trish. (havetea) wrote in thecellardoor, @ 2018-04-16 20:47:00 |
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Trish had taken a long handful of minutes cleaning up the mess that had spread out over the table in her office. "Office," of course, was a bit of a broad term for the room that served as waiting room, research area, tea snug, and accidental bedroom. Having not fallen asleep over an assortment of potion notes, she managed to put everything up and tidy the room. She felt bad over it, now that she shared the space with Scorpius, when she was too tired to be bothered to contain the flurry of her curiosity to at least one side of the table. At least she managed today. One day streak -- she was doing wonderfully. The books were put up, the tea pot cleaned and put away, and a small little basket of a few biscuits and what fragrant herbs she'd managed from the kitchen were set atop the cabinet in a strange ritual she'd been keeping for the past few weeks. Another gift from her grandmother, the idea behind appeasing the house spirits for good luck and protection. A silly thing, perhaps, but there was something comforting about the ritual and the idea of it. She made her way through the trees to the bridge and across. It was a lot easier, now, to return to house number five than it had been to walk into house number eight. A smile crept across her lips as she walked up the few steps, at the thought of George having put a kettle on. It only grew wider as she stepped into the house, closing the door quietly behind her. "George?" She called out curiously. Her feet carried her towards the kitchen, curious as to whether he'd actually put a kettle on, or if it had only been cruel bait. |