Post by Cyrus Thorn on Aug 14, 2009 21:07:09 GMT
Cyrus Thorn sighed as he glanced down into the delicate china mug he held between gloved fingers. The tea dregs that lay there confused him, and for a moment he wished he had spent the few lessons of Divination he cared to attend actually paying attention. The thought of the subject made him smile crookedly, remembering what he used to get up to in the Divination hour. Normally he would convince a girlfriend to skip class with him and find an empty room somewhere… he had never been one for pranks, leaving such naïve acts of rebellion to Peeves and the Gryffindors. Pranks to Cyrus were derogatory and almost always backfired. He preferred the far more effective method of finding a person’s weakness and using it against them in what could be called a crueller manner. Crueller, but much more fun. He knew little snide jokes and pranks weren’t his way at all.
His mind still pondering the tea leaves in his mug absently, Cyrus threw a few coins onto the table top before him. He always left generous tips in the café; it had once been owned by a friend of his fathers, who had studied with him at Durmstrang. The man had been killed in the wizarding war after being investigated by the ministry, though no solid claims had been made. His daughter ran the café now and Cyrus enjoyed her company and the way she added a few drops of brandy into his drinks when she could see he had endured a stressful day. She was a few years older than him at twenty-four. Although Cyrus knew she liked to think it a secret, he was aware of the illegal transactions that went on behind the café and often gave a few words to the ministry to put them off her trail, discretely protecting the cafe for her. As he left the small, elegant building he threw a half-smile her way and caught her own in turn.
As his eyes adjusted to the bright sky and beaming sun outside the café, Cyrus checked the time and sighed once more. He had just over an hour before he had to meet his step-mother-to-be on the outskirts of Hogsmeade, and for now would have to amuse himself. It was a difficult task; Hogsmeade bored him insanely. While the people were mostly elderly wizards, irritating Hogwarts students, or yapping tourists, the shops were dreary and Cyrus had no interest in them. Occasionally he visited other wizarding villages when he had the time, but as Hogsmeade was so easy to reach he found himself there more than he liked to admit. And this was one of those times.
He crossed the street, making a point to avoid contact with any other witches or wizards. Cyrus hated being pushed, nudged or budged in a busy road. Due to the shining sun the streets were fairly busy, wizarding families taking the chance to go shopping together in the happy atmosphere that hung around. Cyrus scowled at this very atmosphere as he watched the shoppers go by. It irritated him to see people so relaxed with the very same people who would one day – most likely – betray them, or use them, in some unseemly manner. Tugging his out-of-place winter scarf a little tighter around his neck, Cyrus strode to the end of the high street. Though he had just under an hour until his father’s fiancé arrived, he couldn’t spend another moment in the centre of the town. As Cyrus walked he had to quickly side-step in order to avoid walking into a small toddler clutching a chocolate frog; as a result, the ex-Slytherin walked instead into a slender girl to his right. As the two made contact he heard the familiar sound of glass breaking, and cringed inwardly. Although Cyrus didn’t care so much about hurting the emotional feelings of others, he knew it to be unjust to physically harm someone – especially a girl – and so apologised briskly as he did a quick once-over of the young woman. While he apologised he glance downwards and flicked his wand at the shards of glass at their feet. He barely had to whisper ‘reparo’ before the pieces flew back together and landed, whole once more, in his hand. He cocked his head at the glass item curiously. The same angle was given to the girl, as he allowed himself to acknowledge that he recognised her. Head still slightly cocked he kept the glass structure in his hand instead of giving it directly back to her. With a half-smile, he spoke just one word. “Hufflepuff.” It was not spoken in too much an accusatory tone; it was just curiously bold, with only a hint of insult lacing through that he doubted she would detect.
((Sorry for the wait! Wasn't too motivated, as you may be able to tell. Feel free to make the glass object anything; I'm sure you can conjure it to be something random that Mel was carrying. (: ))