickly going up and down, then watched what she did next and let out a small squeak (it was more of a scream than anything else, if he was being honest) of his own, eyes going wide, because he seriously thought she was a goner; thought she was going to fall, bust her head wide open, and die. Luckily, though, nothing of the sort happened and Amelia was safely kind of weirdly positioned on the floor, but Creepy's eyes were still wide and cautious. After a few seconds of simply listening to their breathing -- his a bit heavy -- Creepy let out another manic laugh and shook his head at Amelia, walking over to her carefully to help her up. It didn't take all that much effort, except for the fact that his hands were sort of slippery from the biscuit dough still, but it only took a few tries to get Amelia up without them both falling back down.

"Wow!" Creepy repeated, because he could, shaking his head quickly, and that caused some of the flour to leave his hair, almost looking like it was snowing inside; it also made his hair appear to have a mind of its own, as his friends had sometimes said it seemed to be like. Oh well! "That was… different!" Creepy added, tugging Amelia over back behind the counter (still being careful), standing behind her so that she was in front of the counter instead of beside him. Bringing his arms around her waist, Creepy took Amelia's wrists into his hands gently, a small smile barely ghosting over his lips, and guided her fingertips to dip into the biscuit dough. Why should he have had all the fun with the messiness? And Amelia didn't seem to care about getting messy, either! So more fun!

Leaning forward so his chin was resting against Amelia's shoulder slightly, Creepy let out a soft breath and hummed something out-of-tune under his breath, eyes closing for a brief second, then opened them again. He didn't know how Amelia would react to him being behind her like this or touching her like he was, but so far so good was how he saw it; she still wasn't kicking him somewhere where she knew it'd hurt, so that was all he cared about. "Almost ready, I think," Creepy mumbled, keeping his voice low since his mouth was almost right near her ear, exhales ghosting out over Amelia's skin as he spoke and breathed, and of course talking about the biscuit dough. There wasn't much else to do, really, besides form the shapes they wanted to bake them in, then put them into the oven. Simple as that!

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part one
[info]gibbon
2008-05-02 10:59 am UTC (link)
If there was one thing to be said about Amelia, she didn't really understand this whole coupling business. When she heard about two people starting relationships, she immediately thought of things like random adventures in hidden passages with Sirius Black. Somehow she couldn't put together that a snog wasn't always just that, a snog. Sometimes people actually snogged because they liked each other. She liked Sirius, of course, as she did not wish that the moon would fall down upon him! But it was in that sense she understood, that person to person relationship that was actually tangible, physical. She didn't know what Sirius' favourite colour was. She didn't know if he liked chocolate chip and peanut butter biscuits. She certainly didn't know how he reacted when he rolled down a hill and felt someone land on top of him. But Amelia knew that she knew these things about Creepy, and that he knew she knew them. It wasn't a one-sided spying relationship or whatever.

So this was why she often found herself giving Creepy a curious stare when she didn't think he was looking at her. She was almost trying to see inside him, past the large hair and the nifty clothing. He was so fascinating, one of a kind, the sort you didn't run into while wandering Diagon Alley. There had always been people that Amelia was intrigued by, but never in this way. Never had she wanted to place her hand on his cheek to see how he would react, or never had she wanted to roll down a hill with someone again so she could figure out why rolling on top of someone so warm, hard, and soft all at the same time felt so amazing. The little shivers that rolled down her back spoke legions more than words did. Hm. Maybe she would have to bring it up? How did you approach a topic like this? She could hardly even approach the subject of her current mood when she was feeling normal, much less when it actually involved how much she enjoyed Creepy's company and Creepy's hard-softness and Creepy's everything. Hm.

That lucky dough. What would Creepy's hands had felt like if they were holding on to her hands and squeezing them, instead of rolling the dough around? She would have wondered into other thoughts of places his hands should go, but she didn't let herself, because watching the dough and thinking about the ingredients fighting seemed much more important. It reminded her of the time she tried to make a curry at home during the summer and it exploded because of intense heat and improper stirring she had done. Or something like that, but it was interesting! She had taken notes about just what exactly she did wrong so she could remember it and do it again if she was ever bored and in need of food fighting.

Hm. Wow! The idea of being stuck in the kitchens with Creepy all night didn't sound entirely terrible, even if they were still there when the house elves returned to start preparing breakfast! They could even help out with breakfast! And then have their breakfast right there in the kitchen together! Like a picnic in the kitchens! Normally Amelia ate breakfast with herself, because she was too busy writing as quickly as she could about her dreams, if she had actually slept, or about the way her dormmates talked/snored/moved/walked/whatever in their sleep. "I think I could live in the kitchen with you," she responded seriously. "Oh! But if you did get tired, I would sleep with you. I'd hate to be the noisy one causing a ruckus in the kitchen while you're trying to sleep. However; I am not sleepy. I am simply awake with the sound of Creepy," she added, almost matter-of-factly.

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part two
[info]gibbon
2008-05-02 11:00 am UTC (link)
Amelia wished that she had a plant on her head. Maybe she should head down to the greenhouse so she could seek inspiration for a new hairstyle! It wouldn't look as effortless as Creepy's always did, but it would be a start. "I've always wanted a plant on my head. And of course you could tell everyone that! We could make some sort of badges and fliers for it, too. Perhaps it could be discussed in Herbology. Hair plants are better than real plants, anyway. Leaves are no fun," she added as her eyes got wider at the little cloud of flour that poofed up into the air. It was fascinating. If only the bowl was giant and they could climb into it and become human chocolate chips. There had to be a charm that could do that, but watching Creepy move his talented hands was most likely more exciting to the Hufflepuff.

If only they could make more shapes on each other! There was something about tracing shapes on the skin that suddenly seemed really fascinating to Amelia, though she didn't quite understand how doing so could be so fascinating. Maybe it was because she was touching him, like she seemed to always want to be doing? Or maybe it was because he was actually letting her do it, and seemed to even feel relaxed? Now she wanted to have him roll in flour so she could trace a giant bug on his back! She averted her eyes away from her heart briefly when she felt his fingers on her wrist, and again she yearned to let her fingers tangle with his. She could feel the stickiness that was left behind on her wrist once he let go of her, but it wasn't anything compared to the warmth that seemed to be reverberating between their faces as they stayed standing that close. Interesting! The warmth was quite nice.

Amelia was looking at Creepy through her eyelashes, as a curious expression covered her face. It was almost unreadable, as she was currently trying to process this whole thing. But then the corners of her mouth started to inch upward as she offered Creepy a smile that was a bit more than just friendly. "I hope it looks perfect, I think you deserve a perfect shape. It was a heart. A lopsided heart for my Creepy," she nodded, blinking slowly, almost lazily, before looking at him again like she normally would. Her eyes moved back up so she was looking at it again, wishing it would stay there always so she could remember this day, but then a moment later she let her eyes move to his lips for a second. Hm. Her eyes landed there a lot. Peculiar, that.

