Back For Good [Adeline]

[Vincent Mathis]

The weight of London settled differently than V remembered.

Six years was a long time to be away from a place that had never quite felt like home to begin with, but standing at the entrance to Diagon Alley; properly standing there, not hunched and trying to take up less space. Vincent Mathis found himself actually looking forward to walking those cobblestones again. Chicago had been good to him. Chicago had given him room to breathe, to build himself into someone he could actually stand to see in the mirror. But there was something about coming back that felt like closing a circle he hadn't known was still open.

He adjusted the strap of the leather messenger bag slung across his chest and stepped into the flow of foot traffic, hands tucked into the pockets of his jeans. The late afternoon sun caught on the ink visible at his collar, the edge of something intricate that disappeared beneath the fitted black henley he wore. His hair; longer now, dirty blond curls pulled back in a short ponytail shifted as he tilted his head back to take in the familiar shopfronts.

Some things hadn't changed. Ollivanders still stood with its peeling gold letters. Flourish & Blotts still had stacks of books visible through its windows. But there were new shops too, spaces that had been rebuilt or repurposed in the aftermath of the war. Scaffolding still clung to one building like skeletal fingers, a reminder that healing took time. V had a mental list: potion ingredients he couldn't get stateside, a few specific books, maybe check in at the apothecary about restocking his personal supplies. Practical things. Mundane things. The kind of things that didn't require him to explain to anyone why he was back or what he'd been doing with himself.

He paused outside Slug & Jiggers Apothecary, eyes scanning the window display of crystallized porcupine quills and carefully labeled jars. Through the glass, he could see the shop was moderately busy; witches and wizards browsing the shelves, the shopkeeper measuring out something that smoked faintly purple. For a moment, just a moment, that old instinct flickered. The one that said keep your head down, don't draw attention, make yourself smaller.

V rolled his shoulders back, felt the fabric of his shirt pull across muscle that hadn't existed the last time he'd walked this street, and pushed the door open. The bell chimed overhead, bright and clear. He belonged here just as much as anyone else.
The shop smelled like it always had: dried herbs and something vaguely sulfuric, underneath notes of wood and parchment. V moved toward the back where the rarer ingredients were kept, his boots quiet on the worn wooden floor. He was scanning the shelves, looking for essence of dittany, when he felt it.

That prickle of awareness. Someone's attention, landing on him and staying.

[Adeline Green]

It had been a bit of time since Adeline had been in Diagon Alley herself, having been running her shop in Hogsmeade, but even she had things she had to come and buy. It was always like going on a little adventure, though she wouldn't know how to do so discreetly if it bit her.

She was looking for supplies for a new type of paint she wanted to try to make, which had her little basket on her arm full of little bottles and jars that were clinking together as she moved about the apothecary in her bright, floral-patterned gown, her hair pulled back in a bun, but with a flowery hair stick peeking out of it. She was humming to herself, largely unconcerned about the people around her, looking over the different items on the shelf, seeming to really consider each one, hand to her mouth as she thought.

She glanced over as she heard the jingle of the bell at the door, which broke her thought process for the moment, and she started to look back before doing a double-take at the figure who'd come in. He looked familiar, but... he'd certainly changed since she'd seen him last. "Vincent?" she asked as she approached, not entirely sure she was correct. "Sorry if I'm wrong, you just look like someone I remember," she said with a good-natured laugh, waving her hand, "You might not remember me, too, oh hum, I should have thought that through more," she put her hand to her cheek realizing she'd made this entire thing awkward, "Sorry," she said again, "I'm Adeline, you were only in your second year at Hogwarts when I was finishing up, so this is probably really weird," she made a face that said this was not the first time she'd sort of helped herself to a conversation only to realize maybe she was being a bit forward,"Might remember me from having to clean off my messes from the ceiling of potions? Usually bright colors cause I couldn't help myself," she laughed a little, "Uh... well, how have you been?" she asked.

