A/N: It's been far too long since I've written anything. So I thought I'd write something fun that's only a few chapters long. I have a vague idea where this story might lead, but it's not set in stone yet, I'm hoping to surprise myself.
It was a drizzly British summer day in August. After a spell of sunshine the week previously, the weather had returned to it's normal drudgery with the sky a pale shade of grey, mottled with the darker steel of rain clouds that served as a blanket keeping some of the still, close summer air hugging the atmosphere. It had given the air that beautiful earthy smell. It was a smell that Venetia Amata revelled in.
Pulling her raincoat tightly around her, she hopped from the bus to the pavement and darted across the road halting the muggle traffic and causing several car horns to blare. She blew kisses to the irritated drivers and with a mischievous glint in her eye she slipped into the café across the road.
Venetia Amata was the sort of witch that could command the attention of any room. Her charisma was huge, and her very presence could turn heads without so much as a sound or an action; it was as if she was surrounded by a magnetic field that would attract the gaze of anyone with the fortune to come across her.
A several of the formica-topped tables were occupied; a group of builders sat nearest to the counter, swigging tea and laughing loudly over their crude tabloid newspapers. A woman with three kids, one in a pushchair sat by the window, clearly flustered over her unruly brood. A teenage boy and girl by the wall, holding hands and whispering sweet nothings to each other over the salt and pepper shakers. They all turned to catch a glimpse of her as she waltzed over to the counter. The builders jeered and wolf whistled, she threw them a wink before turning her back. Her ears pricked to the sound of the teenage girl scalding her boyfriend over the blatant scrutiny and appreciation of Venetia's behind.
It wasn't until she had ordered two slices of toast and been given her tea in a polystyrene cup before she noticed another patron, sat staring out into the dismal street, watching the passers by and stirring the contents of his own polystyrene cup absent mindedly. He hadn't bothered to turn and stare when Venetia entered; in fact she was sure he hadn't even noticed her presence at all.
With a mildly bruised ego, she slunk into the table opposite the boy's, studying him carefully. He was young, maybe early twenties, but a year or two older than Venetia, with an aura of wisdom about him. He continued to stir his beverage, but his gaze had moved to stare at the rapidly cooling contents of his cup. This boy was most definitely a wizard, she could feel it in the air, that kind of spark when more than one witch or wizard shares a confined space.
The toast she had ordered was plonked haphazardly under her nose, more than slightly overdone, yet almost stone cold. She grinned at the waitress nevertheless, causing the poor muggle girl to blush. Venetia really did have an effect on everyone. Everyone it seemed, but the sandy haired boy opposite her, who promptly abandoned his drink and swept past her without so much as a glance.
To Venetia, this was a challenge.