He caught up just as she was about to turn the handle, muttering something sour about the light outside as he thrust it open ahead of her. Charley had to give the man a sidelong look, starting to wonder if she'd stumbled into a vampire's den rather than just a drunk's. Out the doors, the sunshine was warm and the air was fresh, unlike the dingy, musty quarters in the cabin. Her arms rose as she stepped out, feeling the rush of satisfaction to be out of that smelly hideaway at last.
"Ahh, no, I en't never goin' back into one of those pits," the urchin declared, with plenty of wistful glee. The sunlight was too freeing, why would anyone duck into a fireplace to travel. "Gimme a broom an' I'll jes fly on there."
Charley looked pointedly back inside the cabin, then to the figure of impatience standing by its door, beckoning as if she were a dog. She could have believed him if he did, the man looked mangy enough to think of dogs as his fellow packmates. Now that he was out in the sunlight, he looked much less like a dog —and much more like the man who had saved the tangled netting from the Black Lake in Hogsmeade.
"'Course, if you'd had a broom, I wouldn't've been the prettiest thing in that place." She grinned broadly at him, straightening the errant curls from her shoulder and replacing her cap. Her mood only dampened slightly at the obvious sight of scuffs and creases in the fabric of her nice dress. All Charley could do now was brush away the dust and scowl at the rest of it, wishing greatly she had never stepped foot in that awful fireplace in the first place.
Not like she could do anything about it now. And the man was offering help, at last. The urchin stepped up to take his kerchief, only blanching a little at the obvious stains of sweat —she hoped— on its fabric. She wiped it against his palm first before hers, making a note of it. "Don't want yer soot an' my soot mixing, now do we?"
She grasped his hand and held on, tightly enough that he might regret his mangy, ornery demeanor somehow, but mostly so the urchin wouldn't fly away from him in mid-air. Or however apparation worked. It had to be better than the floo.
"Ahh, no, I en't never goin' back into one of those pits," the urchin declared, with plenty of wistful glee. The sunlight was too freeing, why would anyone duck into a fireplace to travel. "Gimme a broom an' I'll jes fly on there."
Charley looked pointedly back inside the cabin, then to the figure of impatience standing by its door, beckoning as if she were a dog. She could have believed him if he did, the man looked mangy enough to think of dogs as his fellow packmates. Now that he was out in the sunlight, he looked much less like a dog —and much more like the man who had saved the tangled netting from the Black Lake in Hogsmeade.
"'Course, if you'd had a broom, I wouldn't've been the prettiest thing in that place." She grinned broadly at him, straightening the errant curls from her shoulder and replacing her cap. Her mood only dampened slightly at the obvious sight of scuffs and creases in the fabric of her nice dress. All Charley could do now was brush away the dust and scowl at the rest of it, wishing greatly she had never stepped foot in that awful fireplace in the first place.
Not like she could do anything about it now. And the man was offering help, at last. The urchin stepped up to take his kerchief, only blanching a little at the obvious stains of sweat —she hoped— on its fabric. She wiped it against his palm first before hers, making a note of it. "Don't want yer soot an' my soot mixing, now do we?"
She grasped his hand and held on, tightly enough that he might regret his mangy, ornery demeanor somehow, but mostly so the urchin wouldn't fly away from him in mid-air. Or however apparation worked. It had to be better than the floo.
![[Image: bZbZdaH.png]](https://i.imgur.com/bZbZdaH.png)