same old lang syne;;
Poppy wasn’t sure what she was looking for. All she knew was that she’d needed a break, from them (from
him) and this was the nearest shop she could think to duck into. She let out a soft breath and leaned against one of the walls in the back, glad for once that her diminutive height blocked her from view of the main entrance.
It was… quiet in the apothecary today. There were no other patrons currently browsing and even the attendant had stepped away to go into the storeroom below. She absently pressed a hand to her round, pregnant belly and let out a soft sigh. She really shouldn’t have ducked away like that but… a small respite from all the fussing wouldn’t kill her? Or anyone else, surely? Endymion could be so sweet; he did his best to take care of her and generally Poppy didn’t mind all the fretting. Normally at this stage most gentlemen didn’t even let their wives out of the house, but not her husband. Endymion knew that she needed some semblance of freedom, else it would be a detriment to her and the child. (They were alike in that way, needing to always have a sense of adventure and free will.) But today… just now… a break was called for. He wouldn’t miss her as he stepped into the
Three Broomsticks with Basil anyway. They had plenty to catch up on and Poppy was meant to be getting a new ribbon. (With the nursemaid she’d instead sent off with a snap, to fetch the ribbon instead.)
Poppy eyed the labels of the various ingredients as she turned to examine them. She might as well pretend to be browsing, in case someone did happen by. They reminded her of her school days, when potion making had been more than just a silly hobby she indulged in every once in a while. Back then it had been her top subject, the very thing that consumed the Ravenclaw’s academic interests. Delicate fingers pressed against the glass jars of this and that as Poppy went down the line. She startled then as someone tapped her on the sleeve, not realizing that the bell over the door had sounded to even admit another soul. Turning, hazel eyes tiredly sought to appraise her new companion. There was no will in the brunette at all to converse but polite decorum demanded it.
The face that greeted her was familiar, but not so much as it had once been.
Her heart skipped a tremendous beat.
"Mr. Lestrange!” she greeted, surprised yet with a hint of formality just as society decreed it. Her heart ached for simpler times, the name feeling heavy and distasteful on her tongue. ‘Kristoffer’ had such a sweeter ring, but she was no longer in a position to use it. Not since—
“Mrs. Dempsey,” he replied, equally as stiff and formal. The girl flinched, and regretted it instantly.
“Poppy is just fine,” she supplied too quickly and perhaps a bit unfairly, all things considered. He didn’t smile, but she saw something soften behind those blue eyes that she’d once known so well.
It felt… a little bit ridiculous not to reach out and touch him. To have such a gaping distance between them even after all this time was... unsettling. (Upsetting.) Poppy's heart throbbed, even at just the sight of her once
friend so close and yet so, impossibly far. Mr. Lestrange was everything she remembered him to be and more with his chiseled jawline and his delicate nose. (His awkwardly set shoulders and his tense, imposing posture.) How many times had she imagined this moment in the past? How many times had she decidedly shoved it from her mind, determined never to indulge the fantasy? Her saccharine heart had not recovered fully it would seem. (Perhaps it never would.) Poppy shuffled awkwardly and the movement managed to knock over a display of mouse trappings. The sound startled her and the girl let out a small shriek, latching unwittingly onto the gentleman’s arm. He snorted a sharp laugh in retort.
“Uncoordinated as always, I see.” The drawl and tease was more what she was accustomed to and Poppy offered an impish grin in return.
“Don’t start,” she cautioned, giving Mr. Lestrange -
Kristoffer - a small smack on the sleeve. He snickered and bent to right her wrong, considering she couldn’t well do it herself in this condition. Poppy muttered a gentle
thank you which he shrugged off.
The conversation lagged then and in her embarrassment, Poppy couldn’t help but tuck a loose curl behind her ear. She was growing tired of standing but she didn’t want to excuse herself just yet. She felt there was so much to say but— nothing occurred.
It had been almost two years since they'd last spoken.
As the blonde turned to gaze in her direction, Poppy felt her face heat.
“Are you here for something then?” Kristoffer asked, breaking the awkward silence. “Can I bring it to the counter for you to prevent another debacle?” The tease in his tone was not missed and it relaxed Poppy some to hear it. Suddenly it felt as if no time had passed at all. As if they were simply two young, stupid kids again, getting into trouble and sneaking around on darkened balconies and in freezing cold barns.
“Er-- no,” the girl admitted. “It’s not important.” She wrung her hands together in the most unladylike manner. “And yourself?”
For his part Kris let a lazy, disinterested look flicker across his face. “I saw you through the window,” he replied with a noncommittal shrug. It wasn’t an answer, but in its way, she supposed it was. A small smile stole across her own face.
“Would you care to accompany me for a walk then?” Poppy asked. “I’m not supposed to be left unattended.” The girl made a vague gesture towards herself that was meant to be a joke but it fell a bit flat. Kristoffer only raised an eyebrow.
