2:3o PM

Madame Puddifoot’s, to Desdemona, will always be a place of bittersweet memories. She could still recall that moonlit night when Preston Blake grabbed her hands and pressed his lips to hers in a desperate attempt to convince Debbie Paxton that he was utterly and completely over her. Despite the smirk-laden whispers that fell over the Great Hall the next morning, Desdemona convinced herself that there must have been an inkling of truth in his spontaneous act of affection.

Though her friends were kind enough to hide the truth from her, her ogre of a cousin was very quick and eager to set the records straight. “Do not think for a single moment that a filthy Half-blood such as yourself would ever be anything more than a tool to the rest of us,” Emilia had reminded her. Now that Desdemona thought more about it, cruelty really was a Vonderheide trait, one, which thankfully, did not manifest in the illegitimate lovechildren born to Muggleborns.

Desdemona pushed these thoughts away as she stepped into the Hogsmeade teashop.  Her Hogwarts days were long over. They have been for some time. Preston and Debbie and Emilia were the past. It would be best if she forgot them as surely and swiftly as they have forgotten her. Besides, if she had a sickle every time she walked into an establishment that she had an embarrassing ordeal in, she wouldn’t need the royalties from her books. Hmm, wouldn’t that be grand? Desdemona smiled lightly to herself and walked up to the counter. The woman behind it greeted her with a friendly grin and gestured towards the rosewood table set with lilies and daffodils—her usual.

“Not today, Martine,” She murmured while her eyes glossed over the room. As usual, Madame Puddifoot’s was a popular spot among the young and in love. Desdemona felt a pang of jealousy in her heart. How she envied them! Looking back at Martine, Desdemona smiled wistfully, “Just a cedar tea to go please. Thank you.”

As Martine went away to prepare her order, Desdemona rummaged through her bag for payment. She fished around with her fingers but felt only parchment, quills, and ink bottles. The amount of stationery on her was enough to last most people a lifetime. She shook out the contents of her bag onto the counter and stared into the empty lining.

No coin purse. No spare change. Nothing

An embarrassed flush fell over her cheeks. She could’ve sworn she had her money with her when she came out of Scrivenshaft’s Quill Shop.   Martine returned with her drink and eyed the messy stack of parchment and quills on her counter with bemused wonder. “That’ll be seven sickles and four knuts,” She smiled hesitantly, “Is...everything alright, Miss Vonderheide?”

“I—” Desdemona opened her mouth but no words came out. She brandished her hands hopelessly in the air and gave a nervous little moan.

 Oh sweet Merlin, why do these things always happen to her?

This was the Falcons' day off training. It didn't come around very often, but when it did it was most welcomed. Augustus was meeting Arielle in Hogsmeade in forty-five minutes so he could take her shopping. She loved all of the quaint little shops around there, and he knew that summer was her favourite time to be here, as there weren't as many students for her to bump into and she could envelope herself in quality time spent with her father.

This gave Augustus the rare chance to enjoy spending time with his daughter, too. The fact that she was away for so long during the year was bad enough, but he spent a lot of time away while she was home due to training for the new season. Not only that, but she was growing up fast and soon she would be leaving Hogwarts and going off to do her own thing. Augustus felt a stab of pain at that thought and grimaced. It wouldn't be long before she wouldn't want to go and see quidditch matches with her old man.

He tried to push those negative thoughts out of his head and concentrate on the day ahead. She was his little princess, and would still be treated so as long as she would let him. Today would also present Augustus with the chance to ask her about this new 'boy' and 'dating' thing, which he was still uncomfortable with, regardless of how much Aurelia had tried to set his mind at rest.

With a while left yet before they were due to meet, Augustus thought it would be the perfect opportunity to read the Daily Prophet and see what other garbage Cornelia Crabtree had written about him. He was, afterall, her favourite topic, and generally not in a good way. The amount of bad press he had due to her was astonishing for one person. He pushed open the door to Madam Puddifoot's and made his way into the warm surroundings of the cafe, intending to purchase his favourite Vanilla Chai tea and sit with his paper in the corner.

He made his way over to the counter and ordered his tea with a friendly smile for the girl serving him.

“Is...everything alright, Miss Vonderheide?”

Augustus looked up from counting his change at a young woman a little flustered, holding her hands up to show there was nothing there. Uh-oh. She didn't have any money. Augustus looked down at the change in his hands and rattled it about a little. Did he have enough to pay for both drinks? His brow furrowed as he stuck his hand into his back pocket and rummaged around a little, producing a galleon coin. He held that out along with a few other pieces of change. "I think that'll cover both." His wonky smile and kind eyes on the woman serving.

