Categories > Movies > Harry Potter > A Professor's Apprentice
Pierre messed with his brown stresses as he walked, tugging away knots formed by annoying curls. Thin fingers teased away hair revealing damaged ends. Mumbling under his breath, the young man strapped a tight bun to the nape of his neck.
'I'm not far away now.'The brunette thought, his gaze fixed on a flat in his vision ahead.
*
The sun's rays now shone overhead the congested traffic. Tin boxes with wheels thrummed their engines impatiently as a lanky youth paced past them, undeterred by the clogged up roads of the morning. Pierre kept to a steady walking rate, the solid thump th-thump as worn boots hit the compact slabs of the city floors.
As his strides shortened, the Frenchman briskly ascended the stairs. The flat's stairs zig-zagged behind the different floors, each time a door to enter(or exit) was in front of Pierre until he managed to climb the next row of metal. The young man's legs were just starting to throb fully. The final rack of stairs to get to Pip's was nearly done and as he stepped onto the thin metal slab that surrounded Pip's yellow painted door he couldn't help but collapse beside it.
Lying with his body against crisp metal, the brunette only just realized how tired his body was. Propping himself up on his elbows and combing fingers and thumbs into his newly freed hair, his olive hands came out of his hair slick and damp. Sweat and grease became a damp mixture on his hands. Wiping both hands on sleeves, Pierre stood up to his full height of 6 ft 5 inches and gropped inside for the keys to open the yellow door.
Of course it was early morning by now, and Pierre could have knocked but he didn't want to wake Pip up. So he struggled for ten minutes, trying to fit his large hand into the letterbox, the Frenchman internally cringed with each loud jingle of the keys hidden behind the wooden block of a door. Then a padding noise was heard from inside his friends home. Soft foot falls continued until a loud, dramatic sigh was heard.
"Pierre, you do now how to knock don't you?" Pip's tired voice asked, clicking open the door with the very same keys that the brunette was trying to get himself. She opened the door, Pip's purple dyed hair before him plastered with an amused look.
"Oh right."Mumbled the tall youth, half his arm still being eaten by the door."I'll just-yeah." Succeeding the fourth time in removing his hand from the grip of the letterbox and walking into the cosy flat with Pip behind carrying his bag.(Which he had no choice over, the purple haired girl was very stubborn and never took no as an answer)
Looking around the living room in one long glance, nothing had changed interior wise, all furnishings, decorations and other items were all in the place he saw them last week. Unique decorations supported the Pierre's quirky friend's personal decorations. Heck, even the little candles burned brightly in the same exact place.This was unusual for Pip. Plopping himself down next to her on the leather three seater sofa, Pierre didn't know what to say.This was most unusual for his friend.
"So..."The brunette started, hoping that he could finish the sentence, mentally kicking himself on not thinking his words through."...Have you been busy this week?"
Sat down, cross legged and munching on a packet of salted pretzels, Pip looked up. Brown eyes hitting Pierres hazel ones. Her small face scrunched up with confusion before realizing what her old friend meant as he tried to conceal his thoughts as his eyes hit the unchanged interior, not knowing where to look. Still in her pyjamas, Pip gestured to the half full packet of pretzels, knowing Pierres hunger could be huge when walking the long distances. The lad nearly snatched the packet out of her smaller hands -skin touching for a millisecond- before Pierre apologized quite profusely. Pip laughed loudly before repeating that it was alright.
"Anyway," the younger of the two started, dragging her eyes around her tiny but comfy living room. Her decor was mainly based on her own gothic aesthetic(or style), an old favourite carpet from her parents travels lay on the floor, it's slightly frayed edges being a welcoming sight below her feet. ",You want to know about this?" The purple haired girl questioned, pointing her arms all around her living room. With a brief nod, Pierre answered her question, wiping stray crumbs from his mouth and depositing the waste in the bin."Well, no, I havent been super busy...I just prefer this. This set up. It feels like me." She explained passionately, not feeling judged at all by her french friend, who never once said anything negative at all about her personal preference. Said Frenchman nodded, not normally one to speak much in the mornings, more of a listener.
