Welcome to Charming, where swirling petticoats, the language of flowers, and old-fashioned duels are only the beginning of what is lying underneath…
After a magical attempt on her life in 1877, Queen Victoria launched a crusade against magic that, while tidied up by the Ministry of Magic, saw the Wizarding community exiled to Hogsmeade, previously little more than a crossroad near the Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. In the years that have passed since, Hogsmeade has suffered plagues, fires, and Victorian hypocrisy but is still standing firm.
Thethe year is now 1894. It’s time to join us and immerse yourself in scandal and drama interlaced with magic both light and dark.
Thistle left your gift on my desk and I must say, I simply adore it. It may be one of the most thoughtful gifts I have ever been given. I'm sorry I wasn't available when you stopped by, I wish I had been around to receive it myself; I want to know all about it. I've found the perfect little vase to put it in, front and center right on my desk.
Next time you stop by I'd love to hear all about the arrangement. I hope you're well and the new year is treating you kindly. Looking forward to hearing from you.
Fondly, Daffodil
Elias Grimstoneincluded is a bouquet of pink camellias, which mean gratitude
I’m so glad to hear you liked it. It’s nothing, really – just a few stray twigs I had about that would have come to nothing, otherwise. I do think there’s something fragile and lovely and interesting about them, the very newest parts of trees, but maybe that’s just what I get for fiddling with them all day in the first place, and it’s not something anyone in their right mind ought to notice. I’m not quite sure what your poor sister made of it or of me and I felt rather a fool carrying it over – but if you are being sincere about liking it enough for pride of place on your desk, well, I hardly mind feeling the fool.
On a similar note, thank you for the thank-you flowers. You really needn’t have, for I bought some flowers for myself when I stopped by, and if you keep sending me them and I keep stopping by, the neighbours really will start to wonder what’s going on in the workshop with all the vases. It’ll be overrun with flowers! Do you think they’ll suppose I have a very devoted secret admirer or that I’ve just gone and lost my mind? I’m leaning the latter.
I wouldn't worry about Thistle, she only had good things to say. I do keep it right on my desk, I thoroughly enjoy all of the different colors and textures. If you weren't quite so good at making brooms I daresay you could be a florist with arrangements like that.
I'm afraid the flowers will always be my way of showing how I feel. I know it's a little untraditional for a lady to be the one sending them, but I have never been accused of being conventional. Perhaps, I can slim down to to a single bloom and you can build a bouquet from them, that way your neighbors can assume it's a not-so-secret admirer instead. Morning glories* are perhaps cheating a little, as a single stalk has a few blooms, but I need time to adjust.
Well, I have no innate fondness for convention, so please be as untraditional as you like – I admit it is very easy to stop caring what the neighbours think when I keep receiving unexpected gifts with every letter! I had always presumed a debutante’s days must be long, gruelling and overly tedious – but I am beginning to see the other side of it now. (Best be careful with your favours, or we might find out that I am as impressionable as any young debutante, and will be entirely at your mercy.)
At any rate, I am delighted for the opportunity to begin building my own bouquet. I will learn how to be a florist as I go, and when I have finished an arrangement you can have it back, to judge the – clumsy – efforts of your new apprentice. My only condition is that you mustn’t laugh.
I need little encouragement to be unconventional, as I have no innate fondness for it either, as I trust you've gathered by now, my confession aside. I must add though, I am no debutante either. I do enjoy an event here or there, but my days are spent running the florist, I have started to take over the business side of the shop since my graduation from Hogwarts. Most of my elder sisters moved on after their marriage, or in Thistle's case, have no interest in the business side. It's sort of fallen on me by default, but I found myself enjoying the challenge much more than expected. It keeps me busy, certainly and as we've established, I am not very good at sitting still.
Today I've included a little goldenrod to show my encouragement of your new hobby. I do hope it doesn't make you sneeze however, as it does to many people. If so, please simply toss it into the pumpkin patch, it'll make excellent cover. I'll have to stop by soon to see how everything is going, if you're amenable.
Oh, no, I did not think you could be a debutante. I don’t think debutantes see nearly enough sunlight for that (and one needs not be a trained herbologist to guess that daffodils do best in the daylight, and preferably planted out-of-doors). I am impressed by your undertaking of all the family business, though – it sounds like rewarding work, and your family are lucky to have you. Do you mean to stay at the shop forever, then? Have you no interest in
I like the goldenrod. It’s no worse than strong varnish for making me sneeze – though it did bring all the bees in through the window yesterday.
You should know by now that I would be glad to see you, whenever
Daffodils do indeed do best in sunlight and outside. It is where I am most like myself, soaking in the sunshine and fresh air. Even a little rain shower would be welcome.
