Cauldrons. The most bizarre object to do a report on. Yet Percy Weasley will end up with much more than a report on the thickness of cauldron bottoms, for He is rather keen on a witch for the first time since Penelope Clearwater, the witch that is...
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"It will be the event of a century. Ireland against Bulgaria, no offense to Harry but they have the best seeker in the world!" Ron boasted to the twins.
Percy looked up from his copy of the prophet, and drinking a sip of hot tea he simultaneously rolled his eyes. "Quidditch." He mumbled.
"Yes Percy, Quidditch." Fred responded, the three of them now looking at him. "How can you possibly despise the best thing in the universe?"
"It performs no purpose." He added dryly, not bothering to lift his eyes from the paper.
"Is that so? What about a certain Ms. Pottage?" George asked mockingly. "Do you suppose she has a liking for the sport?"
Percy narrowed his eyes, pulling his lips into a scornful nature. "My life is not dictated by what the majority deems as the best thing in the universe. And for the up-tenth time, I have no involvement with Aenwyn Pottage." He took another sip. "And who made this tea, its hardly strong at all?"
"Perc, you put the kettle on." George commented, trying to hold back a grin.
"You people are unbelievable. I should consider moving out." Percy stated, as if deciding it a sudden idea. Although in actuality, he had been saving money for the longest of time in hopes of a quiet place.
He checked his wristwatch, starring at the hands that still hadn't moved. It felt the afternoon would never arrive. He spent the rest of the morning shut in his room. After finishing what he had for the ministry, he popped into the floo and personally delivered his work to the desk of Mr. Crouch.
As he was now walking down the main atrium of the ministry itself, he looked to his wristwatch again. He smiled at the time, and apparated without hesitation to the front of Diagon Alley. He rarely would dine at the pub, but occasionally would grab a table and nurse a cup of coffee while he worked. This time he looked to the black sign in the shape of a Cauldron swinging open the painted door to match, and an anxious feeling stirred beneath his skin.
"Percy. Overhere."
He spotted the witch who was waving him over. He moved over to the table, and when he sat in the seat accross from her she was simply beaming with energy.
"Okay, so I've read the prophet this morning. Isn't it fantastic? I simply can't wait."
He inhaled with a stiff grin. He enjoyed her excitement, but was nervous on the matter she was so exhilarated about. "You mean the Quidditch World Cup?"
She nodded her head. "You do not like quidditch do you?" She asked more quietly. "I don't like the sport as much as I like going to games. I couldn't tell you the darndest thing about how to play."
"No, it is alright. Charlie, Bill and I would always practice in the yard. I guess I'm not quite fond of it as I used to be." He looked down to the table, mulling over if his answer was the truth.
To his relief, Aenwyn took this point in their brief conversation to go order them a pair of butterbeers. She was gone before he could offer to fetch them. So he remained, sitting alone at the table which was in one of the quieter corners of the pub.
She returned less than five minutes later, setting the drinks down on the wooden surface. As he gripped his glass it felt cool to the touch. His attention was on the foamy liquid until her voice called his eyes to glance upwards.
"Percy?" She started. "Would you consider this a date?"
He thought he was still shocked by the cold temperature of the butterbeer, but now he controlled the urge to let his jaw hang open. He hadn't the slightest idea how to reply. When he had asked her to grab a drink earlier that week, it was simply an offer. He hadn't wished to give her the wrong impression. But if this outing were a 'date', would that be the wrong impression?
He felt stupid. How long had he been sitting there, without uttering a single word? He tapped his fingers nervously on the handle of the glass. "Do you want myself to consider this outing a date?" He inquired, steadying his voice. He swallowed immediately after, nervous of her answer.
She shook her head up and down.
He smirked, his eyes glancing down only for a moment, until he met her gaze once again with full confidence. "Then yes, I would consider this a date."
She simply smiled in return, which eased some of his nerves. "The Quidditch World Cup then. If it wouldn't be awful of me to ask, would you accompany me?" She raised her eyebrows as though she were begging.
"Yes I have to go for work. I am sure Mr. Crouch would not mind."
And as much as Percy insisted he loathed the sport, as he watched the witch across from him take a sip of her butterbeer, he was now eagerly awaiting the event.
After they finished their drinks, Aenwyn leaned upon her hand, tucking a stray lock behind her ear as her eyes filled with excitement. Percy followed her eyes to the view of the Alley, rain heavily pouring now against the windows.
"Come on." She ordered. And without delay, her hand had grabbed his own and pulled him after her out of the shop. They ran through the rainy Alley, untill they were within the shelter of the shop. As they discarded their heavily soaked overcoats, she pulled him yet again to the window of her flat.
"Look." She whispered.
Percy stared out the window, observing the dark ominous storm clouds. As a clap of thunder emitted, the entire building seemed to shake. Then followed a flash of lightning over the rooftops, lighting up the sky with brilliance.
"I often watch the storms, just to see the lightning. Somehow even with magical fireworks I find it captivating in comparison." She spoke, her eyes focused out the window as well.
Percy was rather curious now about the girl. He had many questions, yet decided he could ask them later. "Quite captivating indeed." He said aloud.