“And yet you are,” he hummed, knowingly.
He offered her his arm anyhow and Poppy accepted it without further comment.
They both knew how this was going to go.
Outside, snow was falling gently again over Hogsmeade. It always looked so different at this time of year, so spirited and warm. Even with a thick blanketing of snow, all the thatched little houses and shops managed to look inviting in a way that brought a smile to Poppy’s face. She didn’t let go as she and Mr. Lestrange began to stroll along. It wouldn’t do to slip on ice and hurt herself, or the baby. Rumors could abound for all she cared; she was a married woman now after all. Protected. Safe.
“So I see you’ve done… well,” Kristoffer managed awkwardly, almost indicating her stomach but also very pointedly not. He looked uncomfortable and Poppy couldn’t blame him. She was too. Shifting, the brunette felt a crease come to her brow and she sucked in a small breath.
“Yes, well, it’s what society demands is it not?”
Her quip was more pointed than she’d intended, a little bit barbed. (Society’s expectations were, after all, the reason she was not carrying
this man’s child after everything that had happened, instead.) Guilt settled on her shoulders and Poppy tried to soften the blow with a small squeeze to Kristoffer’s arm. It wasn’t his fault, not
really.
To his credit, the blonde did not react.
“I think it’s going to be a boy,” she continued, chattering aimlessly to fill the pause. “Or it feels like one anyway, from what the nursemaid has said. I'm not sure how one is supposed to tell really, but I hope it is.”
Poppy quieted for a moment and then let something akin to an amused smile grace her features. She knew how to shake them of this. “Do you still think Charles such a terrible name?” she teased, turning to the man by her side. There’d been a time once when she’d threatened to name her first son Charles after all, just to spite him. (Back when the future had been so much more wide open, and promising.)
Kristoffer scoffed instantly.
“Yes,” he replied, bluntly.
Charles Dempsey. What a stupid name.
Poppy’s little peal of laughter echoed around them as the brunette reacted. She could almost read Kristoffer’s thoughts through the look on his face. “Endymion hates it too,” she admitted. “I suppose I shall just have to name our next cat after my beloved darling.” She sighed, dramatically. Kristoffer had tensed at the mention of her husband, and Poppy tried not to let it bother her. She wanted this first interaction of theirs to be peaceful. She couldn’t bear to fight with him.
Not now. Not at this stage.
Changing the subject, she tried for a different angle.
“And how has work at the Ministry been? You’ve been from England recently haven’t you? Tell me about your travels!”
She’d heard this tidbit from Juniper who’d mentioned that Olixander had run into Kristoffer in his recent travel to Spain. Something about visiting family there. She hadn’t asked much about it at the time, imagining that it was none of her business, but Poppy was glad now to have the opportunity. She was also glad that Kristoffer’s work in portkeys seemed to be progressing into something more interesting. He’d always seemed a little bored of his work in the past.
They chattered on in this way for a time and eventually nearly an hour had passed without Poppy realizing it. Her fingers and toes were frozen by the end, but Kristoffer had conjured a small flame in a jar for her that she now kept tucked around her belly, under the fur stole that Endymion had
insisted she bring along.
They were just approaching the
Three Boomsticks when Kristoffer grew gravely silent. Poppy let the conversation conclude there, enjoying simply strolling along in his presence. It had been a long time since she’d felt so at ease. Then, quietly and in a tone that was unlike him, Kristoffer turned blue eyes in her direction to ask:
“Do you love him?”
Him, evidently Endymion.
Poppy’s heart skipped a painful beat. She really wished he hadn’t asked that. She hated to lie to him but… what good would the truth do either of them at this point? She sucked in a small, harrowing breath.
“You know I was never determined to marry for love,” she said lightly, looking towards the entrance of the bar absently.
Other than once, when we’d almost had a chance, went unsaid in the tension that followed.
Kristoffer only grunted, clearly unsatisfied, but he didn’t press. Instead, the blonde scuffed his shoe as he pulled them to a halt. Poppy turned to him wearily, hazel eyes trying not to betray the ache she still felt within. This was a dangerous topic. They’d very pointedly never had the conversation before, and now there seemed to be no reason.
“You look just like you did then,” Kristoffer said, something in his tone betraying a fragility Poppy had only ever seen once before. On that day he was referencing, in fact.
([We] tried to reach beyond the emptiness,
But neither one knew how.)
It was just as she and he both began speaking at the same time, interrupting one another with an urgency that seemed to demand it, that Endymion stepped out of the bar.
“Poppy!”
He approached them without hesitation.
The brunette could feel the exact second that her chance evaporated. She could see it on Kristoffer’s face, too, as the easy camaraderie ended abruptly. The look there had changed and something a bit nastier took its place. Her heart ached at the sight of it, but the expression was not turned to her. It was turned to Endymion.
