August 4th, 1888 - Fudge & Son Desserterie, Diagon Alley

Zinnia felt a bit anxious, truth be told. She'd never had an arranged meeting with a gentleman before. Though, it wasn't as if she was meeting with Mr. Tilcott for some secret rendezvous. He was a friend, sort of. Probably more of an acquaintance than anything but she couldn't help but feel some sort of friendship with the man. He was a bit odd, really, but he was still funny and friendly.

After she'd received his letter of affirmation, she'd sent one to her eldest sister to see that she had the day off. Luckily, she had and agreed to accompany her as a chaperone. It hadn't taken them too long to get to the Desserterie but once there Zinnia had asked her sister if she'd be okay with not sitting right at the same table as them but gotten a rather pointed look and a raised brow as a result. She'd reluctantly agreed to sit at a table right next to where she was to sit with Mr. Tilcott but she'd certainly be watching rather closely. Zinnia just hope Mr. Tilcott would be okay with the arrangements. He had insisted she bring a chaperone but she wasn't sure if he truly wanted to share his fears with more than just her, if he even wanted to share them with her.

Purchasing a lemon ice, Zinnia settled at her own table and glanced about the little shop as she waited. The sweet but sour treat was delicious and she clearly savored each little bite of it. She'd have to make sure to find some lemon sweets to take back home with her. With Honeydukes out of commission, she would need to stock up as best she could.

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Fab Bee Set!

Life had a strange way of throwing the bad at you when good was right around the corner.

Fighting off hailstones and fire-rain caused him to lose his broom.
Acting a leader ended up in him being turned into a cat.
Trying to become a hero on an expedition to clear a mysterious fog resulted in him going home to the news that his father was on his death bed.

It was news like that, Thomas Tilcott found, put everything into perspective that didn’t need to be put into perspective. It was news that drew a dark cloud over the sun and specked the ground with cold water.
Life was a short adventure and no matter what you did to prolong it, it could end at any moment. Everything you were as a being could become a distant memory of something you hope would come back.

And it scared him. It terrified him more than the monsters in his nightmares when he was a child. At least they went away when his father comforted him. This was a monster that did not want to leave.
It crawled into his gut and made his stomach swell; his head turn. Every thought had been overwhelmed with fixations of his father’s body going limp; hand falling from his mothers grasp to fall against the side of the bed. Everything that could go wrong was going wrong and there was nothing the chaser could do to stop it.

Thomas couldn’t see his father. He couldn’t see his family. He wanted to but… he couldn’t. He was too fearful. If knowing what was happening felt like this, then what would it be like to see it? No. He couldn’t.

So instead, he hid in London for a while longer and arranged to meet with Zinnia Potts. He didn’t really know why he’d asked to see her. It just… felt right. It felt as if he knew her somewhat and that she knew him. He wasn’t sure why or how and he couldn’t turn to Rufus. He couldn’t turn to anybody, really. But he had to: - he needed someone. Anyone.

It seemed then that Zinnia Potts would be that anyone and help distract him on the premise of talking and eating desserts.

Upon entering, Thomas didn’t even realise the time until he noticed Zinnia half way through her treat – a similar looking woman sitting on the table next to Zinnia. Thomas smiled at the woman, assuming her to be of relation to Zinnia, before sitting down.

“Sorry… I lost track of time… I-er..” He looked distantly around the room before turning his eyes to the table briefly, “How are you, Miss Potts?” He asked quietly.

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Zinnia hadn't really paid attention to the time, she rarely did. She never felt the need to focus on such things. It seemed a rather common character trait among the Pott girls to simply float through life and enjoy it. Her sister didn't seem to be too bothered by the lapse in time either, having brought a book to busy herself. Zinnia, herself, wished she'd have brought a sketchbook with her. Instead, her focus fell onto the sweet and sour treat at hand and before she knew it, she was nearly half way through with it.

Then a familiar face came into view accompanied by a familiar voice. She smiled up at Mr. Tilcott as he took a seat at the table, waving off his apologies. "No apologies needed," she said easily, still smiling, "I'm sure you're a busy man now that the fog is gone and I've got nothing better to do really." Not to mention, she'd needed a good excuse to get to London. The craving for lemon sweets had never left her and London was the only place she could get them until Honeydukes was repaired.