She'd started the conversation; might as well be polite and keep talking. That was the polite option, right? Sometimes she wasn't sure if it was truly polite or just her optimism and desire to make friends. She'd always been a social butterfly, clearly the type of girl who had never been told she wasn't able to be friends with someone, and wanted to try to be friends with everyone.

[Vincent Mathis]

V turned at the sound of his name, and for a split second that old defensive tension tried to creep up his spine; the instinct that said what do they want, what did I do wrong before his brain caught up with what he was actually seeing.
Adeline.

Adeline.

Bright as a damn sunrise even in the dim lighting of the apothecary, floral dress and all, looking exactly like he remembered except older, more confident in a way that seemed to just radiate off her. The kind of person who'd never learned to dim herself for anyone else's comfort, and Christ, he'd forgotten how rare that was.

The smile that broke across his face was genuine, reaching all the way to his eyes as recognition clicked fully into place. "No, you're… you're absolutely right," he said, his voice carrying that low rumble that still sometimes surprised him when he heard it. Six years of actually using it, of not swallowing every word before it could leave his mouth, had changed even that. "It's me. And yeah, I remember you, Adeline...Right?"

How could he not? Adeline Green who'd turned the Potions classroom ceiling magenta one memorable afternoon, and who'd apologized so profusely to Professor Snape that even he had looked exhausted by the sincerity of it. Who'd been kind to the awkward second-year who mostly just tried to blend into the dungeon walls.

"The purple one was my favorite, I think," V added, shifting his weight so he was facing her properly, one hand coming up to rub at the back of his neck in a gesture that was equal parts sheepish and amused. "Third year? You were trying to make something that was supposed to turn things invisible and instead it just made everything smell like lilacs for a week."

He glanced down at himself at the visible ink crawling up his forearms where his sleeves were pushed back, at the way he actually took up space now instead of trying to fold in on himself then back up at her with something self-aware in his expression. "I, uh. Yeah, I've changed a bit since then. Been in Chicago the last six years, just moved back a couple weeks ago."

The basket on her arm was clinking with bottles, and he caught sight of some of the labels. Interesting combination. "Paint supplies?" he guessed, because that seemed like exactly the kind of thing Adeline would be doing. "How've you been? Still making colorful disasters, or did you finally convince potions to behave?"

[Adeline Green]

The second V smiled, all the nervousness Adeline had evaporated. Not only was she right, but he was happy to see her. Even better! She laughed with delight at his comment that the purple one was his favorite. "I much prefer to make things prettier than to hide them away," she said, as if it were the defense she'd probably given when she was lectured for said incident. Though with a smile and a laugh rather than the panicked apologies that came every time something exploded in class.

"You look well, I did wonder where you'd end up," She smiled, looking at him in full now. He definitely had, what was the saying? A glow up? Not that physical things had ever been something Adeline focused on, but even she had to notice he was rather attractive. She looked back up to his face, not wanting to seem like she was being shallow, before raising her basket at his guess.

"Indeed!" she beamed as he asked if she was still making colorful disasters, "Oh! I've got a lovely little shop in Hogsmeade now! I sell art supplies and try to help some people find their creative sides," she was clearly excited by the opportunities, "And it's also given me a chance to keep trying experiments with new kinds of paints. I have a room in the back of the store just for those, though, so that if things do explode, it doesn't mess up the store," she said the last part with her hand up to the side of her mouth like she was telling a secret, then laughed again softly.

She motioned to his tattoos, "You found your own form of artistic expression! Do they have meanings behind them?" she asked curiously then gave a little squeak as someone bumped into her trying to get by, grumbling about her being in the middle of the walkway, "Oh so sorry!" she made a face before stepping to be a bit more out of the way, holding her basket a little closer as if it might somehow also still be in the way, "You would think I'd learned to pay attention to my surroundings by now," she gave a little self-deprecating laugh, her hand going to the scar on her chin that went under her jaw. A bit more of a physical lesson about being mindful than getting bumped in the store. "Anyways, your awesome tattoos!" she clapped her hands together as if the act banished the negative of the moment.

