|RATED: PG for serious themes *gasp*
||[Mar. 18th, 2005|11:57 pm]
Tom walked with a quick but steady pace, his head straightforward, his eyes unseeing, his face gaunt, as though he hadn't eaten in several days. His eyes were bloodshot. He hadn't slept. A letter was sitting, folded tight in his pocket, the paper creased deep as though it had been folded and unfolded over and over again. It was a short letter, to the point.|
I'll be in town tomorrow. Meet me outside Grimm's?
For the first time all summer he felt self conscious, crossing though the leaky cauldron in his shabby muggle clothes. As he crossed into the alley out back he chanced to remove his wand from his pocket, and point it at himself whispering what few transfiguration spells he knew that would aide his predicament. He figured that it would be impossible for the ministry to trace his doing magic in such close proximity to so many wizards, and besides, he would be far away in a few minutes.
As the spells took their effect his shabby, gray jumper became the pinstripe robes of a gentleman, and his faded trousers like new. He wasn't one for fashion; he had no taste for it. Clothes were simply clothes, but women required some... visual reminder of greatness. The clothes made the man, or so it seemed.
He walked briskly though the opening that appeared in the brick wall and made his way down Knock Turn Alley where the sun ceased to shine and the world became black with soot from ages of fire and sin. Tom moved quickly, praying the soot wouldn't dirty his magically glossy wing tips.
And then she was there. Just ahead of him. A vision of beautiful silken skin.
She smiled when he came into view. She always had.
He approached, allowing a small smile to play across his lips. She would like the reminder. And when he was before her he put a hand on her chin and kissed her swiftly on the lips.
"Then how was your summer, Ace?" he asked, smirking at the fluster she tried to conceal.