A/N: About three years ago I wrote a CBHP crossover and it's only now that I write more stories like it. Takes place during the summer of the Trio's third year, possibly au and ooc. You don't need to read the last fic to get this one, but it might make more sense if you did.
Harry Potter, stuck in his prison-like room with too much time on his hands, pulled out a spare pencil and paper to begin writing what appeared to be a letter. Harry thought a moment as to who he wanted to write a letter to. There was always Charlie Bone, the kid who came to Hogwarts for a week from Bloor's Academy. Charlie seemed like a nice enough kid and it seemed depressing that they didn't really keep in touch. It was kind of hard to do so, however, since Harry had to deal with the fact that he just learned of his godfather who went to Azkaban. It was a lot for a thirteen year old boy to take in at once.
Charlie; he wanted to write. There was something that stopped Harry from beginning the letter to Charlie Bone with only the other boy's first name. It sounded almost rude, so Harry scratched it out to replace it with Dear Charlie;. To balance the over-the-top informality of the last letter, he thought that starting a letter with Dear Charlie was too formal. Yet again, Harry found himself scratching out Dear Charlie, although he wasn't sure what to replace it with.
I'm taking too much time just trying to start the letter. Maybe I should just write it later…
Hermione Granger, like Harry, wanted to write a letter. For once, she was completely unable to articulate what she wanted to write and it felt weird. She tapped her pencil wildly to get her thoughts running. Usually that small motion helped when she needed to write essays at school but that didn't really help her now. Hermione stood up and paced, thinking even more.
How bothersome, I can't think of how to start a letter.
Hermione had an epiphany. Maybe she could right to Lysander! She blushed and instantly banished the thought. When Lysander Sage, the fifteen year old of Bloor's Academy, appeared at the Gryffindor table, Hermione was smitten. Not only did she find him somewhat attractive, but he was bright as well. The conversations they carried were deep and meaningful and Hermione mentally beat herself up for remembering him so fondly. If she took a breather, she might have a better chance to actually start that letter.
In the vicinity of Bloor's Academy, Gabriel Silk thought. He wasn't the type of person to have intense thoughts or long internal monologues, but he had a sudden urge to write to Katie Bell. She was a sweet person and seemed to not mind Gabriel's gerbils. He began to write.
Miss Katie Bell; he started, smugly smiling to himself. Gabriel didn't write many letters and the fact that he started to write one was an accomplishment. How are you? I hope you remember me, I'm Gabriel Silk. You know, the guy with lots of gerbils? Yeah. I'd like to think a kid chasing a swarm of runaway gerbils is pretty memorable. The letter grew in size in a short amount of time. Before Gabriel knew it, he was done and he sent it. He sent it, obsessively waiting by the mailbox for the next few days in hopes Katie would write back. Gabriel jumped in joy when he found an envelope addressed to him in Katie's familiar bold scrawl.
I remember you, you're a very memorable kid. Life is quiet for me. Our Quidditch team won the House Cup... Gabriel unintentionally giggled at the word 'Quidditch', despite full well knowing it was a sport played on broomsticks and not an insult or a weird sound sneeze. He finished the letter grinning like a loon.
Olivia Vertigo locked herself in her brightly painted and highly decorated room to recite monologues for plays she would never try out for, much less get into. Sometimes (an understatement, really, as Olivia was always doing something acting related) she would practice her part in her room until her voice went hoarse. Today she wore a pair of neon yellow wedges and a sparkly cape over her white shirt and flowing black skirt to prove she was in acting mode. Whenever she dressed up nicely or in bright colors (or even both), it meant Olivia was practicing and she was serious.
And then she was stuck. It was a sudden thing, not being able to remember one single line of a monologue she was practicing. How odd that it was only that one line Olivia's mind glossed over. With a gel pen in hand, she began sketching eyes and flowers and the sun, among other now unintelligible sketches, to clear her mind. Nothing jogged Olivia's memory. Since she had a pen and paper out, she decided to write to Hogwarts, an unexpected whim.
Gryffindor Quidditch Team;
Teach me how to fly.
She wanted to sprout wings and fly, a dream of hers nobody really knew. Planes were cheating since it wasn't actually flying in her mind. She frequently gazed in awe at the Quidditch practices when she stayed at during the exchange between Hogwarts and Bloor's.
She tucked the letter into her shirt pocket, stood up and tried (eventually succeeding) in remembering the single line she forgot. To this day, the letter lives in her pocket unsent.
A/N: I had fun writing this, even if it was short and shorter than it's predecessor. I hope you guys like it!