August 4th, 1892 - Diagon Alley
Irene Crawley

This was hers.

Daffy stood before the dingy shop front that currently didn't look like much, but oh, would it look like something when she was done with it. Her wheels were turning, her mind racing at the possibilities that stood before her. As nearly the middle of seven children, Daff didn't often have something to call hers but here it was— or it would be once she paid back the small loan she had taken out form her parents to cover the remaining balance that she'd needed. Hopefully she wouldn't crash and burn, because that would be absolutely abysmal. Daff couldn't think like that though. She had so many ideas and visions about what could be that she chose to focus on the positive.

Peering inside the dimly lit shop, she could see how the natural light from the large, admittedly cracked, window lit up almost every nook and cranny of the main floor. That would be perfect for what she had in mind. It would be part florist, part  gift shop and host of other things. She would sell what she wanted, what people requested, whatever it was that made people happy. As she stood on the cobblestone street with her large suitcase in hand, she envisioned something warm and inviting, lots of greens mixed with warmer hues, a cozy space near the front with some plush armchairs and books, tea perhaps. It would be unequivocally her.

Sighing contentedly, Daff jingled the key to the front door in her hand. There was a lot of work to do before that however, and the first thing she needed to get a jump on was making the tiny second-story flat livable. It wasn't so bad, just dusty and in need of a bit of repair, nothing she couldn't handle with a little wandwork and elbow grease and now was as good a time as any to get started. "Alright," She breathed out. "Let's do this." Daff didn't realize she wasn't alone (it was sort of early in the day) until she heard footsteps approaching and she chuckled, not even bothering to look abashed.

She was relieved however, to see it was Irene who was making her way down the street, that was until she remembered their last sort-of-awkward encounter and now she wasn't entirely sure what to do; overtly cheery would have to suffice. "Good morning!" She greeted with a wide smile.

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It had been nearing her break time when Irene decided to deviate from her usual routine of popping into the Ivy Leaf Bakery for a snack and heading straight back to the gallery. Perhaps it was the lovely weather or something else, but she felt compelled to wander after picking up her scone (breakfasts were constantly being missed as of late) from the Ivy Leaf. Lost in her thoughts about the gallery, a few portraits and a conversation she'd had with Louisa earlier in the week, it took a bit longer for Irene to realize where she'd wandered off to.

It wasn't until she heard a cheerful greeting that she raised her gaze from the cobblestones in front of her to her right. It was Daffodil, someone who she wasn't entirely displeased to see, but certainly surprised. She often worked in Hogsmeade, didn't she? And standing in front of a somewhat rickety looking shop, Irene first thought that perhaps she'd had a falling out with her family and moved. But from her knowledge, the Potts sisters were quite close (in fact, the entire family kept their bond strong; a fact that Irene was rather jealous of, but yet another ache that she was used to pushing aside. After all, what else was there to do other than keep on?) so that possibility was rather far off, if not altogether improbable.

"Daffodil!" Her eyes moved from the young woman to the storefront. "I didn't expect to see you here. Is the family shop alright?" A prickle of worry tickling at her spine caused Irene to hasten her pace forward, scone in hand all but forgotten and her brow furrowed in slight concern. After the explosion that wreaked havoc on the family, the last thing they needed was to have to relocate.

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Fortunately Irene's greeting was that of what their friendship used to be and so Daffy relaxed a little. Maybe she had imagined everything at the flower show back in May, maybe she was reading too far into a situation she had gone and ruined for no good reason. Things were decidedly in her own head most of the time, but she had also failed to follow through on anything with Elias yet either, which was... horrible on her part. But maybe, after all, she wasn't in a good place to be starting anything new on a personal level. No, maybe now was the time to try something new professionally instead. Only time would tell however.

She waved off the concern with a smile. "Everything is fine, this is, uh, my new shop. Or it will be, rather." It wasn't much of anything beyond dirty windows and empty rooms at the moment, but she had every intention of turning it into something spectacular when it was all said and done. Daffy was not afraid of putting in the work. In fact she was looking forward to having something consistent to occupy her hands and keep her mind off what she had screwed up before this.

