Michaela Boot should be much too smart for this. (perfectionist) wrote in backway,
"Blood? Why?" she asked, wrinkling her nose. "Can't we use red ink?"
"It's what Muggles do," he explained. "You have to prick your finger, mix it, sign your name with it, and then put a print. It shows you're serious. I saw it somewhere. Or read it. Doesn't matter," he said, brushing it off. "The point is, that if you aren't willing to use your own blood it means you don't really mean it." Quinn wasn't quite sure if this was right, but it certainly sounded good. And official.
"I already know you'll marry me. I don't need to bleed over it," she whispered. "Really."
"It's part of the fun, Choey," he said, rolling his eyes and sorting through his bag until he found a parchment and a quill. "But that part is last. Here, you write the contract out since you have better handwriting," he told her.
"How do contracts begin? I've never read one. We should probably use special wording."
Quinn screwed his face up, trying to think of the old books in the family library, the way the ghosts in the dungeon spoke. Old things. "Lots of 'hereby' and 'therefore' and repetition. And dramatics. It should be dramatic."
"Maybe we should get a book out of the library," Cho said, biting down on her lip. "Then I can get all the herebys and dramatics right."