Flourish and Blotts//George Weasley

1 - Floo Powder

Aurella de Clare was 98% sure there was floo powder up her ass. 

She hated travelling by floo. The shiny green powder clung to her knit pink sweatshirt and loose jeans even as she tried desperately to brush it off. The powder fell off of her clothes and onto the wooden floor of her dad's flat above Diagon Alley. She far preferred the more comfortable safety of muggle transport or apparating.

Aurella sneezed once and dropped her truck, stepping into the living room. Sun streamed through the open window, scattering over a coffee table and a couch covered in worn books. A cup of cooled tea was sitting on a knit coaster. 

"Dad?" She called. She took a few more steps until she could see the whole flat. Both bedrooms-- her dad's and the one that she stayed in when she visited in the summer-- were empty, and the kitchen was silent. There was a plate in the sink, left over from breakfast.

With a frown, she tucked her wand- walnut with unicorn hair, eleven and a half inches- into her back pocket and headed downstairs. 

Her dad lived on the third-story flat above his bookstore, Flourish and Blotts. Even early in the morning, Aurella could hear the bustling crowds of the London shopping district through the window. Witches and wizards were out looking for school supplies and potion ingredients. 

Aurella bounced down the stairs, past the storage unit on the second floor. Her dad must have gotten a restock recently; The Monster Book of Monsters was snapping at their cages. He only stocked those right before the school list came out. The squeaking floors were achingly familiar and they made her heart calm.

Curly honey-blonde hair bouncing behind her, Aurella pushed through the swinging door into the back of the shop. She was almost instantly hit with nostalgia. Her parents had been separated since she was a baby, and she always spent the last month of the summer here, returning to France to attend Beauxbaton in the Fall. The smell of books and dried ink crawled into her senses, curling around her like an old blanket. 

"Dad?" She called again. "Where are you?"

There was a cheer of surprise, and a second later, Michael de Clare came around one of the shelves. His face split into a grin. His face was more wrinkled than she remembered, and his tortoiseshell glasses had new frames. There were thin streaks of grey splitting through hair the same colour as hers. 

He picked up the pace and met her halfway, joining her in a tight hug. Aurella grinned against his shoulder, hugging him back. She could feel the rough wool of his green knit sweater beneath her fingers. Despite the sunny day outside, there was a distinct chill in the air of the bookshop.

"How have you been?" Her father squeezed her tight. Beneath the dusty smell of the old bookshop, Aurella could smell her dad's cologne. He had been buying the same one for as long as she could recall from a witch who worked in the Leaky Cauldron part-time. "Is there any news of your specialization yet?"

Aurella shook her head. "I've been good, and no, no news." She had sent him a letter recently, detailing everything that had happened in the last month. Well, almost everything. She had left out a few things about Henri. Specializations were for older students at Beauxbatons, where they got to apply to focus on a certain magical study. Normally letters were sent out by August, but they were late this year. Aurella had applied for three, with Ancient Runes and Language Translation being her first option. 

"Come on, let's get you settled in," Michael spoke. "I'll close up early and we can pop over to the Leaky Cauldron, have you eaten yet?"

Aurella shook her head. Other than a light breakfast when she left Paris-- she didn't trust the floo powder to not cause her to throw up-- she hadn't eaten.