(1941-06-21) Capture the Moment
Details for Capture the Moment
Summary: Dorea meets Aiden at the Quidditch shop after her cat sneaks in.
Date: June 21, 1941
Location: Quality Quidditch Supplies

“Oh, Spider,” Dorea lets out on an exasperated sigh. Pressing her lips together, the woman rests the back of her hands against her hips as she looks towards Quality Quidditch Supplies. Her head arched just so, standing primly as she watches the grey cat prance towards the shop. The door, opened to allow someone passage, begins to shut again, but gives the feline just enough time to slip inside before it closes completely. Lifting a hand unconsciously to her shoulder, pulling up at the strap settled there, her bag is made secure before she steps hurriedly towards the shop.

Dorea releases breath as she slips inside the store, green eyes glittering as they survey the area. And her expression softens a little, tilting her head in awe she spies the cat buried in fabric. A hand lifts to her mouth as she lets out a laugh, which is cut short a she glances over to the look of disapproval from the shopkeep. “I’m sorry,” she lets out on a softer laugh. “He’s antsy from sitting through his grooming,” she explains even she moves towards the animal, heels clicking against the floor. Dipping into a dignified crouch, she holds out a hand to stroke the cat’s head before scooping him up. “You don’t want to get all messy for your Daddy’s photograph, do you?”

Aiden enters the shop wearing a black button down shirt and casual trousers he looks around a bit before heading to look at the racing brooms. He sighs as he looks at it, he really wants this one but he’s got to be careful, His mum and da are a little ways away at Flourish and Blotts. Maybe for his birthday or maybe as a going to school gift who knows? "Wow this is the most beautiful broom I’ve seen yet." Aiden says to himself. The look in the boys eyes is complete amazement.

Tucking the feline under an arm as she stands up, Dorea offers the shopkeep a small, apologetic smile as he comes around to fix the fallen robes. “Oh, Darius, how did your date with Margaret go?” she asks with an airy innocence even as her eyes gleam. She cuddles the cat in the nook of her arm, idly stroking a hand down her spine.

Busy with re-organising the robes, the shopkeep says while facing away, “Yea, uh, I don’t think it’s going to work out…” he comments flatly. It brings out a frown on Dorea’s face, and she sighs, shaking her head as she says under her breath, “I was so sure. Hmm?” The woman turns, looking towards the child. The look on his face brings out a soft smile on Dorea’s, tilting her head lightly as she considers. “That’s perfect,” she says admiringly. Her hand drops to her bag, patting it on the outside as she reaches out a hand to wiggle her fingers towards Aiden. “Hey there. Can you stand right there? What do you know about that broom?” she asks conversationally even as she fumbles with her bag - with one hand - and eventually sets the cat down to use two hands, taking out her sketchpad.

Aiden stands and turns to look at the young woman. "Sure I’ll stand here." He says. "Hmmmm… Well I know this is the fastest broom out there yet. I know it’s really durable and I know it would be awesome for all quidditch games." He says smiling. "I love to play Quidditch its really fun, I want to be a Seeker." Aiden says smiling. "My name is Aiden Merrythought what’s yours?"

Dorea offers out a smile to the child, lifting a hand to hoop a stray strand of hair behind her ear. “Great,” she says merrily, crouching and resting the sketchpad on her lap. There’s a soft meow from the feline, hopping to rest his two front paws against Dorea’s leg. “Careful,” she warns the cat gently, patting his head lightly. “Not on the parchment.” Another meow escapes the cat, as if in answer, but he nudges his nose against Dorea’s hand as she takes out a piece of graphite. Idly scratching behind Spider’s ear, she murmurs in acknowledgement to Aiden. “Ah. Ahh, that is quite the goal. Never let go of your ambitions and you’ll be riding that broom,” she nods to the broom, “and playing Seeker.” Her green eyes sweep from the boy to the parchment as she starts brushing lines down on the paper.

“Nice to meet you, Aiden,” Dorea says with merriment, flicking her gaze to him and then back down to the parchment. “I’m Dorea, owner of the Artisana.”

Aiden smiles. "It’s a pleasure ta meet ya Ma'am." He says the Irish brogue thick in his voice. "Ya really think so? Ya think I could be on this broom an' be playin Seeker?" He asks good naturedly. "I haven' even gotten inta Hogwarts yet." He says solemnly. "Not quite sure what house I’m gonna be in."

Dorea’s hand moves in sweeps, brushing and stroking lines onto the pages. Occasionally pauses to stroke her other hand over the feline, with the added bonus of nudging him down, away from the parchment. Her eyes flick towards Aiden, listening to him and nodding her head almost unconsciously as she works on the drawing. She does answer though, offering out a charming smile as she hoops her hair behind an ear again. “Yes, quite the pleasure, Aiden,” she says kindly. “Oh, absolutely,” Dorea adds in response to playing Seeker and riding the broom. “All you have to do is work hard and keep your goal in mind and you’ll succeed.” She offers the boy an encouraging smile, and lowers her gaze to the page again. “No need to fret. You’ll be sorted into exactly the House you’re meant to be in.”

Aiden nods in agreement and understanding. "Most of my family has been Gryffindor or Ravenclaw, so they all think I’ll be in one of those two houses." He says thoughtfully. "So what made you want to draw?" Aiden asks curiously. If there is one thing to be said about this lad it’s that he is really curious. "I hope I’m not askin' ya too many questions."

More strokes with the graphite, more lines added to the page. Again, Dorea turns her head an inch to glance at the feline. She smiles, reaching out to pat his head and, once again, push him off her work. She glances back to the child with a soft incline of her head, lifting her hand to hoop her hair behind her ear again. “Ah, Ravenclaw or Gryffindor,” she says, nodding her head in acknowledgement as she considers, tapping the quill against her lips. “You certainly have the curiosity of a Ravenclaw. Both Houses have their merits,” she decides, a little glitter in her green eyes. A chuckle escapes her, and she gestures with the hand holding the quill in a general outward gesture. “It was just the perfect moment to capture,” she explains, drawing in a soft breath and looking down to the page. Shifting a little in her position, Dorea lifts a hand to beckon the child to come near while spinning the page around for him to look at. A drawing of the boy, looking hopefully towards the broom. “What do you think?”

Aiden smiles and laughs. "It looks great thank you. You’re really talented Ma'am." He says with a laugh that lights up his face. "But I meant what made you want to start drawing to begin with. I mean what made you decide you wanted to get into art?" He asks his smile is almost ear to ear now. "I mean I know why I love Quidditch and chess but what is it that you love about art?" He asks thoughtfully.

A soft murmuring escapes Dorea as she considers, looking down at the portrait. She nods her head slowly, letting out a soft, “Hmm.” While it might be a good likeness and a very well done drawing, Dorea can pick out a few areas that should be touched up. But she looks to the boy while one hand reaches out to pet the cat. “Thank you,” she says appreciatively. Setting down the quill, she lifts a finger to tap against her mouth, lifting her gaze to look around the shop before she sighs. “I don’t really remember not drawing. It’s always been something I’ve done.” Dorea gives a shrug, smiling and hooping her hair behind an ear. “There’s a need to capture what I see on paper,” she explains. “Hmmm…” Turning the page back around, she studies the drawing before she adds to it until she stops and studies it again, smiling with satisfaction. “There we go.”

Aiden smiles. "I like to write though. That’s art right?" He asks curiously. "Someone told me writing isn’t an art."

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