Welcome to Charming, where swirling petticoats, the language of flowers, and old-fashioned duels are only the beginning of what is lying underneath…
After a magical attempt on her life in 1877, Queen Victoria launched a crusade against magic that, while tidied up by the Ministry of Magic, saw the Wizarding community exiled to Hogsmeade, previously little more than a crossroad near the Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. In the years that have passed since, Hogsmeade has suffered plagues, fires, and Victorian hypocrisy but is still standing firm.
Thethe year is now 1894. It’s time to join us and immerse yourself in scandal and drama interlaced with magic both light and dark.
The list of potions stashed carelessly in her pocket was the excuse Rosalie clung to throughout her impromptu visit with her parents and the walk she decided to take from their home to the local shops. It had been months since she last saw Mr. Greengrass, his offer of stopping by again likely long forgotten by now, but still she carefully let herself in through the garden to knock at the workshop door. He was drunk that night, she realized after many nights of stewing on their kiss, either drunk or tethering on the edge of it for certain. And she - well, she had been miserable and so terribly alone that she longed to be comforted by someone.
That feeling had grown heavy in her chest again as spring bloomed into summer, her grief made anew only this time she had no public excuse to blame. This time, she couldn't bury her head in work and ignore society altogether, she couldn't be sad. No, Rosalie had to move on somehow; she had to forget the fact that he still loved her and she still loved him (likely always would, if she was being honest with herself).
"Hello," she greeted with a smile when he opened the door on her second knock. "I apologize for not sending word first - I have a list of potions I am in terrible need of, would you be able to help me?" To this, she withdrew the list of potions — an apparently random mix of everything ranging from basic to incredibly complex brews — from her pocket and offered it to him.
Noble was not expecting any clients for another hour, but sometimes people were early — it was lucky that he had finished the tincture already. Now he was mostly focused on fulfilling his contract with Hogsmeade Hospital, but the cauldron had only just started simmering when he heard the knock on the door.
He had a mild, professional smile on his face when he opened the door — it bloomed into a genuine expression when he saw her. "Of course, Miss Hunniford," Noble said, accepting the list. Some of these he even had in stock — some of them would take much longer to brew. Was she here to kiss him, or to actually buy potions from him?
He took a step back from the door to allow her in, and closed it behind him — he had one eyebrow raised when he turned back to her.
"Thank you," she murmured as she stepped through the door and moved towards the back tables almost by instinct. Should she apologize for not coming back sooner? Should she mention the time apart at all? Miss Hunniford he'd greeted, not Rosalie or (worse) Rosie; aside from his expression there was no hint of familiarity in his greeting. Rosalie forced a pleasant expression over the frown that she knew was likely forming on the corners of her lips. She wouldn't mention the time apart unless he did first. The last thing she needed him to think of her as was desperate.
Save for the color and scent of the potion brewing in the main cauldron, nothing about the workshop had visibly changed since her last visit. Was it always this perfectly organized? Rosalie had once been like this, but these last few months had bled her willpower to do so dry. Now, it was lucky that she knew where anything was in her office at work. She glanced back at the list, perhaps she ought to add a few focus potions to the list before someone at work noticed her frazzled behavior and questioned it.
She turned back to him and took in his raised eyebrow, the unasked question behind it. Or, the unasked question she assumed he was asking. "I've nowhere to be for the rest of the afternoon if you're able to brew any of them quickly. I can even help, if you'd like." She explained, still hiding behind the excuse of her list. Although, hopefully he'd see through her excuse for what it was and ask the question as bluntly as he once had.
The rest of the afternoon. If Noble had been suspicious about the eclectic list of potions, this nearly solidified it — a conspiratorial smile eased its way onto his face. "I have an hour before my next appointment,'' he informed her. ''If you would like to —'' he paused.
His smile eased the nerves fluttering through her stomach. Even now, after months of silence, he remained interested in her. There was the thought that she ought to be wary of his continued interest, for she remembered her lessons on decorum well and knew Mr. Greengrass to be the same as any other hot-blooded man. However, Rosalie couldn't endure another month of the empty feeling in her chest and, with no other reprieves this readily available, she felt a bit desperate.
"Or," she drew out and took a half step in his direction, "we could do other things."
Noble's smile turned into a conspiratorial grin. He took a step forward to close the gap between them. "I was hoping you'd say that," Noble said; he placed one hand on her hip and leaned into kiss her, more firmly than he had at first the last time she was here.