"I bought the building just this week, I'm moving in upstairs today." The little second story flat wasn't much, but it would be and once that was settled she could look for a roommate and some staff of the shop itself.

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There it was again, that teensiest prick of jealousy again as she realized how lucky the young woman in front of her was. And yet knowing how talented Daffodil was, how eager she was to prove herself — Irene couldn't ever begrudge anyone who showed the same tenacity and dedication to their craft that she herself possessed. "How wonderful!" She heard herself say, eyes moving to the facade of the building. It was in rough shape, certainly, but in no worse shape than the paintings that came into the gallery for restoration.

"Congratulations, Daffodil, that's so exciting," Never mind that Irene would have loved a place like this for her own — to display her art for others to come in and see. And yet the artistic world she loved was male-dominated, one that continued to take from her, as much as she loved it; a vicious circle.

But again, never mind her envies of the young florist. "Are you quite excited to make the shop your own?"

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Daff felt that weird feeling prickling at her spine that she'd felt that day at the flower show. Something was off, but she also felt like she might be imagining it, nothing was very clear these days. Her head was a murky mess of jumbled emotions that wouldn't settle no matter how hard she tried to distract herself. Thankfully the shop was at least keeping her busy.

"Thank you, I'm very excited. It'll be nice to have something of my own." To keep her going and full her time. "It's going to be a lot of work," She chuckled, looking at the haphazard shop. It would be something though, when she was finished, no matter how long it took.

"My hope is for it to be more than flowers, if you have paintings you'd like to sell, I could make space?" Daffy knew she'd asked Zinnia the same already, and Daff wanted to have other things that local artisans wanted to sell and needed a place to do so. It would be more than just a florist.

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Irene nodded, knowing the feeling of finally having something of one's own, and having a say over a daily routine and schedule. Though her journey into independence was quite different from Daffodil's (and certainly not one she would wish on anyone), she still found herself in a peaceful state of mind when she ran daily errands in Hogsmeade.

Being quite a visual person, Irene stepped forward, raising her free hand to peer into the shop window, scone all but forgotten in her hand. A lot of work was quite the understatement, she thought, but nevertheless — in a similar way that she could look at a blank canvas and see the artwork before her begin to appear, it was quite easy to imagine what the shop would be like with a crowd bustling amongst explosions of pastel petals and vibrant colors. "It's sure to be a labor of love," she responded in a matter-of-fact tone as she remembered she had food in her hand and raised it to her lips to take a bite. "And when it's complete, I'm positive the crowds will flock to it."

And the prospect of having a few pieces of artwork available for sale was certainly a bonus — having independence thrust upon her taught Irene never to turn down a source of revenue, and she smiled gratefully. "That's too kind of you, I'd be honored to have my artwork displayed."

Though she'd stepped back from the window-front, Irene glanced back into the shop from where she stood, taking another bite of her scone. "Have you thought about what colors you might paint the walls and cabinets yet?"

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Daff wasn't so sure it would be quite as popular as Irene proclaimed, but she hoped it would at least be profitable. All she wanted was something for herself, in which she was able to live off it. Daffy didn't need much, just enough. At least Irene seemed amenable to being a part of it.

"I'm hoping to have a whole wall of flowers and a whole wall of art." Daffy continued on, trying to keep things casual. This imagined awkwardness she was feeling had to be shoved down so that she could function. "Yellow, I think, on the one wall. The rest is a lot of wood that needs a desperate polish, but with a warm hue to them, so it'll balance with all the green nicely." With Zin's mural behind the till it would all come together.

"Unless you have some artist's insight?" Daff was pretty good with color, but she most often drew in sketch, so she was only working in color with flowers.

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Brown eyes flicked back and forth from the floor to the walls and cabinets, as if sifting through the combinations of colors she could imagine. It had never been her intention to automatically critique any place she went, but it was hard for Irene not to see things through the lens she'd been trained to put over her eyes. Any painting in a muggle gallery was made better by imagining what they would look like if they moved; how the subjects would interact with each other. Renoir's Bal du moulin de la Galette would always be one of her most favorite paintings, and yet the one she would always look on with some degree of malaise; to see it in motion would make it that much more beautiful. But it spoke to Renoir's capabilities as an artist that he was able to capture such movement with a muggle's eye - another reason why Irene felt the magical world greatly underestimated the muggle world.