Glancing to her left at her sister, the small scars on her cheek became more apparent before she turned back to him with a faint shrug. "I'm well enough," she said as she lifted her right hand to show she no longer had a brace on it, "Once the fog lifted, I returned to the hospital and they were able to do a little bit of magic work to help with my broken wrist. It's almost like new now!" She hadn't bothered with them mending the scars on her cheek though, actually finding them to be quite interesting. They weren't terribly awful but they were still noticeable to anyone that looked close enough. The dimples in her cheeks when she smiled only emphasized the scars, puckering a little more on the right side.

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Fab Bee Set!

Letting out as much of a smile as he could muster, Thomas nodded at her words about being busy.
“Yeah, the Quidditch is starting again soon and… everything with the fog.”

Once she turned, however, Thomas felt a knot in his stomach and it was very unlike the twist he felt when he thought of his father. She’d mentioned the attack during one of their letters though he’d hoped she would not have been largely injured. It seemed that was not the case.

“Well enough is good enough for me, Miss Potts. I’m sorry ‘bout the scar, but it’ll be right as new soon, I’m sure. At least you weren’t turned into a cat,” He tried to joke, “An’ you still look er, good, too. Er, nice. Pretty.” He fumbled a little.

Thomas wasn’t good at compliments. Truth be told, he was horrendous at them though he would still try where he felt it prudent. This seemed to be one of those times though the words came out of his mouth in a bit of an awkward slur.

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Zinnia couldn't help the light bit of laughter that left her at the mention of being turned into a cat. She leaved forward, resting her chin on her hand to say something, ask him about it, but he was complimenting her. At least, she thought that's what he was doing. She blushed faintly, not having really expected such a thing.

"Thank you," she said in a soft reply to the compliments though she felt decidedly awkward about it, especially as she caught the raised brow look from her sister out of the corner of her eye who clearly wasn't as invested in her book as she'd appeared before. "How was it being a cat though?" she asked instead, trying to divert the attention from her, "Do you remember much of it?"

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Fab Bee Set!

“You’re… welcome,” He stuttered a little before mentally thanking her for quickly changing the subject, “I remember a lot. It felt… strange,” Thomas shrugged, “It just felt like… all my instincts were cat-like, y’know? Like… I just wanted to climb into somethin’ or just rub up against someone’s leg,” Thomas then turned around and looked toward the ice-cream counter, “It’s quite embarassin’, really.”

The chaser then pulled out a coin satchel and placed some sickles on the table before promptly using his wand to summon some ice-cream and exchange it with the coins. The clerk didn’t seem to happy but they didn’t do much. Likely because he was Thomas Tilcott, cat man and chaser.

Thomas then turned back to Zinnia with a soft smile, “Didn’t last long, though. But I lost my broom – I think that’s the worst that ‘as ‘appened,” Thomas struggled to lie and the sudden change in his expression gave his lie quickly away. And he knew it, “What did you do when I was on the expedition, ‘side from bein’ attacked by a troll?”

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Zinnia listened intently as he described the brief experience of being a cat, smiling faintly as he referred to it being a bit embarrassing. She couldn't even begin to imagine what a thing could be like. It had her wondering how animagus retained their semblance of thought so as to be able to return back to their human form. She imagined that would be a different sort of thing altogether though. She almost wished she had the discipline and determination to become one herself but she knew it would likely becoming a flighty fancy that would be put aside not long after picking it up. Painting had been the only thing to ever capture her focus in the way that it did.

Her smile faltered at the mention of losing his broomstick. She knew what it meant to him, knew that Quidditch was his main focus in life that had his attention captured. Without a broom, well.. it was like if she had been without a paintbrush. An awful thought, really, and she sincerely felt bad for him.

"I'm sorry to hear that," she said softly as she watched him, "Hopefully a new one can be come by easily enough?" She wasn't quite sure how it worked with his team or if he'd be forced to purchase one out of his own pocket. She imagine it was far more expensive than her own supplies for her passion. She could probably offer to help him but she had a feeling he'd tell her no flat out.

