Old habits did apparently die hard, Amelia realized as she looked down at her now crumpled apron thinking she could have just cast a drying spell and had been done with it. Apparently her muggle upbringing, traumatic as it might have been, still stuck with her in the oddest ways. She flushed, though her cheeks were already pink from the cold rain and withdrew her wand to cast a drying spell on the both of them.

Her actions were interrupted by the feeling of his gaze on her, which she met with similar nervousness. She clumsily flicked her wand at her basket instead, which caused a few odd apples to lazily flop out and begin to roll away. Merlin, why did his gaze make her so self-aware of what she was doing? "Quite right!" Amelia managed to get out as she stooped quickly to try and gather the runaway fruit. "Forgive me, I forgot --" She said jokingly. "They are the height of British Society, aren't they? Practically royalty." She added, reaching out to grab another wayward apple.