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 1895. It’s time to join us and immerse yourself in scandal and drama interlaced with magic both light and dark.
Complete a thread started and set every month for twelve consecutive months. Each thread must have at least ten posts, and at least three must be your own.
Did You Know?
Did you know? Jewelry of jet was the haute jewelry of the Victorian era. — Fallin
January 16th, 1894 — Noble's Workshop, Bartonburg Noble Greengrass
Typically, Rosie avoided visiting with her parents on days when she had other things she needed to do. Their constant questions over whether or not she'd decided to consider marriage again or not filled her with this nervous energy that then distracted and derailed her plans for the day. It was one thing to feel as though she was failing professionally (her salve hadn't yet yielded any hopeful results), it was an entirely different overwhelming feeling to be reminded of how terribly she failed in picking a husband.
At least there was Delphine. Perhaps her sister wouldn't be as much of a failure as Rosie was.
It was snowing when Rosie finally escaped her parents and headed to the potioneer's workshop. They'd had a brief letter exchange before the holidays on a few different potions that she was hoping to study and, at last, it was time to pick them up. There were a few good potioneers in London too, but only one had returned her inquiries and it was with a refusal to work with her.
She knocked on the door and was in the middle of brushing snow from her hair when the door opened. "Mr. Greengrass? I'm Rosalie Hunniford, I wrote about the potions?"
With the cousins in the house, running a business out of here was becoming sort of annoying — whenever he had clients coming, especially new clients, Noble felt as if he had to stalk the front door so that no one could interfere with his professional image. He'd been loitering in the parlor for that reason; he opened the front door a little over-quickly, when he heard her knock.
"Miss Hunniford," Noble said, with a polite smile. She looked around his age, although he didn't remember how much they had overlapped at Hogwarts — she probably had not been a Gryffindor. Her hair was pretty. "They're ready — will you follow me to my workshop?"
Rosie generally tried to maintain a level of professionalism when dealing with fellow potioneers and healers, but the door opening only seconds after her knocking caught her entirely off guard. Her cheeks flushed, though they were already likely red from the cold, as she nodded and began to follow him inside.
"I apologize for not being able to pick them up sooner. The hospital is always flooded around the holidays." Rosie explained.
Her cheeks were flushed; Noble hoped that he hadn't done anything particularly embarrassing. He pushed his hand through his hair. "Oh, it's no trouble at all," he said, "I get an influx of orders around then, too." They were nearly to the back door without his having run into any relatives. Blessings upon him. He had to consciously lower his pace so as to avoid speed walking Miss Hunniford through the house on his quest to continue avoiding them.
"Are you working at the hospital today, or do you have off?" Noble asked. He pushed the back door open and held it for her, tension visibly leaving his shoulders. "That small building, right there," he said, indicating with one hand.
Rosalie hadn't known what to expect from Mr. Greengrass this afternoon, but a speedwalk through his home wasn't anywhere near her thoughts. The house seemed cozy and nicely (if a bit outdated) decorated. That none of his siblings — he had sisters, if she recalled correctly, at least two of them — were present was strange given the time of day. But she supposed she ought to be relieved that there were no strange interactions to have to navigate.
"I'd imagine you have to replenish your Draught of Peace stock often at this time of year." She commented. Rosalie had certainly needed one to get through the holidays with her gathered family.
"I'm off today, my parents live nearby so I took the morning to spend with them." That she left Hogsmeade for London had to be common knowledge by now, right? Rosalie followed him out the door and towards the smaller building in the back, noticing how his shoulders seemed to sag in relief. "I apologize for not heading back here first, I didn't see the workshop from the street."
The corner's of Noble's mouth quirked up in a smile; he hadn't tried Draught of Peace to deal with his family — (he had rather soured on the potion after that thing with Mr. Reuben Crouch) — but it was a funny comment.