"That's understandable." He said softly, his french accent smooth as he looked at each interior design with a small smile on his scruffy face. "I'm glad you've finally found your layout design"
Quiet in the home followed.
Unlike in the streets, Pierre wasn't afraid, Pip's home held an escape from all his petty worries, bringing him back down to realism and letting himself meditate in the peace of her home.
"Right!"Pip suddenly stated, hands on hips and determined expression on face.(making Pierre silently jump out of his skin)"It's just about seven, Pierre. Are you up for Breakfast?" Not waiting for the calm reply from her friend she tugged open her kitchen cuboards, setting on her counter all of her mini cereal packets. Collecting yogurts, placing them on the counter as well as moving her fruit bowl to join the other breakfast essentials. Looking pleased with herself, the purple haired goth did a dramatic pose, nearly elbowing the essentials onto the tiled kitchen floor.
Pierre couldn't help but chuckle minutely at his friend's antics, hauling himself from the comfy sofa and into the mini kitchen. His bare feet made padding noises as he collected all the food a starving youth needed after his last meal was twelve hours ago(ish). Instead of sitting themselves both on the sofa to enjoy the earlier-than-normal-breakfast, the two teenagers both sat on the well used carpet, eating and small talking inbetween the food.
*
With breakfast over and small talk finished, they both put the bowls in the sink. The tap spilled water out with a solid 'thun-unk' as Pip swiftly cleaned and washed the two bowls, twitching a small smile as Pierre's tired form proceeded to snooze on her leather sofa. Lanky limbs were all over the place as he slept with a sweet calmness on his olive coloured face. She knew that Pierre needed a wash most urgently, the lad's hair and skin was oily with grease, but as the brunette did a tiny jig in his dreams, Pip saw no reason to delay her friends wash by a few hours.
His weary soul defiantly needed it.
So as her French friend dozed(with a newly added blanket over him and pillow under his head), Pip read in the kitchen, every once and a while checking on her sleeping friend, from underneath one of her father's Shakespearean novels.
'I'm not far away now.'The brunette thought, his gaze fixed on a flat in his vision ahead.
*
The sun's rays now shone overhead the congested traffic. Tin boxes with wheels thrummed their engines impatiently as a lanky youth paced past them, undeterred by the clogged up roads of the morning. Pierre kept to a steady walking rate, the solid thump th-thump as worn boots hit the compact slabs of the city floors.
As his strides shortened, the Frenchman briskly ascended the stairs. The flat's stairs zig-zagged behind the different floors, each time a door to enter(or exit) was in front of Pierre until he managed to climb the next row of metal. The young man's legs were just starting to throb fully. The final rack of stairs to get to Pip's was nearly done and as he stepped onto the thin metal slab that surrounded Pip's yellow painted door he couldn't help but collapse beside it.
Lying with his body against crisp metal, the brunette only just realized how tired his body was. Propping himself up on his elbows and combing fingers and thumbs into his newly freed hair, his olive hands came out of his hair slick and damp. Sweat and grease became a damp mixture on his hands. Wiping both hands on sleeves, Pierre stood up to his full height of 6 ft 5 inches and gropped inside for the keys to open the yellow door.
Of course it was early morning by now, and Pierre could have knocked but he didn't want to wake Pip up. So he struggled for ten minutes, trying to fit his large hand into the letterbox, the Frenchman internally cringed with each loud jingle of the keys hidden behind the wooden block of a door. Then a padding noise was heard from inside his friends home. Soft foot falls continued until a loud, dramatic sigh was heard.
"Pierre, you do now how to knock don't you?" Pip's tired voice asked, clicking open the door with the very same keys that the brunette was trying to get himself. She opened the door, Pip's purple dyed hair before him plastered with an amused look.
