let that dogwood blossom

j u d e; 31 ; former hufflepuff — "I know well what I am fleeing from, but not what I’m in search of." [ 1x1 account ]

[judeclaypoole]

reunions ;

[judeclaypoole]

isabellaflxme:

Isabella looked around the store just as he did, impressed with the work he had done. It was a bit of a mess, but it was also coming together — just like he said. Still, it was unique, and she smiled as she looked around it. “It’s a wonderful idea, you know. There aren’t any stores like it. Brilliant, really.” Her words were genuine as they oozed with praise and pride. Emotions poured out of her — and it was too much. After the night she had had, and now this, it was all too much. Still, she had to keep it together, she had to keep herself strong — at least for the duration of the conversation. 

T h e n, she’d be able to find comfort in what destroyed her. It was a vicious motivator, her … illness. At least, it was called an illness. She didn’t feel sick, not all the time, not when this motivator gave her the strength to continue this conversation. 

                       At his question, how could she begin to answer?

{ ‘I’m w o n d e r f u l, I had to postpone becoming an Unspeakable and seeing dragons, and I’m dealing with an eating disorder, and have been for over ten years now. That’s what I’m up to these days, I’m thirty, you know, but I haven’t done anything with my life that I wanted to do. Did I mention my aunt and uncle are sick?’ }

Maybe in another universe. “Me, I just, I actually uh, own Honeydukes! It’s mine. I’m the weird candy lady people are going to talk about on their first Hogsmeade trip,” Isa gave a self depreciative laugh before it wilted into a sad smile. 

        "Honeydukes, really?" Jude said, trying to not to let himself get tangled in the way her expression troubled him. He would've been lying through his teeth if he happened to claim to know how to read people, but he recognized that smile. He'd seen it before -- hell, he'd stared at that same smile from a mirror way too many times to forget it. He wanted to be like nothing had changed, like years hadn't done anything and he could just ask, but brushed the thought aside. "Or maybe you'll break the tradition and be known as the cool candy lady, instead of crazy."

        He scoffed at his own joke, quickly smothering it by pressing his lips together and inhaling deep. He broke the few seconds of awkward silence he'd created by pushing his weight from one leg to the other and lift his left hand to the space between them, palm facing the ceiling.

        "I live upstairs." 

        It came out more blunt than he'd hoped, and it took him few seconds before he realized that he'd not planned how to continue the subject -- how to weave it into the conversation without coming on too strong. He already felt he'd failed. "I mean, uh, I was about to have a break; I have tea and coffee upstairs. You can join, if you're not -- if you're not busy."

[judeclaypoole]

reunions ;

[isabellaflxme]

Isa?

The nickname. It was the only one she ever really liked, and it belonged to him. It had to be him now, because no one else would’ve called her that. Guilt washed over her, because he deserved better than this — he deserved better than to have her waltz into his life once again. He had made this book store, one that while small, was still homey. Beautiful. Unique. One of a kind. It emanated who he was, really. 

The urge to leave, something she was fairly good at, tugged at her but when he told her not to, she stayed. Once again she was frozen, but not out of shock, because that was the effect he had on her. Isabella was and always had been obedient ( ask her parents ), but then, in that moment, it was her choice to stay. Her mind registered that he wanted her to be there, and it was a sure surprise for her because she didn’t even want anything to do with herself — yet he did. 

"Hi." A smile tugged at her lips, as she idly looked around the store. "I, er, like your store? — I mean, I like your store.” There were so many more things she could’ve said besides that, many more things she should have said really, but Isabella wasn’t ready to say them. Not only that, but she had never been the best at communication, and while thirteen years worth of things unsaid just conglomerated in her brain — words escaped her. 

[judeclaypoole]

Jude laughed, a short chuckle that afterwards sounded awkward enough to make him want to kick himself for it. He rarely felt awkward, mainly because he thought awkwardness was saved for the moments where he felt being ashamed was necessary, and he didn't know enough many people to bump into such situations. "Thanks, it's still a mess, but," he looked around the shop and shrugged a little haphazardly. "It's coming together."

He was standing a few meters away from her, his feet firmly on the floor and arms on his sides (in that way you leave them when you don't know what to do with them), and yet a part of him wanted to close the distance between them and hug her -- but after a decade of not seeing someone, friendships usually faded to polite greetings in a grocery store. It was weird how he hardly ever thought about life before the Ministry, and he actively pushed things like home out of his mind, but as she stood there, her blond hair in soft curls, it was clear he'd never forgotten her. He'd never had a reason to. She'd been a friend when he'd needed one, someone who didn't ask even when the answers were written on his skin in black and blue. The fact that they'd estranged had killed him, but now a pat of him hoped he could make up for it, even a little.

