Munch & Mingle PV OCC

WC: 206

Dialogue: #160309

The invitation had been sitting in his satchel for almost a week now, having started to get soft around the edges from the many times he had folded and refolded it. A picnic on the Great Lake. A fantastically simple idea, and therefore, all the more delightful. Sundays were reserved for slow days. He stood at his mirror in the Gryffindor dorm, buttoning his cuffs on an ivory turtleneck, pulling on his chestnut colored overshirt of wool which held the subtle scent of cedar from home. Cream pants ended neatly at trainers, completing the ensemble with a well-worn brown belt and a plaid scarf tossed nonchalantly around one shoulder. Comfy enough to lie down on the grass under the beech trees, and yet very clearly him. His mother had always insisted that elegance came from not making a big show of oneself but belonging precisely where one is.

Another quick look into the mirror brought no further result than a pleased nod. The journey down to the lakeside was rather slow. The castle appeared to be much more peaceful on Sundays. The portraits talked in lower tones, the owls flew languidly above, and somewhere far away the bells announced the hours. The autumn began to tint the surroundings with amber and russet, and the leaves fell off the trees in leisurely manner. Evander found himself pondering about how many such afternoons he will remember in years to come. Hogwarts seemed to have some strange ability of turning simple things into something nostalgic.

With the approach to the Great Lake, the picnic became visible. Lavender and white spreads were under the beech tree, lanterns were swinging between the branches of the tree, and the wind chimes were ringing each time the breeze found them. The flowers adorned the centrepiece, and an unbelievable variety of cakes, pastries, fruits, sandwiches, and sweet things turned the lakeside into a scene from the fairytale. It was beautiful, yet in a different kind of way.

He just brought it on. His eyes discovered Marcella quite quickly. He allowed his lips to curve into a slight smile as he saw her make the finishing touches. It is something that one could respect in people who create happiness by infusing bits of themselves in their creations. With ease and without disturbing the peacefulness she had so carefully arranged, he crossed the rest of the space between them. "Marcella!" he greeted in a whisper whose volume was no higher than the gentle breeze itself. With a look around the picnic, his eyes went back to her again. "You have made this afternoon seem as if it was meant for us all along," he added with a soft laugh, as the corners of his eyes were barely crinkled. "I daresay the lake itself looks rather happy at your presence."