4th July, 1893 — Exotic Plant Nursery, somewhere in England

Endymion had been sitting thoughtfully in a dark shaded corner of this plant breeder’s gardens for half an hour or so, unmoving. This was mostly because his arms, legs, and torso were all entangled in Devil’s Snare.

But, you know, it was fine. He had come on research: there was an antique ring waiting for him back in a Gringotts treasure vault, one that was still – for all his trying – cursed. After a great manner of failed attempts, Endymion had decided the miniscule but intricate pattern of leaves engraved on it must be the missing key to everything. Once he worked out what they were, anyway. Though green-fingered enough to distinguish his hellebore from his heliotrope, it was apparently not the type of plant encountered in his mother’s gardens or in any of the herbology tomes he’d ploughed through in the library – so Endymion had come here, hoping an exotic plant breeder might recognise it.

Even he hadn’t been sure exactly, but he had sent Endymion down to the far end of his property to decide, into a shady walled enclosure, canopied by trees and filled with all kinds of unfamiliar vines. Spotting a promising plant, Dymion had flopped down by it to pore over his photographs and scribbled notes, entirely oblivious to the Devil’s Snare snaking up to embrace him. One tendril around his waist, and then – as he reached for his wand – another had already pinned his arms in. He had stayed calm, though; perfectly relaxed... and while it had not let him go yet, on the bright side it also hadn’t throttled him. The slightest movement, another greedy vine; and he had already been on the ground to start with, so no matter how relaxed he could make himself, he was still in too deep for the vines to let him go.

So Endymion’s strategy thus far had been hoping the sun came out. But the day was resolutely cloudy, so in the meantime he had just been watching the creepers circling gradually up his biceps and whistling to himself.

Until a figure appeared down the other end of this patch of gardens, and Endymion jerked his head up abruptly enough that the Devil’s Snare tightened in response. Was that – “Thistle?!” Well, he wasn’t about to let a potential saviour pass him by, whoever they happened to be. (He had never expected to be quite so glad to see her again.) “Thistle Potts, is that you?”

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Thistle Potts/Jack Dorset

  

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Once again Thistle found herself ambling through this familiar garden.  She visited often enough that she'd long since been allowed to look around on her own.  No guide could help her if she didn't know what she was looking for; Her host and their staff knew that from experience.  One too many trips of them hovering listlessly nearby as she poured over whatever caught her whimsy had taught them well that she was best left to her own devices.

She strolled at her leisure, eyes gliding over the foliage, pausing now and then to look more closely at a strange shaped leaf or an unexpected petal coloring.  She was not even slightly playing attention to the route she was taking or the path ahead when she heard a voice call out her name.  Her head snapped forward, searching for the source but she saw nothing beyond the shady patch at the end of the walk way.

"Yes?" she replied hesitantly

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Set by Bee <3

Oh thank Merlin, she had answered – that crumb of hope was worth the tightening of the Devil’s Snare. She hadn’t made any haste here towards him, though, so he was not saved yet. He could call for her again – could indeed call for help – and he trusted she would come over... but Endymion did not particularly want to ambush her, either.

It had been rather a long time – and he wasn’t sure what terms they were on, after all these years. Maybe it was best to warn her? It would be more polite to warn her.

“Miss Potts – it’s Endymion Dempsey!” he called, hoping she had located the direction he was yelling from at the very least, because it as yet she hadn’t moved. “I’m sorry to do this, but would you mind coming over? I could, um – use a hand!” In spite of the words, he had to keep his tone cheerful and relaxed, or the stress in his body would feed the snare that much more. And if she chose not to come over – if any resentment had festered in their silence – then Endymion really would have to find another way out.

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She'd thought the voice had sounded familiar and when he offered his name it only served to confirm it.  Familiar, indeed.  As far as explaining anything else, it didn't go far.  She frowned, still searching for the source.  It was weird enough running into someone like this but disembodied voices were not inherently trustworthy.  The disembodied voice of Endymion Dempsey?  Undetermined.

Still, she moved down the walk, since that was clearly where it was coming from.  If someone needed help she wouldn't say no, within reason.  Even if it was Endymion Dempsey of all people.

