"𝕬ᴄᴄɪᴏʙᴏᴏᴋ," the wizard murmured before a slate-coloured linen-bound book sprung from his bag and floated onto his lap.
You couldn't read the delicate silver lettering on the cover or spine, because as soon as it landed on his legs, it opened and the thin pages fluttered apart until it reached the one that was tabbed with a metal bookmark. He slid the golden tab from the paper and stowed it away in his breast pocket.
Almost hypnotized, you watched the Professor's fingers graze over the densely written-on pages as he gently turned them.
"...I should probably get to writing that letter Malfoy asked of me, huh…?" you sighed, muttering these words more to yourself than to anyone.
Not looking up from his read or ceasing his leisurely perusing, Snape quipped quietly: "...lest you forget that, too."
"ᴀᴄᴄɪᴏᴘᴇɴᴀɴᴅᴘᴀᴘᴇʀ"
You pretended to not have heard him. How would you respond anyway?
A notebook along with a fountain pen emerged from your luggage overhead and flopped into your outstretched hands.
Gorgeous, the pen. Very practical for writing when travelling — much more so than your usual quill and ink pot. A peer and good friend of yours had gifted it to you the last time you had been to 'Flourish & Blotts', viewing their wide assortment of stationary and literature. Apparently, she had been working there for the last two years…
You turned over the notebook's cover, intending to immediately start scribbling your text. You didn't get further than 'Dear Mr. Malfoy,', though, the nib of your fountain pen resting paralyzed on the paper while you ruminated about your next words. All around its shiny golden tip, deep navy blue ink pooled before it sunk into the textured letter paper.
What were you going to say? What did you have to tell him? You didn't want to apologize anymore — you already had. You didn't want to become a bore, repeating the same old apologetic phrases over and over again causing him to tire of you…
A quick tap of your wand and the big ink splotch you had just caused vanished from the page.
'Whatever! Better safe than sorry. Best add a reminder of my remorse as a formality…,' you thought.
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You examined your loopy blue writing as it was drying, shiny ink turning matte against the softly sage green paper. In the end, you didn't write much beyond formalities and pleasantries, but for now, it would do. This should be your first letter of many — a conversation starter of sorts. And you thought it did that quite well.
