Wistful White Ventures | James & Narcissa
Flurry white flakes stuck to the unruly, black curls of the wizard walking aimlessly down the narrow corridor of Diagon Alley. Where else would he be days before the end of the old and the start of the new? Of course, James Potter didn't expect the alley to be so terribly soulless. Sure there was a blizzard on the way, and The Prophet kept writing about one of the harshest winters in the decade, but surely a bit of snow was not enough to scare the jolly good people away? Though the eminent thread of encountering a wand to your face could also be a very, very influential factor.
The joy of the season had eased, even in the slightest, the endless flashing news in each morning paper's headline. They were all the same it seemed, but that just made it worst. Sudden disappearances. People missing for weeks. Dead in a corner, dead in a street. But, it was Christmas. And as it happened every year, the Potter residency was filled with red and greens and golds, mistletoe and jingle bells; and of course, the merry laughter of two very, very reckless wizards at the peak of their youth. A storm passed through his house, one that only intensified when all three of his mates visited him for a lot of fire whiskey and eggnog. Chaos, yes, but a very much needed one. When the whole world was going mad, all you could do was do your own type of madness.
And as the boy stood outside of the fogged tall window, that's exactly the thought passing through his head.
He'd come down to the infamous alley on a whim. Mom and dad were off getting some goodies and groceries, and his mate truly had no sense of day or night. A teenage boy with too much time in his hands and too many thoughts in his head was not meant to stay in and rest. A good hour and a half were spent gathering much needed Quidditch garments, and walking atop small hills of snow, he'd turned around the corner ready to head home - and that is when he stopped altogether.
But it was truly the season of surprises, wasn't it?
Clad in long ivory silks - clearly expensive, he could tell even through the dirty window - and veils of the purest colors, was an unmistakable young, blonde snake. Alone. Hazel eyes narrowed as he tried to look for the figures of her sisters, a mother of blue eyes even, but there was no single soul near her. A l o n e except for the mirror before her.
"Bit cold outside for such flimsy thing, isn't it?"
If you asked him the whys or the whats that impelled him to open the door, little silver bell ringing his entrance and move forward with hands on pockets, he'd not be able to tell. Quite frankly, it could not get into his head why a young girl had to be married to a young wizard of her family's choosing; an arrangement meant over words and paper to benefit the family, first. But the wizard her family chose was simply outrageous, and in a very James Potter matter, he'd let his opinion known in the many letters writing to the creature before him. Because they were something of... close, and somehow James felt he had to say something.
"It's a pretty thing, don't get me wrong, but awfully inconvenient. It's also so bloody quiet here - is that how this goes? Pretty boring, if you ask me. "