"Not much," she responded with a shrug and a bit of a sheepish smile at the mention of the troll again, "Hung around the shop in case someone decided to purchase something. Continued working with my left had on some paintings but nothing really exciting other than that."

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Fab Bee Set!

Thomas shrugged though he held out hope that were words would ring true. He had to provide his own broom unless it broke in an accident out of his control. He’d just gotten a new broomstick and for him to so stupidly lose it, Thomas was certain Thom Pettigrew wouldn’t be very forthcoming to purchasing him a new one. Not that his sponsor often bought their equipment. Short of providing the uniforms, the broomstick and protective gear was typically down to the players. At least in Thomas’ experience it was. He usually didn’t mind. It gave him a good choice as to what he could get and allowed him to focus on purchasing the things that suited his playstyle best – this was true in broomsticks. They had their own personalities. Not every broom suited every wizard.

Whether or not that was true remained to be seen though Thomas was certain the broomstick and wizard had a particular connection.

“I hope so too. I’ll be speaking with Mr Pettigrew soon enough about it; though I’ll likely have to spend some of my savings getting a new one,” Thomas said dismissively. In truth, the chaser really hadn’t been thinking much of Quidditch in the last few days. Or much of anything, really. He was far to preoccupied.

“Paintin’ sounds exciting, though. You enjoy that so I’m glad you enjoyed yourself. At least the injuries weren’t more serious,” Thomas smiled once again.

This was quite nice, really. It was a welcome distraction, “I’d be loathe to see you in a more… serious accident, y’know? Not that a troll attack isn’t serious… I mean… You could’ve lost somethin’. Like an arm or a leg or somethin’.”

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Well that was a bit disheartenting, Zinnia thought. She wasn't sure why he'd taken his broom on the expedition but the fact that it may not be replaced and he'd have to dip into his savings was sad. She smiled weakly at him but decided against offering to give him any money on the matter. He'd probably take it as offensive. At least, that's what she suspected by the way he'd insisted on paying for the arrangements she'd done for him previously.

Nodding, she took a bite of her ice cream again. It had been all but forgotten since Mr. Tilcott had shown up so it was mostly a creamy and melted mess now. It was still delicious though so that was all that really mattered.

"Yes, luckily it wasn't worse," she said, "And luckily the rest of the time in the fog was uneventful. Well, besides the toads raining from the sky or the hoards of locusts. But they were hardly dangerous in comparison to the troll. The worst part was never getting my lemon treats."

She grinned at the sound of her sister's light chuckle at that. Zinnia had been lamenting the loss of the treats since the troll attack and it was well known among the Potts family by then. "Luckily, we're here. So I can stock up on some before I return home," she said, still grinning at the thought, "No one is really sure when Honeydukes will be reopening though so I may need to bring back quite a few with me."

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Fab Bee Set!

Wait, what? Toads? Locusts? Thomas arched an eyebrow and lulled his head to the left a little, a look of quizzical confusion on his features, “Toads and locusts? What in Merlin’s beard ‘as been goin’ on since I went there? I thought the fire and snow rain was bad… I got burnt a bit. An’ I don’t mind buyin’ you some lemon treats, Miss Potts. It’s the least I can do for you agreein’ to give me some much needed company.” He smiled a little softer; his eyes, though sad, at least seemed comfortable in this moment.

“Bit sad though, isn’t it? That Honeydukes is gone. I used to go there a bit – a nice treat for myself. Though…” And with that, the soft gaze and smile vanished, “Er, you best eat your ice cream. It’s meltin’,” He gestured, scooping his own and eating it silently.

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Zinnia laughed lightly at his confused expression. "Yes, it was quite interesting there for a bit," she said before shaking her head at his mention of buying her the lemon treats. "No," she started, though there was a serious tone to her voice rather suddenly, "You really needn't do that. I have plenty that I brought specifically for bringing back some treats. I have to get some sugar quills for one of my sisters as well." Thistle hadn't really said she needed to but she'd planned on getting them the day the troll attack had happened.

"It still tastes just as good even if it's melted," she answered with a shrug but she did indeed turn her attention to the ice cream and took a few bites of it. Well, they were more like drinks and she even slurped a little with one of them that ended up dribbling down her chin just a bit. She giggled a little at it though quickly dabbed at her chin with her napkin.

