The Midnight Cookie Catastrophe (Delia)

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"Sugar, butter, eggs, cinnamon... Cinnamon? Or was it nutmeg? Did the recipe call for salt?" Reienne could feel the weight of her breath increase upon each exhalation. Her arms were heavy with containers. Her mind was a rollercoaster of ingredients, continuously growing louder and louder inside of her head. This is why she hadn't been able to sleep. Baking directions were keeping her head away from dreamland, stapling her conscious into the dreamworld and convincing her that sneaking into the kitchens at 12 in the morning would be the only way to appease her newfound homesickness.

Reienne had been at Hogwarts for an entire year, and it had been a fantastic year. She'd grown to love the school and all of the people she had met along her journey. Her fellow Hufflepuffs were the nicest people she had ever known and they made the transition between schools, between countries, easier than she could have ever imagined. For an entire year, the country girl had almost forgotten how much she missed Kentucky.

And then came the Summer Holiday.

Seeing Daddy and Rocco again had been well needed and well deserved by the girl. She'd forgotten what it was like to spend days on horseback, immersed by sunlight and feeling every element pass through your being at once. There was this serendipity that came with the farm and couldn't be recreated elsewhere. And she had missed it.
She also missed Nana.

Reienne had been at Hogwarts when her Paternal Grandmother had died and she hadn't felt the sadness then; she couldn't feel sad about it because she was halfway across the world and there was nothing she could do and she had to stay strong for herself and for everyone around her because it was what her Nana would have wanted. But at the farm, she'd been able to break down and feel the full toll of the loss. Everyone could. It killed Reienne to know that her whole family was hurting and there was nothing she could do.

When she returned to Hogwarts, Reienne wasn't quite over her sad-spell. She tried to be cheery, but the rest of the Puffs knew something was wrong. They were sweet, but not what she needed.

Now, after dreaming of her Nana's old cookie recipe, Reienne had decided to try baking therapy. The only plothole; she hadn't brought the recipe with her. By memory, Reienne tried to figure out the pieces of a very complex cookie batter, but something was missing.

"Eggs, sugar, flour, nutmeg, chocolate, what am I missing?!" She screamed.

Shocked, she took a step back. All of the house elves who had kindly done nothing up to this point looked at her in confusion.

"Did I just use my outdoor voice?" She asked. "I'm so sorry."

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The night was young; midnight was not a typical time that Delia slept. There were things to see and places to go, and her dorm was the last on the list. Slipping out of bed, Delia wandered the halls for a little, exploring as always, until her stomach gave a little growl, informing her of her next stop. She'd very quickly figured out where the kitchens was, and without hesitation headed in that direction.

Before she even entered, she heard a rather loud, obviously American, voice, and her eyebrows shot up. Opening the door, she walked in, her original retort dying on her lips as she saw the person who'd spoken. It was not difficult to recognise her, and Delia faltered, letting the kitchen door slam shut behind her. She took a step forward, raising an eyebrow at the witch, and then let out a single bark of laughter.

"F***ing hell. What the actual f***?" she exclaimed, laughter in her tone, eyes shining and mouth turning up into a grin. "Camille. Or not. You know what I mean. Holy f***. You're... I'm... Hogwarts? What the f*** man. What were the f***ing chances?" Her swearing had doubled, slipping out without her intending it to, mostly in her shock. "Sorry. I know you said you don't like swearing, but just... F*** me. I was not expecting this."

It wasn't often that Delia was speechless; it wasn't often that she didn't have anything to say. This was one such time. It was hilarious, almost, how life had somehow put them together. Of all the people Camille could have accidentally texted, it had been her, a fellow witch, in a house literally just above the other girl's.

"So," she said, a moment later, as soon as she got herself under control. "Flying, eh? Yeah, I may have lied. I played beater in Dumstrang; I'm thinking of trying out for that position here." She shrugged. "Man, this was an unexpected twist, eh? I might just start calling you Ted, confuse the hell out of everyone." She grinned at the witch. "Oh, and I'm Delia, by the way. Delia Foster. Everything else is true. Mostly."

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Reienne was still coming to terms with the fact that she'd just raised her voice in front of a group of completely defenseless house elves. She had no right to do such a thing, even if the remark was not meant for them. It had surely spooked them. It had spooked her, even, to hear such a volume cascade from her own lips in such a storm of frustration. Reienne had never been frustrated. Well, she had, but not to this extent. Reienne frustration was the kind of frustration one reached when they accidentally put too much sugar in their tea or forgot to turn the lamp off before exiting a building. She did not get frustrated to the point of yelling.

