Rowan blinked in surprise, as she rested her gaze upon him. His mask was gold like hers, but that was where the similarities stopped. Unlike her own (hopefully temporary) silver curls, his mask elegantly matched equally golden locks. He cut a rather intimidating figure in an all-black suit with golden swirls adorning the lapels; he was rather well built too. She couldn't see well enough to determine the color of his eyes, but something about the way he held himself struck her as familiar. To be honest, Rowan thought, he looked as if he'd just stepped out of one of those beautiful High Renaissance paintings they'd studied in Muggle Studies, like a Michelangelo or Botticelli or —
Rowan froze.
Or a Raphael...
But - but surely he must have recognized her?! No, not entirely, she thought, as she remembered her previous observations as well as the early evening's debacle with her younger sister. But had he recognized her voice? Was that why he was being so nice to help her find her broach?
Ro quickly glanced around to see if any of her co-workers were near enough that she might spirit herself away and avoid telling him of all people why her hair was a different color. But no, she couldn't move. It was as if the white embroidery on the hem of her dress had come to life and rooted her to the spot. Was she really so unrecognizable with different color hair? Or so easily...forgettable? Even with her hair a shade that so starkly contrasted to the usual darkness her hair held.
"You're too kind," she responded, willing her voice to sound even and not as if she were a suspicious debutante attempting to hide something. She should tell him it was her. After all, if she knew anything about the man she had tutored all those years ago at Hogwarts, he likely wouldn't react well to feeling like he'd been bested. But instead, she heard herself say: "I'm sure it's around here somewhere, surely you have something much better to do with your night than to spend it with me?"
Why in Merlin's name did that come out sounding as a dare? Why hadn't she told him it was her?
Rowan froze.
Or a Raphael...
But - but surely he must have recognized her?! No, not entirely, she thought, as she remembered her previous observations as well as the early evening's debacle with her younger sister. But had he recognized her voice? Was that why he was being so nice to help her find her broach?
Ro quickly glanced around to see if any of her co-workers were near enough that she might spirit herself away and avoid telling him of all people why her hair was a different color. But no, she couldn't move. It was as if the white embroidery on the hem of her dress had come to life and rooted her to the spot. Was she really so unrecognizable with different color hair? Or so easily...forgettable? Even with her hair a shade that so starkly contrasted to the usual darkness her hair held.
"You're too kind," she responded, willing her voice to sound even and not as if she were a suspicious debutante attempting to hide something. She should tell him it was her. After all, if she knew anything about the man she had tutored all those years ago at Hogwarts, he likely wouldn't react well to feeling like he'd been bested. But instead, she heard herself say: "I'm sure it's around here somewhere, surely you have something much better to do with your night than to spend it with me?"
Why in Merlin's name did that come out sounding as a dare? Why hadn't she told him it was her?
![[Image: 8aGHMmh.jpg]](https://i.imgur.com/8aGHMmh.jpg)