[Vincent Mathis]

V's expression softened watching her light up talking about her shop. There was something almost protective in the way he tracked the person who'd bumped into her; blue-grey eyes going sharp for just a second before the guy disappeared down another aisle but he didn't comment on it. Just shifted his position slightly so he was angled in a way that gave them both a little more space, his frame naturally creating a buffer against the flow of traffic.

"Hogsmeade," he repeated, and there was genuine warmth in his voice. "That's perfect for you. I can absolutely picture it: lots of color everywhere, probably organized in a way that makes sense only to you, right?" The corner of his mouth quirked up. "And smart, having the explosion room. Learning from experience." When she motioned to his tattoos, his whole demeanor shifted in a way that was subtle but unmistakable. Not closed off, but engaged. Like she'd just asked him about something he actually wanted to talk about, not something he was bracing to defend.

"They do, yeah," V said, rolling his left forearm up so she could see more of the intricate work—geometric patterns that wove into something more organic, symbols that might've been runes or might've been purely decorative, it was hard to tell where one ended and another began. "The whole thing's kind of a... story, I guess? Started getting them done about four years ago. Some of it's covering old scars, some of it's just..." he paused, trying to find the right words. "Reclaiming space. Deciding what I want people to see when they look at me instead of just... whatever they assumed."

He caught the way her hand had gone to that scar on her chin, the self-deprecating laugh that didn't quite match the careful way she held her basket now. His expression gentled. "You're fine," he said, easy and matter-of-fact. "That guy was being a prick. You're allowed to exist in a public space and have a conversation." There was something in his tone: not aggressive, but firm. The voice of someone who'd spent a long time learning he didn't have to apologize for taking up room in the world.

V glanced down at the basket again, then back up at her face. "Listen, I've got a few more things to grab here, but... are you busy after this? Could grab coffee or something, catch up properly? I've been back a couple weeks and you're literally the first familiar face who hasn't looked at me like I'm a ghost or they're trying to figure out if they should know me." The admission came easier than he'd expected, but this was Adeline. She'd been kind when kindness wasn't exactly flowing freely in his direction. That counted for something.

"Plus," he added, a hint of that boyish charm creeping into his smile, "I want to hear more about this explosion room. Sounds like you've got some stories."

[Adeline Green]

Adeline laughed a little at his question about organization, "It was kind of haphazard, but I had a student staying with me for a while that helped me organize it in a way that students can follow," she shrugged a little, as if she just didn't get it. How he responded when she talked about his tattoos made her smile again, like she was glad she found something he enjoyed talking about, too. She leaned in a bit to look at his arm, her hand hovering like she wanted to follow the pattern, but she didn't touch him, not wanting to be invasive of his personal space.

His comment about being allowed to exist made her flush a little, mostly because he was so firm about it. She was kind of used to being side-eyed in these kinds of places because her bright colors were always out of place. She didn't understand why everyone here felt the need to dress so drab. Hearing his question seemed to make her realize she'd abruptly stopped his shopping, "Oh, right!" She put her hand to her chest apologetically, but then looked surprised that he wanted to talk more. Most of the time, her conversations ended in polite dismissals of people who had more to do than have her talk their ear off about painting.

"I'd love to," she smiled, "There's this little place not far from here, they serve pretty good coffee, tea, and snacks, The Curious Chimera?" she phrased it as a question, not sure if he knew the place she was talking about. It had only been open for a few years after all, "I'll go ahead and pay for this before the owner thinks I'm trying to just steal all this, and I can wait outside. And do I ever have stories, but I can't wait to hear some of yours, too," she smiled at him, seeming quite delighted that they were going to keep talking.

Addie was rather used to people not wanting her in a space because she was too loud or too bright, so she frequently apologized, but after what happened that earned her scars, she wasn't going to stop being in the space just because she apologized. Life was too short and too fragile to let other people dictate what rooms you could stand in. She just apologized for the discomfort others might have because she wasn't leaving.

