I was made to love her, build my world all around her

[viola_dreamwalk]

Seen around on the friends' list, in honor of International Women's Day:

Name a female character I have ever written (or even one you know I happen to like or find interesting) and I will attempt a drabble/ficlet about her.

If you give me a hint, theme, keyword, lyric, etc., I will use it if it sparks something for me.

Comments

[viola_dreamwalk]

Edited to fix the year in the dateline. Whoops. :(

Oxford, 1938

"It's the most terrible scandal, you know,” a familiar voice said from somewhere above him.

Albus opened one eye and saw nothing but the sky, cloudy and windswept. He’d taken up residence, earlier that afternoon, under the finest and oldest tree in the quad as if daring the bluster of the spring afternoon to turn to rain. So far he was winning, but going by the state of the sky it was going to be a close thing.

He opened the other eye.

“Hello, Albus,” June said, looking, in her crisply pressed skirt and sweater, as though she actually belonged there among the old libraries and linden trees.

“What scandal?” he said, sitting up and spreading his jacket out for her so she could sit as well.

She closed her umbrella - she was clearly not as optimistic about the weather as he was - and sat beside him. “Albus Dumbledore, the brightest boy at Hogwarts, off chasing some Muggle folly.”

“Is that what they’re saying? They aren’t remarking on June Lisbon, the prettiest girl at Hogwarts, locked away in some basement office fetching tea for the Undersecretary for Really Boring Resolutions?”

“Oh, Albus!” she said, a smile lighting her face. “How I’ve missed you!

“I’ve missed you, too. I’m surprised you came all this way.”

“Well,” she said, leaning back on her elbows, “I was just so terribly bored, you see…” A folded piece of parchment peeked out of her pocket, addressed to her in a lazy, looping hand.

“And what is this?” he asked, snagging it from her easily.

“Oh, just a letter from the most infuriating man,” she said, and he felt a sharp twinge jealousy. She went a bit pink and snatched the letter back from him.

“Infuriating, but…?”

“Well, he is rather fun.” She paused. “Speaking of which, are you cutting a dashing swath through the earnest undergraduettes?”

“You ought to know me better than that by now.”

“I do,” she said, “and yet somehow I still have hope that one of these days you’ll prove me wrong.”