"What do you mean 'you're sorry to do this'?"

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Set by Bee <3

“I mean, I’m sorry to ask a favour of you,” Endymion called, rather wishing Miss Potts (if she was still Miss Potts nowadays; that felt like a gross presumption) was not so sceptical and questioning and sensible a person, else she might have made it over to him already. It was a little awkward to allude to any history they might have had aloud, even if no one else was around, but nevertheless. However things had ended, it wasn’t as though he’d forgotten her. “After everything.”

“Just – I’m a little caught up in a situation,” he half-explained, voice getting a little higher when another layer of creeping vines tightened uncomfortably around his thighs, “back here by the wall.” He winced, suspecting she would find said situation rather stupid of him. “But take your time, of course,” he said (with perhaps more of a joking air than he really ought to have right now, considering). “I’ll... be here.”

Well, if he hadn’t been suffocated yet.

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   Thistle Potts

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Her sense of self preservation was still not thrilled with the situation.  A woman alone in a private garden being beckoned along by a man was the very picture of a cautionary tale ... but the 'after everything' got her.  If she was being lured by some kind of boogeyman it had done its homework.

With her mind made up she moved forward with decisive steps even as he was still explaining.  She hadn't moved far when the pitch in his voice had her reaching for her skirts so she could hurry forward.  She wouldn't spare a thought for the twist in her stomach that struck out of no where.  It had been so long since they'd spoken and the way he spoke was just so... him.

Ok, she wouldn't spare two thoughts for it.

"I'm coming, I'm com-" the shadows had been loosing intensity with every step but now that she was right on it and her eyes could begin to adjust to the dim she finally spotted him.  "What on earth!?"  She asked though she was already reaching for her wand.  She knew that vine well and dealing with it was almost reflexive to her.  Within a beat she was casting a collection of little blue fires all around him until she was satisfied that there was enough light and heat to free him.  She checked her own feet for good measure - devil's snare was sneaky like that - before looking him over for injuries. 

If devil's snare wasn't so dangerous it would've been funny, him laying there like that, cast in a blue halo by her spells and then of all people to come to aid it was her.  It certainly made her feel better about her side of this little run in.

"Are you alright?" she asked, doing her best to keep her amusement off her face.

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   Endymion Dempsey

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Set by Bee <3

Endymion had been trying to keep perfectly motionless, for obvious reasons – but, regardless of that, his breath caught in his chest as she approached. From a distance, she’d looked exactly as he remembered her, might have walked right out of his memory – he hadn’t even known he remembered her half so well as that – but up close he began to notice the little differences. Small things, mostly, in her face or in the way she held herself... She had always been strangely down-to-earth and had that air of unassuming confidence, even at nineteen; but it suited her better now, like she’d grown into herself. But that made sense – it had been eight years. (Was that right? Eight years? Really?)

He was so stunned by that revelation that little blue fires had sprung up all around him before Endymion even noticed what she’d been doing. The Devil’s Snare relaxed its grasp from his arms and his legs and about his waist, shrinking away back towards the wall. Not about to waste the opportunity to move, he scrambled to his feet with appreciation, and more haste than he was used to.

Now standing, he shot her a grin in gratitude and nodded smoothly. “Oh, I’m superb now, thank y–” Moving out of the way of the vines, Endymion was mid-step towards her – though, as it turned out, he was not entirely alright. His body had been under such pressure in the plant’s grasp that now, loosed, his arms felt like they were floating at his sides and his legs felt like jelly. The stumbling step had been too much, too soon: his legs buckled beneath him, he swayed, and the next moment Endymion, with dazed surprise, found himself sprawled face-first in the dirt by her feet.

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   Thistle Potts

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Thistle was glad to see him jump to his feet - clearly no worse for wear.  That was definitely the reason she was smiling now, and not because his grin was so damn charming.  She was about to ask how he'd ended up like that (and why there was an uncontained murder plant about) when he took what was possibly the least graceful step she'd ever seen in her life and fell flat in front of her. 