The hour ticked by as Rosalie lost herself in the distracting comfort of his kiss. Somehow, she'd come to sit atop the workbench, her skirts carelessly rumpled but remained lowered between them. Her hands remained on his shoulders even as they parted enough to take a glimpse at the clock. The hour wasn't yet spent, but if they were to lose themselves in the kiss again they would risk being caught.
Rosalie struggled then with what to say. Thank you didn't seem appropriate and made her feel as though he was a hired sort of distraction. However, I do really need those potions, also left a weird and uncomfortable feeling in her chest. One she couldn't quite name.
Ultimately, Rosalie decided to say nothing at all and made it seem as though she was simply trying to catch her breath. (Which was also mostly true.)
Noble was happy to spend a great deal of time kissing her — (and increasingly shifting to hide the hardness in his trousers.) Time passed faster than he'd expected it to, and now they were waiting on his next client. He was happy to have her in here — he liked spending time with her even though they had not really talked much at all so far today — but they couldn't keep kissing or his next client might catch them.
Noble took a step back, and grinned at her, feeling rakish. "So," he said, tone a little dry. "Which of these potions do you actually need?"
"All of them," Rosalie answered with a chuckle. She had slid down from the table but was still leaning against it, her face still flushed from their kiss. "Some more than others. I can wait for you to brew the next batch of the more obscure ones."
Noble chuckled back at her. "I can have the basic ones ready by tomorrow," he said; he was too booked up today to fit additional potions in before supper. (Especially given he'd lost most of an hour to more — base pursuits.)
He gave her another look — the flush on her face, the way she leaned against the table. "You look good," Noble said mildly, as if the last chunk of time had not made it abundantly clear what he thought of her looks.
Tomorrow was too soon for another rendezvous like this. Not only due to her fear of whispers but because she wanted Mr. Greengrass to remain interested in her, however limited. Even if all this ever was was a brief dalliance, it was better than remaining alone with her thoughts forevermore. "You'll have to owl them to me sadly. I'll be at the hospital for the next week." Rosalie didn't typically work so many days back to back like this, but with her coworker getting married and off on a month's long honeymoon she was expecting to work many extra shifts.
His second comment though gave her pause, and it took most of her restraint not to drag him into another kiss. Instead, the corners of her lips tugged up into (what she hoped was) an alluring smile and murmured, "I look even better with my dress on the floor. Next time maybe."
He could owl them over; it was unfortunate that she would be stuck at the hospital. But Noble thought that he should not get too addicted to her presence. She had the aura of someone who would be on the run if they got too serious.
Noble's rakish — (he hoped it was rakish and not just pleased) — grin returned. If she was suggesting a dress on the floor, then she was suggesting — something he actually had never tried with Daffodil. And even if they didn't go that far, there was a deep allure to a new level of nudity.
"I'm sure you do," he said, consciously trying not to sound too excited, although there was a pleased flush on his face. If he didn't want her to run, and if he wanted to see her again before Autumn, Noble thought that he should probably clarify his intentions: "I'm — not in a position to marry. But I would —" his tone became a little sheepish "— really like that."
The subject of marriage was too sensitive, too recent for Rosalie to dwell long upon it. For if she did she'd begin to conjure images of the ring tucked deep in her armoire, of the child's glove that haunted her dreams. She came here for a distraction, for a reprieve from the grief that continued to hang heavily upon her heart.
It was right of Mr. Greengrass to bring it up, of course, with what she had suggested, but the mention had dimmed the light in her eyes as if a flame was suddenly extinguished. Her smile dipped, though as she realized it had she attempted to replace it once more. The effort was mostly unsuccessful as she awkwardly shifted before explaining, "I was in a position to marry once. It isn't a position I want to be in again." Not with someone else anyway.
Noble took a step back to give her some physical space. He pushed a hand through his hair, suddenly nervous. "I — whatever space you need," Noble said, "I'll give you." Focusing on her meant that he didn't have to focus on his own mistakes, after all — and while he was relieved to hear that she didn't expect this to end in marriage, she was obviously a little sadder than she had been a moment before.
Her arms folded across her chest as she nodded once. The momentary distraction was quickly fading and the heaviness of her broken heart was already resettling within her mind. Go! Rosalie's thoughts screamed, though she willed herself to remain still through these goodbyes. Their hour was almost up anyway, his client due in any minute. She couldn't have stayed even if she felt inclined to.
She thought to establish some boundaries, to request that he only ever use her full name instead of any nicknames he might derive from Rosalie, but the words felt too thick in her throat. They would have to wait until next time, too.
"I'll tell you when I need space." She said bravely instead, taking a step forward to lightly peck him farewell. "Until next time, Mr. Greengrass."
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