“He could smell her crackling white apron and the faint flavor of toast that always hung about her so deliciously." Today had been a downright disaster for Zinnia: she’d woken up later than normal to find that she’d fallen asleep with a piece of charcoal near her face, leaving light black marks across her skin. She’d tried her best to scrub it off until she at least looked more flush than normal rather than like a clown with terrible makeup on – she was going to have to try harder to make sure the stayed on her desk rather than her bed where she often liked to sketch before bed; inspiration struck her at the worst possible times.

Then she’d been terribly busy at the store (more so that she tended to lose herself in work hours at a time and lost track of it until someone or something demanded her attention), nearly missing lunch until she had the tell-tale ache slowly building in her stomach that she wouldn't last long without some sort of sustenance. Though Zinnia could have eaten what she brought with her, she immediately dismissed it; a hot coffee and croissant sounded wonderful, plus it would give her a chance to stretch her legs. Just how long had she been sitting, working on that arrangement? She gathered her satchel, a pink fabric with flowers that bloomed or closed depending on the amount of light around, and made her way to the many shops nestled in Hogsmeade.

She arrived there, hungry, with an irascible frown etched across her expression. It was just late enough that the lunch crowd was scattering, leaving several empty tables near the window that looked out into the streets of Hogsmeade. Much to her chagrin, they were out of nearly everything from the ministry workers coming in for breakfast, leaving her to settle on some bread with jam. At least they had coffee.

The cashier rang her up, and Zinnia managed the tiniest of forced smiles as she rummaged through her satchel, grasping for her coin purse. It wasn’t until she flipped up the smaller flap that she felt panic begin to clench around her stomach. She usually kept her coins right here and it wasn’t right there.

Someone behind her coughed impatiently, and she felt her cheeks flush red. “I’m sorry, just one moment,” She murmured, ducking her face behind a thick blanket of her hair. Where would it be? Had she dropped it? Had someone stolen it? Or was it somewhere in the mess of her room? It wasn't as if the bag was enchanted to be larger than it was. Well shit.

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