#serraborgin

Agatha stepped into the sitting room of Borgin Manor with a familiar ease, the soft swish of her cloak trailing behind her like a quiet promise of comfort. She carried a small parcel wrapped in pale silk, and her smile as she offered it to Serra was warmer than usual, touched with affection. “I saw this and thought of you,” she said gently. It was a delicate silver compact mirror etched with Ottoman floral designs and set with a mother-of-pearl inlay. It also came with a calming herbal sachet. “It’s not much, but I brought it back from Ankara— you were meant to have something from the trip too.”

She settled into the chair across from Serra, taking a moment to smooth the fabric of her robes. Her gaze, though composed, held an unmistakable glimmer of relief at seeing Serra well. “You gave us all quite the scare, you know,” she murmured. “I hate that it happened right after the wedding."

Agatha’s smile turned more playful, though still tender. “I can’t tell you how thrilled I am about your wedding, though. You’ll make such a beautiful bride, Serra.” Her voice softened again, sincere. “If you’re feeling up for it… I’d love to catch up or we could jump straight into wedding planning."

Always a gentleman, Evan had waited the appropriate period of time before showing up at St. Mungos, a visit done in good grace with both his friend and his fiancé in mind. Surely, he wanted to put the past behind with the witch as well, so he was waiting patiently for her to wake up. The mediwitch had said it'd take a couple of minutes so he'd taken a seat on the chair beside her bed, gaze settled on her until she opened her eyes. "What a terrible way to end such a great night." The wizard offered lightly. "You still look good as ever, even in such circumstances. How are you feeling, dear?"