Success was not something Cora was generally used to feeling, particularly in terms of dealing with her great grandmother.  However, she’d been so pleased with Cora’s purchases that she didn’t ask any questions about what else she had done other than shop (even though Cora had been walking on egg shells almost all week).  The woman was none the wiser, and didn’t even seem to care.   

She didn’t even ask questions when Cora asked for Saturday afternoon off from the shop.  She did insist that she come in on Sunday to do some work… but Cora couldn’t complain.  She’d gotten what she wanted out of it and managed to not only leave on time, but also keep to her word.  Since she’d been unable to pay for anything on their date, she had run to Alohomocha and purchased some mini tarts from her favorite grouchy neighbor (who also happened to be getting a suit from her).

With dessert situated, Cora also had to get herself ready before she met Thomas.   Even though it had rained earlier in the week, it was a lovely day today, and Cora only had to shrug on a knit cardigan before she headed to the park – practically skipping in her far more practical than usual shoes.  (The ground was still a tad bit soft and she didn’t want to ruin anything else she had.)

After an only vaguely awkward greeting – cheek kisses with directions, on Cora’s end getting fudged so they’d start going the same way, and an arm pat that was probably more fit for Quidditch players than two people on a second date, but… it would get better, Cora was sure of it.  How couldn’t it when the sun was out and everything was beautiful. 

The beauty of the day was only magnified by the spot they picked, in a little grove with some trees and yellow buttercups in the grass.  After they arranged their space and sat down, slipping into conversation, Cora picked one of the flowers and held it at the tip of her nose.  “You know, they say if the yellow reflects on your nose you love butter,” she smiled, “Is it yellow?” 

Thomas had spent a good chunk of his week remembering his... well, what was it called anyway? Outing with Cora. Was it a date? Was it just a fun time? But she wanted to go on a date. Another date? It was so frustrating, trying to guess what was happening. Perhaps just going with the flow of it would be a better (less stressful) way of dealing with it.

As if he could relax enough to do that. He’d spent the better part of the morning making sure his little bag was packed. In it he had everything he thought they could need for a proper picnic, tent and chairs included. Thomas didn’t know how muggles got along... This way, he could sling it over his shoulder and when they got to where they were going, he could just pull out what he needed.

Which, once they got to where they were going, was exactly what he did. If his cheeks had burned and he had laughed his way through setting up the little tent, then that was a byproduct of what they were doing. Thomas had stumbled over his words, telling her how wonderful-beautiful-gorgeous-pretty she looked.

After they had settled down and Thomas had opened the bottle of white wine, he’d felt much better. Not completely at ease, but mostly, anyway. Smiling, he shifted and leaned forward, staring at her nose before eyes flickered back up to hers. “A little. Do you eat them? Do... you like butter?” That seemed a reasonable response; qualitative analysis or something. If a and b happens, is the product c true? His eyebrow rose in question before he picked up his glass, taking a sip. It wasn’t often that the sun came out to shine down in London; it wasn’t even that cold!

Absentmindedly he tugged at the bow tie. “So... what’s your favorite type of pie?” Cherry was sitting on the table, waiting to be cut into. Thomas pushed the brim of the hat he was wearing up away from his eyes, tilting it back on his head a bit; he was too fair skinned to be bothered with a sunburn before it was even warm enough to wear short sleeves.

Expectations completely exceeded at this point, Cora was just having a good time.  A bottle of white wine was open and there were glasses out and they were sipping, after the ordeal of setting everything up and awkward greetings.  It did make her feel good though, especially after how many positive adjectives were used to describe her to start.  She certainly fumbled with her own words, impressed and delighted at how dapper he looked (it seemed to be the only fitting descriptor worthy of his appearance, though she struggled also with handsome and cute…). 

An issue of higher importance, however, really came up, regarding her buttercups. 

“You don’t eat them, silly!” she playfully scolded, “the flowers are poison.”  It sounded much less insidious in her mind than when it came out and Cora blushed, fumbling with the flower just a bit.  “But I do like butter,” she answered with a shy smile. 

