Paige Brennan stands several feet away from the window of the bakery, seeming to chew her lip as she pushes her lip, admiring the confections in the window. Truthfully, her sisters have given her flack for her addiction to the goods in the Delacroix Bakery, but she finds herself unable to resist. Almost resolved not to buy any sweet rolls or tiny cakes today, she begins to step backward, still looking into the window and not at all taking into account that others might just be trying to use the street.

Quite unfortunately for Paige, Stephanie Stolarz is either not paying much attention to what or who is in her way or just feels like being objectionable – either way, as she moves towards the bakery, while she does not walk directly into Paige, she passes so closely by they might as well have collided, stopping only as she pauses to turn and look at the girl in alarm. “What are you doing standing in the street?”

“Oh, um. Sorry,” Paige Brennan essentially mumbles in response. “I was just trying to decide whether to go into the bakery or not. I really shouldn’t… my sisters will just nag me for it again.” She sighs in a fairly defeatist way and turns to face the person who she almost walked smack into. “I hope I didn’t hurt you or anything. I’m Paige.” She stops and tentatively holds out her hand to the other girl, blushing slightly.

“Stephanie – Stephanie Stolarz,” the girl introduces herself promply in turn, taking Paige’s hand firmly and giving it a solid shake. “I think I’ve seen you at school, haven’t I? Well, you do look awfully familiar somehow.” She cants her head to one side as she speaks, inspecting Paige almost appraisingly. The more she speaks, the more it becomes evident that she has a distinct German accent.

“You might have seen my sisters. I’ve got three of them at school.” She sighs a bit. “Lanie, Lucie and Maylie are all in Brennan hall with me.” Paige Brennan conveniently leaves her last name out of the conversation for the time being. “Maybe you’ve seen them.” She pauses. “I’ve seen you, though. You’re in, um… Wa– Waller Hall, right? I think you’re in my year.”

A broad smile curls about Stephanie Stolarz‘s thin lips at this recognition, nodding her hair so her curls bounce. This seems to entertain her somewhat, so she shakes her hair again, a faintly impish grin lighting up her expression. “Lanie, Lucie, Maylie and Paige? Not even Paigie?” A pause, and she adds, “Can I call you Paigie, Paigie?”

A small look of horror crosses Paige‘s face as she considers this suggestion. “Well, my name is just… Paige, though. I mean, I guess you could call me Paigie if you really want to…” Her voice trails off quietly and she looks down, a bit embarrassed. Deciding to quickly direct the conversation away from what could potentially be discussion of her heritage, Paige asks, “How do you get your hair to do that? I can’t get my hair to do anything but curl like this, and sometimes it even fluffs up so I can’t control it.”

“Alright, Paigie,” Stephanie trails off here, though, her attention apparently caught by something in the bakery window or something else equally irrelevant to the discussion. As the discussion turns to her hair, however, she smiles again, rearranging a few of her curls for maximum effect before answering. “My mother has a salon in our house, she does just about everybody’s hair, only she only really speak German so I suppose that puts a bit of a crimp in it actually being everybody. She’s very talented, though.”

“Wow, that’s cool! And your mom does your hair for you, then? Do you think maybe she would do my hair sometime? My sisters are good at doing their own hair but I can’t seem to get the hang of it.” Paige frowns distinctly as she thinks of this, then shrugs. “Those sweet buns are really yummy, by the way.”

“She might!” Stephanie confirms for Paige, her attention turning back to the window just as quickly as it slipped away. “Oh, I’m not sure if I’ve ever tried them… mostly I stick to things I’ve – oh, let’s go in, shall we, then?” A pause follows before she steps towards the door, canting her head to one side again and adding, “You don’t mind if she only speaks in German, do you? I don’t think she could do your hair if you minded her language.”

“Well, I don’t understand it, but I don’t think it would be a problem. I mean, the war is over with the muggles, right?” Paige shrugs. “Besides, that was a muggle thing. My parents only occasionally talked about it. My father said that there was no point in analyzing it because it was muggle stuff.” She shrugs again. “Yeah, let’s go in.” With that, she squares her shoulders and walks semi-confidently into the store. Her sisters will not make her feel bad about sticky buns!

Stephanie Stolarz looks up in alarm at Paige at this, her eyes wide for a moment before she relaxes again, clearing her throat and busying herself over with a display of cakes. Eventually, she offers, rather non-commitally, given the circumstances, “How much did you hear about everything? I only know what my parents told me, but they were in hiding for more than one reason, y’know.”

“They didn’t tell me much about it,” Paige admits. “‘It isn’t a subject for children’,” she says, waving her finger in an authoritative manner. “My father wouldn’t let us hear anything of what was going on in Europe. Maybe Lanie and Lucie heard more but they’re not telling me, either.” She sighs. “Nobody tells me anything, it seems like. Hi, Mr. Delacroix. Can I just have three sticky buns today?”

