July 9th, 1893 - Asphodel Cemetery
@"Zinnia Potts"

Alvin was still in a bit of a fog, grief and an overwhelming sense of guilt that weighed on him, pressing down, making everything slow and hazy. She had begged him to take her out to practice with the new broom. She had said she was going with or without him and there was no arguing with her when her hands were on her hips and her hair was flaring orange.

He'd setup an easel by the lake, painting while she'd raced around, up and down along the shore over what had been a glassy surface to the lake, no doubt teasing the squid as she would dip her fingers into the cold water. The skies had changed, he'd seen the clouds darken, had called out to her to come back as he'd hurried to pack up his things. She hadn't been able to hear him over the first roar of thunder, but she had figured it out anyway, but she'd wandered too far, near the far side and that's when it happened. One minute she was racing back across the waves and the next the lightning struck. In one quick flash his baby sister was struck from the sky, her small form plummeting toward the churning waters. The rain had started coming down in sheets and he'd lost sight of her as soon as she'd hit. Alvin had tried to wade into the water, but he'd only made it a few yards out before he'd nearly been swallowed himself. It took more effort than it should have to even get back to shore.

He could feel the cold of the water even now, wondering if he'd ever be able to shake the sensation. That and the guilt that ate at him hour after hour. He'd gone through the motions, but even Lottie's visit hadn't been able to get much out of him. Everything seemed to lack color or cheer and the black of his suit had never felt more appropriate.

The mood of the service was fitting and Alvin would know Sloane at least would be pleased at the amount of people she had considered close friends. She'd always had a good little crowd around her, but he supposed he hadn't actually realized just how many friends she'd amassed over the years. Alvin hung near the back, unsure how to handle all of the grief around him. It was hard to accept that they were putting a gravestone where she wouldn't be, but he didn't know what else to think. He'd seen her go in and not come out, hadn't been able to get to her. There was on way she'd washed up somewhere else. She was simply gone..

Alvin looked skyward, blinking back the tears when he felt somebody settle next to him. He took a deep breath and looked down to find Miss Zinnia hovering next to him. "Thank you for coming," It was a hoarse whisper, his default phrase for the day, unable to come up with anything better.

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Zinnia was so tired of doing arrangements for funerals. Death seemed to have overtaken Hogsmeade lately, with the odd string of murders that had happened just a few months prior, which luckily had abruptly stopped even though Zinnia was still worried the murderer was out there, waiting, and now Sloane’s death. This one hit closer to home than the others simply because she had known the young woman. Life was going to be so much different without her being a constant fixture in the Potts’ home, and she was fretting over how Calla (if Calla) would bounce back from this. Losing a friend so young was going to have a lasting impact.

Like most of her sisters, she had accompanied Calla to the funeral, although she hadn’t felt the need nor the desire to hover up front, figuring that people who called Sloane a good friend deserved that honor. There were a lot of people here to pay their respects, the atmosphere heavy with grief and sadness. Zinnia blinked back tears as she moved to find a seat near the back, her lips parting in surprise when she spotted Mr. Bixby hovering near one of the benches at the back instead of up front where she thought he might be. Where he probably should be, but that wasn’t any of her concern. She had heard that he’d tried to save her but the outcome obviously hadn’t been favorable.

Instead of moving to a bench in front of her, Zin hovered near him, unsure if she should approach him, but ultimately she decided that he deserved some sort of support too. (And if no one else was going to sit next to him and make sure he was okay, then she would.) So she brushed past a few people and took a seat next Mr. Bixby, her hand reaching out to gently take his without thinking. “We just want to support you during this difficult time.” Zinnia murmured as she gently squeezed his fingers. “How are you holding up? Can I do anything for you?”

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Alvin barely flinched when Zinnia took his bad hand in hers. Normally he would have recoiled immediately, if only because he was self-conscious about the tight skin and the scars. It wasn't exactly comfortable either, but he was still sort of numb, so the pressure of her fingers intertwined with his was reassurance he wasn't about to drift away completely.