"See you outside~" she trilled before heading over towards the counter, though she did get distracted by something bright on the way over, adding it to the basket before she reached the shop owner. He seemed plenty pleased to see her, unlike the guy who'd grouched at her before, probably because she was a frequent and well-paying customer. After all, her experiments needed supplies, and unless she knew she needed something for a product, she didn't order it to the shop directly. No sense in getting a lot of something that might go to waste while she determines its uses.

With her products purchased, she slipped outside, examining the last-minute grab while she waited outside the shop for V, clearly not in a hurry or anything herself.

[Vincent Mathis]

V watched her hover her hand near his arm without touching and somehow that tiny act of restraint struck him harder than if she had. Most people either stared too long or asked invasive questions or pretended not to notice the ink at all. Adeline looked at it like she was looking at art. Like it belonged. That did something quiet to his chest. Her enthusiasm over coffee pulled another grin from him, easy and unguarded. “The Curious Chimera,” he repeated with amused approval. “That sounds exactly like a place we should be having this conversation.”

When she mentioned waiting outside, he tipped his head in a small nod. “Deal. Don’t let them sell you the whole shop before I get there.” And then she was gone in a whirl of florals and momentum, predictably distracted by something bright before even reaching the counter, and V actually laughed under his breath watching it happen. Merlin. He had forgotten what it was like to be around someone who moved through the world so openly.

He finished gathering what he needed: dittany, powdered moonstone, a few things he absolutely did not need but bought anyway because Adeline had put him in too good a mood for practical restraint; then paid and stepped back out into the late afternoon. V spotted her immediately. Of course he did. She looked like she belonged in a painting more than on a London street, sunlight catching in her hair, focused on whatever colorful object had caught her attention. For a second he just stood in the doorway taking in the sight, struck by the strange warmth of running into someone from a life he’d half convinced himself had belonged to another person.

Then he crossed toward her, boots tapping over cobblestones. “I see you did, in fact, let them sell you more things,” he said, nodding toward the extra item in her hand. He lifted the small wrapped parcel of ingredients in his own hand. “I’m not judging. I somehow went in for one thing and came out with five.” His eyes flicked briefly to the object she was examining, curious, before settling back on her. “Lead the way? I’m trusting your coffee expertise completely.”

As they started walking, he matched his stride to hers without thinking, keeping easy pace beside her through the bustle of the alley. After a beat, his voice softened with something more thoughtful. “You know…” His thumb brushed absently against the paper wrapping in his hand. “I meant what I said in there. About you being the first familiar face.” A crooked smile tugged at one corner of his mouth. “Coming back’s been… strange. Feels a little less strange now.”

He glanced at her, then added with that teasing warmth slipping back in, “And I’m holding you to these explosion stories, Green. If there was ever an illicit dragon-fire incident or sentient paint involved, I expect full disclosure over coffee.” His gaze dipped to the scar on her chin for just a flicker before returning to her eyes, quieter now. “And maybe,” he added, more sincere beneath the humor, “you can tell me about the shop. It sounds like you built something pretty incredible.”

[Adeline Green]

Seeing his positive responses only seemed to encourage her more. When he told her not to sell her the whole shop, she tossed a "Pretty sure I've bought most everything in here at least once by now," over her shoulder as she went toward the counter with a laugh.

When he joined her, her face lit right back up with a smile, putting the jar into her basket with the rest, "That always tends to be the nature of it, isn't it? Realize while looking around what you actually need, or, in my case, something shiny and interesting," she laughed a little, shaking her head, "I don't know how much anyone should be trusting me for expertise, but so far I've enjoyed what I've gotten there," she said as she started to lead him towards the cafe, keeping her basket in front of her as she moved through the people going to and fro.

She looked up at him as he spoke again, smiling more softly at his statement, "Well, I'm glad I got the distinct honor of welcoming you back," she said with sincerity, "If I'd have known, I might have even made you something," she added with a laugh. "And do I ever have stories, you'd be rather surprised at the kinds of reactions some ingredients have with each other. I made a paint once that is meant to shine, but when I went to move the painting afterward, it stuck to my hand like glue," she shook her head before they reached the cafe.