Why she was being shy, of course, was really lost to her.  Her cheeks would color thinking of how bold she has been, but it seemed like a couple days separated could remove much of that boldness.  “This will be the test if you’re actually French or not,” she leaned forward and held the flower out under his nose, searching for the reflection with amusement.  “I don’t know, Thomas,” she leaned in a little bit more, tilting her neck so she could peer under the tip of his nose, “if the flower is right, you might need to explore the possibility of mistaken heritage,” she teased, reaching up to weave the flower behind her ear in her hair. 

“I think my favorite pie though,” she paused, taking a ginger sip of her wine before she started again, “would have to be cherry.”  She liked the color, she liked the flavor – it was a perfect dessert with the tart fruitiness of the cherries combined with the sweetness of the crust and sugars… “I brought some others too,” she motioned to the little basket, “mixed berry is another favorite.” 

She shifted in her seat, looking to the table.  “We should cut into it,” she practically bounced out of her seat, propelled upward through her own strength and hovered over the pie while she grabbed the knife to prepare to cut.  “How big do you want your piece?” she asked, sliding the knife through the center of the pie. 

Why were there fairy tales about buttercups reflecting to show ones like for butter if you couldn’t eat them? In fact, if one were to go along that same line of questioning, why were they named buttercups at all? Maybe don’t-eat-these-cups would be better. He blushed slightly over the fact he didn’t know the flowers were poisonous, but he grinned in response to her confession.

Eyebrows rose as he attempted to look down at what she was doing, eyes crossing. He laughed; he had no idea why he was bothering trying to see. His gaze turned back up to her face, eyebrows raising in disbelief. “Mistaken heritage? Perhaps...” When the flower was gone, he rubbed at the tip of his nose, sighing and smirking. If it wasn’t for the many similarities between his family and him, his brother’s insistence that he was adopted as a child might have had more sting.

Siblings. Conversation turned to pies, however, and an appreciative rumble in his gut agreed with her words. Patting it as if to tell his stomach to just wait, Thomas nodded in agreement. Berries were good; he did love a good tart as well. He laughed as she set on the pie, picking up his glass and taking a small sip. “Medium sized.” If his stomach had any say in it, it wanted half of the pie. Thomas had to be the smart one and remind it that there was plenty of food around.

In fact... He leaned forward and picked up a piece of cheese and cracker, biting into it while the wine was still flavoring his mouth. Perfect. “It’s a rather nice day in England.” As if he had expected nothing but terrible rain and gloomy days. He had grown up in England; a good chunk of his life was spent between the estate on the large island and the halls of Beauxbatons. Eyes took her face in, the way the shadows played on her neck, how the front of her dress gave a teasing look at her upper chest.

He swallowed and smiled to himself, taking another sip of his wine before finishing the small bite of cracker and cheese left. “I love how you styled your hair.” Scratching the back of his head, he almost groaned at himself.

Cora was happy to slice into the pie and reach for one of the little plates that had come in the basket they’d brought.  Really, it was the cutest thing she’d ever seen – with utensils and plates and all the necessary things to have a proper picnic.  She’d seen pictures of things like it, and read about things like it, but when they opened it and it was like that, she practically squealed with glee.  It was too adorable.

The blue and yellow flowers danced on the plates and matched the tent – it was just too lovely.  Taking the plate, she delicately scooped the piece of pie onto it and laid a dessert fork next to it before handing it over with a sunny smile.  “Here you are,” she chirped with delight before turning back to the pie to cut herself a slightly smaller piece.

With her plate securely in her hands, Cora curled her legs up under her and gingerly stuck the fork into the crunching crust and the soft layer of filling before bringing it to her mouth, a hum of appreciation bubbling in her chest.  It was delicious.

