Well, perhaps we’ll be friends then, Elias thought but didn’t say. Daffodil - it was an unusual name, an unusual flower - but he could not think of anything more entirely suited to her, with her wide eyes and cheerful flush and flyaway wisps of hair and the earth smudged on her cheeks. Maybe it was because he had met her in the middle of a bursting garden, or because she just suited the springtime.
“Yes,” he admitted easily instead, squinting as if he could pin down which sister of hers she might mean - but all he knew about the Potts family was that they had an abundance of daughters, so that was getting him nowhere. “Potts, though,” he repeated, gesturing at the garden, more spectacularly planted than any other he’d flown over in Hogsmeade, with a smile. “I think I should have guessed. No one else’s garden is a match for all this.”
He couldn’t quite keep the smile fixed to his face as she set to work on the scratches, the dittany stinging on his skin, and Elias might have protested that it wasn’t necessary, he could let them heal on their own - but then she wouldn’t be this close, and he wouldn’t have gotten to hear that comment, and probably wouldn’t be having to use all his energy to suppress a too-wide grin. For once he didn’t have anything witty to say in response, so Elias just ducked his chin a fraction, laughed with a little sheepishness and let himself be distracted by her question about the broom. “Oh no, that’s an old forgotten model that I thought I’d give a second chance,” he said, with a look that said, slightly playfully, so please don’t tell everyone you know that I’m just that bad a broommaker. “But it might have seen better days.” The broom probably wasn’t even worth the time it would take to fix it up, and the test flight had been a failure, evidently; but sitting here, with only the now-disappearing-grazes to show for it, Elias couldn’t quite bring himself to count it as a loss.
“Yes,” he admitted easily instead, squinting as if he could pin down which sister of hers she might mean - but all he knew about the Potts family was that they had an abundance of daughters, so that was getting him nowhere. “Potts, though,” he repeated, gesturing at the garden, more spectacularly planted than any other he’d flown over in Hogsmeade, with a smile. “I think I should have guessed. No one else’s garden is a match for all this.”
He couldn’t quite keep the smile fixed to his face as she set to work on the scratches, the dittany stinging on his skin, and Elias might have protested that it wasn’t necessary, he could let them heal on their own - but then she wouldn’t be this close, and he wouldn’t have gotten to hear that comment, and probably wouldn’t be having to use all his energy to suppress a too-wide grin. For once he didn’t have anything witty to say in response, so Elias just ducked his chin a fraction, laughed with a little sheepishness and let himself be distracted by her question about the broom. “Oh no, that’s an old forgotten model that I thought I’d give a second chance,” he said, with a look that said, slightly playfully, so please don’t tell everyone you know that I’m just that bad a broommaker. “But it might have seen better days.” The broom probably wasn’t even worth the time it would take to fix it up, and the test flight had been a failure, evidently; but sitting here, with only the now-disappearing-grazes to show for it, Elias couldn’t quite bring himself to count it as a loss.
look ANOTHER beautiful bee!set <3