Chapter Text
Will
It's a whole new feeling, coming back to school and looking forward to it.
I had nervous coils through me the whole trip to the station, kept pulling out the bundle of letters, shuffling through to read and re-read them. Bev’s were even more a mess than last year, sometimes containing dust, or crumbs, sometimes singed; I got one with a weird looking herb pressed into it, and marvelled at the fact that the postal service let that one slide (I suspect enchantment). In contrast, Hannibal’s stack is pristine, all addressed in his careful hand, signed with the same flourished H.L. that makes me smile every time.
It’s weird, to be with him in person. I think for the first time I really understand his frustration. All his letters are pages long, intelligent, funny, full of words like “antediluvian.” (Far from the only one that sent me to the dictionary mid-letter.) He’s not quiet by nature, he’s fascinating, and nobody takes the time to notice. It must be annoying to limit your vocabulary to things that can be written quickly enough to not cause pause in conversation. Maybe that’s why he wrote me so often; the need to just be able to freely express to someone. It definitely can’t have been for my enthralling conversation. Like last year, I often looked at the contents of my own messy responses and cringed before sending them.
Honestly, I almost expected him to answer me back when I all but fell into the train compartment, grinning around my “hello.” The Hannibal who wrote me all summer would have likely stood with a line like: “Why hello, Will. I’ve long anticipated our meeting again.” I have to remind myself that that Hannibal and the one who offered a prim nod in place of a greeting are one and the same. He was genuinely happy to see me though, I could tell by the smile he tried to twist away and failed, the way he quickly moved his bag from the seat beside him; he’d saved me a spot.
Of course, it didn’t take Bev long to find us. She looked great, taller than I’d last seen her, hair loose from its usual ponytail, and of course, trailed by Brian. There was another kid with them too, a Hufflepuff I vaguely knew, thin and pale, armed with an infectious grin and at least a hundred “fun facts” that I barely listened to as they chattered away.
Hannibal watched all of this with a carefully neutral expression, but I could feel the quiet frustration simmering just beneath, the longing. I took a scrap of parchment from my bag.
Good to be back?
I nudged his knee with mine, and he startled. Sorry, I mouthed, then nodded down.
When he saw the note, his eyes crinkled into that secret smile, and he took the quill I offered.
Good to see you. Do you miss the fireflies and the...
He paused, frowning, then brightened again.
lawn-mowers?
I stifled a laugh and scribbled back, conscious, as always, of how poor my handwriting was next to his.
Yes, and absolutely not.
I had mowed lawns all summer for spending money, a tedious job that apparently does not exist in the wizarding community, going by the horrified tone of Hannibal’s response the first time I’d mentioned it.
And just like that, it was okay. He and I wrote back and forth, I paid just enough attention to the others’ conversations to interject where necessary, and it was as though I’d never left.
Oh, and we ran into our old friend Krendler on the way into the Great Hall. I’m pleased to say he was as ugly as ever, and his hands looked free of scars. He shot us a rude gesture with them over the heads of some first years. Hannibal winked, and Bev and I laughed when Krendler scowled even deeper and scurried away.