Coiled (Book 1 of 2)

Janet

You're being ridiculous!

Absolutely, completely, pathetically ridiculous!

I mean, really ...

Allowing yourself to get so bent out of shape, so hopelessly worked up over all this?

But despite her silent self admonishments, still she hovers on the side of the street, eyes darting all around her nervously as she entertains the idea of turning back and running away. It's a persistent thought, one that's haunted her since she left home earlier this morning.

And yet ...

... Here we are.

Here - we - are -

... You're such an idiot for this.

It's another brutally hot day, but she's dressed to kill as always. Thick black hair swept back into an elegant low bun at the nape of her neck, she wears a wide brimmed straw hat, white ribbon tied into a fat bow around it. And, of course, a sundress. Not just because it's scorchingly hot out, but because she wears the hell out of them. And this one's no exception to that rule. Dark green and covered with tiny white flowers, it's a form fitting number, one with a plunging neckline and capped sleeves. To say it's flattering would be a woeful undersell; the dress hugs the feminine curves of her body perfectly, belling out ever so slightly at mid-calf with a ruffled hem.

As she continues to internally wrestle with herself, to fight against the cruel stream of self-hatred that her mind lashes her with unrelentingly, she turns her eyes downwards and attempts to centre herself by admiring her shoes, sling back white Mary Jane heels.

Come on, already!

This is pathetic.

You are pathetic!

You went so far as to secure the Gringotts exchange;

And you look perfect;

So let's get on with it.

You're here, so see it through.

Nodding to herself at this, she takes a tentative step forward before coming to another abrupt halt, heart in her throat.

... Did I overdress?

Eyes widening in horror at the thought, she chews self consciously at the corner of her bottom lip, the oppressive heat of the day beating down upon her.

Who cares?

I'm dressed the way I like.

And I think I look flawless.

So why would I ever care what some nobody of a muggle might think?

She does, though. She actually cares very much what 'some nobody of a muggle' might think, though she's not about to admit it. In this case, a certain baker she hasn't been able to stop thinking about, though she can't begin to fathom why. It's a realisation she's not fully come to terms with. Instead, she's convinced herself that she really just wants more of those forbidden muggle pastries, nothing more, nothing less.

Against the rules, of course -

That goes without saying.

Frequenting a muggle shop, using muggle currency;

... But it's a completely harmless transgression in the end, is it not?

I'm buying sweets, that's it.

Completely harmless.

Especially since no one will ever know about it.

At this, her gaze reflexively darts down to her clutch, held close to her body. In it, the muggle coins and notes. She's nervous, not just at the idea of seeing him again but at the notion of attempting to use muggle currency in a real setting.