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Cherry furrowed her eyebrows as she stared at the typewriter in front of her, chewing on her thumbnail. The page was, unfortunately, still blank. Apparently staring really hard at it wouldn’t force the words to appear. 
The sound of someone else’s voice broke her out of her reverie. She glanced up from her work with a quiet ‘hm?’, her index finger pressed to her lip in thought and her eyebrows shooting up. She gave Edmund a small, strained smile in greeting.
“Just Barney being Barney, I suppose,” she said, going back to chewing on her perfectly manicured nails as she stared at her (lack of) work.
“At the moment? Trying to brainstorm a title,” she told him. Her foray into novel-writing, thus far, had been less than successful. Nobody wanted to publish her politically driven, feminist fiction which she thinly veiled as thrillers. No, not in the current climate. So she was trying her hand at romance - pure, unadulterated fluff. 
The problem? She had no inspiration.
“How on earth do you do this?” She sighed in frustration and leaned back in her chair, “It’s impossible to imagine romance if I haven’t so much as touched a man in years.” She paused to point at Edmund as if in warning, “Not an invitation.” she teased. 
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where: the daily prophet with: @cherry-flavoured-gum​
“uncle barney chewing someone out in there, or is he shouting at himself?” he asked, perched on the edge of her desk, his back towards her while he frowned at the closed door. he hadn’t come to see his uncle, who he denied most of the time was his uncle due to odd family tensions, but cherry was one of the few who knew for certain that they were related. she would argue that she was good at her job, which she was, while he would remark that he hadn’t been entirely sober when they had first met and his lips had been loose with the information. 
sliding around the desk to perch next to her instead, and turning his back to the door, he hoped that his uncle wouldn’t make an appearance and that they could make it out of the office without being seen. he had no desire to enter into the role of ‘owl delivery’ for messages between him and his father. they were grown men; they should be working shit out for themselves. 
“what are you working on?” he asked, leaning over. cherry had always been a great writer. over the years they had swapped notes and offered playful criticism, though many times she had been a source of inspiration for his books. “you have that crinkle in your forehead that you get every time you’re really focused on something”.
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where: a single parents support group
who: Algilbert ( @algilbertfontaine )
Cherry stared at the screeching doll that was put on the table in front of her and raised an incredulous eyebrow. They’d been told that the thing had been enchanted to cry when it was wet, and would only stop once you’d successfully changed its nappy. Cherry didn’t get the point.
“Excuse me,” she said, before the person handing out the dolls could walk away, “My son is four already, so I don’t see the point of this exercise. I thought this was more of a...discussion or support group?”
“Group talk is after the activity.” The person stated bluntly, before walking away. 
Cherry sighed heavily and shrugged. She got to work, masterfully changing and cleaning the doll in under a minute - she’d changed more than enough nappies in her lifetime. Once the doll became blissfully quiet, Cherry decided to head over to the snack table to busy herself until everyone else was done.
She reached for one of the paper cups at the same time as someone else. She blinked in surprise when her hand brushed against the other man’s, and she hastily pulled it back.
“Sorry,” she said to him, smiling sheepishly, “You go ahead.” 
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where: The Leaky Cauldron 
who: Sera ( @serashapes​ )
She tapped her quill against the parchment in her notebook, staring down the person across from her. Cherry felt her own lips quirk into a small smirk as she finally broke the silence. 
“So, Sera Parkinson. I’ve got you in front of me for an interview, at long last.” 
Normally, sports were Yasiel’s department. Cherry wrote nothing but a glorified gossip column. She was the one responsible for headlines like certain boy band members getting girlfriends, celebrity rivalries heating up - things like that. But Quidditch players had their own marketable stories, too. She just needed to tap into them. 
Sera was so intriguing. She was hiding something - Cherry could just tell. It was an innate sense she was born with. And she was dying to know more.
“Let’s start at the beginning, shall we?” 
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where: a coffee shop
who: Glenda ( @of-beasts-and-blood
Sonorus Radio. The radio station for the underdogs, the beaten-down, the muggleborns fighting back against prejudice.
Ever since Cherry had heard it on the radio-waves for the first time, she’d been desperate to meet the host. Who was this person who used her voice to inspire others, unafraid and unapologetic? 
And now, she finally had the woman in front of her. 
It had been a chance meeting. They’d both reached for the same coffee, thinking it was their order - the woman had uttered an apology, and Cherry’s eyes had immediately lit up.
“It’s you!” she’d said, clutching the woman’s arm in excitement.
After apologising for grabbing her with no warning, and explaining that she recognised her voice from radio, Cherry invited her to sit and chat. Her fingers were itching to get out her quill and notebook, but she resisted.
“So, Glenda,” she gave her a dazzling smile, “I’m a big fan. I love what you’re wearing, by the way.”
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where: Rufus’ place
who: Nat (and the kids) ( @spellbxnd​ ) 
Cherry watched as Defne showed Ari how to colour in the lines. Ari watched the older girl quietly, his wide eyes never straying away from the crayon moving across the page. Cherry felt a soft smile tug at her lips. She leaned down to drop a soft kiss to both children’s heads before moving on to the lounge. 
Natalia was curled up on one of the couches. Cherry placed a piping hot mug of tea in front of her friend, before taking a seat across from her. She kicked off her heels so that she could curl her legs up underneath her. 
“So,” she sipped her own tea before continuing, “Rufus told me...what happened.” She felt her brows knit together in a frown. She couldn’t help but feel concerned. “Honestly it’s... a lot.” 
“How are you holding up?”
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