To make matters worse, someone was there. The kitchen door slammed shortly after Reienne had finished terrorizing the kitchen elves. Was it a teacher? She hoped it was. She deserved to be reprimanded for something. Yelling? Sneaking out of her room? She wasn't sure what, but something.

But, it wasn't a teacher who stood before her. No, it was a girl. A dumbfounded, brunette, familiar faced girl. Reienne knew she'd seen her before, but she was given no time to think of where before it was announced to her through a line of surprise and profanity. She'd only spoken to this girl before through text messages, but it was not a vocabulary that one would forget.

Bridgette, or, as she was actually called, Delia, looked at a loss for words. This surprised Reienne, as the girl she'd texted a few days back could never not have something to say. All that this girl, Delia, seemed to be able to say was the f word. Not that Reienne cared. The country girl had nothing against swearing. It didn't offend her to hear profanities, but she simply chose not to use them in her daily life.

"Nice to meet you," She said calmly. Reienne wondered why she wasn't freaking out. On any other day, she would be freaking out. But she wasn't because she'd already maxed out on freakouts today and at least this was a distraction from the cookie disaster that was brewing.
"I don't mind swearing. I don't swear, personally. But I don't care if you do." She explained.

On the topic of flying, Reienne remembered their texting. Delia had pretended to not believe in flying or in magic, most likely as a way to make sure that Reienne couldn't trace her back to being a witch. It was funny, though. In hiding every other part of herself, flying had been the part the Hufflepuff had openly shared.

"I'm looking into playing Quidditch," she said. "I never played at Ilvermorny but I'd like to here."

"I'm Reienne," she added, holding out a hand to the girl whom she both had previously met and was meeting for the first time.

"Reienne-Louise Thompson. I'm pretty sure everything else I said was true."

She looked forward at the mess of baking supplies that were strewn across the counters.
"You don't know how to bake, do you?" She smiled

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Offering Reienne a smile, Delia said, "Well, it's official now, anyway. Geez. To think we've been texting... How many days now? A few... And the whole time you were hidden away in your borrow and me up in the tower. Well. At least now we can be friends in real life, eh?" Her smile widened to a grin, shaking her head at the humour in all of it. She shrugged, already mostly calm now; it had just been the initial surprise that brought it all out. "We should go riding sometime; my horse arrives like, this weekend."

Delia nodded at the talk of Quidditch. "But have you played before, even in mock games?" she asked. "I love flying; the feeling of the air in your face..." She grinned. "You're right -- it's almost like riding, except you're not fifty feet in the air when you're on a horse."

There was so much information to sort through, from the texts and the conversations they had. Delia had, quite honestly, never expected to meet with Camille -- Reienne -- in real life. There had been things that Delia would have never said or admitted to if she'd even for a moment thought Camille and her would meet face to face. Still, she couldn't help but wonder how much that was shared between them was true and real. Sometimes, she knew from experience, people were far more honest when they were talking with strangers or over text than when in person. Then again, sometimes people lied more easily.

Time would tell which was which, in this case.

Glancing at the ingredients on the table and back at Ca-- Reienne, Delia's lips twitched into a smile. "What makes you think I couldn't? Cos I'm a Pureblood?" she joked, then realised she hadn't exactly revealed that information to her, only hinted at it. Would Reienne have pieced it together if Delia hadn't said anything? There was no telling now. "Yeah," she added, a moment later. "I can. What are you making?"

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Reienne was relieved that the girl had taken so well to running into her. Over the phone, Delia had sounded friendly enough of course, but she also seemed like the kind of person who wouldn't want to be caught of guard by anything. But here she was, in the flesh, smiling and chatting as if Reienne were but an old friend she hadn't seen in ages.

At the mention of horses, the Hufflepuff's eyes grew bright. She'd only just recently learned, from messaging with Delia actually, that it would be possible to bring Rocco to Hogwarts. At first, Reienne had been so overcome with excitement towards the idea that she hadn't bothered to consider the logistics of importing a horse from America to Europe. But it soon occurred to her that it may be uncomfortable for a horse to travel all that way. Would he be confined to a dark chamber for days on end with no-one to talk to? She couldn't imagine the distress that may cause the poor boy.