Amelia was also thinking, though they were, of course, thinking about two different things. She was thinking about her dream again and almost sensing that it was a bit like a movie playing out before her, like she was seeing Creepy in her dream right there in front of her, only the situations in the dream had been a bit different. There had certainly been no talks of Creepy's mum! She did seem like an interesting woman, really, and Amelia couldn't help but wonder if she would let Amelia draw a matching heart on her forehead, too. Most likely not, so perhaps a star would better suit the woman. "Of course! The friends make it impossible to kill you. I mean, really!" she chirped, excited by the fact that he also got the friends bit. "But I suppose a warning never hurt anyone. There will always be warnings around as long as the raw eggs are lonely and without a friend."

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part three - OMG I LOVE YOU. IF IT MAKES YOU FEEL ANY BETTER, I COULDN'T STOP EITHER
[info]gibbon
2008-05-02 11:01 am UTC (link)
She really couldn't help but laugh. That was so funny! How could such a random thing be that funny to a girl this age? No one else would understand it, but Amelia didn't need the approval of others to find noises with the mouth to be amusing. His hands were still sticky, yet warm, and the noise resembled that of someone with much too much air inside their body. That was fascinating. She was still laughing as the twirls and not-so-acrobatic moves started, and she couldn't help but want to keep giggling, even as the moment passed. Oh Creepy.

His little dance had been much more exiting to Amelia, she realized as she glanced up at him from her strange position on the floor. At least she hadn't run into something, though smashing your head in always seemed like fun! Unless you died and lost so much blood that you were forming an ocean with it, wow. Besides! How would she be able to watch Creepy's twirls and reaction to her stunts if her head had smashed in? No, this crab-like position was certainly much better than anything else would have been. Creepy's scream-like sound seemed to echo across the room even as her sense of hearing was taken over by the simple breaths, so the grin on her face didn't fade even after she was being helped up. Was she heavy? Oh, hopefully not! Though if she was heavy, she could have pulled him back down and he would have landed on top of her again, and their sticky hands could have grabbed each other!

"Wow!" she added a third time, just because wows were always safer to be added in intervals. She had expected for them to go back to their individual places in front of the counter so they could finish the last bit of preparation that came before actually baking the biscuits, maybe they would even discuss and analyze their different moves on the flour-covered floor, but instead she felt herself being pulled elsewhere. Almost immediately she pressed herself back against him so they were as close as they could be, and she could feel that familiar press of his body again, only from a completely different angle. Wow. Cozy! She liked being this close to him, just as she liked the way her fingers felt inside the batter.

"Yes, almost," she murmured, tilting her head back so her cheek could press against some part of his head. Her fingers gently moved to his hands, while still in the bowl, so she could let them slip along his skin. She concentrated on letting the dough act as a sort of lubricant to keep their fingers moving together, but she took a few breaks to let her fingers crawl up his arm a bit, making more of a mess on his skin, before they crawled right back down and into the bowl. She tilted her head a bit more again, knowing that his lips were so close to her ear, so that his lips were pressing against the side of her head. "This reminds me a bit of the dream I had about you," she said in a quiet voice, afraid that if she spoke louder her heart would stop racing and she would snap out of whatever little moment they had fallen into together.

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part one
[info]barbary
2008-05-08 07:06 pm UTC (link)
If there was one thing about this whole biscuit-baking-business with Amelia that Creepy learned, it was that she seemed so serious about the most strangest things ever -- chocolate and peanut butter fighting, the way she spoke when she felt the need to, and basically everything about it. Amelia came off as the type to never be serious to Creepy, but his assumptions were proven wrong when she was as serious as could be about the smallest things that no one would normally even consider serious. Actually, Creepy also found himself becoming more serious about biscuits and what would happen if the chocolate and peanut butter were fighting with each other tonight, and even had weird thoughts about how their biscuits would end up literally fighting when they were put into the oven to finish them off. Of course, Creepy doubted that was possible, but the thought itself was amusing as ever, if anything. But Amelia had that type of effect on Creepy; whether he was willing to admit it or not was a completely different story and topic.

Whenever Creepy was alone after he and Amelia spent more time together than they had before, he found himself thinking of what would happen if they were together -- as in, a real couple that did couple-y things and cared for each other and met the other's family. What would Amelia do if she were to meet Creepy's mother and siblings? What would she do if Creepy told her about his father and what happened to him? Would she react weirdly? Would she give him sympathy, and then decide Creepy wasn't worth the trouble anymore? Too much baggage? What in the world would she do? All of this was so foreign to think of outside of his dorms and when the lights were all out and it was basically only him alone, because right now, he wasn't by himself, and Amelia was standing here with him, watching his every move, it seemed. Maybe Amelia would be the type of person who would hold Creepy and tell him everything would be alright in the end? That was a possibility. If Amelia ever thought that Creepy was interesting, he thought she was much more interesting than he was himself. But that was a given, because Creepy didn't think he was all that interesting to begin with.

Turning his attention to Amelia when she spoke, his hair falling into his face again a little, Creepy grinned widely and rolled his eyes at how he sort of felt his cheeks blush a light shade of pink. Well, that was nice to hear, certainly. No one had ever told Creepy that they could live in the kitchens, much less anywhere else, with him, because of his obnoxious tendencies and how he was in general. Honestly, Creepy was a hard person to live with. He played his guitar late at night and a lot of the time, said guitar would end up broken because of one reason or another, so there would be too much crashing for anyone who may or may not have been sleeping to continue with what they were doing without checking out what was going on, and he spoke loud when he wasn't at school. Creepy also tended to curse a lot more and didn't show any care for people around him if it wasn't warranted, as his siblings and mother had come to find out, so yes, he was a hard person to deal with on a daily basis. But Amelia still didn't seem like the type who would up and leave him if they were to live together; she'd end up making charts or something about Creepy's habits, bad and good ones, then compare them to how he was at school or some shit. Maybe.

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part two
[info]barbary
2008-05-08 07:07 pm UTC (link)
"I'd live in the kitchen with you, too," Creepy mumbled, his voice low and his head tilted down so that he was looking at what his hands were doing, probably not even audible to Amelia unless she was listening really intently, and maybe she was. It was oh-so-rare when Creepy would feel the need to cover his face up with his hair due to blushing, but this was one of those times, which was why he ended up shaking his head so his hair would fall into his face and hide any signs of red cheeks from Amelia, if she was looking at him, for whatever reason. It was probably only a matter of time before she realised that he was trying not to look at her, or even say too much. And then there was the fact that Amelia just said she would also sleep with him if he got tired, and if Creepy wasn't focusing so hard on the dough in his hands and everything that he was doing, he would've taken that the wrong way, being the pervert that he always had been. That was a problem for Creepy, really; he took things the opposite way to how people meant them, whether it was intentionally or not. "Oh, no, I'd go back to my dorm if you didn't want to go to sleep yet," Creepy said in a shocked tone of voice, his eyes opened wide and blinked repeatedly at Amelia, now that he didn't think he was blushing anymore (though he was ever-so-slightly).