Desdemona’s head immediately whipped around at the sound of his voice. She smiled graciously at the tall man behind her who offered to pay for her drink but was determined to avoid his gaze. An embarrassed flush crept over cheeks until they turned ruby red with heat. Martine accepted his payment and nodded in response, no doubt relieved that a potentially embarrassing ordeal had been averted.  With downcast eyes and a shy smile, Desdemona took her tea and passed him his.

He was much taller than her and she had to look up while speaking to him. “You’re very kind, sir,” She murmured, her big blue eyes shone with gratitude, “Thank you.”

“Of course,” Desdemona added quickly with an assuring smile, “I fully intend to repay you for your troubles. I am so sorry. You must believe me when I say that this is the first time something like this has happened to me. I mean, I wouldn’t have ordered the drink if I couldn’t pay for it. That would just be...” She paused and gave a nervous little laugh, “Silly.”

“Naturally, I am dreadfully embarrassed by all this,” Desdemona felt herself blush even further, “I could’ve sworn I had my wallet with me when I came out of Scrivenshaft’s. I must’ve left it there, or worse yet, a pickpocket took it off me when I was coming over here, in which case, I would feel very sorry for the poor man because I don’t think I had more than seven galleons in there. You see, I don’t like to carry a lot of money with me because coins are heavy and so are ink bottles. I am a writer. I don’t suppose you have heard of—”

She glanced at him quickly and wondered if he recognized her. Doubtful, she thought, to say the least. He didn’t seem like the type who would peruse the romance section of a bookstore. Besides, What if he took offense to her work? He certainly wouldn’t be the first male to do so. Desdemona clamped her mouth shut and changed the subject.

“Well, I write,” She shrugged and waved her hand dismissively, “But what I'm saying is...”

Desdemona paused and frowned. Had she been talking this whole time about ink bottles and writing? A self-conscious grimace tugged at her lips. Just because he paid for her drink didn’t mean he wanted to hear her life story. The man must think her a simpleton.

“I’m rambling, aren’t I?” She cringed and asked him.

“You’re very kind, sir, thank you.”

Augustus waved his hand. "It's no problem." He said quietly as she passed him his tea. He took hold of the saucer and slid it across the counter so that it was in front of him, and stirred some sugar into the cup. Suddenly, the woman started to talk. And not just normal talk. She was...babbling. Yes, babbling. That was the only way to describe the mass of words that were spilling out of her mouth in such a speed that Augustus found it difficult to keep up.

He had been about to say that she had no need to repay him as it had been such an insignificant amount of money, and t was his pleasure to buy her a drink, when she began to talk again. His eyes widened as he watched her, a blush trickling further across her cheeks as she spoke with such fervour. What had she said there? Pickpockets? Augustus' hand automatically shot to his pocket and felt around for his wallet. He let a small amount of air escape his lips as he felt it still sitting snugly between his trousers and his skin.

"I don’t suppose you have heard of—”

She paused, and once again he had been about to cut in, when she began to talk again. he was starting to feel a little dizzy and overwhelmed by the conversation, when she said what seemed to be her final piece.

“I’m rambling, aren’t I?”

He smiled his slightly lopsided smile, his eyes crinkling a little as he scratched nervously behind his ear. "Um..." He paused. "Yeah." He laughed a little despite himself. "Yeah, you are."

“Oh...”

Desdemona’s face fell as he confirmed what she already knew. A deeper flush than any that had ever graced her cheeks crept over until she was as red as an autumn tomato. A part of her was secretly resentful of the fact that he told her the truth, and very unflattering it was. She smiled uneasily at him, all the while wondering how much better it would’ve been for the both of them if he had told her a lie instead to spare her the humiliation. Anything along the lines of “Oh no! You’re not babbling spews of nonsense at all!” would’ve been quite nice, she thought.

Desdemona made sure to avoid his gaze lest he should see the flabbergasted look in her eyes. She took a deep breath and silently gulped her tea, feeling all of a sudden very pathetic and miserable. Why was she born with the social grace of a sea cow?

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to...” Desdemona murmured, trailing off upon realizing that she was about to begin another rant all over again. Looking at anywhere but him, she wished whole-heartedly that she could rewind the situation and be given a second chance. It wasn’t often that people did nice things for her and she felt dreadful for the fact that she was repaying his kindness by wasting his time. An awkward silence settled around them and she felt it very keenly.

“Well, this is...Um...,” She muttered aloud, “I think I’m just going to go crawl into a hole and die of embarassment now, thank you for the tea...”

