Percy found himself alone as she moved off to make him tea, and he watched the backside of her as she left. She was not what he remembered at all in school and found himself feel flushed and more eager than he had felt in ages. He recalled a younger girl, with a bouncy head of hair giggling constantly and running about, arm and arm with Ron. She hadn't talked to him very often, occasionally sassing him with her friends, to follow with a peel of laughter.
That little girl was no where to be found in this willowy, graceful woman, Percy that as he watched her return, with a smile playing across his lips. She was the perfect hostess and he deferred to her as he sat up, "Perhaps I can indeed," he replied at her comment about piano playing. He gave her a larger smile as she sat across from her, thinking of the questions he had in his briefcase that he was supposed to review with her. But her interest in Bill pleased him, and he sat up more and leaned forward, "Yes, Bill has the smartest of cottages by the ocean, right at the top of the cliff. It smells of the salt, and you can almost the waves, especially at night when you are lying in your bed," he added, coloring slightly at the topic of the bedroom. He went on, "There is something very calming and soothing about being there, to walk on the beach in the early morning," and on an odd impulse, "Perhaps I can take you there sometime. If you would like," and he gave her a smile, "I can see you walking on the beach. And Bill," he said, his eyes opening a bit wider as he realized he was speaking to her about Bill, "I meant to mention him to you. I was actually going to try to make arrangements for you to meet with Bill. He has...valuable knowledge that could help you I would think."
Percy found himself stopping, and unsure what else to say. He wasn't acting his normal formal self. He had what was almost a script that he followed, at least to start, when he visited with people; it was a method to put them at ease and allow him only to loosen up. It always worked; usually by the end of his visits, he and the individual would be talking about some various subject like old friends.
But for whatever reason, he had thrown the his entire methodical routine out the window. He looked at the purple bag, and stretching out his arm, he took it in his fingertips and extended it to her, "You were on my mind yesterday, Lavender, your case and such," he added hastily, "I hope you won't be offended that I purchased you something."