Mid-Morning


Sylvain sat on the steps of his hut, nursing a cup of hot coffee and watching the ominous clouds in the distance that would soon threaten their prospects of good weather. He had slept in and only just tumbled out of bed to throw a heavy knit sweater over his pyjamas. Marcel, his border collie, was lazily sprawled on the grassy earth by his feet. The air here smelled like ripened pumpkins and damp earth - with just the slightest hint of autumnal flowers.

A good day in spite of imminent rain. Still, he knew the drizzle would only add to somebody's certain melancholy.

Feliks Spectre was making his was down the slope from the castle, sleeves rolled up and dark curls a riot. The little boy reminded him more of Johann than Balfour; but there was that something recklessly earnest, too.

"Tiens!" Sylvain called out once Feliks was close enough, and he nudged his dog slightly. Marcel sprung up, running to greet their visitor. "You come to sit with me?" he greeted with a smile.

Having read the papers when he was making coffee on the stove, Sylvain was prepared to keep his friend's son quiet company if it was necessary. He didn't doubt that Balfour would soon be in touch, but letters can only do so much.

Feliks grinned as he dropped to one knee, letting the dog shower him with enthusiastic licks. He tousled its merle coat and rubbed noses like he would with the huskies in Edinburgh. Marcel yapped happily. What a nice creature! It did not care about newspapers or gossip. Feliks got up and dusted off his jeans, approaching the professor with a nervous look.

"Oui. Is it okay?" he asked - they both slipped into french, consequently, to accommodate uncle Sylvain.

            "Of course," the wizard gestured around him at the general inactivity. "You are okay? I saw the horrible publication."
"Mm. I don't know. I was not okay but I think I am a little okay now." Feliks replied, joining him on the step. "I spoke to... to my friends. They were nice."

There was an awkward lull, in which Marcel resumed his laziness and the sounds of the Forbidden Forest filled the morning silence. Birds calling out to one another, the rustling of crisp leaves in the wind. Professor Onuris drank his coffee. It was peaceful. Feliks observed his surroundings.

He reminded himself how impossible it had been to even think of being at Hogwarts, just a few months ago. Of knowing people like papa or Johann or Naomi or Wesley. It was nice here. No matter what that article said, it couldn't make him leave Hogwarts. He belonged here.

            "You want to see the bees? Come, it will keep you busy."

Feliks glanced at the teacher, who was already getting up. The idea of being given something to do was nice; better than sitting around worrying about his classmates or his Defences textbook. "The bees?" he asked with a wrinkle in his pale brow.

What bees?