With a few days of grieving time, Alvin still didn't feel as if he would ever come to grips with this. It had been so raw, so emotional when Lottie had come over, but now, just a couple of days later, Alvin felt like he was too spent to process much else. It was hard to swallow the sympathy and the support when he felt so guilty. He had this layer that nobody else had and it was slowly suffocating him.

But the Potts girls had been around for as long as they'd lived in Hogsmeade, with Sloane and Calla permanent fixtures in both houses, not to mention there were nearly as many Bixby siblings as there were Potts sisters, always overlapping at Hogwarts and around town. "We appreciate it." He breathed out softly. "Honestly, I have no idea." The smile was wry, grim, and didn't even come close to meeting his eyes, but Alvin had no clue how to accurately answer her question. He was miserable, guilt-stricken, and sullen, but what could anybody do for him really? "I don't know how much longer I can be here though." That much he knew for sure.

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Mr. Bixby looked like he might float away the moment Zinnia let go of his hand, which was the single reason she didn’t immediately remove her hand from his after giving it a squeeze. Maybe she should have, but they were at a funeral and no one was going to fault her for trying to give comfort here… not that anyone was paying attention to them. A few eyes might search for him every so often simply because he was Sloane’s brother, but that was the only reason.

Zin frowned at him, but at least he was being honest. The expression on his face was grim and saddening. It sent her heart into her stomach because Zinnia wished she could help him, and it sucked knowing there was absolutely nothing she could do to help him. She was hurting too, knowing that Sloane wasn’t ever coming back, but enough to float in a fog like he was; would be the same though, had it been one of her family members.

“We don’t have to stay here. Would you like to go for a walk, Mr. Bixby?” Her lips quipped into a very gentle smile, although she made no movement to stand. She didn’t want to make any decisions for him. “Maybe fresh air will do some good.” They’d be back before anyone missed them. Zinnia would make sure of it.

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Bee made me something beautiful<3

With the service itself over, nobody would miss him right? Miss Zinnia's suggestion of a walk felt like the right idea, but he would hate to drag her away where she could be wanted or needed. Alvin didn't know what he needed, but standing here like a fence post wasn't going to do any good either.

"A walk," He nodded finally, still aware of her hand in his, but oddly thankful for it. He needed some sort of grounding and if it was a physical tether or reality, then so be it. Everybody was so distracted or distraught that nobody would mind if they strolled away for a while. Not far, and nowhere where they couldn't be seen, but he needed to breathe for a minute before he continued this day.

Slowly he backed up, around the tree he'd taken refuge under toward another section of the cemetery. Even the short distance they'd put between the gravestone and where they were now eased the constricting feeling in his chest. "How's Calla holding up?" Alvin worried about all of Sloane's friends, her little found family, all too young to be dealing with this.

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It seemed like an eternity before Mr. Bixby decided that a walk sounded like a good idea, and Zin let out a small breath of relief that had been trapped inside her chest once he did. He didn’t pull away as the pair backed up from the tree near the edge of the cemetery, and even just doing that made the knot in her chest loosen. They wouldn’t go far, Zinnia had no intention of promenading around the cemetery for all to see, but even a slight change in scenery would help. She tightened her grip on his hand just a little and took him around the tree so their backs were facing toward the gravestone.

Out of sight would hopefully ease some of the demons plaguing his mind.

Zinnia faltered a bit at his question, turning her gaze toward him. “She’s… well, she’s trying not to be strong, at least around us. I’m sure she’s mourning with her friends.” She answered quietly. “She misses Sloane, and I’m afraid once Hogwarts is back in session, it’ll hit her all over again.” Granted that wasn’t until September, but being around a new place where the memories would hit her sister might be overwhelming… Zin wished she could go back with her and hold her when it got to be too much.

“How is your sketching coming along?” Zin thought something lighter might be easier on his brain; sometimes she sketched on autopilot, blinking back into existence once she was halfway done. Wondered if Mr. Bixby was the same. Perhaps he was muse less though, not that Zinnia could blame him in the slightest.