She licked her lips, making sure to clear any remnants of buttery crust or tangy fruit off.  “This is amazing,” Cora motioned to the plate with her fork, giggling at his compliment.  She lowered her eyes, biting her lip.  “I didn’t do anything special, really,” she reached up and tucked one of the few loose strands of hair she left out behind her ear. 

He was so sweet, she thought to herself as she uncurled her legs in order to scoot her chair a little closer to him.  “I like this,” she put her plate down momentarily and reached forward to tug on the bowtie, “You styled yourself quite well,” she giggled and leaned back to pick up her plate again, resuming her prior position, legs under, pie in hand and another bite in her mouth. 

“You tried this, right?” she looked up at him, “it’s to die for,” she informed him enthusiastically, holding up a piece on her fork for him, just in case he hadn’t and he definitely needed to.   

Thomas figured whoever sold these picnic baskets had made quite a find when they put it together with a small tent for the day. If anything, it only gave him ideas. He much preferred a little more room in his tent; was it bad if he had plans for their next adventure? If she wanted another adventure, of course...

Accepting the piece of pie, Thomas couldn’t help but grin, inclining his head in her direction. “Thank you.” While she worked at her slice of pie, he sunk his fork down into the side, pausing before he scooped it up as he watched her face. She definitely made it look like that was the best pie she’d ever sunk her teeth into. Thomas blinked himself to reality when she looked to him, grinning in agreement with her - not that he had tried it yet, but he could agree that it was probably delicious.

And then she was messing with her hair - it pulled at his gut, twisting his stomach just a little as he licked his lips, smiling softly. Modest or not, she looked amazing.

Her compliment forced another twist of his belly, a grin and blush slipping out quickly together. Eyes darted down to her forearm; he resisted the desire to reach down and kiss it. “Thanks... I, uh, just... wanted to look nice for you.” Well that wasn’t obvious. Tugging a little at the bow tie, he shifted in his chair and looked back down at his plate. Oh yeah, he had a piece of pie to attend to. Fingers grasped the fork end lightly as he went to pick it up, hovering in the air as she spoke again.

Looking back up at her, he grinned sheepishly; he hadn’t tried it yet. Of course, when she offered him a bite off her fork, he moved down rather animatedly, realizing only at the last moment that perhaps it was a little rude to just take her up on the offer. Blushing, he lightly accepted the bite and pulled back, eyes darting to hers. “Thank you.” It was muffled around the bite as he moved it to his cheek, grinning, closed lipped, while chewing on it. He’d just had a bit of her cherry pie, and it was one of the best decisions he’d made yet.

An appreciative groan escaped before he picked up the bite he had been balancing on his own fork. “Wow, that is pretty amazing.” Thomas offered her the bite he had, watching as she took it. Before he realized what he was doing, he pressed against her closed lips, lightly pecking them before half pulling back, still leaning out of his chair in her direction. He considered it a moment while the fork posed in the air, nodding finally to himself before settling back, enjoying the next bite on his own.

A swig of wine helped it go down as well.

 She felt a sort of clench at the pit of her stomach when he informed her that he wanted to look nice.  “You succeeded,” she informed him, not wanting to let him think she didn’t think so – or it was unnoticed.  Quite the contrary, actually, based on the fact that Cora’s entire life revolved around clothing and he just fit those robes so well.  Sometimes, with clients the robes wore the wizard – but today, there was absolutely no chance of that. 

On top of that, his attempt also meant he at least cared a little bit about how this was going to turn out– if that wasn’t obvious from the rest of the set up.  But, she’d heard and read enough horror stories of wizards with threadbare robes or mismatched socks showing up at first dates and such – so knowing that Thomas cared enough about it to look nice… it definitely made her smile just a little wider.

She was similarly pleased when he took the bite off her form and Cora had to stop herself from biting her lip and just staring at his lips as they closed around the prongs of the fork.  She really liked his lips. 

Cora was pleased, however, as he made it very clear he liked the pie and she shifted almost uncomfortably in her seat as he smiled at her, making her feel a tingle all up and down her spine.  She was happy to reciprocate though, and if it was possible, the pie tasted even better coming off of his fork. 