An equally ungraceful laugh flew from her lips and was immediately cut short as both her hands clapped tightly over them.  She froze for a moment, a mixed look of horror and laughter framing her eyes, before she finally sprang to action.  She fell to a crouch beside his head and asked "Are you alright?" with a genuine and appropriate tone of concern.  However when she put her hands on his shoulders as if to help and asked "Can you turn over?" her voice audibly shook with the unbidden laughter she was working so hard to suffocate. 

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Set by Bee <3

He only caught a split-second of that smile of hers before he was face to the ground. Her laugh rang in his ears instead, and Endymion half-groaned, half-smiled where he was. It would have been petulant to expect her to be – concerned about him, wouldn’t it? She had already done one good deed he didn’t deserve, by getting him free: there was no reason to expect any more grace from her.

Although, Endymion supposed, as he found her hands – unexpectedly – on his shoulders, maybe his own lack of grace had at least avoided the awkwardness there might have been between them. The laughter had cleared it, perhaps. She was still laughing now, he was sure – he shifted over on his shoulder and rolled over onto his back, looking up at her with mud smeared on his face. (He remembered seeing her with traces of dirt under her fingernails and inkstains all up her hands – small things, but they had been marks against her. He could look back on them more fondly now. Like the way she was trying, and failing, to sound sincerely concerned.)

“Fantastic,” he offered, more resignedly than his last response. “I’m – fantastic.” So much for smoothness, then. He inhaled deeply to catch his breath again, and shook a hand through the curls at his forehead in case any soil had gotten in his hair. (Priorities.) “I think I might need to take it – slow,” Endymion decided lightly, even taking his time in sitting upright to try and avoid any dizziness or a sudden rush of blood through his limbs. It felt – presumptuous to demand a hand up, though it might have helped him. At any rate, his mouth twitched when he glanced at her again. “But I’m glad that I could entertain you.”

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   Thistle Potts

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Her crouch shifted to a kneel by his shoulders as he settled on his back.  She only had few moments to hover over him, peering down to search his face (and person) for signs of some real ailment,  before he was pushing himself to sit upright again.  She clucked her tongue - hadn't he just fallen over doing that? - but didn't stop him. 

Sitting on her heels, she felt around her crumpled skirts looking for the opening to the large pockets hidden within.  "You must've gotten yourself over heated -."  She cast a glance to his chest, checking if he'd worn some outlandishly unseasonable jacket, before finally fishing out handkerchief.  She looked momentarily disappointed by it before giving the slightest of shrugs and waved the thing fruitlessly in his general direction.  It wasn't as helpful as a fan would have been but it was funnier and she found herself smirking again.

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   Endymion Dempsey

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Set by Bee <3

It was hard not to have overheated a little, Endymion thought plaintively, when there had been vines wrapped forcefully around him in the middle of July. But now that he had free movement and use of his own limbs again, he did attempt to wrestle his way out of his jacket where he was sitting as Thistle, meanwhile, the paragon of assistance, waved a floppy handkerchief at him.

“You’re too kind, honestly,” he answered to her smirk. “A real help.” (She had saved him, so he couldn’t actually complain – but he pulled a mock-pout anyway.) To help himself instead, he tugged his top shirt button open, loosening his collar from his neck; he wasn’t yet ready to give standing up another try. He did feel a little pink and flushed and stupid for it now that he was free, so he rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly and let his attention linger more sincerely on her instead. “How have you been? Are you – sorry, is it still Miss Potts?”

He couldn’t recall her marrying, but that didn’t mean much at all: she wasn’t quite in society, and he’d been mostly out of the country for years. And it had been a long time ago that they had known each other.

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   Thistle Potts

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She couldn't fault him his reaction; she was being rather silly considering he'd been in decided peril not long ago and then unable to stand because of it.  She simply raised her brows, indulging his snark.  Clearly he was feeling well enough to manage sarcasm.

It wasn't an unwarranted or even unexpected question but it still struck her like a sour note from an out-of-tune piano.  She wondered if it carried any of the same weight for him and briefly considered lying just to watch his reaction. It would be easy enough to invent a surname ... but the whim was dismissed as quickly as it came.

