Coffee Date - George/Seamus at Roasted
Seamus clutched the mirror tightly and looked around. He combed his hair through with his hands absently again, checking it in the mirror. He wished he had more time to change. As it was, he’d had to grab his stuff before work, do a full shift at the parlour, and then jump into a jacket and better pants. He shouldered his bag but realized it would look dumb on his date, so he vanished it temporarily with a long swish of his wand. Hopefully his work clothes wouldn’t be lost forever, he was always rubbish with the counterspell, he’d probably need to ask Lavender or Dean to help him with it later to make sure his sack didn’t come back charred to a crisp or torn to a million pieces of sand or something equally ridiculous but predictable.
The boy spun on his heel after looking nervously into the full body mirror against the wall one last time and felt the queasy but familiar sensation of being pulled through a vacuum as he disapparated from Fortescue’s and wound up in a crowd of Muggles, who barely noticed that he had just magicked his way into their path, so long as he kept striding along confidently, he might as well have just passed someone from behind and then looped around, moving through the London crowd like a regular yuppie. He was near the Ministry now, although his destination was only two blocks up.
Seamus hurried so he wouldn’t be late and then ducked into an alleyway. He looked around and saw a sigil that must have been warded to keep away from Muggle sights but it indicated that he was going in the right direction and suddenly he watched a flight of fire escape stairs appear that he climbed awkwardly and then entered a small door. Beyond the small alley door though, you would never have guessed you were right in the middle of Wizarding London. The warmth and atmosphere was clearly magical though maybe Muggle-inspired in nature, he couldn’t place his finger on it but the smell of coffee was strong and the crowd looked eccentric and yet ordinary...for a wizard anyway. He looked around but his date didn’t seem to be around. Everyone was already paired up and talking in their little armchairs and tables. It was courtesy to sit alone while you were waiting for an anonymous swiped mirror match date, so they could pick you out when they arrived. Otherwise how would he find a boy when all he knew about him was that he was clever and charming?