She stepped inside with him, spotting an open table by the window. "Hello, Roland!" she called to the young man behind the counter, who was in the midst of brewing a new pot of coffee, and he glanced up, smiling and waving.

"Ah, bonjour, mademoiselle, good to see you again. And you've brought us a new customer," he put his hand to his chest, "What can I get for you both? Shall I get your usual?"

"Oh my, I have a "usual"," she seemed a bit surprised by that. "That would be wonderful, thank you," she said as she set her basket down on the windowsill by the table.

"And you, monsieur?" Roland asked with a smile, clearly quite comfortable with the hospitality part of his job.

[Vincent Mathis]

V couldn’t help the quiet huff of amusement at her comment about buying out the shop. “Yeah, that tracks,” he muttered, mostly to himself, but there was no judgment in it; just fond recognition. Some things really hadn’t changed. Walking beside her felt… easy. Easier than he’d expected anything here to feel.

By the time they stepped into the café, the shift in atmosphere hit him immediately; warmer, softer, the low hum of conversation instead of the sharp bustle outside. His shoulders loosened a fraction without him realizing it. His gaze flicked briefly to Roland as the man addressed him, polite smile already in place out of habit but it didn’t feel forced. “Coffee’s fine,” V said, voice low and even. “Black. And…” he glanced quickly at the display, “whatever’s fresh. I’m not picky.”

There was a faint smirk there, like that last part wasn’t entirely true anymore but close enough. Once that was settled, he moved with her toward the table by the window, setting his things down before pulling out the chair across from her. He sat back into it with a quiet exhale, long legs stretching out slightly before he leaned forward, forearms resting loosely on the table. For a moment, he just looked at her.

Really looked.

Same warmth. Same brightness. Just… more of it. Refined, maybe. Grounded in a way that came with building something real. “You’ve got a ‘usual,’ a shop in Hogsmeade, and a whole system for controlled explosions,” he said, one brow lifting slightly, a hint of that boyish charm slipping through again. “I leave for a few years and you go and build an entire life.” But there was no bitterness in it, just genuine admiration.

His expression softened after a beat, interest settling in more fully. “Alright,” he added, leaning in just a touch, clearly invested now, “tell me about it. The shop. How’d it start, what you’re actually doing in there… all of it.” A small pause, then a quieter addition: “You always had that… way of making things feel different. Back then, it was potions ceilings and accidental perfumes,” a corner of his mouth twitched, “but it sounds like you figured out how to turn that into something real.”

His gaze held hers, steady and sincere. “I wanna hear how you did it.”

[Adeline Green]

Roland gave a nod, "Right away, monsieur," he said, turning to start making their order.

Addie laughed softly at his comments, giving a bit of a shrug at his part about turning her accidents into something real, "Well, I've only been back a few years myself," she said, "Like right about four now. I went backpacking for a long time. I wanted just to see the kinds of things that were out there, and I learned a lot about different kinds of ingredients and art styles," There was a bit of tension in her face at a slight pause, showing that there was something in that backpacking adventure that did not go so well. She shifted a bit in her seat, like trying to get away from that part. "I even tracked down like the obscure little shopping markets in some places. It was a little creepy sometimes, but the things I found there were always interesting."

"But I decided I wanted to be able to share some of what I'd learned, and go back to what was... comfortable, I guess?" she scrunched her nose, realizing she didn't entirely know why he picked Hogsmeade, "And I suppose I was blessed enough that my parents helped me with getting it started, I hadn't exactly made a lot of money while I was away," she laughed a little at that, "But painting has always been a way to express whatever I'm feeling, so I just converted what was probably supposed to be a storage room into my personal studio. Not really that exciting," she shrugged, "And well.... the explosions and such occur when I keep experimenting to see what kinds of paints I can make by mixing different ingredients. Not always explosive, but I've made some strange mixes, like the shiny glue," she giggled a bit, "I can't help but always just want to know what happens if..." she swirled her hand to kind of indicate that was the thought that trailed into her making her strange concoctions.