"Oh right."Mumbled the tall youth, half his arm still being eaten by the door."I'll just-yeah." Succeeding the fourth time in removing his hand from the grip of the letterbox and walking into the cosy flat with Pip behind carrying his bag.(Which he had no choice over, the purple haired girl was very stubborn and never took no as an answer)
Looking around the living room in one long glance, nothing had changed interior wise, all furnishings, decorations and other items were all in the place he saw them last week. Unique decorations supported the Pierre's quirky friend's personal decorations. Heck, even the little candles burned brightly in the same exact place.This was unusual for Pip. Plopping himself down next to her on the leather three seater sofa, Pierre didn't know what to say.This was most unusual for his friend.
"So..."The brunette started, hoping that he could finish the sentence, mentally kicking himself on not thinking his words through."...Have you been busy this week?"
Sat down, cross legged and munching on a packet of salted pretzels, Pip looked up. Brown eyes hitting Pierres hazel ones. Her small face scrunched up with confusion before realizing what her old friend meant as he tried to conceal his thoughts as his eyes hit the unchanged interior, not knowing where to look. Still in her pyjamas, Pip gestured to the half full packet of pretzels, knowing Pierres hunger could be huge when walking the long distances. The lad nearly snatched the packet out of her smaller hands -skin touching for a millisecond- before Pierre apologized quite profusely. Pip laughed loudly before repeating that it was alright.
"Anyway," the younger of the two started, dragging her eyes around her tiny but comfy living room. Her decor was mainly based on her own gothic aesthetic(or style), an old favourite carpet from her parents travels lay on the floor, it's slightly frayed edges being a welcoming sight below her feet. ",You want to know about this?" The purple haired girl questioned, pointing her arms all around her living room. With a brief nod, Pierre answered her question, wiping stray crumbs from his mouth and depositing the waste in the bin."Well, no, I havent been super busy...I just prefer this. This set up. It feels like me." She explained passionately, not feeling judged at all by her french friend, who never once said anything negative at all about her personal preference. Said Frenchman nodded, not normally one to speak much in the mornings, more of a listener.
"That's understandable." He said softly, his french accent smooth as he looked at each interior design with a small smile on his scruffy face. "I'm glad you've finally found your layout design"
Quiet in the home followed.
Unlike in the streets, Pierre wasn't afraid, Pip's home held an escape from all his petty worries, bringing him back down to realism and letting himself meditate in the peace of her home.
"Right!"Pip suddenly stated, hands on hips and determined expression on face.(making Pierre silently jump out of his skin)"It's just about seven, Pierre. Are you up for Breakfast?" Not waiting for the calm reply from her friend she tugged open her kitchen cuboards, setting on her counter all of her mini cereal packets. Collecting yogurts, placing them on the counter as well as moving her fruit bowl to join the other breakfast essentials. Looking pleased with herself, the purple haired goth did a dramatic pose, nearly elbowing the essentials onto the tiled kitchen floor.
Pierre couldn't help but chuckle minutely at his friend's antics, hauling himself from the comfy sofa and into the mini kitchen. His bare feet made padding noises as he collected all the food a starving youth needed after his last meal was twelve hours ago(ish). Instead of sitting themselves both on the sofa to enjoy the earlier-than-normal-breakfast, the two teenagers both sat on the well used carpet, eating and small talking inbetween the food.
*
With breakfast over and small talk finished, they both put the bowls in the sink. The tap spilled water out with a solid 'thun-unk' as Pip swiftly cleaned and washed the two bowls, twitching a small smile as Pierre's tired form proceeded to snooze on her leather sofa. Lanky limbs were all over the place as he slept with a sweet calmness on his olive coloured face. She knew that Pierre needed a wash most urgently, the lad's hair and skin was oily with grease, but as the brunette did a tiny jig in his dreams, Pip saw no reason to delay her friends wash by a few hours.
His weary soul defiantly needed it.
So as her French friend dozed(with a newly added blanket over him and pillow under his head), Pip read in the kitchen, every once and a while checking on her sleeping friend, from underneath one of her father's Shakespearean novels.
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