"That's nice," Noble said; really what he meant was that it was nice that Miss Hunniford had the option of spending time apart from her family. He walked at a slower pace for the short steps to the workshop. "And no worries about the workshop; it's hard to see from the street." He opened the door and left it propped, keeping propriety in mind.
"It's bigger on the inside," Noble said — a small expansion charm gave him the room he needed to work without taking over more of the garden.
His workshop was almost completely opposite from the house they'd just walked through on the inside. Where the house was cramped with mementos and things, the workshop felt more spacious and, in a sense, calmer. "It's a nice space you have here." Rosalie commented as she glanced about the room. Her set up at home was not even half the size of this and was stuffed into one of the spare bedrooms at the far back of the house. "The hospital provides you some space but we usually end up sharing amongst one another. It can get chaotic."
Noble smiled at her again; it was softer, a gentler expression than the one he'd worn when she made a joke in the house. "Thank you," Noble said. He pushed a hand through his hair. Whenever people were here in the workshop, he felt like they were really seeing him. "It's the first thing I set up when I moved here." He'd had a workbench for his cauldron before he bothered buying a bed.
He had a handsome smile when it wasn't otherwise marred by nervous tension. "I can see why," She admitted with a chuckle. Rosalie hadn't feared much about her life with Ezra, but moving in with entire family had felt daunting. Living with a large group of people ranked high amongst Rosalie's nightmares these days.
"Have you been in Hogsmeadefor awhile then?" Nothing about the workshop indicated it was only recently established.
Noble should have started handing her potions to Miss Hunniford by now. But she was pretty, and she was interesting, and he was in no rush to stop talking to her. "I've been here for five years," he said. "But my family moved in later, after our father passed away."
He didn't want to talk about his father. He swallowed and cleared his throat; he had to change the subject off of something uncomfortable. "But we did the opposite, right? You used to live in Hogsmeade?"
She ceased looking around the workshop and turned back to him, her curiosity piqued. He had established independence, found a life for himself, and yet had become host to his family. Rosalie flinched inwardly at the thought of having to relocate home, of having to share space with Delphine and her parents after so long away. Mr. Greengrass was a better person than she for permitting such a transition at all.
"I'm sorry about your father." Her tone was genuine, her expression earnest. Rosalie still remembered the pang of loss all too well. "And yes, I did. I moved in with my aunt in London a few years ago." A lifetime ago now. Rosalie didn't want to dwell on those days. "She lives near the hospital. It's nice not having to floo everyday." The walks around London were refreshing, even if the smog was sometimes unbearable.
Noble nodded, accepting the condolences without responding to them. "I hate the floo network," he admitted, with a wry smile. "I really prefer apparating, when I can get away with it." He felt like he was getting shot around like a billiards ball when he took the floo — one could not apparate into the Greengrass home, but sometimes he lowered the restrictions on his workshop so that he didn't have to bother with it.
In the past, it had often been lowered so that he could get away with seeing Daffodil.
"I as well." Apparating wasn't her preferred method of travel either — no, Rosalie would've sooner chosen to take a carriage across the country if it was at all more timely. She did, however, prefer it over flooing. The dust never seemed to brush out entirely and the lingering green film made her itchy all over. "I'd prefer flying over apparating too if I had any semblance of control on a broom." She then added with another light laugh.
Noble grinned at her. "I used to be good on a broom," he said. Not Quidditch good, but decent — he'd had a good level of control when he was in Hogwarts. His old broom was damaged, now. Maybe he should think about paying to get it fixed, even though they couldn't really afford that sort of luxury. Feeling bold, or something like it, he added, "Maybe sometime I can teach you some tricks."
She ought to have refused the invitation. Rosalie barely knew Mr. Greengrass beyond his abilities as a potioneer and the few glimpses she had of him at school. Instructing someone to fly a broom felt intimate in a sense, though Rosalie couldn't have possibly explained why she felt that way.
Still, the grin on his face was impossible not to match and she just as soon found herself agreeing. "That would be fun, sure." The frigid temperatures would be rough to contend with, but that's why warming charms had been invented.
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