If Creepy was being honest, he knew it'd only be a matter of time before he was watching every move Amelia made and kept track of her and basically followed her around; that was how he got his nickname, after all. He followed people he liked to keep track of them and the things they liked, and if he found out that who he initially liked wasn't worth it, then Creepy would back off and simply stop. The first time he found out he did that, he told Donut and Crumbs (Myron and Duke weren't around at the time), and they immediately called him 'creepy.' Granted, it hadn't been intended as a nickname, but somehow, it stuck and that was what Creepy went by from then on, from his friends and even people who didn't exactly know him. Either Creepy or Barbary, because he hated his first name -- he was still awaiting for the courage to come to him to ask his mother what the fuck she was on when she was naming him.

"Really? I think I could work something out with your hair! Mine was unintentional, really; I just… took a brush to it after I got out of the shower and moved it up and down a few strands, and it ended up all. Puffy! Poofy? Whichever! It was really quite the surprise, and Merlin, I haven't changed my hairstyle since then! Besides when I would have it straight instead of all over the place, but you know, that doesn't happen often," Creepy rambled on, giving himself a small eye-roll at how he was talking about himself so much, which was now when he wished Amelia talked more about herself, too. This was also the point when Creepy wanted to know if Amelia would ever want to see his hair straight instead of puffy-like, as though it were some huge thing and not hair that may have been special to him. Maybe it was special to Amelia, too, in that weird-friend-way. It was a possibility, wasn't it? Or maybe Creepy simply hoped Amelia liked his hair in a special way. Did that make sense? Not exactly. "The thought of people studying my hair makes me laugh," Creepy added through one of his special manic giggles, a wide grin spreading across his lips with his eyes wide. "All. Poking it and studying it and taking notes on it."

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part three
[info]barbary
2008-05-08 07:14 pm UTC (link)
When Creepy thought about it, if he could draw a shape onto Amelia, it'd be a giant… hmm. Journal. Because journals reminded Creepy of Amelia, therefore, it would be the perfect shape! Or maybe a star, because Amelia had told him once that she put glow-in-the-dark stars all over the top of her bed, so that could be interesting. Would he be able to charm the shape into glowing, too? Were those things even possible? More often than not, Creepy found himself forgetting about spells and hexes that could be made, although he didn't purposely do it, because those things would've been needed later on in life, even if he really couldn't do magic at home. At least, not when around people, Creepy was pretty sure; then again, he'd never been one to follow rules all that well (and the cursing showed as much).

With their closeness, Creepy couldn't help but take a brief glance down at Amelia's lips, then imagine himself snogging her, but… those thoughts weren't ones friends were supposed to have for each other, he was positive of that, which meant he needed to stop them rightthisminute. Creepy needed to not think of Amelia in that way, when he was still unsure of how the girl felt about him, because he'd come to terms with his crush-like-thing, more or less. Or he would eventually, if anything. And he'd also eventually tell her about it, because she had a right to know that someone fancied her; Creepy would want to know if someone liked him, too. It was common courtesy! It was being a nice friend. And this was Creepy wanting to be more than that, if only for a minute, when he continued to glance from Amelia's eyes, to her lips, then back up, and repeated that step once or twice -- not too much, though, because he didn't want to be too obvious.

As the curious expression started to vanish from Amelia's face and a smile replaced it, Creepy could feel the girly little butterflies flutter around in his stomach, because he'd never gotten that type of smile from any of his Just Friends. Maybe from Donut once or twice, but nothing beyond that; that was simply his friend being who he was, Creepy was positive. Merlin, Creepy was thinking into this shit too much, but it was so… intriguing, and easy to! Amelia made it easy for Creepy to over think things to the point of having a headache, and almost feel like his head was spinning, like it wouldn't stop any time soon, or until they were finally separated. And if Creepy could have it his way all the time, he wouldn't want Amelia to leave his side, ever -- the two of them, connected at the hip, so to speak. But oh, oh -- Amelia just called him her Creepy! That had to mean something, right? No one ever considered Creepy theirs, unless they were seeing each other, as in a couple! This was all so. Head-spinning-inducing. Very much so! Oh! So much to think of!

"Any shape you make is perfect," Creepy murmured, his breathing coming out shallowly for a moment against Amelia's face, then he inhaled deeply and offered her a sort-of-not-really-only-friend-smile. It was more so one that was there and telling her how much he really enjoyed Amelia's company, whether she could read that from it or not; Creepy knew what type of smile he was doing. He was sure a lot of people had more than one smile, because he certainly did, and they were all so different, depending on who he was around. When he was around Amelia, it was more so ones that were nervous and shy, then friendly and more than friendly. When he was around friends, it was excited ones and mischievous ones. When he was around people he didn't like, it was forced ones, and that went with the kind he gave to Professors, and his mother. And briefly, for a moment, Creepy wondered if he could also call her his Amelia, and claim her as his own. Would she be down with that? Would she say that she wasn't Creepy's and to never say something as foolish as that again? Creepy could wonder all he wanted, but he wouldn't know unless he spoke up, so he quietly added in a whisper, "anything my Amelia does is perfect," and it was more than a little lame, but hey, he was used to being that.

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part four
[info]barbary
2008-05-08 07:15 pm UTC (link)
Momentarily, Creepy thought about what Amelia was saying, then he had to agree with a nod of his head and a wide grin. Honestly, she was right; Creepy had friends and they'd never let him die or get killed! Which meant the raw eggs couldn't kill anyone, or harm anyone, because they had friends around at all times when being mixed with biscuit dough, and Creepy also couldn't harm anyone else with his friends there. So really, his mother was overreacting and never made sense about anything, so he would write it off as her being foolish, as per usual. "The warnings would be nice, so long as they're being given nice, but not so much when it's like someone's shoving a huge sign in your face, telling you to be careful," Creepy mused, glancing up to the ceiling for a moment, then shrugged his shoulders up high, allowing them to drop back down a second later.

The grin on Creepy's face was even more so a permanent fixture on his face as Amelia's giggling started, causing him to follow suit and do just as she was, his eyes opened wide and all teeth bared to her. It was so easy to smile around her, or even grin to show his happiness, and she was simply easy to be around. Creepy couldn't think of one other person outside of the band he'd rather be with right now than Amelia and her quirkiness, and her ways of making him as happy as ever without even doing anything spectacular or whatever. No, Creepy was quite fucking content here with her and talking to her and making a mess out of themselves, along with sliding down a floury floor and doing spins and falling down. All of this would be related to Amelia from now on, especially when he would go home and bake biscuits; for real, Creepy couldn't think of anything better to think of when he went home.