"How are you? What-uh-what're you up to these days?"

[judeclaypoole]

reunions ;

[isabellaflxme]

The day was the perfect sort of day, one that Isabella hadn’t had in a while. For once, everything ran as it was supposed, she was on time, her workers were on time, customers were lovely. There was a sense of mental calm that accompanied it, and so today, Isabella felt lucky. Life was perfectly content. It was just like she felt it always should be and even though she knew it wouldn’t last long ( or even to the end of the day ) she savored this feeling of peace. The past few weeks had been nothing short of mental purgatory, and while she had tried her hardest to not engage in behaviors she knew would kill her eventually, Isabella found herself stealing loads of Sugared Butterflies the night before, as if it wasn’t her own store, and stuffing them into her bag. After she was done bingeing and purging the night before, she felt a pureness. She was cleansed. 

So, was her perfect day really perfect? Or was it just another mind trick her disorder played on her now? That this day was only achieved because of the actions taken the night before? Because she also felt drained. 

Isabella forced herself to push it out of her mind, because in this moment, ignorance would be bliss. Besides, it was a tradition of sorts to greet all the new shop owners, and she had neglected to do so. Idle Hours. She only heard a little about it — whispers here and there from her customers — but from what she did know it fascinated her. As light steps approached and opened the door, Isabella selfishly wished she hadn’t gone in. 

His eyes were eyes she’d be able to recognize anywhere, blue orbs that she’d been deprived of for thirteen years. The same eyes that were attached to a person she’d never thought she’d see again — not that she didn’t want to. Years of memories came rushing back, feelings she hadn’t felt in years came rushing back, and it was just too much. But she couldn’t turn around. He’d seen her and that was that. Isabella wanted to cry, she wanted to run, but she was just planted there. Frozen.

"I —- I  should go." Even if she had said the words, it wasn’t like she could execute actually leaving. 

[judeclaypoole]

His anxiousness made a full turn when he saw exactly who it was who'd stepped into his shop. For a moment he thought he was just mistaken -- hell, there was more than just one woman with blond hair in the world -- but as soon as she turned so that he could see her features properly, he knew it couldn't be anyone else. "Isa?" It wasn't as much a question as it was a way for him to assure himself he hadn't just fallen over and hit his head. Because that on its own wouldn't have been a surprise of any kind. Instead he stood there, eyes locked to the woman he'd not spoken to in years. He could feel a tiny tug at the bottom of his stomach, the same kind he'd only felt a few times during his lifetime, and for a passing moment it was as if their school years hadn't ended several years but mere hours ago. He'd thought that the likelihood of him bumping into someone he knew -- and someone who would remember him -- would be so very slim he wouldn't need to even think about it, but just like that his theory had been proved wrong. Hogsmeade was a safe space to start from, but it didn't erase the fact that she was the last one he'd thought he'd see again.

When she spoke, it took Jude a while to digest her words.

"No, why -- don't," he took a few hasty steps to get to the front of the desk, and then stopped on his tracks when he realised exactly how stupid the words he'd uttered had sounded like. So much for being cool and collected. "I mean," he inhaled once and raised a small smile to his lips. "Hi."

[crushedbones]

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What happens when you’re into deep to break? Loneliness keeps you constantly awake What happens when the passage of time appears? You see yourself as a child and it brings you to tears You say that you’re troubled and you always have been Uncomfortable in your own skin So you contemplate the riverbed Turn off the dark thoughts in your head

[judeclaypoole]

reunions ;

The shop was almost done. The windows were still covered with brown paper and some of the shelves were empty, but three weeks of hard work and poorly slept nights had finally paid off. Located right across from Madam Puddifoot's, Idle Hours was starting to look like it was supposed to, even though the finesse only a person with even some kind of artistic eye could bring in was definitely missing. Jude had painted the walls and taken down the panels the earlier owners had put up, and nailed up some muggle photographs and posters he'd found from the flea market nearby his London apartment. When it came to interior decorating, Jude's only goal was to keep the shop itself simple and easy to upkeep. He wasn't the messiest of people, but it didn't require a genius to know that a cluster of decorative items wouldn't make running a shop all on his own any easier. Even with magic, cleaning was by far one of his least favorite things to do -- when it was time to dust and rearrange the furniture, his systematic way of living seemed to disappear. But now his right arm was tired from all the spells. A few for painting, a dozen for cleaning and a hundred for flying books and vinyls to their rightful places. When it was time for him to take the papers down and turn the sign on the door around, he couldn't feel more enthusiastic. 

And then the bell on top of the door jingled -- and just like that thirteen years of ministry work and dealing with customers of all kind flew right out of the window. Jude inhaled deep and put his wand away, stepping to stand behind the counter.

[ohrackham]