Who: Emma, George & Natalie (NPC) What: Emma's birthday breakfast When: May 13, 8 am Where: The Closed-In Cafe, Diagon Alley Rating: G for the kidlet Status: On going
George, face down and passed out on his more than lumpy couch, heard a creak. Stupid old buildings, but then he heard it again. Another pause and another creak and he finally cracked open one bleary eye to find Natalie in her pjs and sleep tousled hair, tiptoeing across his living room towards the window over looking the street.
“Please don’t try and jump out the window – it’s way too early,” he deadpanned, voice thick and gravelly with sleep. She froze, turning back to look at him with an apologetic look on her face.
“Sorry! I– well, that’s Diagon Alley right?” His W shirt hung down to her knees and the purple background made her look pale and even more wide-eyed in the early morning light. “Just wanted to look.” George nodded, scrubbing a hand over his face before rolling onto his back. He sat up, afghan draped over his lap and legs. “Are you starkers?” she squeaked. “Ewww!”
“No, I’m not starkers, Natalie," he reassured. "Good morning to you, too.” He kicked off the blanket, revealing his trousers and socks beneath. He grabbed his shirt and pulled it on, Natalie already making her way to the window, not bothering to mask her steps on the creaking floor now that he was awake.
“We came to Diagon for my birthday last year.” George sat there, watching her as she spoke, little mouth chattering away, wisps of hair falling down into her eyes. Her bottom lip slipped between her teeth and she was quiet for a long moment. Natalie stopped talking, eyes darting over to George before dropping to the floor. "She's not going to be here for my birthday, is she?"
He stood, walking over to her and sitting down next to her, back facing the window, trying to meet her gaze. When she refused to look at him, he grabbed her hand in his and sighed softly, gazing down at the floor and giving it a little squeeze. He was almost surprised when she turned on him, hugging his neck and pressing her face into his shoulder. He hesitated before wrapping his arms around her and pulling her into his lap, holding her close for a long moment.
By the time they got out the door, they were about thirty minutes late meeting Emma. Lucky for George, the Closed-In wasn't far from his house and it barely took them five minutes to get there. Natalie had been well-trained about holding hands outdoors, and she kept her hand snugly in his despite their barely knowing each other. "Do they have blueberry muffins here?" she asked excited, orange-clad feet skipping a little at the prospect. George thought being six was an interesting age. Her ability to get over mood shifts and tears amazed him.
He'd managed to get her hair pulled into a pony-tail with a little guidance from Natalie—no brushing, the hair dresser had said. Finger-combing and a bobble band would work fine. Natalie even complimented him, and was delighted by the orange bobbles he'd found for her.
"Yeah, I'm sure they do. Now, let's look for Miss Emma. Remember, she's got a streak in her hair—"
"There!" Natalie said, delighted in her skills at I Spy. She was very good at that game. George grinned, and waved at Emma as they walked over.