Creepy almost repeated another wow back to Amelia, but he had better things in mind, and she was already so willing to push herself back against him, like she didn't even need to think anything of it. And who was Creepy to tell her not to? Carefully, he stepped a bit closer to her, hands holding her gently and eyes closing again for a second; their closeness made Creepy's breath catch in the back of his throat, if only for a moment, and then he slowly opened them again to see what was going on with their hands. Their hands were also intriguing and made them even closer than they already were! Creepy definitely hadn't thought they would get this close when they went to make biscuits in the first place.

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part five -- I NEED A LOT OF HELP WITH HOW MUCH I WRITE AND ILYSFM
[info]barbary
2008-05-08 07:16 pm UTC (link)
When Amelia's hands also started to slip up his arms and her head was tilted back so her cheek was pressed to the side of his head, Creepy pulled his lower lip into his mouth, leaning even more into her and rest his chin even more on her shoulder. This felt comfortable; like they were meant to be this close to each other, forever and always. Or for now, if nothing else, because maybe he was jumping too far ahead of himself again, like he did more often than not. But his eyes were closed, and he opened them again, paying attention to how Amelia's fingers traced up his hands and arms slowly, getting more of his skin dirty from the dough, and he was so ready to simply. Snog her. So he settled for turning his head a bit, then pressed his lips to the side of Amelia's neck, in a more-than-friendly kiss to her warm skin, his lips wet and also warm on her, a small smile appearing on his face, though it couldn't be seen due to his mouth being pressed against her neck. For a moment, Creepy left his lips there, then pulled back, making minimal noise or anything of the sort -- like a big deal or whatever -- about it, listening to what Amelia had to say next.

Now that his lips weren't pressed against Amelia's neck and instead the side of her head, Creepy furrowed his eyebrows, his face pulling away from hers barely, but still enough so he could speak. "Really? You've dreamt about me? What about?" he asked quickly, feeling like his questions couldn't get out fast enough, his eyes opened wide and curious, even if Amelia couldn't exactly see them. Creepy didn't remember anyone ever dreaming about him before! This was all so much fun and he wished that he'd had dreams of Amelia now! So that they could compare details and what happened in them! Oh, that would be a lot of fun! But for the moment, Creepy would settle for listening to Amelia tell the details of her dream about him, and at least he knew that she thought about him besides when they were together and she also got sleep, finally! That was amazing.

Pulling his hands away from Amelia's slowly -- hesitantly -- Creepy smiled over at her once he was standing next to her instead of behind her, motioning to the pans that they'd need to fill up with the dough. "Also, I think they're ready to be formed and shit, then baked," he added, pulling his lower lip into his mouth for a second, then grabbed a piece of the dough and formed a strange looking heart. "Probably not as perfect as yours, but it'll do," he said thoughtfully, taking another piece of dough, but instead, this one went into his mouth, and this was really good! He still knew how to prepare biscuit dough! "Taste this!" Creepy said in an excited tone of voice, though quiet, like Amelia's voice had been, taking a small portion of the dough and held it up to her lips with a raised eyebrow, waiting for her to accept it, rather than shoving it into her closed mouth; if she didn't want it raw, he would understand completely.

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PART ONE
[info]gibbon
2008-05-09 06:44 am UTC (link)
There was always something to learn. Of course, this was something that the Professors at Hogwarts were always trying to stress. They were always trying to tell their students that every day could be a new day for learning something that you may not have been very familiar with. It could be the day that the toddler learned to walk without falling over, or that the witch leaned how to ride a broom for the first time without falling off, or the time that a boy and a girl looked at each other in ways that were drastically different than ‘ew she has cooties’ and ‘ew there is a bogey hanging from his nose!’ Amelia knew this saying. She knew that there was always something new to learn. Most days she learned something about her dorm-mates, about their study habits, about the way some of them tried to eat their dessert before their meal at dinner. She learned how easily some people could laugh, how easily some people could cry. She saw that fights weren’t just things from the stories she read in old books, and that people really did dislike things about others that couldn’t be helped.

But then there was the girl herself, and the things she learned about who she was and what she liked. Lately it seemed like all this knowledge and recognition involved Creepy. It was sudden, almost, like a tidal wave was suddenly crashing upon the shores of a beach that had always been protected and deserted from the rough, yet occasionally calm and loving, waters of the ocean. It was nice, if not downright terrifying at times. Creepy had never talked to her much. He hadn’t flat out ignored her, but it had never seemed like they had much in common. Amelia hadn’t followed him around much, simply because she didn’t seem to think that he would be all that interesting. If only she could turn back time and find her fascination with the boy earlier, things certainly would have been different for her now, even if growing and learning new things suddenly like this, like the tidal wave, was more exhilarating than she could even explain, or try to explain to anyone who may have been curious. Times were certainly changing. She was changing. Everything was changing. But, sometimes, just riding the waves into change was perfectly all right with her.

If nothing else, indulging in these interesting little fantasies was certainly something that was mighty good for her sense of humour, as it was often times difficult to be funny with yourself. Not that Amelia considered herself to be very funny. In fact, it was almost always her accidental humour that got others chuckling and giggling about something that she may not have picked up on right away. It was the benefit of being so free and open with who she was and what her personality was like. But, it was good because it gave her that healthy dose of not only Creepy, but life that others often had difficulty finding while cooped up in the same place for such a long period of time, a place like Hogwarts, which was, at times, often a bit daunting and difficult. You had to capture these moments when you could, and even if Amelia didn’t know as much as she would have liked to know, she knew that she had to grasp Creepy and hold on to him while she could. Wow! What if she really reached out and grabbed a hold of him whenever they were together? That would certainly be something worth owling home about!

There was even something in the air when they were in the same room together, and Amelia was getting lost in her thoughts again, wondering if this was something that was often in the air when a male and female pair of Hufflepuffs were having a fascinating time in the kitchens, doing something that others may not have ever done before. Was it just because Creepy seemed to give off a loveliness greater than all the stars in a clear winter sky? It was certainly Creepy that was bringing those feelings to Amelia, she didn’t think she was doing anything. What if they embraced each other? And held each other? And didn’t let go until they almost had to because it was a life or death matter? Death was nothing to fear, not when she knew that she now had spent her living hours with someone like Creepy and biscuits and peanut butter and chocolate that definitely were not battling with each other about something silly.

