(n.) the colour of a dying leaf
The fall wind rustled sharply, whispering words unknown to the human ear.
Two boys, intentions alike, walked through the chill wind as they came to a stop.
One boy, a warm copper hue with silky, ebony coils slightly cropped and honey brown eyes, looked down at the other who had terra-cotta locks that hung loosely on his rose pale face littered with freckles, and cornflower blue eyes.
"Y'know, mum had this big tree grown when I was nine. I used to spend all my time just staying under the tree doing...y'know, chess, games all of that. It burned down during a thunderstorm around the beginning of my second year. The only thing left of the tree that managed to not burn was this little leaf. It was a dying leaf. I managed to preserve it though. Maybe someday I'd get to grow a tree like that. It was always fun to have."
The standing one crouched to meet the redhead's height. He looked at him briefly before replying to the irregular statement.
"Mother liked shrubs and plants like those but never had to the time to care for them. She was to busy with everything else to find the time. Sometimes I would sit on one of the dusty greenhouses' benches and watch the house-elves tend to the garden. Albeit, Mother had a plant she did have time for, and that was just a small oak tree. It was your oak tree but she never let the elves touch it. She got the tree long before I was born but has never lost a single leaf during fall. I still don't understand it."
Silence quickly consumed the conversation as the two boys crouched on the ground covered with dying, fallen leaves all browning.
"I guess we're not that different."
"I suppose not."
The boy with hair terra-cotta locks gave the other a roguish grin before hauling himself up. He gave the other boy a hand.
"D'you wanna go to that coffee shop on Phoenix Lane with me? Hot chocolate's on me."
"Only as long as I can buy some biscuits."
"Deal."
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