𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐭𝐚𝐥𝐚¹- hp.

𝐱. our truths are written in careless words.

꧁—— ❦ ——꧂

                   Incessant sultry beams seared the pavement below her feet, emitting off it in barely visibly vapour, humidity layering itself upon her skin like multiple heated blankets, and the material of her skirt stuck to her damp skin, screaming for her to go inside.

Lavinia grimaced as she reluctantly unrolled the waistband of the black pleated skirt to an appropriate length ( at least mid thigh, Fran Fine was her fashion inspiration after all ) tucking in edges of her jumper that had fallen out; she hoped the Dursley's were smart enough for air conditioning, but they were unintelligent people at the end of the day.

Nodding in approval, she bent down to retrieve the pan of butterscotch pie she had made earlier in the morning; Petunia Dursley was not worthy of butterscotch pie at it's best, hence the second pie cooling in the fridge for her and Harry tomorrow. Laying her palm flat underneath the pan she knocked on the door, biting the inside of her cheek to hold back a frown when Vernon answered the door.

"Hello, Lavinia." Vernon smiled, greedily eyeing the pie.

Lavinia falsely grinned, "Hello, Mr Dursley. I made homemade pie for dessert." She told him as she held the pie forwards.

Vernon opened the door wider, stepping to the side. "Thank you." He said. "Just put it in the kitchen."

Lavinia watched with a baffled look as he turned away and walking back into the living room, most likely sitting down in front of the telly. With an eye roll she made her way towards the kitchen, thinking, lazy cow.

Entering the kitchen a small smile grew on her face at the sight of Harry, but it quickly dropped into a frown when she realized he was finishing the last of the cooking. Granted, she had shown up early in hopes that she could spend time with him, but what she didn't understand was why he was the one doing the cooking when there were two perfectly capable ( that's a lie of course, they reminded her a bit of wet towels ) adults in the living room.

"Hallo, moojie jongen." Lavinia greeted as she walked towards the counter, placing the pie down. "What are you doing?"

Harry jumped, avoiding her gaze while he stirred whatever was in the pot. "Hullo, Vin. I'm just finishing this for Aunt Petunia."

"Uh huh." Lavinia said. "That's weird, considering I just saw her knitting in front of the telly. But what do I know, I'm just a guest."

"You're early." Harry pointed out with a slight flush, attempting to change the topic.

She nodded, moving to stand beside him. "I wanted to see you. Is that a crime?" She laughed, standing on her tip-toes to peer over his arm into the pot.