The boy across the cafe was staring at her intently. She felt his gaze drift from her boots to her ill-fitting jumper, and an involuntary chill rushed down her spine; she was positive it had nothing to do with the biting London breeze. She tried to ignore him, and instead, ended up re-reading the same passage three times.
“Hello,” the boy said from behind her, and in her surprise, she very nearly knocked her Earl Grey onto him. His smile seemed to grow, “I’m Sirius.”
“Hi,” she said back, and her cheeks flushed damnably.
“School work? Over the winter hols?” he asked, nodding towards the stack of books and papers she had splayed in front of her.
“Yeah, Oxford’s got me strapped,” she added, shuffling a few books around. He raised a brow.
“Ah, Oxford girl,” she blushed again, “Marlene Mckinnon, isn’t it?”
Her brows furrowed, “How’d you-“
“Sometimes you just know things, wouldn’t you agree? Smart girl like you would understand.”
“How’d you know my name?” she asked, a bit more demanding, a bit more afraid.
A low chuckle, “It’s on your bag.”
“Not to mention, I’ve seen your face in the papers. Dad’s in Parliament, isn’t he?”
“Yeah,” she admitted, “he is.”
“Heard he’s a Cambridge alum. How’d he take the Oxford decision?”
She gave him a smile, “Not too well. But he’s accepted it for what it is.”
“And that is?”
“That Oxford is simply better.”
“Ah. You sure?”
She wrinkled her brow, “Well, yes. It’s one of the premier schools in the country, the world even.”
“But so is Cambridge. In fact, if I recall, Cambridge has outranked Oxford multiple times.”
She narrowed her eyes, noting the Cambridge blue jumper that peeked out from under his coat. How had she missed it before?
“Cambridge boy, huh?”
He smirked, “Finally figured it out, I see. Knew you would, smart girl like you.”