Forcing hazel hues to peel away from him towards her husband, Poppy felt a small pang. “Darling, yes, you remember Mr. Lestrange don’t you?” she tittered, stepping between them. She settled a delicate little hand on Endymion's chest and made a gesture of introduction with the other. Something sour settled in the air about the party. Endymion for his part took a moment to consider, likely deciding how best to play his cards, and Poppy held her breath. She didn’t want to upset him after all.
“Sure,” the curse-breaker finally responded, more callously than she had expected. He’d never been a particularly jealous sort, but if she could hear the edge in his voice there was little chance Kristoffer did not sense it as well. She laughed nervously. “Where’s Sarah?” Endymion continued, turning to take Poppy’s hand from his chest and holding it securely in his. If he noticed the little blue flame in a jar, he didn’t comment.
Poppy, for her part, offered Kristoffer an embarrassed, apologetic look. “Oh er-- I sent her on ahead and ducked into the apothecary,” she admitted. “I needed something for an ache but they didn’t have it. Mr. Lestrange very politely offered to escort me back so I might have a seat. With you,” she added quickly. (And it was true, sort of.) Then, realizing her cousin was not with them, Poppy felt herself frown. “And Basil?” she inquired, an accusatory look settling into her hazel gaze.
Kristoffer cleared his throat then, interrupting anything Endymion might have added and redirecting their bubble of attention. “Well,” he said loudly, obnoxiously. “I’ll be off then.”
Poppy felt some small panic in her chest as she turned to look at him.
No, her heart cried out. Irrational, silly thing.
“Yes,” she hummed. “Thank you, Mr. Lestrange for your assistance.”
Endymion lifted a hand to pat Kristoffer firmly on the back. “Thank you, Lestrange,” he echoed coolly.
The look that was returned could have curdled milk. For a moment, Poppy was almost sure Kristoffer was going to hex her husband right in the face. He didn’t, and as his expression shifted instead to her, it softened so marginally she was sure she was imagining it.
“Anytime,” he responded meaningfully, an intention behind the word that was impossible to miss. Endymion stiffened beside her and Poppy felt her cheeks color as she ducked her head. Then, Kristoffer turned on his heel to retreat.
Endymion pulled away from her and made motion to turn back into the pub. Poppy called after him anxiously, one hand still held slightly aloft. “Darling, please let me--”
“Don’t, Poppy,” he interrupted, a familiar pain lacing those two, sad little words. The brunette bit her tongue, hard. When Endy turned to gaze at her for a moment, snow already accumulating in his beautiful curls, she felt her heart bleed out on his behalf. She hated that he felt-- that he knew-- She hadn’t wanted this. He didn’t say anything more, instead reaching up one hand to thumb gently at her cheek. Then, moving to wrap his arm around her, the curse-breaker pulled Poppy into his side. “Come inside,” he sighed. “You’ll freeze out here.”
Poppy ducked into him willingly, burying her small face into his chest.
Once inside, she slid into a seat by the window where Basil was waiting with two half-finished butterbeer glasses. Through the clouded, foggy pane, Poppy searched for Kristoffer’s familiar form but he had long gone.
Just for a moment, I was back at school
And felt that old familiar pain
And as I turned to make my way back home
The snow… turned into rain--
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Poppy wasn’t sure why, in the wake of everything that had transpired in this her first rather successful season, she was so disappointed at seeing the back of a gentleman she was never destined to… 
Poppy sucked in a small breath, determined as she was not to grin. Beside her, Kristoffer Lestrange was doing his 
Poppy saw the owl flutter in over breakfast with an unusual sensation in her gut. She watched it swirl around with the rest of the post as she took a small nibble from the cinnamon scone she’d selected. Perhaps it was the scone, or the way it made her feel, but something about the owl made the brunette hyper-focus as she tried not to think too much on the hungry yet sickened sensation in her stomach. It was a tiny creature, lost looking amidst the group, and it carried with it the smallest scrap of paper she could imagine. Curious, Poppy watched as the thing finally landed just near her plate. It was so small and fluffy it could as easily have been mistaken for a sparrow as it hopped over to her and deposited its delivery in her lap. Then, before Poppy could comment or thank it properly with a piece of food, the thing took off faster than one might think possible. 
“What is 
The stone glittering on her finger felt heavy as Poppy watched it glow under the many splendored crystals and lights. The Dempsey ballroom was even more splendidly outfit than last year, Lowri having outdone even her most opulent of events yet. New Years was, as always, a big to-do in the Dempsey family and as a dutiful wife, Poppy had put on a brave face. But this time of year was always bittersweet for the diminutive brunette. It reminded her of a past she wasn’t always keen to forget and now, having regained her figure and been blessed with a beautiful baby boy, she found it harder to remember why she tried to forget in the first place.