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PART TWO
[info]gibbon
2008-05-09 06:45 am UTC (link)
What did Creepy think of her, really? Amelia was much too inexperienced when it came to things like this, to things like getting to know people and fancying people and wanting to be close, both physically and mentally, to other people. It was innocent, in a way, a way that was like a flower that had not yet weathered the storm; it had grown and experienced things and bloomed beautifully, but it had not yet made it past that one hurdle that would test it’s strength. It had never bothered her, the opinions of others. It only interested her. There was a clear difference between being interested by something and being bothered by it, of course, as it was easy for the girl to let things roll off her shoulders and back into the hard, cold floor where they once came from. Just because Creepy was being nice to her didn’t mean that he thought she was something out of the ordinary, that they were going to be each other’s and old each other for as long as the world would continue to spin. Oh, how she yearned to figure these things out! Thinking did no good, it only continued to confuse her and lead her down another path that was just as uneven and rocky as the others had been. Oh, those paths! They were so fascinating, if not tricky.

Amelia was wondering what it would be like to inhabit a kitchen permanently. There was everything she needed, in a physical sense, to live. The food, the water. There was also the entertainment part, with the flour wars and potential for some vegetables and fruit to start battling it out for who was queen of the kitchen. As long as it had Creepy. Immediately her eyes started to stare at Creepy again with the most curious look on her face. He seemed to be thinking about something, so much so that he didn’t want her to be able to look into his eyes and read what it was! The hair in front of his face certainly was a fascinating look, in a way where she could use her fingers to make a little space for her too peek into. She didn’t do that, however, and continued to study his body language. He said something just then, though she didn’t quite pick up on what it really was. She heard the word kitchen, which could have meant anything, as they were currently stationed in the kitchen. Not being able to hear didn’t dampen her moon, however, as there wasn’t much that could really do that anymore. There was a soft, almost calming, humming noise coming from deep in her throat as Amelia waited for Creepy to say something else or to look at her. Finally, when he spoke and looked at her, she gave him a comforting, appreciative glance. “Oh, no I would much rather sleep with you. It’s something we could experience together, the sleeping together.” She beamed at him.

Amelia knew, in more ways than one, that they were a lot more alike than a lot of other people may have understood. She knew what his real name was, and though she didn’t understand at all why he would ever be considered creepy, she could still understand the nickname, as it was a fun one. It was hard to call someone by their first, real, name when they went by a nickname that was so catchy! It was so catchy, in fact, that she could write a song about it and then sing it to him sometime during the middle of the night when he was sleeping and dreaming about something in a different reality. Hopefully he had dreams that were pleasant and full of happy things, things that he found enjoyable and interesting. Maybe tonight he would dream of biscuits. Perhaps she could even do the same, too.

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PART THREE
[info]gibbon
2008-05-09 06:47 am UTC (link)
“Wow! Sometimes it does seem like the best things seem to come to us by accident. I reckon it makes sense that way, really, for if we try too hard we will become too cynical and not find something that we like. But when something comes to us suddenly, on accident, it’s much easier to understand.” In a way, Amelia was referring to their relationship, but she didn’t think that he really would pick up on that, for his ramblings on hair were much too interesting to be picking up on random meanings behind the words. How fascinating it was to hear such a long bit of Creepy’s voice talking about himself all together like that. It was a feast for the ears, and perhaps for other body parts as well that enjoyed listening to him speak. “I think I do want to see your hair in every possible way!” she decided suddenly, coming to the only conclusion in her eyes. “It would take a lot to bypass the amazingness of what it already is, however.” She moved her eyes up to stare at the locks. “Exactly! Poking and note taking! Such a fantastic combination, Creepy.”

That feeling in the air was back again, and Amelia really wanted to know why every bit of her skin seemed to tingle in such a way that she had never felt before. It was almost like someone was literally tickling her with a feather. Even if they were both suddenly quite, there was still something there with the way they took turns looking in each other’s eyes and then down to the two pair of lips that both seemed to be interested in something that thought that simply talking was such a foreign thing. She was being obvious with it, at least, but she felt more than she saw Creepy’s eyes on her. It was rather nice to be looked at, to be looked at as someone who just wasn’t passing you by in the corridors late at night. At least, she thought that’s what Creepy was doing. Perhaps she had a spot of something interesting on her face! That would be worthy of taking all his attention.

All those thoughts had started to boil over into her face, which was always really good at being expressive and showing exactly what she was feeling, especially if it was something that she hadn’t felt before. Sure, anyone could have a cheerful expression on their face after they won something, and anyone could have an angry expression on their face after they lost something. But Amelia often made it clear with her face when she was surprised by something, or discovering something new that she didn’t think others knew. A secret, in a way, and right now this special smile to Creepy was almost trying to tell him that she had a secret, that she was sharing the same secret he had, even if she didn’t know about that particular secret at all. She wanted that smile to be followed by a touch to his shoulder or face, but she instead just spoke those words that seemed to make another curious expression come over his face. Wow!

“I’m not too sure about that,” she responded seriously, not positive that any shape she could make would turn out perfect. There were a lot of shapes out there, a lot of shapes that she had never really doodled before. They would be new things to try! She blinked a few times when Creepy gave her a smile that seemed to send another roaring burst of heat inside her chest. That heat really was going to cause her to explode! Hopefully, if she did explode, there wouldn’t be a terrible mess all over the place that the poor house elves had to clean up, or even try to piece back together. But it was a nice warmth, not a warmth that seemed to be foreshadowing death and destruction. It was nearly impossible to ever feel any death and destruction right now. At least she did have her Creepy there to make that warmth a nice warmth. She was about to speak again, to ask him if he liked five-sided shapes and if they were fun to doodle, when she nearly lost her voice and stared at him so intently that he could have said something really fast, so fast that she was still trying to process it. It felt like that, though, like he was speaking quickly, his words melding together. She’d never belonged to anyone. She’d never wanted to belong to anyone. “Not as perfect as my Creepy, though,” she whispered back quickly, wanting to firmly make her point that he was…well, the most fascinating. The best.

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PART FOUR
[info]gibbon
2008-05-09 06:49 am UTC (link)
Hm. A giant sign in the face. Should she make Creepy some sort of sign? What did people write on signs? Did they write anything that was actually important, a warning that was more than just some huge bit of rubbish? She didn’t seem to like warnings in all actuality, though. “In a way, I like surprises. I think I like having things come to me without me sensing that they’re coming. Like when they sneak up on me, in the dark, silently, and only the hairs on the back of my neck can really feel what’s coming, or the heat in my chest around my heart that‘s racing,” she spoke, meaning to be speaking about warnings about something like eggs, but she found herself speaking passionately about the way she felt about him, even if he wasn’t given directly and he most likely didn’t know what she was truly on about. It caught her off guard for a few moments, but she countered it by shrugging, almost in tune with Creepy.