She smiled at him as she exaggerated the motion of licking her lips, “Delicious!” she squeaked before he was leaning forward and pressed his lips to hers and Cora was practically falling out of her seat in order to kiss him.  He seemed to just be teasing her though when he sat back down and enjoyed his pie and wine like he hadn’t. 

That wasn’t the sort of thing Cora was going to stand for.  “You know,” she smiled mischievously,  “I think my piece is much better than yours,” she accented the comment by taking a bite off her own fork and nodded.  “Yes, definitely much better than yours.”

He succeeded? He grinned to himself and sneaked a peek at her before focusing on his pie. As long as she thought so, then he had. Thomas pushed the brim of his hat a little further back, tipping it to the back of his head. It had been a definite struggle in the morning: hat hair, or sunburn? In the end, he didn’t fancy having a sunburn without a trip to the beach to blame. Plus it wasn’t as if his hair was that remarkable anyway.

Thomas realized that they were supposed to be enjoying a picnic, not just another make out session. But the more he thought about her lips and the way they felt against his and the way she tasted... He had to really focus on the things in his hands.

Raising an eyebrow at her, he turned his attention before smiling against the rim of his wine glass, setting it back down on the table. A surprised grunt escaped him. “You think so?” He cut into his pie, taking a bite as he munched on it. Then his fork moved forward, stabbing into her pie and dragging a piece away, scooping it up as quickly as he could. Laughing while trying to keep his mouth covered with his free hand, her piece founds its way into his mouth quickly enough.

“Mmmmm...” He let out a deep throated moan before nodding, waving the fork in the air before he swallowed it. “It is. How is that possible?” He grinned as his fork went to have another taste, pausing halfway to her plate. “Or maybe that’s just the mingling of both pieces.” As if having a second thought, he scooped up another bite from his plate and took it off his fork, chewing thoughtfully as he leaned towards her slightly. “Mmhm...” A finger tapped at his lips while he nodded in agreement. Much better this way.

 “I know so,” she responded matter-of-factly, giggling as he stabbed the pie on her plate.  Well, two could certainly play at that game.  Cora reached her fork over and did the same.  Of course, the other slice was delicious, and she chewed happily, trying not to laugh with her mouthful as Thomas looked utterly ridiculous (in the best, most adorable way). 

She tried to pull her plate away when he went for another piece, surprised as he stopped halfway and Cora swallowed with a laugh.  “Both?” she tilted her head to the side and licked her lips.  “That puts me in a bit of a spot doesn’t it?” she looked at him with a grin and then her eyes flicked back down toward his plate. 

“I guess I’ll have to try that – just to be sure, you know,” she grinned and darted her fork forward, digging into his pie again to get a sizable chunk before she could break into her own pie and put the large chunk of crust and berries into her mouth. 

Of course, it was absolutely delicious – though she wasn’t sure if it was really the two separate slices or merely the fact that they were being silly that made it that way, but it definitely tasted better.  “I think you’re onto something,” she smiled at him, the corners of her eyes and her nose wrinkling as well. 

“Maybe that’s the future of pie, eh?” she added with a whimsical little giggle, “sell two halves together and have it marketed to people who like to share.  We might be able to abandon our shops now and start something new.  I imagine it’d be a smash!”

“You in a bit of a spot?” He grinned regardless, not minding that she was eating off his plate. If it was his sister... he’d have already stabbed her lightly with his fork as a reminder that she had her own plate. If it was a brother, they would’ve been stuck with the prongs. Thomas liked to keep his food to himself, thank you very much, and knew from growing up with those sods that if you didn’t watch it, their ‘small bite’ would turn into half your sandwich gone.

Instead, this was Cora, and if she wanted to eat his pie off his chest, he would have let her. Wait, no, that was - his cheeks colored in as he glanced down at his plate, grinning to himself. Well, either way, he would let her have his pie. Without stabbing or sticking her with his fork.