"Are you doing well though, Mr. Tilcott?" she asked tentatively, looking up at him through her lashes.

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Fab Bee Set!

He didn’t feel like putting up a fight despite every fibre in his body telling him to argue her on the matter. Instead, he simply nodded, “Alright. I’m sure your sister will appreciate you buying them, though. You’re a kind person.”

His lips curled into a small grin when the ice cream dripped down her chin though he couldn’t muster the effort to chuckle and make a joke as he normally would. Nothing seemed right. It was all hazy. Not as much as it had been – to which he would thank Miss Potts for – but still hazy nonetheless.

Her question shook him however, and he didn’t know how to respond. He could be honest and say that no, he was not doing well. His entire world was crashing around him and nothing seemed right anymore. He could have said about how every time he closed his eyes, he saw his father’s own – though white and glazed over. He could have explained how he was scared to go home because he’d have to see his family and when he did that, it would make everything real. At the moment it was just words on parchment. His father dying; it was words. Nothing more. He did not want to face the reality of it. He couldn’t.

He opened his mouth to speak before swallowing and shaking his head a little; his eyes screaming at her with his answer. It was only brief as after but a second, if it even lasted that long, he spoke, “Fine as ever,” He finished his ice cream, “Especially now that I’m out of that expedition.”

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Zinnia hadn't really expected to get off that easily which only made it more evident to her how unwell he really was. She knew his father was unwell. He'd told her as much in their letters. He'd even told her he wasn't handling it the best. He hadn't even been able to bring himself to go to Hogsmeade because of it all. She hadn't wanted to really bring it up though. He seemed to have been doing well enough as they'd spoke. But clearly it was only because he hadn't been talking about it.

Watching him cautiously, she hesitated on how to respond. It was more than evident as she watched him speak that he was far from fine. Her sister sitting next to her didn't seem all that convinced either by the expression she could see on Amaryllis's face. She wasn't sure how closely she'd been listening to Zinnia's conversation with Mr. Tilcott though and she wasn't sure how much he'd want being heard. Luckily, Amaryllis continued to keep her eyes on her book for the most part.

"Are you sure?" she asked, the concern evident in her voice and by the look in her eyes. She didn't want to push him too hard but she did want him to know she was there for him to talk to if he wanted.

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Fab Bee Set!

“I mean,” He began to speak with a crack in his voice, “How well can I be when I get turned into a cat, covered in burns, go missin’ for a month only to come back and my fath-” Thomas stopped himself, feeling his emotions begin to get the better of him. He could hear his own voice; the volume and hurt in it rising. He didn’t want to do this. Not now.

“Sorry, Miss Potts,” Thomas said with defeat, “Yeah, I’m sure. Ain’t worth beatin’ myself up over.” He shrugged, “How’s the shop?”

Death was inevitable, he supposed. And he was going to be the man of the house. He couldn’t grieve. He had to be strong.

Right?

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The look of concern on Zinnia's face only increased as he spoke before cutting himself off. If she could, she'd have stood up and hugged him. Clearly it was something he needed. But she knew she couldn't. Propriety dictated a lot of how she could react or how she could be with a man that wasn't her husband. Mr. Tilcott wasn't even much more than acquaintance so her reactions were quite limited.

She did, however, dare to reach over and give his hand a gentle but firm squeeze. Her glove hand remained on his just briefly, not too long to draw any attention but hopefully long enough to show him he wasn't alone. And though she wasn't sure what she could do to help, she would do whatever she could to help.

"Can I help?" she asked, ignoring his own question as she clearly tried to keep her focus on him and his own issues, "I-I'd like to help if there's a way I can."

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Fab Bee Set!

Her brief gesture was enough to bring a genuine albeit small smile to his lips. He appreciated the subtle movement. Though they were not more than acquaintances, it was nice that she cared. At least, it was nice that she was to act in a way that would suggest she cared.

Her question was met with a soft chuckle, “Unless you’ve got a time turner to hand,” Tommy sighed, “I’ll be alright… I just… How can I see ‘im? See my sister and mother when he’s on his… when he’s dyin’? I can’t see them like that.”

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