It was funny, the lot of it. A welcomed escape from the reality of things, that’s what laughing was. An escape. An escape that led into the bliss of what it was to be held by Creepy, or as close to being held as the position they were in let them. They weren’t holding each other tightly, as though they’d be separated with the gentlest burst of wind. But they were still touching, pressing against each other in ways and places that didn’t happen every day. This position certainly wasn’t needed to make biscuits, but whatever biscuits that were made now would be the best ones that had ever been made before. Amelia wanted to pause for a second and she did that, almost sensing that Creepy had his eyes closed and they were truly alone in the world, even for just those few moments with his body against hers. Perfect, really.

It was like a puzzle, a puzzle that was coming together after having been shoved into a box with a million other loose pieces laying around. How two bodies could feel that way, Amelia had no idea! But she didn’t want to know how, for once. She just wanted it to be, to exist, to continue to take hold of her like this. She wanted to always let her fingers dance along his wrists while he took each and every breath against her back. It was like life was being breathed into her, really, like he was some abnormal attachment to her body that was needed to keep her lungs and heart working on their own like they did. She had just started to let her fingers slide along his, almost like she was about to take his hand, when she felt something against her neck. Her eyes fluttered all the way open when she realized what he was doing. Warm. Wet. Tingly. It was like a train moving in circles. Warm. Wet. Tingly. Over and over. A smile had formed over her lips, and she had made a sound that was something between a sigh and a sound of…well, pleasure, before she had even realized that she was back on earth. “Thank you,” she murmured so quietly that she couldn’t even hear herself.

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PART FIVE - OMFG NOW I FEEL INSANE
[info]gibbon
2008-05-09 06:50 am UTC (link)
“It was a lovely dream,” she replied, still sounding as though someone had drugged her. There was something undistinguishable in her words, but something that could only be attributed to what Creepy was doing. “You were, at first, holding me a bit like this.” She used her hands to take his arms and wrap them around her waist. His arms made it around her body easily, and it wasn’t difficult for her too feel closer to him again. “We were in the middle of a forest, a forest with flowers that I have never seen before, such beautiful and fascinating ones. They were singing to us, telling us things, filling our ears with the most lovely bit of noises that we have ever heard. They were serenading us, serenading us into an oblivion that only you and I were allowed to explore, together.” She took a breath, remembering the details. As she thought, she moved his arms again slightly so both of his hands were on her stomach. Her shirt had started to rise up a bit, so she could feel a small amount of his sticky fingers getting dough not only on her shirt, but on her skin. “And your hands were here, they were there, they were everywhere as we danced the dance that others only dare to dream about. You fingers were curious, and my body was just as curious, but we explored these things, we gave into these explorations as we continued our dance. It went on until the end, when you whispered sweet words to me and held me in the warmth, the protection, the feeling of everything that is perfect and lovely in this world, the things that are, in fact, all you, Creepy,” she finished, feeling as though she’d been talking for such a long time that she was in a constant, unforgivable reverie. But the memories had caused her to arch back into him again before she trembled slightly and returned his hands to the bowl. The world became real again.

The flowers of her dream vanished when Creepy’s hands pulled away. She didn’t fancy that idea much, but she could understand why he needed to get some space, finally. She watched as he made a heart with the dough, and she immediately started to make a head, using her fingers to trace in the details of the face. She used another chunk of dough to connect some hair to the top of the head. It was Creepy! Hopefully she’d get to eat the Creepy biscuit. The smile on her face was friendly again, if not quite a bit playful. She made another quick shape, a lopsided star, before watching the dough disappear into Creepy’s mouth. A delighted giggle escaped before she could stop it, and it came back when she was offered the dough. She accepted it, purposely kissing the tips of his fingers before she focused on chewing. “Wow! I can’t see how anyone would want to shy away from such a treat!”

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part one
[info]barbary
2008-05-16 04:56 am UTC (link)
Currently, the only thought running through Creepy's mind was what could Amelia possibly be thinking about? Maybe him? Maybe she was thinking about if she really liked him like he liked her, almost like he'd been doing earlier? Maybe Amelia was thinking about sleep, although she rarely slept? Creepy was listing things off in his mind that Amelia could possibly be thinking about, allowing those thoughts to take over him, leaving him glancing up at the ceiling with an almost dazed expression taking over his face, eyes sort of glazing over from not blinking until he felt his eyes really start to water, then he finally blinked and shook his head so his thoughts would go away.

If there was one thing Creepy was used to, it was getting lost in his trains of thought and looking as though he wasn't paying attention to anyone but himself, his head always looking up, whether it was to the sky or if it was to the ceiling; his eyes would always go straight up, like the answers to the world were found there and not in something like a bowl of soup, or biscuit dough. Some people found the meaning of life in such random things, Creepy was sure, and he couldn't help but wonder what was the meaning of it? He'd heard the saying contemplating the meaning of life many times before, but he never thought to dwell on it, because there were a lot of sayings that didn't make much sense to him. Maybe the meaning of life was to find someone to love, make kids, grow old with that Special Someone, and then die. Well, that would be a pretty depressing life, Creepy realised with a grimace, shaking his head even more with a scrunch of his nose, pulling his lower lip into his mouth to bite down on it a little hard than he meant to.

More often than not, Creepy would find himself doing these sort of quirky things, like habits, especially when he was nervous or thinking too much. When he found out about his father, Creepy had ended up with his leg bouncing up and down and his hands tapping against his thighs, as though that would make what he heard go away. On Creepy's first day of school at Hogwarts, he'd twirled his finger around in a strand of his hair until he met Crumbs, then he ended up fisting his hands into his shirt repeatedly, shifting around every now and again. It wasn't like habits were anything bad, because so many people had them (such as fingernail biting, which he also did), but Creepy noticed them when he was doing them and made no attempt at stopping himself from continuing on with whatever he was doing that could potentially be considered annoying.

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part two
[info]barbary
2008-05-16 04:57 am UTC (link)
Once he wasn't paying attention to only himself and he remembered that he wasn't in his dorm room alone, Creepy looked over to Amelia, noticing her staring at him, and he offered her a sideways smile, almost like he was afraid of her reaction to him not paying attention to her. Did she want all of Creepy's attention to be focused solely on her? Was Creepy being a bad friend when he had the thought that he may not have heard if she said anything, and he couldn't bring himself to ask? Creepy couldn't really remember if he had heard anything come from Amelia until he was paying attention again, because he was sure that he would've noticed a voice in the back of his mind, or going through one ear and out the other, at least vaguely, if nothing else, so he was pretty sure that he didn't miss anything. And if he did, and it was important, Creepy reassured himself by telling himself that Amelia would repeat herself, unless she was the type of person like his mother and sister were, or his first girlfriend.

Those three people were stubborn beyond belief and wouldn't repeat themselves if they weren't heard the first time around, because they believed that they had no reason to say something again because someone wasn't paying attention to them. They were the type of people who wanted all attention on them, no matter what the case was, and they wouldn't have it any other way. Many times, Creepy would zone out while talking to his mother, and she would say something that she deemed important, and if he were to ask her to repeat herself, she'd throw a fit; this mostly happened after his father's death, for some reason. A lot of things changed after it, and that was to be expected, because death changed people, didn't it?