When she snuck another piece past him, he let out an undignified gasp. Because he hadn’t even expected it. The sarcasm in his head was dripping to his ears. Grinning, he watched her eat, licking his lips in afterthought. “The only way to know for sure is to experience it.” When she agreed with him, his face lit up; Thomas sat up a little straighter, shrugging as nonchalant as he could muster. Then she went further with it and he tried to keep up.

Start something new? Thomas tugged at his ear lobe and tilted his head, chuckling. “Except I don’t know how to bake pies.” And there was their main snag. Thomas set his plate on the table and moved his chair a little closer, feeling it settle back down into the soft ground. He leaned forward towards her, hands rest on his knees as he did. Once he was just overextending himself, he held his position; if she wanted to come in for more, she could.

He watched her face for a few moments, eyes narrowed as he considered some things. His head was overthinking and overanalyzing and he tried to quiet it all down. A grin slipped over his lips. “I can make a pretty decent crepe, though.”

“Me neither,” Cora agreed with a silly sort of smile.  She wasn’t a cook by nature, she never had been.  Her art could go on top of a plate or a cake, if that was an option, but she didn’t make the things.  If Thomas couldn’t either, perhaps her little (play) idea was going to be derailed. 

But, there were other good things to come out of an idea like this and Cora stayed firmly in her seat as he scooted closer, biting the inside of her lip as she waited.  She hoped he was moving just to be closer, rather than something like he couldn’t hear…

“I guess our pie venture would be pretty wretched then,” she assessed with sloping shoulders and a sigh, leaning forward as well, just barely inches from his face.  She liked his face, and she couldn’t help it that her eyes drifted to and from his lips just about as often as she blinked.  She liked those a lot. 

Of course, she couldn’t imagine anyone not.  He was so warm and soft and sweet, and a very good kisser… Apparently also a skilled crepe-maker.  “Crepes to share?” Cora tilted her head to the side just a little bit more, closing the distance between them even more.

“I think I’d have to try those first,” she smiled, meeting his eyes for an extra moment, “you know, to make sure they were suitable for the customers.”  She finally closed the distance between them and placed a firm, but still relatively chaste kiss on his lips. 

There were hints of cherry on his lips and Cora pulled back after a daring sweep of her tongue over his bottom lip, “Maybe if we could get some of that flavor in there… we might never have to work again.”

If neither could bake pies, they were already in trouble. “I suppose there is no time like the present to learn.” He grinned easily at her, eyebrows raised as he gave an honest thought on the matter. Because practice could really make perfect. “I’m sure it would be a very fun venture, even if it was wretched.” Thomas swallowed in spite of himself, eyes looking down to her lips more often than not.

“To share?” He took in a deep breath and grinned, eyes dancing with mirth as he met her gaze. “I usually don’t make enough to share.” A slow wink punctuated his words. His tongue ran across his lips quickly. “I guess a taste-tester would be a really important job. Kings of old used to have them, why not a crepe-pie shop?” His words were silenced with a touch of her lips.

It sent sparks through his body, warming his face and neck before he pressed back, a tingle running down his spine at the tease of her tongue. He swallowed again and blinked, nodding in silent agreement. His hand moved up to touch her, and then he stopped, letting it hover awkwardly in the air before Thomas decided what he was going to do. He held on to the table with the awkward hand as he leaned into her lips once more.

A few minutes of playful and taste-testing kissing came to a slow halt when Thomas finally pulled back. His leg was cramping and his neck was tight, but he was elated. Reaching over, he made sure her wine glass was properly full before topping his off as well. “Do you want some... something a little more, mm, sating?” Perhaps there were cute little sandwiches in the goodies she had brought. Or he’d cut some cheese from the small block he had brought with him; cheese, crackers, and meat went perfectly with wine.

“I’d really just be the latest in a line of esteemed eating professionals,” Cora grinned at his suggestion that kings and nobles of old had them.  She bet some people still did, thinking the were important enough to warrant that sort of thing.  She imagined some of their oldest customers felt that way.  Or, perhaps they had little pets they’d feed their food to first, just to make sure their house elves weren’t plotting against them! 

