ataraxia, lorenzo berkshire

"forty four"

"Which lace looks better on the trim?," Saskia spun around to face a rather distant Magnora, who was too preoccupied staring out of the nearest window of the tailors and onto the high street of Hogsmeade, where Blaise, Theo, Mattheo and Draco were downing pints of butter beer out in the street like a gaggle of drunken men being kicked out into the streets, discarded by the fed-up bar owners.

Mattheo shook his head in disgust and in sheer embarrassment as Blaise downed two plastic cups of the golden sugary beverage and let out the most atrocious sound - causing passers-by to literally flinch - that sent Draco and Theo into a fit of hysterical laughter.

Her eyes shifted back to the disgruntled Mattheo, who she could tell was holding back a smirk just from the pure stupidity of the situation - the unavoidable pleasure of being a bystander to watching almost adult men behaving half their age.

Playful innocence that even those who had been unwillingly deprived from it in their previous years where they needed it most fundamentally, could indulge in - appreciating it twice as much in the moment as they're being shown an ounce of what they missed out on experiencing.

Her and Mattheo had been spending more time together recently. She understood that sometimes he found the boys draining - a whirlwind of unstoppable, reckless testosterone that he'd never been keen on adding to.

He keeps his testosterone moderate and reserved as everything else.

Except for when he's-

"Magnora, Hello?" Saskia stepped off the podium where she was having pins poked into her silhouette, draped in various precious fabrics in pearly colours, "What're you looking at?,"

She hobbled towards Magnora - who was still sat hazily staring outside the window onto the bustling streets - with only one heel on and her hands full with bunches of excess fabric that engulfed her frame.

Saskia roughly shook her shoulders, causing her to clear her throat abruptly and look away from the window, her eyebrows raised almost to her hairline.

"Sorry! I.. I think some of the boys are having a drink over there." She coughed, looking down at her feet in embarrassment, her developing crush on Mattheo was on track to be her next secret, and one that could potentially be the bane of her mental stability.

You know what they say about the brooding, quiet boys who have a nicotine addiction and zero emotional availability.

I know you know.

(I didn't write this book for just any audience)

"I was saying, which lace do you think would look better on the trim?,"

Magnora was silent for a few seconds, her eyes flickering between the whiter swatch of lace in Saskia's left, and the warmer, more beige swatch of lace in her right.

"I like the beige one. It's pretty." She replied with a small smile.

Saskia sighed in relief, hugging the swatch of fabric into her chest, "Good! I was hoping you'd choose that one." She hurried off to the other room where the seamstress was gathering the materials, to inform them of her new choice.

As Saskia's closest friend, she was worried for her. As most people were who knew what was happening.

Getting married at seventeen must be surreal - such a huge, imposing invasion of commitments - especially to a person you don't even know if you want to spend the rest of your life with yet, because why would you have to make such a decision when you supposedly have so much of life left to live?