She let out a little sniffle and cringed. Now, she just sounded plain ungrateful.  Though the cue would’ve been for her to leave, she found her feet unable to obey the command.Rooted to the ground out of humiliation and the fear of offending this man, Desdemona squirmed under his gaze and was unsure of what to do next.

He realised after he had said it that perhaps it wasn't the most chivalrous thing he could have come out with. Something more along the lines of 'No, don't be silly - why ever would you think that?' or 'I find your conversation rather alluring' would have been more suited to the occasion. But as per usual, Augustus was Augustus. He had the social abilities of a sloth and seemed unable to not put his foot half way down his oesophagus when he was within a ten foot radius of a woman.

He felt his ears burn, and his grin turned into more of a grimace. "What I mean is...I didn't...I wasn't-" He stopped and took a deep breath, trying to ensure that he didn't hyperventilate. His expression turned into one of horror as she began to apologise. "No, please don't....apologise." He said quietly.

Then there was silence.

An extremely awkward silence. Augustus began to whistle an completely tuneless tune as he stirred the spoon around in his cup of tea. He stopped whistling and turned to the lady, about to try and break the ice, when she began to speak of crawling in a hole and dying of embarassment.

Had he not been wholly aware that his social abilities were being even more awkward than usual today, he may have absent-mindedly nodded and said 'Okay', but now he was very aware of every little thing he did. He blinked at her with his mouth slightly agape. "I...I'd prefer your-" He spoke so quietly it was almost inaudible. He cleared his throat. "I'd prefer your company." He said louder - a little louder than he'd originally wanted.

Trina Quinn had just finished a late lunch with a few of her girlfriends in Hogsmeade.  But all that chatting had left her throat a bit sore.  Of course, that could have also been as a result from singing a lot the previous night.  The friends previously mentioned had been over the night before and they’d had a bit of a soiree. Complete with loud music, lots of singing, and dancing around.  And of course a bit of alcohol.  Which was what led to the late lunch.

Now, Trina made her way over to Madam Puddifoots, where they made one of the most delightful teas she’d ever had.  Stepping in she took a look around before heading over to the line.  She’d noticed a few people around, but not too many.  Two of whom she recognized as the author Desdemona Vonderheide and Augustus Snark.  And the two of them were sitting together.  Possible romance?

Stepping up to the counter to order her African Root and Honey tea, Trina forgot about the two for a moment.  She paid for the drink and then stepped aside, nearer the two previously mentioned people to wait for her drink.  As she waited, she nearly laughed a little as she head the conversation happening.  Oh, those poor souls.  They were attempting to have a conversation, but it was turning out horribly awkward.  She glanced over for a moment, but then turned away, but still listened a little.  Trina didn’t want to appear to be blatantly eavesdropping.

After meeting Augustus at the Hogshead a week or two ago, she noticed he tended to get a bit timid around females.  And though Trina hadn’t met Desdemona, it appeared she had difficulty talking to men.  Perhaps Trina would have to try and befriend Desdemona and teach her to be more confident in herself.  And not to put men on a pedestal. They’re just humans too.  Possibly a bit messier, but still humans.

Hearing her name called, Trina was pulled out of her eavesdropping.  She took her tea with a smile and headed towards the door.  Hopefully those two would get more comfortable, otherwise Trina might have to play some matchmaking of sorts. And possibly try contacting Desdemona at a later date.  Besides, Trina loved her books, so why not befriend her?  But for now, Trina was going to head back home and relax for a bit.  So she then walked out of Madam Puddifoots and walked home.

One could cut the tension in this place with a knife. Desdemona bit down on her lips and looked away. This always happened to her. There she was, having tea with a perfectly nice stranger and she just had to make things awkward for the both of them. Though in her defense, it wasn’t like she did it on purpose. All she wanted was a pleasant conversation that would not entail any embarasing social blunder on her part, was it really too much to ask?

Out of curiousity, Desdemona peered at her companion from the corner of her eye. He seemed uneasy also. Her fault, no doubt. After what felt like forever, the man finally spoke up. At first, it was an inaudible murmur that Desdemona did not fully catch. She leaned in closer with a confused frown, “Um, pardon me, but I didn’t quite catch—”

When he repeated his words, a feeling not unlike panic overtook her. Desdemona sat dumbfounded in her seat, unable to move except to blink her eyes in bewilderment. The flush on her cheeks crept away and was replaced by a deathly pallor. A million thoughts popped into her head, none of them particularly helpful in any way.

Oh good Merlin, is this for real? And why on earth is that woman behind him giving me the most peculiar look?

Desdemona grew very self-conscious, though it did not stop the trickle of warm gooey flusterness that seeped into her bloodstream. Very shyly, she tucked a strand of loose hair behind her ear and shrank into the shadows.

