Her fingers traced the brim of the mug, half empty of plain black coffee that she rarely drank and didn't even like. More of a pumpkin juice type since well since longer than she could remember. Pumpkin juice is immature, too pure and too child like; today she wanted to be a woman. He sits across the large table with his own mug of coffee with added sugars and a touch of milk holding a copy of the Daily Prophet covering his face. An occasional mutter or grunt of displeasement coming from him was the only sound escaping the room. She was unaccustomed to such silence during a meal, growing up in a house of constant movement from her family and countless friends. Breakfast was a time to gather, talk of plans for the day, and to feel connected with one another before scarpering off. She was growing tired of the lackadaisical behavior being forced upon her.
"Lucius?" She dares to try speaking, and smile sweetly as he lowers the paper to meet her eyes.
"What is it?"
"What are you reading? Anything I should know about? Or at least anything interesting?"
"Nothing you should worry yourself over just typical ministry crap and lies. Oh on page 3B there is an article about strange sightings and changing migrations of butterflies you might like that." She didn't give a damn about butterflies and hated the fact he again brushed her aside like a naive child. She wasn't so naive last night and after all children don't drink coffee.