But upon speaking to her mother, Reienne learned that it would be a routinely painless journey across the pond. Rocco would be perfectly happy to make the trip. He would have plenty of hay and water in his compartment (It was a crate, but the word gave Reienne chills. It sounded inhumane to put a creature in a crate for an elongated amount of time) and it wouldn't take that long. She'd eventually called her father to ask if Rocco could come to Hogwarts.

"I think Rocco should be arriving sometime next week," Reienne informed the girl. "I would love to on a ride when he gets here! I've missed him a-lot. I've missed home a-lot too. Honestly, having him here would be kind of like having a piece of the farm at Hogwarts, which might actually lessen the nightmare and," she paused, cheeks flushed in slight embarrassment.
"Sorry," She said. "I'm rambling." When it came to horses, Reienne could go on for an eternity. It often annoyed whoever she was talking to, so the girl had to take extra care in order to not bore her conversation partner to death.

"I haven't really had anyone to play with," She responded to the question about Quidditch. Of course, Ilvermorny had a Quidditch team,
but Reienne hadn't known if she would be good enough to play the sport. So she hadn't tried.
"Maybe I'll try out this year," she shrugged. She added a laugh in regards to the comment about flying.

Reienne jumped a bit at Delia's response towards her question. She knew the girl was joking, but Reienne felt bad that it had even occurred to Delia that the Hufflepuff would make any assumptions based on blood purity. She hadn't known Delia was a Pureblood, but she wouldn't have entered the situation any differently if she had.

"I'm making cookies," She informed. "It's my grandmother's recipe,
but I left the paper at home and now I'm trying to do it from memory and I know I'm forgetting something but I can't think of what," She explained all in one breath, the panic attack from earlier creeping back into her mood.

"I just want them to be perfect," she explained.

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Delia grinned at the reply. That was perfect timing, really, to have their horses arrive almost at the same time. Truth be told, Delia had been feeling rather lonely lately. While she didn't enjoy crowds or too much attention, no attention was something else altogether, and with the social aspect of Hogwarts being new entirely, she'd struggled to adjust -- not that she would've told anyone. To meet a friend was a nice change. There weren't many of those at Hogwarts, not yet, anyway.

"No, you weren't," Delia said, shrugging. For a moment, she debated asking about the nightmares, but decided against it. They weren't close; they hadn't, up till then, even known each other's real name. But it was interesting, for it wasn't the first time the witch had mentioned it. Instead, Delia said, "Ever tried dreamless sleep potions?" Her tone was casual, showing that she meant no harm and wasn't judging. She didn't have nightmares, but she understood what it was like to not want dreams. Sometimes, the nicer the dream, the worse it was when she woke, for reality would soon remind her that her dreams weren't attainable. Perhaps, then, those were her nightmares, and not dreams of monsters or death. Those, she welcomed.

"You're always welcome to toss a quaffle around with me," Delia replied, shrugging. "I mean it's not a full game but it's something. I'm sure we could find people to make a full two teams and have mock games, too, if we asked around long enough. Someone in this f***ing joint has to want to play."

Taking in the information was secondary; Delia recognised the tone and way of speaking. Back at Durmstrang, she had friends with anxiety -- and, thinking about it, she didn't think any of her close friends were 'normal' in any means -- and she'd learnt to pick up on their subtle cues that meant they were heading into an attack. "Woah, hey, Rei," she said, already lowering her tone, deciding on a nickname there and then. "Deep breath, girl. The words won't eat you if you keep them in."

Glancing at the ingredients on the table, Delia took quick stock. She didn't particularly enjoy cooking or baking -- delivery services were so much easier, as was getting a house elf or servant to cook for you -- but that didn't mean she didn't know how. While she was better at foods like steak and meats, cookies were not her worst, and she frowned a little as she tried to figure out what was missing. "What cookies are they, do you know? Chocolate of some kind, I assume."

She paused, eyes moving towards the shelves of ingredients. "Well, for chocolate cookies, you can have them with nuts. Is that what's missing? Hazelnut, macadamia, pistachio, almond..." She paused. "Sometimes you have vanilla in them, too. Or strawberry flavouring -- jam, sometimes. Or peanut butter, like a Reese cup chocolate cookie." She shrugged, not quite sure what else there was to offer.[/i]

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