22 May 1892 - Fortescue Ice Cream Parlour, Diagon Alley

They were standing outside the shop rather than it, Ritchie’s hands curved above his eyes to shield it from the blinding sun of the afternoon. Diagon Alley, or at least the part where Fortescue’s Ice Cream Parlour was, was bathed in a syrupy golden light that made the air feel thicker than it should be; even the glass of the shopfront threw it back at him in a blinding flash. He squinted past it, scanning for Irene’s familiar figure.

She was helping to paint something for the shop, although exactly what she was painting was something that they hadn’t really agreed on. Ritchie trusted her judgement not to make something he hated, and well, he also trusted that she’d do a good job. “There she is!” He said, as if remarking to an unseen audience, although the only other person in the shop today was the cashier, and they were staying put behind the counter.

He raised a hand to wave at her as she came into view between two strolling shoppers, a soft grin tugging at the corner of his lips. Ritchie waited until she reached him before he was giving her a quick, albeit tight bear hug. He’d always had a soft spot for Irene and he knew that whatever she painted was going to look amazing; people would come just to look at the artwork, but they’d stay for the ice cream, of course.

“Thank you for coming.” He murmured as he stepped back.

---

Irene Crawley

---

  

---

Bee made the lovely grey set<3

Oh she was running late. She was really running late. At least according to her pocketwatch, which seemed to always be either five minutes slow or five minutes fast. She’d promised Ritchie she would be on time today, and here she was dashing through the streets of Diagon Alley. She’d been absolutely thrown off by the fact that she’d discovered, when packing her paints, some of them had gone missing. It was, of course, when she was halfway through tearing apart her flat that she realized she’d only left the paints at work.

Cursing herself all the way, Irene settled upon the fact that she’d have to make do with what she had. She didn’t have time to double back.

So she gathered up her paints, paint cloths, her sketching materials and her brushes in her basket and took off in a flurry. A pinch of frustration bit at her heels as the shop came into view. Ritchie was there, his steadfast figure waiting ever so patiently with nary a sign of frustration. Bless him.

“Hi!” She called exuberantly, her hand flapping in the air as she waved to him. “I’m so sorry I’m late Ritchie, I’m absolutely the worst.” She rushed to explain, nearly launching herself into his arms for a hug.

It was a casual gesture and yet Irene always looked forward to his bear hugs. His entire frame enveloped hers, and he always smelled sweet with various kinds of syrups he’d been working with that day. It was almost a guessing game she played with herself to try and guess what he was mixing up in his laboratory. “I wouldn’t miss this for the world, though!”

---

  

---

Ritchie grinned as he caught her easily, squeezing back in that half-laughing, half-scolding way he sometimes had… not that anyone should take his scolding seriously. “You’re lucky like you more than punctuality,” he hummed, pulling back just enough to look down at her, though in all honestly they both knew that he’d be here all day, so she could have shown up whenever. If he could live in the shop he would, but alas, his family scoffed at the idea.

(Ritchie was always told he needed more hobbies than ice cream, but he didn’t agree with that.)

He turned toward the shopfront. “Good, because I’m offering this whole thing for you to paint.” Ritchie gestured at the shop; outside of the awning, which was a sickly green color and probably should be changed, the storefront lacked character. It was just boring ol’ brick. “I figured you could give the shop a makeover. Something that’ll make people smile before they even get a scoop.” He had zero ideas as to what in the world that could be, but Irene was the artist, not him.

He crossed his arms, though the chocolate smear on his sleeve somewhat ruined the effect. “So? You up for it? Or do I have to bribe you with caramel first?”

---

  

---

Bee made the lovely grey set<3

She put on her most winning smile, fluttering her eyelashes as rapidly and innocently as she could before dropping the act and turning to face the shop. Her eyes roamed over the brick, her brows nearly hitting her hairline as she took in what was to be her canvas. Already her mind was swirling with possibilities - bright colors that danced across the brick, perhaps a talking ice cream cone that interacted with the children as they waited in line outside; and of course, featuring Ritchie’s best inventions.

“Oh, absolutely Ritchie,” She breathed, a smile curling at her lips as she continued to be only partially present in the conversation. Of course, the mention of caramel brought her immediately back down to earth and she looked at him, visibly perking up. “Did you say caramel?”

---

  

---