"It is."  she replied evenly.  "And I have been well, thank you.  I heard you've done a bit of traveling..."  Because small talk and pleasantries was definitely the normal course to take while awkwardly indisposed in a garden with one's ex. 

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Set by Bee <3

He didn’t know if she was offended by the question – she had not outwardly flinched at it, and her tone carried no bite – but Endymion did regret voicing it a little, no matter how relieved (and surprised) he was to hear the answer. He frowned a little, meaning to say I’m sorry, that was rude, but then she had mentioned his travels and he wavered, flustered. “Yes,” he said hastily, so as to explain himself: “Yes, I was away for a few years. I’m – behind, on most things. But I’m back now. At Gringotts.”

Because perhaps she would like that warning, so that she didn’t have to bump into him again (after today). Not that she was being unpleasant, or that he presumed there were any lasting hard feelings between them... she still wasn’t married, but there had been plenty of time in the interim for her to have settled down with someone else, and she said she had been well, regardless, so he didn’t know why he was overthinking this so well as to have made himself guilty. “Not married yet, either,” he said lightly – although that was a foolish thing to say, because she hadn’t asked and he would still have been Mr. Dempsey regardless, so it didn’t matter, practically...

Merlin, he was making a mess of this. He cleared his throat. “Is there mud on my face?”

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That frown. She almost wished she hadn't breezed past her marital status into pleasantries. Then she might have had more than a moment to wonder what in the world he could mean with that frown. But then again if there had been more time maybe all she would have found behind it was pity.

Her consolation prize was to watch him apparently ruffle his own feathers about the whole thing. She was content to sit there and watch him fumble through a number of curious admissions with a practiced placid expression. When he spontaneously offered that he was also unmarried amusement sliced through her composure and she relented.

"Oh come now, it's not all that bad. And you needn't worry - spinsterhood isn't catching." She made no effort to hide her mirth. Her status as official spinster had become her favorite joke and while she usually kept that joke to her family and close friends... he was a perfect exemption to that rule.

"Your face is perfect." she answered, indulging him as she slid a hand under one of his shoulders "Do you want to try and sit up?"

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Set by Bee <3

Perfect. Your face is perfect: what a horribly opaque remark! Was she making fun of him again? Laughing somewhere beyond that clear, impervious deadpan? Thistle Potts was a perfect enigma, Endymion decided there and then. Unreadable, a book closed fast. That, or he supposed he had never gotten to know her well enough to learn to read her.

He ought to try not to be too concerned with what she made of his face, anyway. Endymion nodded gratefully at the suggestion instead, supposing he should probably attempt to get himself out of this situation sooner rather than later. She had a hold on him; he pushed himself upwards again, and this time was rewarded with much less dizziness.

He paused there before he tried to move from sitting upright to standing again, studying her for a moment with a little curiosity lingering in his look. “Well, perhaps I’m safe from spinsterhood,” Endymion answered, trying to resist the playful smile tugging at his mouth and entirely failing, “but maybe not from bachelordom.” She seemed perfectly at ease with her lot – he thought he would have noticed if that particular twinkle of amusement in her eyes had been fake or forced, untranslatable though she may otherwise be – but after saying it so jokingly, Endymion wavered slightly at the thought of being alone forever. “Though I do still have a little hope,” he added, with much the same wistful earnestness he had always had when it came to romance and had never been able to disguise.

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She watched as he seemed to anchor himself into a steady upright position and kept her hand on his shoulder just in case. She'd be able to feel if he was going to wobble again, she reasoned. As strange as it was to feel this sense of ease and familiarity slipping in between them it was also... nice? By joining in her unmarried joke the way he did, he passed a test she hadn't realized she was laying out, and she smiled all the wider for it.

She could feel him searching her face as much as she had his. After an abrupt end and all these years were they really exchanging candid jokes and looking for silent shared understanding?

"Oh, I should think so." She said seriously. "As I recall you are quite a prospect. For some." The sentence finished with an unplanned and unnecessary qualifier that came just a hair too late to be as nonchalant as she meant. She winced.

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Set by Bee <3