The thought was almost ridiculous, but then she remembered some of the people she’d met in the shop and reconsidered: it wasn’t outside the realm of possibility.  Antiquity still had its place in their society, after all. 

More important though was the playful kissing that followed, and the sort of sad whine that accompanied their parting,.  Though, honestly, her neck did feel like the side of her ear was pulling at her shoulder and sitting back in her seat she looked at the wine he was pouring and smiled, “Thank you!”  She reached out and took the glass, blinking at his question.

Something else? 

Frowning, she looked about and realized he was talking about food!  That made much more sense on a picnic of all things.  She smacked her lips after a sip of wine and nodded, placing the glass back on the table before she leaned over the arm of the chair and put her hands into the bag she’d brought.  “I have these!” she pulled out two of the sandwiches that were the exact ones he’d gotten the day they first met.  She’d recognized them in the case at the café and couldn’t pass them up. 

“This time you don’t have to share,” she teased and held out the sandwich wrapped in white butcher paper with a cheerful giggle. 

While she looked puzzled, Thomas was glad she focused long enough to pull out the sandwiches. His eyes widened in excitement at realizing what they were. Yes please! “I would still share if you wanted some.” Even if he didn’t want to... Thomas would be nice to Cora. Thomas eagerly accepted his sandwich, grinning as he finished unwrapping a portion from the paper.

“This really is one of the better sandwiches I’ve tried. I know of a few amazing places in France, but... for a good lunch, this is pretty fantastic.” To show how much he liked it, he took a bite, a soft moan escaping as he nodded his head in agreement. Perfection in a sandwich, that was for sure. Both feet found the ground as he took another hearty bite, making happy little noise as he shifted in his chair.

He followed the bite down with a gulp of wine, another satisfied groan escaping with a grin. “That is a perfect pairing. You have to try it.” As if he needed any encouragement. Thomas lifted her glass up and held it for her, waiting until she took a bite to hand her her glass. He waited with baited breath. “Isn’t it fantastic?”

...some time later...

Laughter slipped out easily; Thomas shook his head before pouring the rest of the third bottle of wine in Cora’s glass. His was half way gone, but there was a fourth bottle that he reached for, tugging it out of the bag with a grunt. “Wait, so, what exactly did they say when you tried to fit them?” He blinked to focus, making a face before he finally settled on the top of the bottle, corkscrew sinking into the cork.

Cora lived to please.  She felt pumped up with pride that Thomas was so happy with what she had gotten, so much that he was gushing over her choice.  If that didn’t make her sit a little taller, nothing would. 

She took a sip of her wine, happy to take her time unwrapping the paper around her sandwich and giggled at him as he enthusiastically took a bite.  He was very adorable, she thought to herself before placing the glass on the table and finally started to unwrap the sandwich.  She was feeling a little light headed, like she was floating, and she assumed that was a little more from wine than anything – a clear signal that she needed food. 

“Okay, okay!” she giggled, her hands fumbling with the butcher paper before she was able to take a bite and then grab her glass from him, taking a sip and smacking her lips at the finish.  “Delectable!” she announced with a happy laugh before going in for another bite.

Time passes here

The paper from the sandwich had been chucked into the picnic basket some time ago.  The wine glasses had been refilled a number of times since, as well.  Despite the hearty sandwich that she’d eaten, she was definitely feeling it.  She giggled and tipped her glass toward him to catch the last of the wine from… she didn’t even care what bottle! 

“Oh goodness,” she laughed, “This hulking beast of a Scotswoman,” she hunched her shoulders and held her arms out just a bit, like she would, “asked me if I might have something that ran a little smaller in the sleeves!” she balked with laughter, shaking her head, “bloody tree trunks and wanted something smaller in the sleeves.  She just about busted through them,” she informed him, “stitching needed fixing for a week!”