There is something small-town-good about her, he feels. It's absurd, really, as their as city as city can get in good old England. Granted, it's not quite Liverpool, but it's certainly not small, and only sparingly good. Yet there she sits, Finchly born and bred, and still, her easy-going smile and sweet, sultry eyes convey the tale of a girl who barely knows what is outside her door, yet knows very much about the world at large.
And here is where it gets strange, Charlie admits.
Because of all things, it's this worldly, small-town-good-girl that has him thinking of love.
º¤ø,¸¸,ø¤º°`°º¤ø,¸ (sometimes, who we are is more than we've been - anonymous) º¤ø,¸¸,ø¤º°`°º¤ø,¸
In her world, she is perfectly ordinary.
Oldest of three, a pet hamster, a regular telly, and a yard with a white picket fence. Dark hair, dark eyes, a step-mum who's a doctor and a dad who is an English professor. Her favourite colour changes weekly, her favourite book is Cinderella and her best friends are her next door neighbour and her older cousin.
Rose Celia Grant, as regular as the next.
For her eleventh birthday, she receives a new set of coloured pencils, a book on Greek Mythology, one of those techno-coloured swirling tops Eddie won at school, and her very first post, addressed to Miss Rose Celia Grant.
From then on, Rose Celia Grant is not as regular as the next.
º¤ø,¸¸,ø¤º°`°º¤ø,¸ (friends are made by what we don't say) º¤ø,¸¸,ø¤º°`°º¤ø,¸
Anne's first ride to Hogwarts is the best one of all. Between the excitement of being sent off with Bill and Charlie, the new set of school robes, and her very own wand, it's hard to imagine anything better. Her future is so bright, hopeful, exciting, that she can't help bouncing about the train.
And if her enthusiasm has her knocking into a slight, smiling boy of eleven, so be it.
"So sorry," she apologises swiftly, as that's what one does when attempting to avoid making enemies.
"S'alright," he grins, and sticks out a sticky hand in greeting. "I'm Winston."
"Winston?" Anne gives his hand a nice, firm shake. "That's a grand old British name. I'm Anne."
"Anne what?"
"Anne Prewitt."
"Winston Grant."
And from then on, Anne Prewitt and Winston Grant are fast friends.
A/N: Alright, I'm really doing this one, I promise I am. And it's going to be spectacular. So hang in there, alright? Please don't be shy, review and message me all you like.