“Ah.” The response is quiet and simple, and Stephanie follows it on quickly with a, “Can I have a cupcake? That one right there – no, not that one, I know they’re the same flavour, but that one looks prettier…” She waits patiently as her very specific cupcake is chosen for her, only turning back to the conversation once she has received it. “There was… well, I heard a lot about it, and I could tell you, but I don’t know if I know everything.”

“It seems like we would learn about it in school, don’t you think?” Paige replies quietly. “It seems like there must have been something really horrible, though. Nobody talks about it.” She reaches out and takes her small parcel with her sticky buns in it and hands over the appropriate amount of money. “Yes, I’ll probably be back tomorrow,” She responds to the question directed to her as she receives her change and blushes hard.

“That’s probably why they won’t tell us about it,” Stephanie replies off-handedly, shrugging her shoulders lightly. After a moment, though, her tone takes on a much more serious note and she adds, “There were… two… muggle-born wizards and witches were being targetted in the wizarding world for muddying the blood of the magical world, and there was this thing… in the muggle world, the laws said that if you were one-eighth Jewish or more you deserved to die, or something like that, so they were being rounded up and killed.” She fingers her chai necklace for a moment, deeply thoughtful. Just as quickly, however, her happy-go-lucky nature returns and she merrily opens her bag and bites into her ‘pretty’ cupcake.

Paige takes a sticky bun out of her parcel and takes a bite of it, then looks to Stephanie in horror as she shares this information. “How on earth is that even possible?” She looks at the other girl in disbelief. “People just couldn’t do things like that. They just… couldn’t.” The shock is apparent, and it doesn’t diminish even as Stephanie appears to have moved on.

Stephanie smiles a grim, little smile, shrugging her thin shoulders as she chews on a mouthful of her cupcake. “A lot of my family… mommy cries a lot, and dad doesn’t like to talk about it much, but we don’t have any other relatives in America.” She stuffs her mouth full of cupcake again, turning her gaze to the ground and falling silent for a period of time. There is an overhanging implication to her words, though she does not spell it out.

Paige Brennan doesn’t know what to say in response. She has no experience thinking about atrocities such as these, and for want of a better thing to do, she takes a bite of her sticky bun. After a fairly long and (for Paige) awkward pause, “What classes are you taking on this year? I’ve chosen Magical Music and Muggle Studies.”

“I’m looking forward to the new classes,” Stephanie replies promptly, a lot of her cheer returning to her. The remainder of her cupcake is forced into her mouth and followed by a period of silent gestures before she swallows and adds, “I’m taking magical music – just like you, yeah? – and magical art. I wanted to do CoMC,” which she pronounces ‘komk’, “but I thought it’d be too hard to balance all of them.” She scrunches up the bag in her hands idly as she speaks.

“I had a hard time picking between art and music, but I thought it might be nice to maybe learn to sing nicely. My mother says that women should acquire as many accomplishments as possible to be able to, um,” Paige seems to stumble as to why she’s supposed to be amassing skills. “Um, be a trophy to her future husband, I think is what she said. I don’t know if I want to be a trophy, but music will be nice, I think. Where do you live? I’m just down on High Street, but I don’t think I’ve seen you around here much.”

“Tha’s appalling,” Stephanie replies vaguely, apparently not very passionate about the subject but willing to offer an opinion anyway. “I wonder what she’d think of me. People who think like that don’t tend to think of some skills over others as being appropriate for a lady. Do you think she’d approve of a trophy that could speak three different languages?” She shrugs her shoulders, looking about the room for somewhere to throw out her garbage as she speaks.

“If one of the languages was French, she probably wouldn’t mind much. My mother says that French is a language for cultured people, so we should all learn it. I would rather learn Italian. It’s the language of music, my father told me.” Paige nods solemnly at this. “The can is over there,” she directs, pointing to a nearby corner. It’s clear that she’s probably a bit too familiar with the shop than she ought to be. At this precise moment, the door slams open loudly. “PAIGE. Mother told you to be home by three for your lesson.” It was Paige‘s sister Maylie. “And you shouldn’t be eating those buns. You’re fat enough as it is.” With that, her sister flounced out in the direction from which she entered, leaving the door wide open. “Speaking of languages,” Paige mumbles. “I have a French lesson that my mom wants me to take.” She sighs heavily at this.

Looking up in annoyance as the conversation is interrupted, Stephanie lets loose a steady stream of angry German, delivered in a most upset tone to Maylie as she leaves, raising her voice slightly so the last words can be heard in the street, “<<You’re a horrible person, you ought to be ashamed of yourself! I have a pet rat and he is very cute! I have no idea what to say, but I am upset with you, now! Be ashamed!>>” As she finishes her brief tirade, she turns to Paige with a smile and finishes, “I’m sorry, Paigie. I’d like to learn French sometime. Have fun with that!”

Not knowing at all what Stephanie has said, Paige merely stares at the other girl for a moment. “I guess I’d better go. French is okay, I suppose, but I don’t take to it much.” She shrugs. “I’ll see you around, right? At school or something? It was nice talking to you,” she states cordially then pausing again, awkwardly, for a moment, she takes to her heel and runs down the street in a most unladylike fashion.