Sweet(er) Mornings

The sunshine was brighter than usual over Diagon Alley and for that, Cerelia was absurdly grateful. The mixture of sunshine and parchment had always been a favourite of hers and in the glow of the light through the windows she poured over a handful of volumes that she would not at first have taken much notice of. However, had she not been so embroidered within the potions that were, decidedly, illegal then she would have missed out in the wealth of information that the books afforded her. Certainly, it wasn’t light reading but for a Ravenclaw, volumes the thickness of wall bricks were light reading. This required a little more concentration, though; and notes.

Cerelia rolled her quill between her fingers as she sat back in one of the tables that had been set out by the windows for a handful of lingering customers that didn’t sidle off to a cafe. Often, they came back and set up shop there. Cerelia hadn’t moved since she’d taken the books from the shelf that morning and wasn’t about to do so any time soon. Her father had set her off with a task and though she was begrudged to complete it, feeling grossly out of place in the rather simple and unkempt bookshop, she couldn’t deny her enjoyment of the task when she did get underway.

Reaching forward, Cerelia dipped the nib of her quill into the ink well, dabbing a nice amount onto the tip before carefully penning a few more ingredients down that the books prescribed. Her writing was delicate, barely scratching into the parchment weighted down at either end but leaving calligraphy in its wake that many a Pureblood girl would give her high teeth for to replicate. It was one of Cerelia’s few joys, to write with leisure and time on her hands. There was no need to rush. The only point in time where it would be made necessary to “rush”, as it were, was if the sun was rapidly dying in the sky and there was no fear of that.

Turning the page, the girl set down her quill for a moment in favour of picking up the cup of coffee that had been provided for her by a flushed sale’s assistant who seemed eager enough to please and quicker than most at making a decent cup of coffee. Blowing on the surface a little, her eyes continued to scan the page in search of something useful. There, in the light of the window and in relative isolation she was at peace. There was no one there to stupefy her into terrified silence or make her second guess herself. She was by herself; as was best, as it would always be, she feared.

Outfit

Percy wasn't always the type to be in a book store. No, not unless he was looking for something specific. Today, that was just the case. He was the type to chase after information if it evaded him. He was no Ravenclaw by any means, but when someone dangled his lack of knowledge in front of him, it drove him to do completely mental things. Like practically live in Flourish and Blotts for a few days.

He passed the same shelf for the third time looking for anything that might help him. He had been talking to someone from school - they'd accidentally met in Diagon Alley a few days before - and the git had actually had the nerve to suggest that Percy was incompetent in Potions. It was one of the subjects he actually rather liked.

By now, Percy was sure that the other student had made up the potion entirely, because no book he had looked in even referenced the thing. Not one. Frustrated, he ran a hand through his hair irritably. Pulling the first three books he found about potions, he made his way to one of the empty tables by the windows. He vaguely noticed a girl sitting a table away, but it didn't really affect him.

Spreading out the books before him, he grabbed the smallest one and began flipping through it, eyebrows drawn together in concentration.

Pureblood women garnered a certain amount of attention from the public that were not qualified to enter society but certainly made it their priority to follow all that went on within the elusive, exclusive band of witches and wizards that had reigned within the Wizarding World for as long as they were allowed such fortune. The presence of a woman from one of the eldest families had caused a flutter within the staff and though she’d largely chosen to keep to herself, that didn’t stop them from watching her.

Of course, such a woman had caught the attention of Cerelia too. She was a Yaxley married Malfoy and one of the eldest within the society that put such a firm emphasis on blood and breeding. She was a creature of great poise and elegance, one that Cerelia had only had the pleasure of meeting a handful of times - though each time understandably, the woman didn’t think to remember her. Cerelia made no effort to introduce herself and instead remained seated. It wasn’t her place, she told herself stubbornly. No, it was for someone braver, much braver and foolhardy indeed.

The girl had spent most of the morning alone pouring over her books and soon enough, during one of the few breaks she’d allowed, she was joined in the small area of mismatched tables and chairs by someone who looked to be about the same age as herself; a Hogwarts student just about on the cusp of freedom. Cerelia had enjoyed, in the past, a much greater freedom than would have typically and traditionally been afforded to her an as a result, her schooling had suffered - Venice had proved rather all-consuming and unavoidable.

Hogwarts had taken the back seat.

Today was the day she would take for resuming whatever schooling she needed and she was surprised to find that someone had taken a similar stance. She felt a stab of nervous pride - though more because she had been there first than the fact that there was someone who shared a common endeavour with her. Such was the selfishness of a Ravenclaw-cum-Slytherin.

Curiosity got the better of her as ever and after a moment, in the hushed tones that a library and bookshop demanded, Cerelia introduced herself, a conspiratory edge to her voice as a shot of adrenaline ran through her veins as the prospect of the person at hand not being someone she should be conversing with.

“I’m Cerelia,” She murmured, rising from her chair and abandoning her books to sit opposite the young man. She cradled her coffee in her delicate grasp and raised a smile to her lips before extending a hand towards him. “Cerelia Avery.”