"Hmm?" She'd been so busy off in her own world that she nearly missed Daffodil's answer to her own question, and she came back to the present with a jolt. Yellow on one wall, polish the wood; green, flowers, art... Yes that would look positively lovely in this little shop. Again another flicker of envy tugged at Irene; but it would be an imposition and quite rude to direct Daffodil on how to go about making her shop. Her invitation to Irene had only been to feature some works of art, which she would gladly provide. Anything more would likely be seen as pushing it.

"Oh! — no that all sounds quite lovely, Daffodil." She smiled again, raising her free arm to lightly touch the window pane of the shop. "I can see it now, and I'm sure Zinnia's eager to help as well. There's no need for another person's input; too many cooks spoil the broth and all that!" In truth, she wasn't sure she wanted to help; it would be too much of a reminder of what she would never be able to have, and jealousy never sat well with Irene especially when the object of that was someone who was the most undeserving of her envy. So she smiled instead, letting her shoulders shake slightly with her laughter as if she'd just shared a joke with Daffodil. It would be better this way.

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As Daff was wont to do, she was creating in her head, looking at things not as they were, but for what they could be. She too nearly missed what it was Irene had said. The awkwardness of the air lingered and Daffy could not, for the life of her, imagine the source, or if she was in fact imagining it altogether.

Irene too, seemed distracted and so Daff let it lie. "Yes, she's agreed to do a mural behind the counter for me." Daff was hoping to have it look like a bouquet of the family flowers, just to have a personal touch of her family there, but she would certainly leave the creative license up to the artist of the family. There had been a passing thought about wishing Elias could do the sign for her, but that thought had passed as quickly as it had come. That was regrettably no longer an option.

"Of course," She answered, fiddling with the keys in hand, unsure of what else to do. "What brings you to the alley today?" Daff rather thought the focus on her was a little stifling, when her goal here was to get away.

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As the conversation dwindled away and naturally came to a close, Irene had been hoping she might be released from conversing further; it appeared her envy was not so easily banished and she resisted the urge to shuffle her feet in attempts to rid herself of the emotion. Alas it was not to be easily shaken, and so she figured the only way to shake herself of it was to head back to work. At the young florist's question, however she felt compelled to answer: "I work at the Magical Portrait Gallery wing here in London and I stopped at the Ivy Leaf to grab a quick bite to eat and some tea." She raised the now empty scrap of paper in her hand by way of explanation.

She often headed into Diagon Alley during her breaks as a means to get inspiration and stop by the Ivy Leaf to converse with Meredith. It was sound of the bustling crowd and smell of freshly baked goods that often drew her to the popular destination; she'd gotten to know a few of the storefront owners for how much she frequented the area. During the holidays she would offer up portraits and paintings in exchange for goods.

The sound of the bell tolling in the alley signaled to Irene that she would be late to her afternoon shift. "Ruled by the sound of the clock!; must be off, else Louisa will be left wondering if I took a wrong turn." (It wouldn't be the first time that happened.) Irene raised her free hand to Daffodil, her eyes skimming the shop as her lips curled into a well-practiced, warm smile. "Do let me know how you get on with the rest of your lovely shop! I'm always an owl away if you need any extra assistance!"

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Daff furrowed her brows and frowned slightly. She knew where Irene worked. That is where they had initially met, when Daffy had planned the flowers for the opening of the wing not even a year ago. It was where she still sent somewhat regular arrangements for the galleries to change up the scenery and keep the portraits happy.

Feeling her heart sink, Daff wondered if she had somehow managed to ruin a friendship as a casualty of what had been with Elias. It seemed like her move to London could not solve all of her problems. Then again, she supposed running away from them wasn't exactly solving them either, but this was unexpected. "Right of course," She smiled softly, albeit a little sadly as Irene made her excuses to leave. "Enjoy the rest of the day." Perhaps she would have to temper her own visits to the Ivy Leaf, as she too had come to enjoy the treats and company found at the café in her short time here in the alley.

Some fresh start she was having.

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