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five, ࿐a cruel summer
STEVIE MIGHT NOT be a morning person, or a night owl, but she was definitely not a fan of afternoons. It was an awkward time of day that stretched before her, hours left till she finished work with no breaks to look forward to. Midsummer afternoons were scorching, a blazing heat encroaching upon Stevie, moistening her skin with sweat, and drying her throat to sandpaper. British summers weren't particularly gruesome, but this week marked a horrid heatwave that had brought London to a hazy still. Heat was radiating off of the cobblestones as she made her way back from lunch at Leaky Cauldron.
There was a blister on her toe made rather uncomfortable by her kitten heels, and her robes were rather impractical. Her cup of gillywater was nearly empty and she was sipping at the last dregs of the watered down beverage through a straw. The Ministry was not as busy as it usually was around lunch hours, but it was nearly two, (she hadn't gotten out of stealth training until nearly one), making it easier to find an empty elevator with a couple of interns levitating stacks of memos.
By the time she'd entered her department and plopped down at her desk, she was drowned in sweat, and bloody exhausted. Not to mention, she was on duty for the Order with Marlene and the Prewett's today, meaning she didn't get to unwind at all. She just wanted ice cream when she got home, and to watch something on the telly.
"Why so cross?" Alice asked as she sat down at his desk, looking rather cheeky. "Bad morning?"
"Have you seen how bloody hot it is?" Stevie grumbled, resting her head on the cool material of her desk. "I went to the Leaky Cauldron and the street was boiling. They teach us how to warm up with a charm, why not teach us how to cool down?"
"We wizards have never been the most logical have we," Alice chuckled. "Though I'm sure there is something for it."
"Damn right," Stevie chuckled, scribbling at her paper, and snatching a sweet from Alice, unwrapping the Drooble's bubblegum. The auror always seemed to have something sweet with her, and if you reversed her pockets, you would find many wrappers. Frank teased her about it all the time.
Stevie pressed her forehead to the cool wood of her desk, the smell of lavender shampoo filling her with a longing to see Marlene. It seemed all she could think about these days was blonde hair and gunmetal lined crystalline eyes. Pink lips, flushed cheeks, and dimpled cheeks, with a spray of freckles splashed across her nose. Stevie felt her cheeks grow hot.
Bloody hell. Maybe she was falling for Marlene Mckinnon. Maybe she had fallen already.
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