Summary: Cecilia Flint finds herself lost in life after graduating from Hogwarts. With a new job that she doesn't love nor hate, a flat that will hopefully get past this year's winter, and a couple of estranged friends, can she navigate her life to true maturity?
Disclaimer: I own nothing except for my words :)
Keep in mind that this is an OC fic mostly discussing pureblood culture. It will be extremely true to canon and the main characters from the series won't be appearing much, if at all.
Anyway, this is my first fic so any criticisms/ reviews on how to improve this story will be helpful. Also, English is not mt first language so I would also appreciate it if you point out amy errors to me.
Chapter 1: Robes for All Occasion
Her hair is screwed into a tidy bun; not a hair out of place. Her robes are neatly pressed and pretty, albeit unfortunately, dyed a putrid yellow.
It makes her look diseased.
An enamel badge is pinned on her left. It reads 'CECILIE' in bold, black letters.
She stands near a rack of travelling cloaks - her hands folded - and dons the most approachable expression that she can muster.
On a clear bright day, the shop borders on empty, and even the windows show few figures walking about outside.
The bell rings, and her attention is diverted to the shop's entrance.
A trio of witches arrives, and heads towards her direction. She puts on her best smile. "Welcome to Madam Malkin's! How may I help you today?"
The oldest of them, a sullen-looking woman, glances briefly at her name tag and sniffs haughtily, "Well Cecilie..."
The misnomer causes a sliver of annoyance to bubble in her chest, but she forces it down. Instead, she widens her smile.
"I need dress robes. Two of them. Preferably in green." The woman spoke, her words flowing out in a posh and clipped manner.
She nods attentively, and looks down at the witch's two other companions. Twins, she thinks briefly.
They looked exactly the same; from the identical woe-be-gone expressions, down to the similarly coloured green robes and stick-straight hair bound with angel bands. It was almost as if they existed as a single entity and not as a pair of twins.
They stare back at her; two pairs of piercing blue eyes meeting brown.
Downright eerie.
She leads them to the rack holding the most expensive robes.
Her clothing is just like the way she is - aesthetically pleasing.
She adores all of them, and every now and then, she runs her hand through every fabric just to feel the different
sensations.
The crispness of her yellow organza summer dress.
The stiff finish of her blue poplin skirt.
The uniform texture of her purple winter coat.
It is easy to get lost in the diversity of her wardrobe; the assortment of textiles, and the uniqueness of each colour. Her clothes include every robe imaginable to her fashionably-inclined self, and she loves every occasion that gives her a chance to show off her prowess.
Especially if she gets to wear her favourite.
Out of all the pieces in her wardrobe, there is a particular article that entrances her the most. It is a pair of deep green leather gloves. She knows all the details about it by heart.
She receives it at the age of 12. It was supposed to be a surprise gift to celebrate her Sorting into Slytherin.
Sadly, she disappoints them.
They give it to her anyway, and she instantly loves it the moment she sees it. Never mind that it was too big for her hands, she still wears it nonetheless.
They come imported from Italy - handmade by some renowned artisan living in a secluded area, and enchanted with the most long-lasting warming and water-repelling charms.
The leather is surprisingly soft and supple, and at that moment, she became awestruck with the idea how something with such a rich texture can be made of dragon hide.
Its lining only increases her delight. They coat her hands in a layer of silky warmth. She finds that it is smoother than the outward skin.
She fingers the uniform hand-stitching; feels every inch of delectable leather, and finally wears them loosely on her hands.
It is pretty, prettier than whatever her preteen mind can fathom.
After an hour and a half (that seemed more like a day) of fussing and scrutinizing over the smallest of details, the trio was able to pick out suitable dress robes that satisfied all of them.
Unsurprisingly, they decided on matching green ones.
She finishes ringing up the purchases at the till. It amounts to a total of 50 Galleons, which is staggering for a middle-class family, but normal for someone belonging to an affluent wizarding family.
She surmises that they belong to the latter. Their behaviour is one that she is all too familiar with: the uppity attitude, the contemptuous tone, and the scowling expression.
They began to leave the shop, boxes in hand. Near the entrance, Madam Malkin cheerily thanks them for their patronage, and addresses the sullen witch as 'Mrs. Carrow'.
She was right - and not just an "affluent wizarding family," but a part of the Sacred Twenty-Eight at that one too.
She sees the Carrow lady crack a smile at the acknowledgement.
The bell at the door rings, and she watches their retreating figures wistfully. It was funny how things change.
She used to be like that too.
The gloves lie in the back of her closet. She doesn't wear them as often as she did in the past.
But she still loves them - in fact, they fit perfectly well now. It's just that there are many other colours more appealing to her.
Not to say that green is most unappealing. No, she likes it. It is the colour of magic - along with purple - and is present everywhere from the depths of the Great Lake to the Quidditch robes of her brother.
She is just partial to it differently.
To her, green is a lightly-coloured hue that is in the gleaming potions that she brews. It is in the clear, unfazed eyes of her best friend. It is in the Floo powder that makes her sneeze.
It isn't a dark shade that she finds ominous or depressing at all.
Much like the gloomy wallpaper of their estate's library.
Or the emerald pigment of her mother's party frocks.
Or the funereal tincture of those gloves that she liked so much.
To her, green is found unexpectedly on a passing day, at the moment when she looked out of her window and saw the English countryside - saw the tall trees and grasses swaying freely in the wide expanse.
Green is outside, and she finds it at the moment she left.
A/N: Please review pretty please please, with cherry on top