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Bee made me something beautiful<3

With everything behind him, at least physically, Alvin let his face fall. He could thoroughly understand the desire to be strong around people. Most of his grieving had been done in private, minus the episode with Lottie, but Lottie was well, Lottie and he knew she hadn't minded.

He hadn't even thought that far in advance, to them going back to Hogwarts. That Sloane's bed would be empty and they would have to see it there. Perhaps the staff would do them a kindness and remove it. Perhaps he should nudge his father to write to the school. "I didn't even think about that." It was bad enough having to walk by her room, but it was empty most of the year, so it wasn't quite as striking to him. Now it would stay like that however. Sighing heavily, Alvin stopped, looking out over the rest of the cemetery beyond them and wondering just how they were all going to survive this.

Miss Zinnia's question about his sketching took a moment to register. Merlin, he was in such a fog. "Sorry, it's alright. I've been doing more painting." Or had, it was what he'd been doing that day in the park. "I need to take a class or something it's been a while." The distraction was welcome, even if it wasn't really working.

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Mr. Bixby looked like he got hit with a carriage, not that Zinnia could blame him at all. She nodded then, feeling bad about bringing up Hogwarts, but hopefully it would help the girls. Maybe they'd remove her bed, or at least rearrange the dorm so it wouldn’t be so draining just walking in. She should send Calla something… to take her mind off of it. Well, they still had a couple months, so that thought for another time. She stopped when Mr. Bixby did, shuffling closer to him as he heaved a sigh.

Merlin, she wished she could take some of the pain he was feeling.

“Well, I’d be happy to show you some things.” She said quietly. “I’m not a teacher by any means, I just… enjoy it. Especially water colors. It’s nice to lose yourself in something.” Although Zinnia was known to lose herself in well… almost anything she did. She was a daydreamer, after all, and she could concentrate too hard on something she was working on.

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Bee made me something beautiful<3

Talking about painting was easier and Alvin felt the tightness in his chest ease a little bit more. It still felt like everything hurt, like he'd been the one who fell from a great height, but it was all in his head. "I'd like that." He agreed with a soft smile that didn't quite reach his eyes. It felt like a foreign movement to him, something he might not do with any real seriousness in the near future.

"I've never been good with watercolors." He was still working on his techniques with oil paints, but that he felt like he had more control over. It was easier to layer, obvious. Watercolors were a little chaotic, they moved and bled and he struggled to get them to work with him instead of against them. They did have a lovely affect though, when executed correctly. "Been sketching mostly, it's easiest nowadays." He flexed his bad fingers in hers instinctually but caught himself, holding on in case she thought he wanted her to let go. The contact was grounding, he needed it.

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A smile was a smile, even if it didn’t quite reach his eyes. Painting was one of Zinnia’s favorite ways to express herself, even if most of them never saw the light of day, staying trapped inside the pages of her sketchbook or inside a bag where charmed all her finished canvases. They surely had different styles so maybe they could learn a thing or two from each other, both teachers and students at the same time.

Zinnia nodded. “I can’t say I use too much else.” Outside of charcoal, which she liked when she didn’t have plans to color anything in. He flexed his fingers and she just smiled at him, giving him a small tug forward. “I love sketching too. Maybe when you feel up to it, send me an owl. We can find a quiet place and sketch together.” She was very good at sitting in silence, finding that she was always absorbed into whatever she was working on.

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Bee made me something beautiful<3

This was good. Making plans. He needed something to look forward to. A lesson in watercolors or a quiet sketching session, either would do and he was grateful for Zinnia's patience as he collected his thoughts. "I will." He meant it too. Alvin had made a lot of empty promises lately, things he knew he couldn't keep, but this one would stick. He needed it to.

