you won't break

A few days ago, an owl dropped a letter in Amos’ flat that made him quite curious. He wasn’t expecting anyone to write him. The seal didn’t look familiar. Needless to say, he was shocked to read the name that signed the letter below.  Rosa, Cedric’s mother, was in town. And she wanted to see her son. A first in four years. All throughout the last four years of raising Cedric, he had always told himself that he’d be ready once Rosa decides to be a part of his son’s life. Sure, he’d silently curse her under his breath during the early days of the boy’s infancy when Amos was at his wit’s end. But at the end of the day, Amos still firmly believed that he held no grudges to the woman whatsoever. That was until he read the letter. Fierce protectiveness roared inside of him. A part of him didn’t want Rosa to come. But the part of him that cared for his son was stronger. Amos believes that Cedric should know his mother.

But first, they needed to talk. When the day finally came, Amos made sure that Cedric was away while Rosa made her visit. He was just sitting on his couch waiting when the knock finally came. “Hey,” he said. His greeting was lukewarm at best. “Come in,” he opened the door and showed her into his abode. The living room was clean and neat but there were clear pieces of evidence that a child lived there. There was a rack of toys in the corner of the living room. Drawings were stacked in a pile by the table. A picture of Amos and Cedric laughing was also displayed on the mantel. Amos gestured towards the couches. “Please sit.”

Not for the first time she found herself wondering if she had truly made the right choice in moving back to France so soon after having her son. Or even in moving back at all. But she knew that children hadn’t really featured in her vision of the future at that point ( and even if they had been, it certainly wouldn’t have been with a man she barely knew ) when her own relationship with her mother had never been a glowing endorsement of maternal instinct. Even now she was far from convinced she had any. All she had known was that she was twenty-two and on the verge of finally pursuing what she wanted, to her there had been no guarantee that she wouldn’t have eventually resented her child for hindering her from reaching her dream when it had finally been within her grasp. So not for the first time, she reminded herself that she hadn’t made the wrong choice when it had been the right one at the time.

As she looked around Amos’ home it became even clearer to her that she had been right in choosing to leave. The sight of the toys, drawings and pictures all caused an ache in her chest as she couldn’t help but wonder what it would have been like to have been there for it all. But as hard as it was not to dwell on the past, she wasn’t there for that. She was there to try to be in her son’s future. She takes a seat on the couch, shifting somewhat nervously as she studies his expression and tries to gauge how welcome her reappearance is. With a light clearing of her throat she gives a tentative compliment. “You’ve made a lovely home here.” 

Caramelo ‘Melo’ Bello

It was only in moments like these - ones where she had to face up to some of her less than perfect choices - that she longed for the invincible confidence that she’d once had. But instead she just somewhat calmed her own nerves by reminding herself that it was now or never. She’d always spent enough years away from her son. A smile was placed onto her lips, trying to seem more at ease than she truly felt before she knocked on Amos’ door. When it eventually opened soft, grateful words left her lips. “Thank you for seeing me, Amos.”

As the pair of them took their seats, the brunette gave a warm smile and was quick to make her appreciation known. Especially given that Pandora had a little one at home. “Thank you so much for coming, the menu looked too good to miss and I’m not quite brave enough to eat on my own here yet.” It was come, of that she was sure, once she was more familiar with it all.

who: @rosabello​ where: dog park when: pretty early idk

It was the kind of morning that promised rain was still to come, the sun warm on his skin yet the world just a hint of grey around him. Maybe he’d never grow used to the weather in London, but he’d at least grown fond of moments like this. Everything felt like it was just on the brink of something, like nature itself was holding its breath; the literal calm before the storm. Jean-Luc’s dogs, it seemed, had not gotten the memo. Juggling three leashes and three eager animals was no easy feat, but just the thought of leaving one or two behind had him feeling just so damned guilty. At least he’d managed to get them to the dog park located a few blocks from his townhouse, and he bent down to let the dogs off their leashes before excitement got the last of them. Hugo was quick to dash away and abandon his siblings, and Eclair felt so inclined as to lunge after him before Jean-Luc could unclip the leash. From his bent over vantage point, he watched as if in slow motion as the dog ran straight into someone’s legs. Quickly, he abandoned what he was doing and looked up, apology on the tip of his lips, except - except. Except he must be dreaming, and he had dreamed of this, because there was simply no other way Rosa, his Rosa ( not anymore, he reminded himself bitterly ) was standing before him. “Rosa,” he said, her name like an exhale, an anchor. “Did I apparate to France without realizing it, or have you really made your way across the channel?”

