One sunny day in early July, the weather was gorgeous and the sunlight was warm.
All the girls currently in London had come over to Tom's house that afternoon. They set out sweets and tea in the back garden and settled in for a lazy afternoon tea.
Plenty of roses grew in the garden. The vines climbed up the white fence and swayed gently whenever the breeze picked up.
A clean tablecloth covered the long table, the silver tea set was polished to a shine, and a few plates of pastries sat neatly in the middle.
Afternoon tea holds a truly unique place in Britain. Other countries might take it seriously too, but nowhere else treats it like a faith or a cultural symbol.
And any popular custom is really a top-down movement. People lower down the ladder follow the habits of those above them, sometimes without even realizing it, sometimes on purpose because they admire them.
Afternoon tea was no different.
Back in the Victorian era, more than a hundred years ago, the aristocrats ate a big breakfast and a light lunch, and the grandest, most extravagant meal of all, dinner, didn't start until eight o'clock.
Around four in the afternoon, they'd start getting hungry.
The men could head off to coffeehouses and tea rooms for snacks and a bite to eat, but noblewomen weren't allowed to do that.
So they'd have a pot of black tea and a few slices of buttered bread at home to tide themselves over. That slowly grew into the home tea party, a place for aristocratic ladies to socialize and show off their family's pedigree and wealth. Naturally, the snacks got fancier and more exquisite too.
Eventually, what you actually ate became the least important part. Whose tea was better, whose dishes were finer, whose guests ranked higher: those were the things the ladies really cared about.
What Tom found strangest was how perfectly wizards had inherited Muggle aristocratic life. Their eating habits, the architecture of their houses, you could still see traces of the Victorian era everywhere.
Later he dug through some records and found out why. During the days of the Empire, when Britain was at its most glorious, a lot of wizards quietly joined the Muggle side to get in on the wealth being pulled in from abroad.
Some posed as nobles. Others stayed close to the Queen as court wizards.
Naturally, they'd brought those habits back with them.
A proper aristocratic young lady like Daphne was a devoted fan of afternoon tea. Back at Hogwarts, any afternoon she had no classes, she'd gather a few of her friends for a tea party.
Plenty of the younger witches at Hogwarts considered it an honor to be invited to Daphne's tea parties.
If you were invited, it proved you were among the best girls in the school.
Tom couldn't, for the life of him, see what one thing had to do with the other, but most of the girls believed it, and over time it just became accepted fact.
It was a shame, though. Today's tea party at Tom's place was missing its young lady. Poor Daph had been living in misery ever since she got caught complaining about Lady Greengrass.
Even when Tom contacted Lady Greengrass personally that morning, she flatly refused to let Daphne go.
She knew exactly how much Tom doted on Daphne. If she let Daphne run over to his place to hide for a few days, all her hard work would probably go down the drain.
So Lady Greengrass had made up her mind. This holiday, she was going to fix every one of Daphne's bad habits first, and only then send her over to Tom's.
That's the Greengrass after-sales service for you.
But with Daphne absent, her sweet little sister got a break. Right now Tom was lounging in a sun chair with Astoria in his arms, enjoying a rare, peaceful afternoon.
The garden was quiet. All you could hear was the rustle of leaves in the wind and the soft sound of water somewhere nearby.
Every now and then, a burst of pleasant laughter drifted over from Penelope and Hermione. Far from ruining the calm, it made the place feel more alive.
Ever since Astoria had merged with the Snow Woman's bloodline (Yuki Onna), that bloodline had gone through some unknown evolution under the influence of the golden apple, her body had changed a little. Her skin was always cool to the touch.
With the weather on the hot side today, holding her was like hugging a pillow that was soft, cool and wonderfully cozy.
Astoria lay there quietly like a well-behaved kitten, reading along with Tom.
Two magic hands floated in the air, holding up the book and turning the pages whenever Tom wished it. Over by the stove, two more hands were brewing black tea at a leisurely pace.
This first-level spell from the Faerûn world might be simple, but Mystryl had picked it out carefully as Tom's special training method.
It had no elemental affinity at all, and it was about as basic as spells get.
She required Tom to keep a good number of Magic Hands running for long stretches, and to cast them the most traditional way possible.
And honestly? It worked. At least all of Tom's weird talents had no special effect on this spell.
The more he used it, the more he started to get a feel for what casting is like for a normal person.
"Master, good afternoon."
Suddenly, a greeting came from behind him, so flat and cold it carried no emotion at all.
Tom didn't even turn around. He just sighed. "Ikaros, I'm pretty sure I told you not to show up behind me without a sound to say hello. It's creepy."
"My apologies, Master. I didn't judge my landing spot well enough."
Ikaros walked around to the front of the lounger and gave a slight bow, her voice as steady as ever, with no ups or downs.
Astoria scrambled out of Tom's arms and stood up. "Ikaros."
"Good afternoon, Miss Greengrass." Ikaros returned the greeting without the slightest slip.
"Just call me Astoria."
"Understood, Miss Greengrass."
Astoria: "..."
She knew Ikaros was just like this, but it still left her speechless.
Hadn't Tom ever thought about adding a personality module when he made her?
"You two talk. I'll go get some tea."
Astoria could tell Ikaros wouldn't have come looking for Tom without real business, so she gave them some space.
"Master, the Astra Abyssum headquarters opens for business tomorrow. I'd like to invite you to attend the opening ceremony."
"Can't you handle that yourself?" Tom said casually, his eyes still on the book.
Ikaros shook her head. "You are the guild master of Astra Abyssum, and what your presence means is something I can't represent. As long as you're there, people feel at ease."
"The Ministry of Magic has needed a lot of extra manpower lately, and quite a few wizards from other countries have come to Britain looking for work. You're expected to show up."
Tom nodded, and a smile crept onto his face.
It wasn't because the flattery pleased him. It was because that way of thinking showed him how much Ikaros had changed.
She was starting to think like a normal person. Maybe one day he'd even get to see a smile bloom on that deadpan girl's face without having to order it.
.
.
.