when did we lose our way?

It was a tradition he had come to love in the past, the gathering of families and friends, lost souls, the weary and the lonely congregating together in a place designed for sanctuary and salvation. He blended in well, haven’t had attended a service in a long time, but something about this year- how close everything had gotten, how thin he was grasping onto the life he had drove him out of his house and to it’s snow covered steps. 

    Bes frequented many of the shops between Diagon, Knockturn, and Carkritt. Noltie had him running errands often enough, collecting supplies, delivering them. He didn’t mind it, it got him out of the shop though he never really complained about being there either. He was meant to be both delivering some new plants to the apothecary’s shop, and picking up a salve to soothe the rash he’d gotten on his palm from improperly handling his latest assignment. It was his own fault. He’d been in a rush, distracted, and he’d not thought to wear gloves. It served him right, even if it was infuriating now. 

    The shop was a little busy, but not overly so. He exhaled through his nose, gently setting down the potted plant near the back counter, where he usually did, before he slipped into line behind Winter. It seemed he wasn’t the only impatient one. “Don’t we all?” He smirked, eyes sweeping over his frame. “You look like shit, mate. The only place you should be going is home to sleep off whatever’s got you like this.” He commented.

He bristled at the comment. Surely that would be a valid reason for him being here? Didn’t most sick people go to apothecaries? He turned slightly in his position, to look at the other wizard and fought off the idea to roll his eyes. Whatever spark, whatever kindness he normally had was extinguished and he hadn’t felt like this for near on a year. No one knew just how cruel he could really get. But something indeed seemed to be holding up the apothecary more than normal and whatever it was, Winter was in no mood to be polite about it. 

“Really? I thought I looked all rosy and pretty today. Damn.” he muttered, running a hand through his slightly unkempt hair. He stared down at the man with dark, soulless eyes. “If I could sleep, trust me, I’d be in my bed but low and behold it’s not coming to me so here I am, getting to enjoy a conversation I had no intention of ever starting.” 

So it was no wonder he found himself in the apothecary, awaiting on his prescription for heavy sleep potions and anxiety relief. He felt as if everyone was staring at him, like people knew. The moments he had managed to close his eyes only lasted a few minutes before the nightmares began once more and the memories flooded back. 

“Can you please put a rush on this? I have somewhere I need to be, sorry.” the more time he spent here, the more he felt the weight of stares. 

   Isa smiled, though there was a hint of playful pity in it at his bruised ego, poor Winter, she hadn’t meant to laugh at him, it was just the circumstances. His grin reassured her that he was fine, even with the bruised ego, but she couldn’t help but wonder if he’d be so embarrassed had it been another woman, or a man, and not her that he’d nearly fallen in front of. It didn’t matter, of course, as she wasn’t another woman, but she couldn’t help thinking on it anyhow. 

    She turned her focus back to the dogs, appreciating their welcome as she brushed through their fur and pecked their heads, not minding the risk of dog hair clinging to her clothes. “I’ve not had the pleasure,” She agreed, though it seemed odd now that she hadn’t. She felt like she knew all of Winter’s animals, but then, that could have everything to do with the fact that they spoke nonstop. “Oddball is a perfect name,” She giggled, giving her extra pets as she was introduced. She continued with Thea, amused by the explanations of their names, until he got to Dahlia. She paused, hand still on the dog’s back as she looked up at him. 

    “You named your dog after Dahlia Prewett?” She asked, stunned. There was clearly a story here, and she wanted to know it. She frowned, gently petting the dog, before insisting on it. “Why would you name your dog after Dahlia?” She asked, not entirely sure she’d like the answer he gave her. What if they had a past? What if she’d have to compete with the likes of Dahlia? The Prewett woman was beyond talented and gorgeous, Merlin help her. Jealousy already tickled her nose, making it scrunch as she waited for the explanation. She prayed it was a good one. 

If there ever was a moment a face palm was needed, it was now. At the time, it was funny and a personal joke, after all he hadn’t ever thought he’d get the chance to meet someone who perhaps wouldn’t see the reasoning behind it. And even he could notice the slight change in tone and atmosphere around them. He could almost imagine someone like Aberforth or Reuben shaking their heads and wincing at his momentous lack of judgement and thought. 

“She’s a friend. Well, used to be close friend- you know back in school and we still talk now- we had a deal and I suppose I never break deals and it just became a thing.” he knew none of that would probably help the situation, but how could he tell her the full truth without showing that he wasn’t always a complete gentleman? In a sense, it was degrading, even Dahlia didn’t find it so. Because in truth it was correct. 

He felt like he was just digging and digging and he almost wished the ground would open up and swallow him whole. “It was just a joke, a personal thing but it doesn’t mean anything other than an innocent joke and deal. Because Dahlia has red hair and that Dahlia has red fur and that she’s- well, uh, because Dahlia is a bitch. And spoiled. The woman and the dog and I know that’s not a nice term, even if the official term for a female dog is bitch and just- I’m just going to stop saying bitch.” 

“I’m sorry?” god, even that was pathetic and lame. 

