June 28th, 1894 — Pendergast School for Young Roses, Wellingtonshire, Hogsmeade
Rosebud Luncheon

She had been clear about her desire for no contact, and Robert Rowle had honoured that—after a fashion. He had learned some of her life, even hired an investigator to glean more than was conidered to be conversational knowledge, but still there was a gap between the Ziya Bakshi he had known, had loved, and the Ziya Burroughs she had become.

He knew, of course, that she had had children. Somehow, this had not translated to had children in school, had children in the Pendergast summer programme, but here she was. Here he was. Here they were.

They years may have changed her, but they had scarcely grazed her beauty. Did she see him, struck dumb by the sight of her? Merlin he hoped not. His wife, at least, seemed only confused by his behaviour, not aware of the cause of it. Robin had done his best to shake it off, but was far too keenly aware of her as the events of the day marched on, unable to focus upon his niece's harp playing, his daughter's singing. Instead, every nerve in his body was singing its own song, its lyrics but two syllables: Ziya.

Luncheon would begin shortly, but in the interim, the families were invited to explore the school. He found her, alone, in a hall intended for student artwork—mainly of the older students, he expected, but he was hardly about to waste what precious time he had on examining it more closely.

"Zi—Mrs. Burroughs," Robin ammended, some of the desperation leaving his tone with the formality of her new name but still very much present in his face.

Ziya Burroughs/Daffodil Grimstone

  

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— set by mj —

Truthfully, Ziya had been a little surprised by Wren's interest in the Pendergast summer program for the finishing school. It wasn't something Zi had thought about in the long term, but she supposed, if Wren desired some finishing after Hogwarts, that it would be a perfectly reasonable request. The day was busy, which was good. She had watched her daughter's performance with pride, how could she not? Wren was all of the good in her that Ziya appreciated more than her daughter knew.

That it was busy was also good for her determined avoidance of Robin and his family. There was no good excuse to leave early, nor not to come at all had she known he was going to be here, but she was nevertheless unwavering in her boundary; she did not want to see him or hear from him. It wasn't was easy as she would have liked, to ignore him completely. She kept catching a his handsome face out of the corner of her eye and then admonishing herself for nearly taking a second look. He was here with his family; their storybook was closed and tied shut. There was nothing else to say about it.

While waiting for lunch, they had taken to wandering the school and Ziya had promptly lost Wren to her friends. It was fine, they would get to see one another more, participating in the summer program, but Zi would never deny her daughter that social outlet. Finding herself in a hallway displaying student artwork, Ziya meandered, appreciating the beautiful paintings and needlework on display in comfortable silence.

Until a ghost from her past sliced through her peace.

"Mr. Rowle," Ziya replied without turning to face him, schooling her features into something close to cool indifference rather than utter disdain.

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Her voice was the same, but gone was the melody it had once had only for him, replaced by a distance—maybe even a coldness. Robert could not blame her, under the circumstances. From the few letters she had deigned to send him, he knew his actions (his father's, really, but how could she know that?) had had ripples.

"You were very clear," he admitted, taking a half-step towards her before deciding distance was best, "in your wishes, and I have tried to respect them."

It had pained him deeply, and Robin thought of her far more than he cared to admit. He had done it, though.

"But I must—" the wizard came up short. There were so many ways that he could finish that statement.

Explain.
Apologize in person.
Confess to the sins of another.
Be with you.

Ziya Burroughs/Daffodil Grimstone

  

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— set by mj —

Her instinct screamed for her to move away as he moved closer, but Ziya held resolute and he did not close the gap by more than half a step, so all she could do was fix him with a piercing gaze. She hated how his voice tugged at her heartstrings, it had been so long since she had heard it directed toward her, that Ziya was flooded with memories and a whole host of other emotions that she could not quite put a name to. Regardless, her walls were up and she was not willing to break down, especially not here.

Pressing her lips together in a thin line, Ziya took a deep breath. "That is enough, if you respect them, you will stop there." Whatever it was he had to say was not something she thought she wanted to hear. "My," Our, "Daughter is here and I will not mar her day with this." Ziya needed to be present, here and now, and not stuck in the past with Robin.

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"I was under an Imperius Curse!"

The words came quickly, as aggressively as a whisper could muster, Robin eager to get them out before Ziya returned to the assemblage, before he lost this opportunity to make amends—or at the very least, explain himself. If he had only one opportunity to do this, the wizard had to make it count. If she still wanted none of him, well, Robin told himself he would be fine with that.

(Lying to oneself. Everyone did it, didn't they?)

"A decade and a half I lived under the thrall of another, only to awkaen to a life that is not my own, that I did not choose in any way, shape, or form. I would—I would never have left you, not willingly."

Even now, he was reluctant to name his father, to incriminate the man who had raised him. Was it to preserve the family reputation, or out of some lingering, if misplaced, affection?

Ziya Burroughs/Daffodil Grimstone

  

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— set by mj —

Of all of the inane lies he could come up with. Ziya moved away now, unwilling to be in his space or hear what it was that he had to say. She had weathered far too much in the wake of his leaving and she wasn't sure there was a good enough excuse to get her to believe him. Her life was fine now. Warren was dead. Her children were happy and healthy and free from the tyranny she had wilted under and that was all that mattered. Zi could carry herself forward with that knowledge without guilt or justification.

"Nothing you tell me is going to change my mind. I have suffered a life in that same time and I will not be made the fool twice." Her tone was unflinching, her expression one of subtle rage and she would not be subjected to this conversation here or ever. "Stay away from me." She warned, resolute in this decision before turning on her heel and retreating back into the crowd for safety. Just a  little longer and she could head home to forget this ever happened.

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