Roland stepped up about then with a small tray, setting down the black coffee and a canelé for V, a butterfly pea tea with a lemon on the side, and some madelines dusted with something blue that matched the tea in its current state. Addie seemed quite delighted: "Oh, you changed it up some!"

"Thought to try something new, as you always say," Roland smirked, "Let me know if you need anything more," he smiled at both of them before going back to his place behind the counter.

Addie squeezed the bit of lemon into the tea, turning the blue into a purplish color, getting an amused sort of reaction from her before she looked to V again, "You should come visit sometime, if you're ever in Hogsmeade," she smiled, "I'd love for you to get to see it. Maybe I can show you some of the catastrophes," she giggled at her own disastrous nature, "But enough about me. What have you been up to? I do hope life has been as good to you since the days of those halls as it seems to have been," there was an actual hope in her expression that things had been good for him.

[Vincent Mathis]

V listened without interrupting, genuinely absorbed in everything she was saying. And it showed. Not the polite sort of attention most people gave when waiting for their turn to talk, but real interest; eyes steady on her, the occasional quiet laugh at the right moments, the faint shake of his head when she described tracking down questionable underground markets just because they might have interesting pigments hidden away.

“Honestly?” he murmured after she mentioned the shiny glue incident, “that sounds exactly as exciting as I would've expected your life to be.” The tension that had crossed her face earlier didn’t go unnoticed, though he was polite enough not to pry. He knew what it looked like when someone brushed past a memory too sharp to linger on. Instead, he smiled softly when she explained wanting to return somewhere comfortable.

“I get that,” he said simply. When Roland returned, V offered the man an appreciative nod as the coffee and pastry were set down. The canelé earned a mildly impressed look before his attention shifted back to Adeline just in time to watch her tea shift colors. His eyebrows lifted immediately. “Alright, that’s cool as hell.”

There was something easy in the way he said it, the compliment completely unfiltered. He wrapped both hands loosely around the warm coffee mug, watching her with quiet amusement as she reacted to the color change like it was the first time she'd ever seen it happen. And somehow that was still very Adeline too. “You should absolutely keep doing the ‘what happens if’ thing,” he added after a sip of coffee. “Seems like the world would get a lot duller if you stopped.”

At the invitation to visit, his smile pulled a little wider. “I’d like that, actually.” His tone was genuine. “And I wanna see the catastrophe room now. You kinda sold it too hard for me not to.” Then came the question turned back on him. For a second, V looked down into his coffee, thumb dragging once along the side of the mug as he considered how much to say. The truth was complicated.

But Adeline didn’t need the heavy parts dumped in her lap five minutes into reconnecting. So when he looked back up, the smile he wore was smaller, quieter, but still real. “Honestly? I went home and figured myself out a little.” One shoulder lifted in an easy shrug, he didn't feel it bared mentioning that he'd lost weight and bulked up after all it was immediately obvious with anyone who'd known him before.

“Chicago was… good for me. I worked a bunch of odd jobs at first. Construction, shipping warehouses, waiting tables, even bartending for a while.” A faint laugh escaped him at that one. “Turns out being a big guy with a decent memory and a calm attitude makes drunk people weirdly willing to listen to you.” His fingers tapped lightly against the mug before continuing.

“Eventually I got involved helping open a tattoo shop with a friend of mine. I’m mostly a silent partner in it, handled a lot of the business side of things.” His expression turned slightly self-aware then, glancing briefly at the ink visible above his collar. “Spent a lotta time around artists, though. Probably rubbed off on me some.” There was a pause before he added more quietly:

“And somewhere along the line I stopped trying so hard to disappear all the time.” The statement came without bitterness. Just fact. He took another sip of coffee, then looked back at her with warmth settling into his expression again. “So yeah,” he said lightly, “cliff notes version? Worked too much, learned a few things, got tattooed excessively, accidentally became an adult.”

A grin tugged at the corner of his mouth. “Still not entirely convinced that last one stuck.”