“Oh,” Desdemona murmured, “Um, well...” What could she possibly say to that? She clasped her hands together until the knuckles turned white and cringed a little bit, “Hmm. I would say the same thing but...I think you’re just saying that to make me feel better. There’s no denying it,” She let out a nervous little laugh, “I’m a dreadful conversationalist.”

Augustus had barely looked up when he heard the bell above the door tinkle once more, and the person behind the bar asking if she could help. His tunnel vision had practially caved in on itself, allowing only the tiniest bit of manouevre of his eyes - and it was the woman in front of him who was in his peripheral. He had, no doubt, insulted her beyond repair due to his complete stupidity, and he hoped beyond hope that he could rectify it in some way.

“Hmm. I would say the same thing but...I think you’re just saying that to make me feel better. There’s no denying it,”

Augustus shook his head, eyes wide. He would have contradicted her vocally, if his vocal cords would have allowed it. However, his throat had clammed up and he almost couldn't breathe. Then she giggled slightly and it was like music to his ears. "That makes two of us." He finally managed to choke out, after she stated she wasn't a very good conversationalist. He cleared his throat and blinked, allowing his eyes to roam free of their trap for a moment. He caught a glimpse of the person who had entered the cafe previously, and recognised her instantly as Trina, the woman he had met in the Hog's Head not too long ago. He watched with horror across his pale face as she gave a small giggle. She wasn't looking directly at them, but he could tell she had heard what had passed.

As if this moment hadn't been horrific enough, it had been witnessed by someone who knew him. Not well, but knew him all the same. He gulped as she walked out of the door without so much as a backward glance, and snapped his head back to the attention of the woman with him. "Do we...do we have to talk?" he asked, lifting his hand and scratching nervously behind his ears. "Silence is good." he shrugged and stirred his tea again. "Silence is...nice. With the right person." He looked back up again, that same lopsided grin across his face.

His words had hit a sensitive spot. Desdemona dropped the spoon she was holding and looked up at him in horrified silence. The silver utensil fell onto her place with a loud clatter. His grin drove the knife home. Her lips quivered and tears immediately filled her eyes. He had made himself perfectly clear. Apparently, he held her in such low regards that he couldn’t even stand to hear her talk. She looked away so he couldn’t see her eyes. It was all too humiliating to show weakness in front of someone who took every opportunity to insult her to the bone.

Desdemona drew in a deep breath and bit down on her lips. A mixture of humiliation, disappointment and shame marred her generally agreeable features. How wrong she was to think that he could’ve been different from all the Preston Blakes of the world. This was real life, not one of her silly, fanciful novels. If he truly thought that she had nothing of substance to say, then there was no point in staying and enduring his insults. She gathered her things and stood up. Her knees felt terribly weak and she gripped the chair for support.

“I’m s-sorry I wasted y-your time,” Her voice cracked when she spoke up, “We don’t h-have to talk anymore. Seeing that my p-presence is so offending to you, I will take my leave now.”

She tried unsuccessfully to hide the strain in her voice but a soft sniffle escaped her lips and ruined any chance of her salvaging the little dignity she had left. Desdemona knew she was making a scene and felt all the more embarrassed because of it. Crying in public was the final straw. With one last fleeting glance at him, she dashed out of Madame Puddifoot’s and swore to never return.

When he chanced a glance at the woman in front of him, his eyes widened with horror. Was she- was she crying? He went white at the thought of having made a woman want to cry. What on earth had he said? He racked his brains to try and find the instigator of the problem at hand, but quite honestly couldn't pick out anything remotely significant.

"Uh..." He started, his ears turning bright red against the ridiculously pale pallor of his skin. It was getting very hot in there all of a sudden. He bent his finger around the collar of his tee-shirt and pulled slightly as though letting some air get to his skin.

“I’m s-sorry I wasted y-your time,"

He shook his head as she grabbed her things ready to make a dash out of the door. "No, I-" he said quietly. If he was seriously trying to stop her from leaving, his lack of a voice wasn't exactly helping!

“We don’t h-have to talk anymore. Seeing that my p-presence is so offending to you, I will take my leave now.”

Offending him? "Off-offending me?" He asked, a now extremely confused expression on his face. His right eye twitched slightly as she sniffled. He hated to see a woman upset, and this was made even worse by the fact that it was he [apparently] who had upset her.

He watched with his mouth hanging open as she glanced at him once more and then dashed out of the door. His mouth was agape as he stared after her, at the door which was now firmly closed against the outside breeze. He stared for a good couple of minutes. This had turned out to be the strangest coffee/tea date he'd ever had. And he hadn't had many.