These thoughts got Creepy onto a whole different train of thoughts on if death really did change people. He was sure it did, because he wasn't the same as he had been before it, in the sense that he cursed a lot more, didn't care about (most) things like he had, pulled himself away from the Real World without reason to more often than not (because his mother claimed that his father passing away wasn't reason for becoming a loner). Really, Creepy could understand why death would change someone, maybe make them more sympathetic toward everything in life, pull them away from important things going on outside of their mind and thoughts, maybe make them change their appearance or the music they listened to or the people the hung around. Luckily, Creepy didn't change that much, like some people did, and only in certain ways.

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part three
[info]barbary
2008-05-16 04:58 am UTC (link)
Just then, Creepy remembered when Amelia told him that her grandmother was dead, and that caused him to let out a small, barely audible gasp, eyes opening wide, though they were still focused on his hands in the dough. Maybe that was when Amelia couldn't sleep as much as she used to? Maybe when she decided she wanted to know more about other people than open herself up to them, and deemed herself boring? Oh, poor Amelia! Creepy honestly felt the need to turn around and hug Amelia and not let her go until they absolutely had to part; if they needed to breathe or sleep or something along those lines. Creepy never wanted Amelia out of his sight at this realisation, almost like he was going to take care of her and make sure she was out of harm's way. Too bad Creepy would most likely never have the nerve to gather the courage to ask Amelia about her grandmother, because she seemed dead set on never speaking about herself, unless it was an accident.

Creepy could hear Amelia humming, and it caused him to smile, and her next words made him grin, almost like a maniac. Well, at least he knew that she'd sleep with him (not in that sense, he had to remind himself, because regardless of if they were only friends, he was still a teenage male and was bound to think of Amelia in that way, sooner or later), when she decided to sleep, finally. "Really? Really?" he asked, not meaning to repeat himself, but it happened unintentionally, and it simply showcased how shocked he really was about Amelia's words. Most people would avoid sleeping in the same bed as Creepy, because he tended to take blankets without realising it, or he would push them to the very edge of the bed, so that he was in the middle, basically taking up all of the room there was. Granted, Amelia didn't know this -- not yet, at least -- so she had no worries, as far as she was concerned, Creepy was sure. "It would be interesting to see what you did while you sleep," Creepy mused, looking up to the ceiling again, allowing the tip of his tongue to go over his lips slowly, then nodded his head a little.

For a second, Creepy could only focus on Amelia talking, almost as long as he had, and his eyes were focused on her, kind of wide, as though she were telling a story that he didn't want to miss a single second of. "You're exactly right. It's like when you're looking for something you've lost, right, and you don't find it until you're not looking for it, you know?" Creepy asked, motioning around with his messy hands some, causing the dough stuck to his fingers to fall on the floor and counter, some on his head since he was moving his arms about wildly. A lot of the time, Creepy spoke with his hands and actions when he couldn't think of how to put things into words, as though people would know exactly what he meant when he would clap his hands together and then cross his arms so that he was holding his elbows, like he was cold -- no one ever did, and sometimes, he didn't even know what he meant with his actions. But this time, he was only moving his hands and arms around, like he was throwing a fit over not knowing where his wand was or his journal, and he was giggling at himself again, shaking his head quickly. Creepy could be so strange sometimes.

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part four
[info]barbary
2008-05-16 04:58 am UTC (link)
"Oh, really?" Creepy asked, like Amelia saying she wanted to see his hair in every possible way was some sort of secret, or something that he'd never been told before. Really, it almost surprised him, because Amelia seemed to love his hair how it usually was, so her wanting her to see it straight was a shocker, in its own way that would only make sense to Creepy. "Then you shall! Tomorrow, I'll keep it straight for you! It looks longer when it's straight, too!" Creepy said with another grin, his eyebrows going up, but then he placed his hands back into the dough and squished them around, almost playing in the substance. And he would; Creepy wouldn't bother with the teasing of his hair, or the hairspray (or, okay, not as much of it, because he still needed it to keep it firm and in place!), and he would maybe go up to Amelia and simply smile and point at his hair. Creepy generally kept his promises, if they were possible to be kept, so there wasn't much Amelia needed to worry about in that respect.

The imagery Creepy got of people poking his hair, with their fingers and maybe quills, was hilarious to him, sending him into a rather loud fit of giggles that he didn't expect, causing him to double over some and hold onto his stomach once one of his hands were out of the bowl of dough. Really, the thought shouldn't have been as funny as he was making it out to be, but it would be as though Creepy's hair were some sort of exhibit or something in a museum. The funniest part to Creepy was that he could see people actually doing that, because he couldn't count how many times people had asked him if he had something dead on his head, or if he recently killed an animal, or what the fuck it was to begin with. Creepy's hair was unique, and could almost be something to be studied, if people so wished to do so -- Amelia probably would! Brilliant. "What type of notes could be written about my hair? Besides it looking like a dead animal, apparently. How it can bounce? Or I could hide things in it, if I wanted to?" he asked rhetorically, more so just thinking aloud, eyes focusing on Amelia instead of the ceiling, for once, as he straightened back up and continued to mess with the dough.

Although Creepy wasn't being all that obvious with his glancing to and from Amelia's eyes and lips, he knew she was being much more open about her looks to him, and he could feel a soft, barely-there blush forming over his cheeks, but it was more noticeable than he thought, considering how pale he naturally was. The air around them almost seemed to stand still, and if Creepy were to allow himself to think of anything else but Amelia, he was positive that everyone else in the castle and around it were also stopped dead in their tracks, doing nothing, all because of how close these two were and how they were looking at one another. The world, in Creepy's mind right now, started and ended with him and Amelia; nothing more, nothing less. Honestly, in his eyes, it was only the two of them -- no one else existed at all. Everyone else was unimportant and didn't deserve his attention span, thoughts, glances, or closeness, only Amelia did. And right when he was sort of leaning forward, as though he were going to press his lips to Amelia's, he stopped himself from doing so and straightened up even more than he had been before, biting hard on his upper lip instead of his lower one. Snogging was out of the question! No! That was a Danger Zone, he kept telling himself, to keep his mind away from doing it without his own consent. A Danger Zone for now, at least. (But fuck if Creepy didn't want to be out of this Zone and not give a damn what was considered wrong or right, because he wanted to be able to hold Amelia and snog her whenever he pleased and -- it didn't even matter anymore.)

