𝐃𝐀𝐍𝐈𝐂𝐀 || 𝐑𝐄𝐆𝐔𝐋𝐔𝐒 𝐁𝐋𝐀𝐂𝐊

VIII - first not date

When their eyes met, he sent her a boyish smile which she returned to him.

"Dani, I love you, but I think if you make the guy wait another minute he might just combust.", Evan poked at her from the corner of her eye.

"I'll see you later.", she replied standing up.

"Later.", Evan waved at her.

Danica turned back in the direction of Max and walked towards him. She felt a bit out of place for wearing a sage green chiffon dress with a matching cardigan, deeming it too fancy for a 'friendly stroll', but upon seeing him put as much effort into his looks she felt relieved.

"Good Morning, Maximilian.", she greeted him, once she was standing a few feet away.

"Good Morning."

She raised an eyebrow at him, surprised that he didn't correct her calling him by his full name, but she brushed it off when she saw the nervous state he was in.

"Oh! This is for you!", she pulled the flowers up from his side. It was a messy and quite obviously handmade arrangement of field flowers, but Danica thought it just made it all the more endearing. She did however find his awkwardness confusing.

"Thank you.", she gratefully accepted the bouquet into her hands. "Well, lead the way then.", Danica gestured towards the exit.

"Right," his shoulders relaxed and his smile widened, almost in disbelief that she was actually agreeing to go with him. "let's go. I have something planned."

"Planned?", she chuckled while they walked down the hall with her arm intertwined with his. "didn't expect such effort for a 'friendly stroll'."

"I simply couldn't miss the opportunity to make it perfect.", Max chuckled as well.

When they step outside, the weather puts a smile on her face. It was indeed perfect and she raised a joking brow at him asking if this was also one of his arrangements.

Despite it being the last week of September, the air was sunny and mild. The soft breeze gently enveloped their bodies, carrying a smell of fresh pine and the remnants of the damp morning dew which glistened under the golden sun rays.

The courtyard was bustling with friend groups and couples, chatting away on benches or near the fountain. And far far away from the edge of her eye, she saw a glimpse of emerald-clad figures flying on brooms on the quidditch pitch.

"Where are we going?", she turned back to loom at the courtyard, searching for an empty spot.

"Not, here. I prepared things somewhere else."

"Wow, Maximilian."

"Just Max."

"Maximilian,", she laughed, starting to enjoy their little banters, "so you didn't only plan but also prepared things. I must've made an impression on you."

"You sure did. I'd be a fool if I didn't put all my dedication into this.", he matched her laughter, finally relaxing. They walked out of the courtyard and into the long field that stretched around the castle grounds and led towards the direction of the Black Lake.

Fool. Such a British thing to say. Which is why her question regarding his very British accent popped back into her head.

"You said you came from Germany, right?"

"Born and raised."

"If so, sorry if I'm being too nosy, but why do you speak wi-"

"With a British accent?", he chuckled and looked at his feet then back up at her. "Yeah, I hear that a lot. The story is kind of tragic, honestly."