 Isabella absolutely adored the winter holidays. She loved the numerous parties and events to attend and host, the decorations that dotted villages, homes, and shops, the food, and of course the expectation of gift giving. She loved to shop, and she wasn’t the least bit ashamed to admit it. After all, giving gifts was among her very most favorite things to do. She loved taking the time to personally select items, find the perfect wrapping paper and accessories, and hand make cards for the occasion. This year was a little different, however, as her thoughts more often wandered to a different Winter. 

    She’d been writing back and forth to him nearly four times per week. Each letter seemed to grow longer and longer, and when they had their outings, she found herself smiling so much her cheeks ached. It was easy to be friends with Winter, and easier still to talk to him. This year was also different when it came to where she frequented. She’d been in muggle London far more than she ever had before. It was exciting to see muggle Christmas traditions in full bloom. Their stores were decorated too, lights and tinsel hung, hand cut paper crafts, and of course numerous Christmas trees. It delighted her to think of all the care that must’ve gone into each and every decoration. After all, muggles had no assistance in the form of magic. They must do all the steps by hand. She hadn’t told anyone yet, but she was determined to decorate her own home by hand this year, to give it a try. It felt somehow even more personal, even if she still intended to use magical decorations too. She’d never fail to put out her enchanted Christmas train. She loved watching the little puffs of smoke as the train moved freely around the track of her Christmas village atop her mantel. 

      Still, visiting Hogsmeade was far from a change in plan, though she did love that it had become an option for the annual celebration. She greeted every witch and wizard she passed with the utmost cheer, her hands clutching an entire bag of goods from Honeydukes. She wanted nothing more than to sample all the new festive flavors, but she told herself she had to be patient. “Happy Christmas to you!” She greeted, voice carrying like a songbird as she traversed the paths, peering into shops as she went about her time. She planned to go and visit Aberforth, but wanted to see the rest of the village as well. She felt a bit like a school girl again, if she were honest, but it brought back fond memories. 

      Her eyes widened at the sudden sight of Winter, her hands reaching out instinctively to help steady him as the dogs twisted and tangled their leads. “Oh dear, are you alright?” She asked, unable to stop the laughter from bubbling up. It was quite a sight, to see him all tangled and topsy-turvy. She nodded, laughter continuing, “I’m quite alright, Mr. Macnair, thank you.” She insisted, “better even, now you’re here. It’s so good to see you,” She beamed, but she couldn’t help herself from crouching down, hands immediately going to pet the dogs that embarrassed him, her affection for them genuine and welcome as her bag of treats slid further up her wrist. “Remind me of their names?” She asked, looking up to him from her crouched position. 

He couldn’t help but laugh, out of embarrassment and relief he hadn’t ended up flat on his arse. “I’m okay, slightly bruised ego, but I’ll live.” he assured, still beaming away. He couldn’t stop when he was around her, it’s almost as if she instinctively tapped into the side of him that only ever wanted happiness and fulfillment. And on a night like this, where literal magic was in the air and the glorious threat of snow nothing could probably take away his happiness. 

The dogs sniffed around her and easily gave themselves up for pets and his eyes creased at the sight. If she passed the dogs test, then she certainly was more than okay. He liked to think they were excellent judges of character. “Ah, yes, I forget you haven’t yet seen them- you’ve got Oddball on your right, aptly named because of the odd markings, she’s the Dachshund, Thea on the left, the Spaniel named after the Greek meaning of Gift from God, because she was the runt of the litter and was a stillborn but I managed to get her breathing again- the owner wasn’t entirely interested in having her so I got her and in the middle is Dah--” oh shit, maybe he hadn’t thought that through. It had been so long since he mentioned the dogs and he couldn’t recall actually saying their names. “-um, the middle one is Dahlia. She’s a King Charles Cavalier” he said with a slight wince, cheeks flushing even more as he cringed internally. It was funny at the time, if not a bit rude for him to name her such, but it had been a very ‘be there’ moment and now he thought how it would come across to Isa. “Named after Miss Prewett.” there was no point in lying, he couldn’t really dig himself out of this one. 

It hadn’t exactly been planned, more of a passing idea to meet up. Their letters between each other had mentioned their intention to go, Winter hadn’t been back to Hogsmeade in many years and it did hold some fond memories. It also gave him a chance to run the dogs, even if they had been a bit woozy from the apparating. But that had swiftly been countered in the Hogs Head. A couple of pints for him, sugar water for the dogs and now they were excitedly bouncing down the village path, Winter hurrying behind them to keep up. He juggled two cups of toffee apple green tea and his wrist held the three leads. 

With being taller than most of the wix darted about, it made it easy for him to spot Isa a little way further down and he couldn't help but grin to himself at the idea of seeing her once more. It was becoming easier and easier, with each meeting and time spent together to accept the fact that she was indeed just a friend and he treasured the idea she was indeed that. Their spare time between work had mostly been spent with Winter slowly introducing her to more of muggle London and countless trips to museums and galleries to enlighten her mind to muggles and a world so astoundingly new and interesting. 