He followed her forward at the gentle tug of her hand, still a little numb, but warming up a little thanks to her continued presence. Alvin sighed heavily, still feeling the heaviness of the day on his shoulders, but unable to shrug any of it off. It was hard to believe that there were two headstones side by side now. He didn't remember much of Sawyer, he'd been an infant, but Sloane, there wasn't much in the ways of memories from his childhood without her. He felt his breath catch again at the thought and tried to dispel the knot in his chest with the heel of his hand, but it never seemed to ease.

"How's the shop these days?" He asked, needed something, anything else to talk about.

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Zinnia’s heart broke for Alvin; it looked like his heart kept mending as she supplied him with distractions and then breaking as the thoughts of Sloane filled his head again. There was no real way for her to take the heartache away as much as she wished she could, it would heal in time, or at least she hoped it would. Maybe not completely, the loss would always be there, but enough that he could feel alive again.

She squeezed his hand gently, offering him a gentle smile. “Shop’s been keeping me busy,” she replied, keeping her voice soft, “Seems like an influx of people having odd requests, but I let mama handle those. I’ve seen a lot of new customers, but some old.” She could sense the weight of the world on his shoulders, so she kept talking like it was going to provide a momentary distraction from his grief. “You should stop by sometime, maybe use the greenhouse as some inspiration.” It was a lot like the flower show, just on a smaller scale; she had her favorite corners and Zinnia would be more than happy to show him.

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Bee made me something beautiful<3

Alvin nodded along as Zin relayed the shop business. What he wouldn't give for something that would keep his mind occupied and his hands busy these days. Maybe they needed some help in the greenhouse. His left hand wasn't much good for small things, but he could still heft things around if needed. Maybe he'd ask next time he was in. Herbology had never been a strong interest of his, but he was a quick learned and the Potts women had quite a bit of knowledge. Plus he could sketch in his down time and Zin was right, the greenhouse might be good inspiration.

"That's a good idea, I haven't done any good detail sketching in a while." Pick a flower and do the most realistic sketch he possibly could. It was a good idea. At this point he'd take something, anything, to do with his time other than sit about the house listlessly and mope. Anything had to be better than that.

"Thanks Zin," he managed in a hoarse whisper. He was thankful for her softness with him, her patience, the grip on his hand. All of it. Alvin had never been very good about asking for help, still wasn't, but she offered it in a way that didn't make him feel like it was an imposition or forced.

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Alvin seemed almost interested in coming by the greenhouse, even though his face didn’t really show it, she could feel it in her gut that he’d come by. There were a lot of things to sketch and color there, and sometimes when she was bored or lacked inspiration, she’d take her own sketchbook down there, sit in the aisle and sketch whatever was in front of her — every day was different than the next. It was a good way to get the creative juices flowing, and Zin was positive that his were probably drying up while they spoke. Grief did funny things like that, not that she’d ever really experienced it, not in the way that Alvin had in losing a sibling.

She nodded. “Perfect. We can keep each other compatible. Maybe pick the same flower and draw it in our styles and then show each other.” Sometimes Zinnia’s drawings were a bit less realistic and more whimsical which didn’t exactly lend itself to portraits, which she was dying to try out. Maybe she’d draw Alvin while he sketched the flower, eyebrows pinched together in concentration. Then she’d show him and giggle, telling him that she had tricked him with their deal. That sounded delightful, and she couldn’t really see her friend getting mad at her for something so small, especially when she confessed that she wanted to break into portraits as a possible source of income.

Zinnia would send him an owl to confirm times because now he wasn’t allowed to wiggle out of it; no, he’d need this to not get lost in his own head and she was making it her mission to make sure that his grief didn’t consume him. A small smile tugged at the edges of her lips as she raised bright blue eyes to blink into his brown. “It’s the least I can do, Alvin.” The brunette gently squeezed his hand, happy that he was at least taking her up on her offer. Then she gently tugged it so they could move back toward the funeral; they hadn’t been gone for too long and she was sure no one missed them, but it was better to make sure he was where everyone expected him to be.

Tomorrow they’d plan for the greenhouse.

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Bee made me something beautiful<3