One of the things she had been enjoying most about her moves was the walks that she had been taking with Melo before work. They were simple and relaxing, allowing her to feel more comfortable in a country she was still getting to know. But what she had hoped would be a peaceful walk was soon interrupted by something colliding with her legs and a voice saying her name. A voice that makes her still as the realisation dawns on her. There were far too many emotions coursing through her for her to be able to fix on just one, let alone one of them. So instead she resorts to old habits, “Jean-Luc.” The sound of his name from her lips sounds almost foreign after all these years when it lacks some of the fondness that she had always said it. Some but not all affection when after all this time all she could remember was how much she had loved him first as a friend and then more. 

It was hard to remove all traces of that despite the hurt and in that moment all she knew was that she’d missed him as much as she was missing France. For a moment she sets aside the hurt that still lingered from their break up, instead choosing to take comfort in such someone so familiar. “I was just wondering the same thing.” Voice was softer than usual, her smile more hesitant than the practised one that she had used to flash around at Beauxbatons. A tug on the lead reminds her of why she was there. “Sit, Melo.” With her gentle instruction given to her dog, gaze flickers back up to Jean-Luc, hesitating slightly over what to say next. Where could she possibly start? “Have you been over here long?”

Where: Flower shop in Diagon Alley Who: Dirk & @rosabello​

Dirk was struggling. His mother’s birthday was only a few days away and he knew he should take her present with her on his regular weekend visit to his parents but he was quickly running out of time before leaving and still had bought nothing. Since starting Hogwarts, he had a habit of buying his parents presents from the wizarding world but now he had exhausted most of the shops down Diagon Alley. It was something from this flower shop or he would be widening his search to Muggle London which almost felt like going back to square one. “Which would you prefer?” He asked abruptly, turning to another customer as he indicated two of the bunches which he could tell were different flowers but honestly they were all starting to look the same just with varying colours of the rainbow. “Isn’t a flower just a flower?” he muttered more to himself, unsure why it felt so hard to choose.

With her love of plants it was almost impossible for her to walk past a shop that was selling them, even if this one was selling bunches as well as potted plants. Before she could pick up a rather pretty orchid, someone interrupted her musing and brown eyes blinked in surprise. “Oh well, personally I’d always rather have my flowers alive.” Such bluntness would have made her mother flinch but it wasn’t the fact that she’d sounded unkind that made her adjust and flash an apologetic smile. “Some people might think that but did you know that there’s actually a whole language -  floriography - connected to them? Not just the type but their colours too. Red roses are for romantic love but then white roses for purity or innocence.” Eventually her impassioned rambling comes to an end, expression shifting to something more sheepish before she focuses on the question that had actually been asked of her, deciding she needed a little more information before making a choice. “Who are they for?”

Maybe she should have called?  Rosa might have been out.  Or maybe she was doing naked aerobics?  She had tried that once, but it had been an odd feeling with nothing holding all her bits in place.  She supposed that if Rosa was doing naked aerobics she could at the least advise against it.

Muggle plants were far less exciting, but she had been working on getting some herbs together in her spare time and she thought Rosa might like some for her window sill.  And the mason jars she had planted them in were clear so you could see the cool ways the roots grew. 

Before she bothered to knock she pressed her ear to the door, making sure she didn’t hear any peppy music before knocking.  Would it be weird to leave them on the doorstep if she wasn’t home?

Since arriving in England most of her evenings had been spent alone. Or at least alone by other people’s definition - she had her plants and of course her loyal companion, Melo, which was more than enough for her. Her entire youth had been endless socialising, playing the role her mother had expected of her but now she had the freedom and the confidence to not worry all that much about the opinion of others.

But for all she was learning to be comfortable in her own company, that didn’t mean that she shunned all other entirely. Some were more than welcome, especially when they came bearing plants. “Gwen, how lovely to see you.” Gaze drifted to the jars in the other witch’s hand, zoning in on the plants as her expression brightened. “And I see you brought some friends too.”

The brunette stepped to one side gesturing for the other to enter. “Please, come in. Now I’m not much of a tea drinker but I think I’ve got some here somewhere if you’d like a cup?”

She’d paused to mull over her decision when another customer caught her eye, this one looking far less at ease in amongst all the greenery. Unable to help herself, she found herself moving closer, lyrical tones slipping from her lips. “Those end up having the most beautiful blooms.” Smile touched her lips as she nodded to the plant he was in front of, always happy to talk about her passion. “But they’re a bit high maintenance. Make you work for the privilege of seeing their flowers.”