A raw Potter ficlet
I owe you guys a real entry, but have this for now. SOMEONE drilled me out of my writing dry spell, and I owe it to her to share. <3
No title, no editing, no plot worth a damn.
Enjoy!
“This one?”
“That one's fine.”
“...You haven't looked.”
Matthew looked up, biting back his irritation. Why couldn't his words be taken at face value? No, he had not, in fact, been paying attention to the transaction, but that was on him. At any rate, the cut the man had indicated was, in fact, fine, and Matthew said as much again. He paid the butcher, and added the parcel to his satchel before stepping out again into Diagon Alley, his head bent. He still had to visit the baker yet, but he was already so weary of being looked at.
The baker looked up eagerly as the bell above the door rang, but Matthew raised his eyes only to avert them to the left. “Ah, Selwyn. What will it be?”
“Just a sandwich loaf today, thank you.”
There was a rustle of paper as the witch laid out a sheaf to wrap the bread. “...So. Er. I heard about your sister.”
“That's fine,” Matthew replied dully. He finally met her eye again to pay, and was surprised to find her looking at him with something akin to pity. Cringing, if only inside his own head, he asked, “Sorry, how much?” The transaction was concluded, and he settled the bread at the top of his parcels before mincing quickly away from that look.
Back at home he was surprised as he unpacked the groceries. The tomatoes from the greengrocer were bruised, but he had probably not been paying attention when he chose them, after all.
He also had a fillet of haddock. It was Eastertide, and nearly a week before he'd have fish again. He couldn't even remember going to the fishmonger's, besides.
But that, again, was on him.
No title, no editing, no plot worth a damn.
Enjoy!
“This one?”
“That one's fine.”
“...You haven't looked.”
Matthew looked up, biting back his irritation. Why couldn't his words be taken at face value? No, he had not, in fact, been paying attention to the transaction, but that was on him. At any rate, the cut the man had indicated was, in fact, fine, and Matthew said as much again. He paid the butcher, and added the parcel to his satchel before stepping out again into Diagon Alley, his head bent. He still had to visit the baker yet, but he was already so weary of being looked at.
The baker looked up eagerly as the bell above the door rang, but Matthew raised his eyes only to avert them to the left. “Ah, Selwyn. What will it be?”
“Just a sandwich loaf today, thank you.”
There was a rustle of paper as the witch laid out a sheaf to wrap the bread. “...So. Er. I heard about your sister.”
“That's fine,” Matthew replied dully. He finally met her eye again to pay, and was surprised to find her looking at him with something akin to pity. Cringing, if only inside his own head, he asked, “Sorry, how much?” The transaction was concluded, and he settled the bread at the top of his parcels before mincing quickly away from that look.
Back at home he was surprised as he unpacked the groceries. The tomatoes from the greengrocer were bruised, but he had probably not been paying attention when he chose them, after all.
He also had a fillet of haddock. It was Eastertide, and nearly a week before he'd have fish again. He couldn't even remember going to the fishmonger's, besides.
But that, again, was on him.