Magical Hogwarts

The rain managed to hold off as Will checked his wrist watch, his dark eyes glanced up at the heavy-laden sky. It foretold either a deluge of rain or a dump of snow. Autumn in London had always been wonderfully unpredictable. The bell of the little green door chimed to announce his presence as he waved to one of the waiters before he plonked himself down at a table against the window.

It was chilly outside as he watched people stride by, bundled up in coats and scarves. It was warm inside the café and the air was sweet with coffee and cinnamon. Will always enjoyed the shift in seasons. He found comfort in the dark nights, purely so he could hibernate.

Bérénice's  letter had come out of the blue, more so the fact that she was now based here. Will wasn't sure what she wanted. A tour guide, maybe. Perhaps a friendly face. They were only a couple of miles away from each other now but the city was so vast, it was possible they'd never see each other. It was nice, though. He was looking forward to having a chat. A lot had changed since that afternoon in Paris.

Reclining in his seat, Will pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose to sit more comfortably as his eyes perused the menu. Pointless, really, he always got the same - a toasted ham and cheese sandwich on sourdough bread with mustard mayonnaise - but he flipped it over in his large hands to see if there were any new offerings. He wrinkled his nose in distaste. He wasn't one for pumpkin pie.

The bell rang again and he looked up sharply, his mouth relaxing into an easy smile as he saw her. She looked the same, still. Completely beautiful, statuesque, totally ethereal. It stunned him momentarily. Will stood and waved hello, allowing her to draw closer before he paused infinitesimally. He didn't think they were at the hugging stage and a handshake seemed too formal. Instead, he leaned closer and dropped a kiss on one of her cheeks, his hand on one of her elbows.

"There she is, the Londoner," he greeted Nice easily and with a smile that made the skin around his warm eyes crinkle. Politely, he pulled her chair out for her. "How are you finding it?" He asked, absently rolling up the sleeves of his pale blue shirt, his attention fully on her.

tuesday 11th october 2005

The short walk from her new apartment to the pub Will had suggested for lunch had been brisk enough for Nice to second-guess her decision to move to London, but she supposed even Paris would have felt cold and miserable compared to the more balmy temperatures she had become acclimated to over the last year or so. The French witch welcomed the warm refuge of the cafe as she sidled inside, her warm brown eyes scanning the room until she locked eyes with the wizard she had come to meet.

She hadn’t truly thought through her desire to reach out, but of the two men in London that she knew there was one who seemed more likely to respond (had that stopped her penning a letter to Harlan? No. But it had stopped her from sending it, at least).

Bérénice smiled and strode over to William, hesitating briefly in the same moment he did, before falling into something more familiar – a lean in, a kiss on the cheek. “Hello,” she smiled, cheeks flushed not only from the cold air outside. A Londoner, indeed. He pulled out her chair and she quickly shed her cream-coloured coat to reveal a flowy ivory blouse and fitted skirt, draping her outer layer over the back of the spare seat between them.

Her eyes lingered on his forearms a moment longer than was strictly platonic. “Cold,” she answered, smiling as she sat. “But a good change of pace.” Asclepius had been challenging and chaotic and confronting, but exactly what she had needed after— well, everything. Adjusting to a routine again would take time, but she felt ready.

“Thank you,” she said, meeting his eyes again; he didn’t have to reply to her owl, let alone actually accept her invitation. “It’s nice to see a familiar face,” she told him honestly.

Cold, she'd said, and he laughed, genuinely amused. Bless her little cotton socks. William didn't think she'd be able to survive the winter if she couldn't handle autumn. He'd dread to think of her heating bill. It was still odd, though. It didn't need to be strained. He'd have to work to keep Bérénice  in his life and he suddenly realised that he wanted to.

"It's not always so terrible, I promise," Will assured Nice swiftly with another smile, noting how the colour of her blouse reflected the light back up to her face. She sat down and he handed her a menu wordlessly. They had a variety of snacky-bits - salad, sandwiches, toasties, cakes - but it was too forward to ask if she might want to split an apple crumble. They weren't really friends.

Swiftly, Will looked up to catch Bérénice's gaze. Ah. It must be overwhelming to leave France and her job and start up somewhere completely new. He assumed St. Mungo's was a lot different than what she was used to. It must be horribly daunting. Perhaps she was just…lonely.

"I won't lie, it was a bit of a shock," he admitted, though not unkindly. It could be an olive branch but they had left things amicable in Paris. Or so he assumed. "A nice once, though," Will tacked on hastily with a faint blush. He didn't want to Nice feel like she'd made a mistake. They were adults. He'd managed to have occasional meet ups with Honey and they'd remained civil.

"But you're all settled in?" He asked her, interested. "Flat and work are both going well?" The return address on the letter Nice had sent him had pretty much answered that - of course they were because she'd settled in an area that was much more fancy than he had. Will could chat about the superficial stuff until the cows came home but there was a lingering, wayward question that he needed to have answered; did she miss him?

"The butties are good here," he offered helpfully in case she didn't know what to order.