Truthfully I don't know where it will go from here. I do know none of my sisters seem to have an interest, though I would like for it not to be my sole pursuit in life. I need variety to thrive. I have thought about opening up my own shop, something small and different. Maybe with some art from local artists. Who knows, perhaps I could use your arrangement for inspiration. Some day I would like a little family, but that seems farther off than the rest these days.
What is it you see for yourself a few years down the road? Will brooms carry you where it is you'd like to go?
To counteract the goldenrod, a little honeysuckle today, though it certainly won't help with the bees. It does smell quite sweet.
Forgive my delay in replying – rather, your last letter inspired or distracted me, whichever you will, and I have accidentally found my hands full of these.* So I have sent along a few blooms for you today, to do with as you please. I make no claims to be an artist of any sort (though I am friends with an artist or two, should you ever need suggestions for your shop), merely a craftsman, but the things you can fashion out of a little dead hazelwood are quite surprising, and almost meditative to make. (They probably ought to be painted, if they are to look more like flowers; but I quite forgot what my workshop was for yesterday, and ought not to dawdle any more on my outgoing broom orders.)
I am certain you have a bright future, in any case, and fully expect you to be spoilt for choice in all your endeavours – truly, I cannot imagine that anything is far out of your reach. Brooms are about the only thing I am certain of, when it comes to my own future – there are things I would like to happen, of course, things I might want, but one can never account for anyone’s feelings but one’s own – and in any case I’ve learnt it is better to temper my expectations, or else I am far too likely to fall into the bad habit of getting carried away.
Of course, I suppose you might argue brooms are good for that: for if I ever find myself too rooted where I am and bored of my own company, I can always set off on the next breeze and fly halfway around the world. As far as backup plans go, it’s really not a bad one.
I could well get carried away by the honeysuckle, though. I might grow some up along my garden fence.
You say you are not an artist, yet you surprise me yet again with your creativity. They are quite lovely, and I love them just the way they are. They fit in perfectly with your other arrangement; I have blended the two into one and it all fits together quite nicely. They will certainly last longer than anything I have sent you.
It is my turn to apologize for the delay, as inspiration begets inspiration, so in the interest of longevity, I have added something a little different with today's letter. For me to say I am not an artist would be a bit of a stretch, but I am certainly not an experienced painter, though I do dabble with watercolors as they are more forgiving in nature. Just a little painting of your pumpkins to hang wherever you like. Please forgive the messiness, as I said, I am no painter. I prefer to sketch, but thought the color would do it better justice; I do like the contrast between the green and orange. Consider it a belated St. Valentine's present from your biggest fan.
Here is where we might differ for once; I have always been an unabashed dreamer, especially in my youth. Having aspirations is all about the journey to get there. The trip is more important than the destination. Or perhaps it is simply an adventure with no goal at all, hard to tell sometimes. It is however, why I tend to speak my mind and wear my heart on my sleeve, as it were. That is also to say, that even if one adventure ends, another will always begin, even if we aren't sure if it at first. You should have a little more faith in big dreams, otherwise I daresay you wouldn't have come quite so far in your career, if memory serves me right. Everything else will happen in its own time. You should give yourself some of the same admiration you seem to hold for me, as I believe you are selling yourself short.
Lucky for you, honeysuckle is best planted within the next month or so, and we happen to have some in the shop, should you like to stop by for some at your earliest convenience. Or I can bring it along when I get some free time.
Thank you for the painting – I find pumpkins are most overlooked when it comes to St. Valentine’s, so I thank you sincerely for giving them their rightful due, when they are otherwise not likely to be appreciated until October. As for your watercolour (from one apparent artist to another), in spite of my artistic friends, I can say profess nothing of merit or skill or technique – but I can say with confidence that it is lovely, and I will be very glad to keep it.
And I suppose you’re right, I cannot dismiss the merits of being a dreamer – but if you’ll forgive me, I think all that faith and optimism might fade slightly with age. You’re still young, you see, so you can get away with it better than I; I’m allowed to grumble, in my old age. (No, but seriously: hold onto it, if you can.) It’s something I l
I do agree on the journey mattering more than the destination, though; the journey is all we have. And sometimes it can be freeing not to have a goal at all – certainly it is more of an adventure that way, not knowing where you’re going, and the best and most unexpected of things might be just around the next corner!
I’ll come by for the honeysuckle next week. Looking forward to seeing you,
I'm pleased that you like it. Pumpkins have sort of become our thing after all, so I thought it fitting.
I hardly see myself changing too much in that respect. Though I suppose, I can admit that certain recent life events have dulled the shine a little bit, I am getting it back slowly but surely, thanks in part to you. Perhaps we can balance one another out, a healthy dose of realism for me and a little pinch of optimism for you. We shall see where this journey takes us.
I'm in all week, except Thursday next, I have an event to decorate for. I would hate to miss you again as I too am looking forward to seeing you as well.
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