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part five
[info]barbary
2008-05-16 04:59 am UTC (link)
Hmm, Amelia was so different. Most girls would've claimed they would do anything perfectly the first time around, without Creepy even needing to tell them that, but Amelia denied it and told him she wasn't sure about it. That was different! That was possibly why Creepy liked Amelia so much, because she wasn't like other girls; she did her own thing. Wait, he'd thought of this before and came to the same conclusion of him needing to eventually tell her, or maybe dwell on it more once he got back to his dorm (if he ever went back and left Amelia's side), so yes. "Well, personally, I think that anything you could draw -- or do--" he added in, simply because he could, before continuing with, "--will be perfect," he reassured her with a smile, the same one he'd given her before, his lower lip almost being pulled back into his mouth before he stopped himself; no bad habits right now. It wasn't the time. And for once, he didn't overanalyse the fact that he stopped himself from doing one of his Bad Habits, like he didn't think he could do earlier. And Amelia -- well, she retorted back with something that made Creepy shiver and goosebumps cover his skin, only briefly, then he looked down at his messy hands and shifted from foot-to-foot, almost nervously. "I beg to differ," was all he said, in a voice so quiet, Creepy wouldn't be surprised if Amelia couldn't hear him again, unless she were trying really hard to, of course.

"Surprises scare me," Creepy said, scrunching his nose up, and his voice was completely serious. He'd never had a surprise birthday party or anything like that, but his younger brother would pop out from around the corner when he was home more often than not and scare him like no other, which he related to surprises, so that led him to not like them like most people did. But the way Amelia was talking about surprises made Creepy shut up right away and listen to her, as though she were telling a story and he didn't want to miss a single detail, and he had no idea if she was still on about surprises or if there was a deeper meaning to it, but she seemed so into whatever she was rambling on about. And maybe, if Creepy let what Amelia said sink into his head, then he could learn to love surprises as much as she did -- for the adrenaline rush and the hair standing on-end aspect of them all and they could surprise each other all the time. What could be better than that? "The unknown is what scares me," Creepy murmured, his voice low, and he remembered saying that to Amelia before, but she may have forgotten, or maybe not, but he still repeated himself, for the hell of it.

Creepy wasn't used to being close to people -- most of the time, he shied away from them and didn't want to get in close contact with him. Though other times, he wanted to be a touchy-feely person and hold everyone who meant something to him, like his friends, and never let go of them. It all depended on his mood and how he was feeling, but for now, he never wanted this moment of his and Amelia's closeness to end; he never wanted them to be separated, for fear that they'd never be this close again, or she wouldn't want to be. Creepy wanted to hold onto this moment forever, commit it to memory, make him never forget how amazing it felt to breathe against someone and almost like he was opening his eyes up to a whole new world. One that was never any different and he never knew anything different from this, and all he knew was how to be close to Amelia and how to talk to her and hopefully make her feel special and important. All Creepy wanted was for his body to continue to press against Amelia's and for the world to stop spinning like it felt like it was doing again, because it was only them -- it was only them all the time. But Amelia spoke softly and it was a reality slap (a good one, of course) back into the Real World, that let him know he was fantasising about things that wouldn't ever happen, but he could hope. "You're welcome," he whispered back, almost just a word breathed out onto Amelia's skin, like the air could take it away and carry it as far from them as possible, like it'd never been spoken in the first place.

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part six
[info]barbary
2008-05-16 05:00 am UTC (link)
Now that Amelia was describing this dream that sounded so amazing without him knowing a single detail about it besides he was in it, Creepy quieted down even more than he already was, his breathing almost coming to a halt and his eyes closing halfway so that he could imagine each thing she said. Each and every thing that happened in her dream and would hopefully happen in due time, but certain aspects of it weren't possible, Creepy was sure, considering flowers couldn't speak, much less sing. But Creepy could hold Amelia like he was whenever he wanted, if she wanted him to, with his arms loosely around her waist, but also holding on for dear life, as though she'd be taken away from him without a word of warning, and even if he was getting her shirt messy, he didn't want to let her go. Creepy wanted to keep hold of her and make sure she knew how much she already meant to him, in case she didn't currently, because he could express his feelings through actions and his eyes more easily than he could through words and expressions and sayings any day.

As Amelia continued to describe her dream to him, Creepy could only allow her to put his hands on her stomach, right where they were halfway on her skin and halfway on her shirt, disregarding the fact that his hands were as messy as they could be, and he was visioning everything and he could feel and see this perfection she spoke of in his mind's eye. And although Creepy was thinking of what she meant by how he had curious fingers and she had a curious body, he let his fingers trace tiny, small, letters onto her bare skin, with the fingertips that were there instead of on her shirt, not even realising that he was tracing his name -- his first name, actually -- onto her skin with the dough that wouldn't be there when he was complete, but he could feel everything. Amelia was so perfect with how she described things and how she spoke about the dance that Creepy had never experienced before, or not that he could remember, and he didn't want this conversation to ever end. He didn't want Amelia's dream to ever end and he wanted to know more about this dance and their curiosity -- both of theirs -- and what was going on and if she could really see all of this happening when they weren't both in a thought train of the wonders of her subconscious mind. Creepy wanted Amelia's body to stay arched against him like it was, as though she could feel exactly what she was describing to him, and Creepy press his nose right against the nape of her neck, murmuring words that he didn't even know the meaning of, or even understand what he was saying at all, but he was talking quietly to her as she finished with what she was saying and the slap back into reality was a harsh one, but one that still allowed the two of them to be together and pressed against one another still, though his hands were back in the bowl.

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part SEVEN
[info]barbary
2008-05-16 05:01 am UTC (link)
Once reality was back and Creepy was pulled away from Amelia, he was able to breathe easily again and didn't feel like he had to hold his breath so that he wouldn't miss a single detail of what she was saying. As he made the heart, Creepy was almost not even aware of anything around him, his eyes glazed over again, but only because of what he was thinking of. He was still imagining Amelia's dream, more in depth, and he could only hope that he had a dream similar to that so he could feel what she did when she had it. Creepy wanted to hear the flowers singing to them and he wanted to witness their curiosity in all of its glory and he wanted to see her when she felt that everything was perfect and right and beautiful. Really, Creepy wanted to see what Amelia saw as beautiful and harmless and something that she would hopefully remember for always and forever.

But now Creepy could take notice of what Amelia was doing, since he was done imagining and picturing, and he grinned widely at her and made a shape of his own, to be her, and it wasn't nearly as good as hers was, but it got the point across. After he made his shape and he glanced to Amelia's star, Creepy had offered her the dough and he felt the kiss to his fingers, and his grin turned into a genuine smile, eyes opening up wide at what she said. "I know! People honestly don't know what they're missing when they say eating raw biscuit dough is bad for you. Clearly, they haven't lived," Creepy scoffed jokingly, taking another piece of the dough and ate it, chewing on it almost thoughtfully. "I think the castle should make this a dessert, too. That would be a brilliant idea."

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