m a g p a e

      “i think the effort is obvious to anyone who steps foot in there. if i was a fair bit younger i’d likely spend a fortune, myself.” … but he’d be lying if he said that he hasn’t already made several very large, very unnecessary purchases. purely out of interest. purely to experiment. purely for fun.

      they really are ingenious—the whimsical collection of bits and bobbles. things that spin, things that explode, things that make one suck (but for fun!). and through all of it weaves the personality of fred and george weasley. that part of fred, he’s sure, will always remain.

      “anyways… i’m sorry to have taken up so much of your time here. it really is remarkable, what you’re doing. i commend the efforts of someone who’s lost so much, and still has the heart to help others.” 

“   i’d  like  to  say  we  don’t  rely  on  younger  kids  and  their  allowance,     but  we  do  a  little.   ”      admitted  with  a  little  smile,    one  clearly  well  established  in  mischief.      he’s  not  unknown  to  mayhem,     and  not  unknown  to  being  cheeky,       but  in  truth  he  was  always  conscious  of  how  much  money  children  spend  in  his  shop;     the  last  thing  he  wants  is  for  someone  to  get  in  trouble,     because  then  they  won’t  be  allowed  to  come  back.    

          impulse  takes  over  and  hand  grasps  for  a  pillow,  flinging  it  in  his  direction  once  found.  there’s  a  small  hesitation,  torn  between  desire  to  admire  her  throw  or  just  disappear,  before  she  settles  on  the  latter  and  tugs  blanket  over  head.  “  i’m  not  touchy.  can  i  not  even  wallow  in  peace  around  here?  ”

invention’s been pressed into her blood ,      a legacy passed down from mother to daughter and sometimes she thinks it hurts like splintered bones and sometimes it’s the lightest feeling in her chest .      cheeks work upwards impossibly wide until the expression takes over the expanse of her face ,     delight coming at the ingenuity .

❝  i can tell .      you’re really smart with this stuff .  ❞

always  a  joy  to  share  time  with  another  who’s  blood  runs  thick  with  invention.       another  who  appreciates  the  art  of  creating  something  from  nothing,       of  making  something  unique  and  new.      and  to  receive  praise  for  his  work  from  someone  with  shared  passion?      it  made  it  ten  times  sweeter.

“  .  .  .    do you remember the night of the yule ball?  ”  she mumbled suddenly,  gaze still fixated on the wall behind him, or trailing the movements of people who would shuffle by their booth: either quietly or at a drunk, haphazard step of the upbeat tempo playing throughout the restaurant. although quinn bitterly stated that they weren’t children anymore, the knots in her stomach and the need to be elsewhere had made her feel otherwise, especially at the memory. it was like they were teenagers again; all sharp tongues and longing gazes. quinn’s shoulders rolled back and pinched together as if she had something to prove she was anything but the meek little girl she used to be.  “ you .  .  .  kissed me after.  nobody had ever kissed me before that. in fact, i don’t think anybody even looked at me before that. ”  quinn chuckles then, it being more of a sigh than a laugh. 𝚗̲𝚎̲𝚊̲𝚛̲ 𝚖̲𝚎̲𝚕̲𝚊̲𝚗̲𝚌̲𝚑̲𝚘̲𝚕̲𝚒̲𝚌̲. a juxtaposition from the echos of joy coming from the opposite end of the restaurant. finally, quinn holds his gaze, and it was as though the world around them had blurred, facing only in a rear - view mirror. just as it always had. quinn’s elbows rested onto the table, chin rested on top of chilled knuckles.  “ did you mean it then? ” a beat. if the rest of the world had been blurry like in a rear view mirror, the way her stomach twisted further into knots, she was sure that motion sickness would follow promptly after her next question:  “ would you still if i had asked you to kiss me now? ”

of  course  he  remembered  the  yule  ball.        remembered  trying  to  look  his  best,      trying  to  make  sure  she  had  a  good  time  and  a  good  date.   feeling  somewhat  responsible  for  her  enjoyment,       to  the  extent  of  wanting  to  make  the  night  as  magical  as  possible.      just  a  small  kiss.      just  a  kiss  for  the  sake  of  one,      wanting  night  to  end  as  beautifully  as  it  had  gone.      he  hadn’t  meant  it  then.      not  in  truth.      she  was  a  little  younger,     and  he  had  no  mind  for  romance  or  intimacy;      far  more  worried  about  various  pranks  with  his  brother.        but  now? 

she  was  all  he  thought  about.      morning  light  reminds  him  of  her  the  moment  he  wakes,      thoughts  cast  to  how  life  would  be  should  she  wake  up  beside  him  every  morning.        reading  by  soft  lamp  light  before  he  sleeps  seems  far  more  dreary  than  letting  mind  run  wild  with  the  possibilities  of  her.          they  were  children  before;      they’re  not  now.