“Whoa- hey, whoa- no-!” the dogs sped up, no doubt something had caught their attention and he tried to pull them to a halt as they nearly darted past Isa. With his tugging to stop, he almost slipped on a patch of ice and for a few moments sort of remained slipping and sliding over the patch, amazingly remaining a hold on the cups of tea and the dogs without falling on his arse. His balance came back and he tried to shrug off his almost incident with a charming smile in her direction. 

“Good evening, ma’m.” he greeted, trying to act like nothing had just happened, despite the blush on his cheeks. He would blame it on the cold. Yes, the cold.

 He was staring. Isa wasn’t sure if she should clear her throat, or say his name, but the way he smiled at her as he stared had her just as silent as he was. She’d never seen him dressed as a muggle, but she found she liked it very much. He looked as intelligent as he was, and the way his clothes hugged his frame made her heart jump. Her own smile grew as he greeted her audibly at last, a pink flush coloring her cheeks as she allowed him to take her hand and kiss her knuckles, that tiny brush of his lips sending her head spinning. “Good morning,” she murmured, eyes creased at the edges, the warmth of them evident as his fingers brushed over the wildflower pin attached to her dress. 

    Isa’s smile grew tenfold as he produced the flowers, noting that the color nearly matched the pale purples and blues of her pin. “Oh, Winter.” She breathed, touched that he would bring something for her. It seemed that fate had indeed smiled upon them that morning, as the November sun tried to break through the clouds overhead. “Thank you,” She beamed, unable to help herself as she leaned into her toes, pressing herself up higher so that she could press her lips to his cheek. She’d just applied her perfume again, the hint of hyacinth bright in contrast to the autumnal smells around them. “I brought you something too,” She added sheepishly as she settled back in her heels. 

     She shifted the gifts in her arms, offering them to him. Each one was wrapped neatly in pleasing pale tones, the largest on bottom, and the smallest on top. In the bottom wrapping he would find a set of parchment with small drawings of magical beasts in the corners. They covered a wide variety of creatures, everything from occamies to bowtruckles to hippogriffs. She’d also chosen a brand new quill with a feather of jobberknoll in it, the markings so similar to Calix’s that she couldn’t resist. In the second box was a tin of her favorite tea, the caramel tones to it so pleasing that she wanted to share. In the smallest box was a cauldron cake from Sugarplum’s. “Your gift for my birthday was so thoughtful,” She explained as she bit her lip, hoping she hadn’t done too much. She didn’t want him to think her too much. “I hope that they’ll all be useful to you,” She added, having wanted to pick at least a few things that would last. 

    As she waited, she brought the bouquet to her nose, inhaling gently, her features softening as she held them, wanting nothing more than to ensure they made it home safely, so that she could decorate the dining table with them in a vase, or perhaps she’d put them on her dresser, so that she’d see them in the morning when she woke up. He’d really done well in picking out the flowers, not only did she find them beautiful and they matched her pin, but they seemed to suit him somehow as well. 

For a not-date date, it felt entire too much like one. Which Winter knew was silly to have the notion of. This was friends, friends greeted each other with courtesy all the time. And exchanging gifts was just a nice thing to do for each other. It was going to be difficult not to overstep the line, especially when she looked so good and looked at him just. like. that. 

The flowers seemed to go over well, so well that when she reached to her tiptoes and lips pressed against his cheek, he felt empowered that he was doing an okay thing. The waft of her perfume made his nose tingle and it was almost as if he’d smelt it strongly somewhere before. In a shop or Apothecary. Or in a potion. It was nice and so completely her. And his cheek bloomed against the crisp, yet mellow November air. “You did?” he asked, not that he hadn’t clocked the packages under her arm before. But he’d assumed she’d just done a touch of light shopping. He hadn’t been expecting anything, that wasn’t customary at all. But then, it was reminding himself that this was not a date. “Oh wow, uh-” he was caught off guard as the boxes were placed in his hands and for a moment he was distracted looking at them in wonder. 

“You really didn’t have to do this. Your gift was your gift for a purpose. A birthday. This- this is too much-” he was protesting, more out of worry that this was more than he had given her. But of course, this was Isabella in all her greatness. He was more than a little eager in opening them, despite them being on the street but he made it work, each one making the smile widen further and further and the care she had put into them? So personal and practical at the same time? God, he had it bad. This was going to be a long day. 

“These are- well, these are perfect. Thank you.” he complimented, especially loving the quill and parchment set. Why did he feel awkward? Was it because a man never really received items? Or that to him, this was a language he spoke in. Little gifts, from notes to handmade items or those of purpose. He would have to charm them down, smaller than a pin to go into his pockets but they could do that before venturing off and ensuring her flowers made it as well. 

As his focus came off the gifts and back towards her, his eyes clocked something he had overlooked before and maybe he was reading too much into it, but the snowflake nestled against her neck, so reminiscent of colder months, of snow, of winter. He felt the breath hitch in his throat. For such a small item, it felt huge in his mind. “I like your pendant.” he noted, cheeks in almost full blush and he was thankful for the autumnal air around them to pass it off.