But she’s not the first one here. Blaise leans against the wrought iron, hands tucked into his long coat, chin hidden from the wind in his collar. He hasn’t spotted her yet, and she takes a private moment to admire the long line of him, the shadows under his high cheekbones. She isn’t sure she’s ever seen him outside of his school robes, and in Muggle clothes nonetheless. She wishes he looked a little more awkward and uncertain—to ease her own nerves. But, as with everything Blaise does, he wears the clothes with a silent self-assuredness, an ease, that she envies.