The Pottses’ house in Bartonburg was hardly far to go, but Elias had waited on the last possible moment to leave for it, as long as he could without being rude and missing dinner. He hadn’t been worried in the slightest all day – he had resolved not to think too hard about it, and thrown himself into other things – but at some point the whole thing had sunk in.
So somewhere between trying to vanish the polish stain on the sleeve of the shirt he’d just changed into and nearly skidding down the street as he left the house, Elias admitted to himself that maybe he was a little nervous. Family gatherings were fine when they were his family, but – this family gathering mattered a great deal more. He’d never thought Daffodil’s family looked particularly intimidating, from the outside – their flower show in the spring had been a breezy affair, hardly stuffy – and he’d at least talked to Thistle several times before. And one of her sisters – Calla? – was a quidditch player at school. No, that wasn’t the matter: he was positive they’d all be perfectly pleasant as company; Elias was just a little less sure what, precisely, they would think of him.
Beneath the apprehension was, however, an almost childish delight at the idea of seeing Daffy in amongst her family and her home environment – not the newer facets of her life, but her history – and getting to know her better by it. So there was a slight grin on his face as he steeled himself on their doorstep, and a general air of curiosity when he was let inside – a resolution to pay attention to everything.
And Merlin, were there already a lot of people about: the house was buzzing with it, even from the hallway. Elias deposited a bottle of alcohol (for eggnog later, maybe, if he made it that far) and another twig-based wreath, like the others he’d made over the years – and this year especially for Daff’s tree-farm day. Not that the Potts house had any room for more festive decoration – he should have expected no less. The place was practically a forest.
He’d hoped to see Daff before having to meet anyone else, but as he was pointed towards the parlour, he bumped into someone else just as he reached the doorway. “Oh, Merry Christmas,” he greeted them, awkward-dodging through the door. “Elias Grimstone.” As he listened for their name to place them in turn, he scanned the rest of the room, looking especially for Daffodil. (Hold on, was that Quin? What was Quincey Honeyduke doing here?)
So somewhere between trying to vanish the polish stain on the sleeve of the shirt he’d just changed into and nearly skidding down the street as he left the house, Elias admitted to himself that maybe he was a little nervous. Family gatherings were fine when they were his family, but – this family gathering mattered a great deal more. He’d never thought Daffodil’s family looked particularly intimidating, from the outside – their flower show in the spring had been a breezy affair, hardly stuffy – and he’d at least talked to Thistle several times before. And one of her sisters – Calla? – was a quidditch player at school. No, that wasn’t the matter: he was positive they’d all be perfectly pleasant as company; Elias was just a little less sure what, precisely, they would think of him.
Beneath the apprehension was, however, an almost childish delight at the idea of seeing Daffy in amongst her family and her home environment – not the newer facets of her life, but her history – and getting to know her better by it. So there was a slight grin on his face as he steeled himself on their doorstep, and a general air of curiosity when he was let inside – a resolution to pay attention to everything.
And Merlin, were there already a lot of people about: the house was buzzing with it, even from the hallway. Elias deposited a bottle of alcohol (for eggnog later, maybe, if he made it that far) and another twig-based wreath, like the others he’d made over the years – and this year especially for Daff’s tree-farm day. Not that the Potts house had any room for more festive decoration – he should have expected no less. The place was practically a forest.
He’d hoped to see Daff before having to meet anyone else, but as he was pointed towards the parlour, he bumped into someone else just as he reached the doorway. “Oh, Merry Christmas,” he greeted them, awkward-dodging through the door. “Elias Grimstone.” As he listened for their name to place them in turn, he scanned the rest of the room, looking especially for Daffodil. (Hold on, was that Quin? What was Quincey Honeyduke doing here?)
look ANOTHER beautiful bee!set <3