Nigel wasn't the only one who didn't quite understand Lindsay's relationship with Pete. In the beginning, Lindsay hadn't understood it herself. When he'd first asked her out, she'd been doing exactly what Nigel expected – dating Pete just to make him happy. That required spending time together, though, and rubbing up against one another's sharp points constantly. The more time they spent together sanding down those points, the more closely they seemed to fit into each other. It was almost as though Lindsay had been made for somebody like Pete Watkins. Lindsay was a girl who could sleep through the apocalypse, keep up with most boys on foot and in the air, and forgive quickly and with her whole heart. Pete came into her life to make her bolder, help her learn to laugh, and to bring her back down to earth when she got carried away by worries. They had fallen for one another very slowly, but then suddenly things sped up and made sense and she was filled with this pleasant awareness that she was both very lucky and very happy. If Lindsay was being taken advantage of, she was more than okay with that. 

With that said, Lindsay did care about people thoroughly, which, one day, would be both the cause of her downfall and the reason for her sainthood. Nigel had suggested that he came on this bridge to be alone and avoid people, and there she was having a conversation with him – it would be hard to blame her for wondering if he'd been trying to send a message. “Sorry,” she muttered again, as she was accustomed to doing when she didn't know what else to say. Clearly he didn't mind her there, so she'd stay – and maybe even try to cheer him up a little, because he seemed like he needed it, standing out there all alone and asking about ghosts and things. 

Lindsay didn't understand entropy (she didn't even know what it was), but she did have a firm and growing understanding of Arithmancy, which was her very best class. Even though she had hunches and liked to look over her numbers sometimes, it was difficult for Lindsay to put all of her stock in divination. She liked to think about it, though – usually when she didn't have anything riding on it. She'd never do the numbers for school quidditch matches, for example (though there was a columnist who worked for Quidditch Quarterly who made predictions for the pros that way, and that she didn't mind quite as much). She just liked playing with the numbers. It was sometimes easier to think in numbers than it was to think in words. The numbers made stories, and Lindsay found clarity there. 

“I don't know about palm reading,” Lindsay admitted, “But arithmancy readings are really good sometimes. I can use your significant numbers to figure out all kinds of little things. It's nice,” she explained in her simple way, nodding some encouragement. Some people's numbers she played with so much that she could do a reading on almost anything without even consulting them – like her own, and her brother Drew's, and Pete's – but starting from scratch required a little information. There were some calculations to be made and some charts to consult before she could even use the numbers for anything productive. 

”How long would it take? And what all does it entail?”

“I'm pretty quick,” she admitted, which was the truth. Luckily for Lindsay, calculations came much quicker for her than reading did. “I just need you to tell me some things about you. Not anything private or anything,” she explained. “Your full name, and your birthday and things like that – if that's okay. Maybe a little bit about your family. If you want to just write it all down for me I can do it soon. Tomorrow at lunch, maybe?” she suggested. She doubted she could get anything done if she went to sit at the Gryffindor table, but if Nigel was willing to eat lunch with the Hufflepuffs then she might actually accomplish something. 


we don't realize our faith in the prize unless its been somehow elusive
how swiftly we choose it - the sacred simplicity of you at my side