"You're absolutely infuriating." He breathed out, pressing her body against the bookshelf with his own. His dark eyes brewed with irritation, and another emotion she couldn't quite decipher.
"Trust me." She said, her chest heaving with every bre...
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December 24th, 1946
Cerys' room was the largest bedroom she had ever seen. The bed sat in the middle of the wall to the left of the door, a window as tall as the plain walls standing across it, with soft white curtains made of net tied to the corners in order to match those of the bed. The window opened out to a balcony, giving a view of the lawn blanketed with snow and decorations. Cerys' eyebrows raised when she entered it, surprised with how well the Rosier's hosted their guests. One would think this was the master bedroom.
Cerys walked across the plain wood floors, her steps echoing around the room as though to make the room aware of her presence. The paintings in the room, were surprisingly muggle paintings, still and motionless as they hung from the walls. The blankets on the bed were a very light colour of blue, the sheets white along with the pillows. All the furniture in the room was made of expensive dark coloured wood. It shined under the light of the sun at every angle, as though showing off with pride its new polish and the wealth the Rosier's owned. The trunk Cerys had brought with her stuck out like a sore thumb by the bed, the metal dull and stained. Cerys could practically imagine all of the furniture scoffing at the sight of it.
Nonetheless, she didn't think of hiding it. She valued the trunk much more than a few pieces of glamorous furniture that probably costed more than her life. Her father had given her that trunk. It was the only thing, save a few clothes, before he left England to go with her mother. If not anything, at least it wasn't as old as the time she was currently in.
"So, how do you like it?" Cerys almost forgot about Evan who stood behind her. He looked embarrassed over all the extravagance.
"I think I should be asking you that with the look on your face." Cerys retorted, sending him an amused smile.
"My parents can over do things." Even said, scratching the back of his neck.
"Why? Did you plan to put me in the dungeons?" The witch asked, raising a suspicious yet playful eyebrow.
"No! No! I just— you don't seem like one to value all of this. I mean, your trunk sure does make it seem like that."
"Oh, so is there something wrong with my trunk?"
"What? No! I didn't mean— I was trying to say— well—." Rosier was cut off by Cerys' laugh, his cheeks reddening considerably.
"I know, Evan. Calm down. I was just pulling your leg." Cerys said, patting the boy on his arm to reassure him.
"Oh." Was all he said, making Cerys roll her eyes.
"How does Fabula survive with you?" Cerys said, making her way towards her bed. "Speaking of which, I assume she'll be here tomorrow, right?"
