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.”

[Adeline Green]

When V said he rather expected her life to turn out about how it had, she gave a shrug with a smile, clearly fine with how the dice had rolled for her. His reaction to the tea caused her to giggle a bit, "Isn't it? It's just something with the flower used in the tea. I learned about it when I was out in Asia; I think it was Indonesia where I saw them make it for the first time. Just a little honey and lemon, and the lemon's acidic nature is why it turns it purple," she said, regaling it with the same excitement with which she'd learned it. The locals had thought her reaction funny, but it was just the kind of thing she was always exploring. She laughed a little at him, saying the world would be dull if she stopped experimenting, "I doubt that, but I don't know if I could stop if I tried."

When he accepted the invite, she smiled brightly, clapping her hands together, careful not to do it too loudly, "Wonderful, I'm looking forward to it already." She said, sounding quite excited.

However, when it came his turn to talk, she calmed down, seemed to settle a little like when the breeze in a field stopped stirring the flowers. The one shoulder shrug said a lot all on its own, and she found herself lightly touching his hand on his coffee mug in a sort of understanding gesture before she drew her hand back, a practiced gesture that had become instinctive. She smiled softly, hearing that it had been good, a little more with his own laugh. She nodded in understanding to the thought of people being willing to talk to him. She had a feeling it was a little more than just his size and a good memory that made people willing to talk to him, but she wasn't going to interrupt.

The tattoo shop made sense, too, especially considering his impressive tattoos that were... hard to look away from. He was hard to look away from, but she was more than capable of committing beautiful things to memory after only a glance or two. She gave a knowing smile to the statement about no longer trying to disappear, though she laughed a little at the cliff notes. "Well, you look well. The ink suits you," she said, before sipping her tea. A part of her wanted to point out how he'd turned himself into the canvas of the story he preferred to show and tell rather than what he'd left behind. Probably one of the most beautiful kinds of paintings at the soul level, agonizing in its own way.

"Were you just coming back for a visit?" she asked, curious about what had brought him back. "Not that I'm not, of course, delighted to see you again," she added quickly.

[Vincent Mathis]

The brief touch against his hand caught him off guard in the gentlest way possible. Not because it was forward; Adeline didn’t seem capable of touching another person with anything except sincerity but because she’d always had this quiet habit of offering softness so naturally that people probably forgot how rare it actually was. V’s eyes dipped briefly to where her fingers had touched his hand before lifting back to her face, the corner of his mouth curving upward.

“Thanks,” he said, and there was something warmer in it than just appreciation for the compliment itself. “Took me a while to figure out what I actually wanted to look like.” His gaze flicked meaningfully toward the visible ink along his arms. “Turns out this feels a lot more honest.” And it did.

He could feel her looking at him, not in the shallow way people sometimes did now, but like she was trying to understand the shape of the story underneath the surface. Oddly enough, it didn’t make him want to retreat. At her question, he leaned back slightly in his chair, exhaling softly through his nose before taking another sip of coffee. “No,” he answered after a moment. “Not just visiting.”

His fingers rolled the mug absently between his hands as he searched for the cleanest version of the truth.“I moved back.” The words settled easier than he expected them to. “There’s still business stuff tying me to Chicago, but…” He shrugged one shoulder lightly. “I realized after a while that I didn’t want this place to stay… unfinished for me.”

His gaze drifted briefly toward the café window where people moved through Diagon Alley outside before returning to her. “When I left after school, it didn’t really feel like it was my choice.” His tone stayed calm, matter-of-fact rather than bitter. “A lot of people made it pretty clear back then that someone like me wasn’t exactly wanted around here. Easier to disappear for a while than keep fighting it.”

A faint smile touched his mouth then, quieter but steadier than before. “But somewhere along the line I got stubborn, I guess.” There was a small amused huff at himself. “I built a life I’m proud of. Learned who I was when I wasn’t surrounded by people trying to decide my worth for me.” His thumb tapped once against the side of the coffee mug. “And eventually I realized I wanted to come back because I chose to. Not keep acting like I got chased out just because I’m muggle-born.”

The conviction in that was calm and solid now. Old hurt forged into something steadier. Then, as if realizing the conversation had tilted heavier than he intended, his expression softened again into something lighter. “Besides,” he added with a crooked grin, “if I stayed in Chicago forever, who was gonna come appreciate your catastrophic paint experiments properly?” His eyes met hers over the rim of his mug, warmth returning fully now.

“Seems like coming back was worth it already.”

[Adeline Green]

Addie smiled as he talked about his tattoos feeling a lot more honest, "Did you design them yourself?" she asked curiously, clearly a bit of the artist side of her curious about his style and creative process.

She listened attentively, like she usually did, and a part of her... envied... his conviction. He had a path. A drive. He came here to face his demons, and she was still running from hers...She looked down at the cup of tea on the table as she continued to listen, her hands clasped together in her lap, though she'd look back up at him when he looked her way again. She had never understood people who chose to be hateful, like magic was something finite, and there was a pecking order on access. But she had seen how it hurt people, how it still did even now.

But he'd forged that into something truly...beautiful. When he brought it back around to her catastrophes, she gave a huff of a laugh, "Well then, hopefully I didn't oversell it," she shook her head, "I'm glad I got to be a friendly face to welcome you back," she looked at him, "And hopefully if you encounter any that aren't so... pleasant to remember, they will at least have the decency to be polite," she murmured, knowing it was inevitable to avoid all of the memories and people. She'd run into Aubrey more than a couple of times now that he was a professor, who did at least seem to feel bad for having hazed her more than a few times.

"I'd love to pick your brain about all the kinds of things you got to see while away," she said, seeming to try to focus on him and his experiences, "You got to see the marvels of the modern world while I sought out its most isolated spaces. And yet we both found our way back here. For different reasons, naturally, but... I suppose it's hard to completely move away from things that left their mark on you, isn't it?"

[Vincent Mathis]

V’s expression softened at her question about the tattoos, and almost immediately his gaze dropped to his forearm again, thumb brushing absentmindedly over one of the darker lines there. “Not entirely by myself,” he admitted. “The guy I worked with back in Chicago’s ridiculously talented. We planned all of it together piece by piece.” A faint smile tugged at his mouth. “I’d bring ideas, meanings, symbols, memories… he’d figure out how to make them fit. After a while it kinda became this ongoing project between us.”

His eyes lifted back to hers. “Whole thing took years. Sessions spread out over time. Felt less like getting tattooed and more like… building something slowly.” There was something thoughtful in the way he said it, like he still found comfort in the process itself. At her hope that unpleasant familiar faces would at least be polite, V let out a low amused hum and leaned back slightly in his chair.

“Honestly? So far most of the familiar faces I’ve run into either didn’t recognize me at first or looked too intimidated to come say hello.” His grin crooked wider, sharp with humor but not cruelty. “Which has been deeply entertaining for me, personally.” A quiet laugh rumbled out of him then. “To be fair, one or two of them probably have legitimate reasons to avoid me now.” There was something knowing in his expression at that, though he didn’t elaborate further. “Turns out people get a lot less bold when you stop looking like an easy target.”

Still, there wasn’t bitterness there anymore. If anything, he seemed almost detached from it now. Like those memories belonged to somebody else. Then she mentioned wanting to pick his brain about everything he’d seen, and something shifted in his expression again; subtle, but warmer somehow. His fingers tapped once against the coffee mug before he spoke. “Well…” His voice lowered slightly, easier now, more personal. “You could always come over one night if you actually wanna hear all the long versions.”

The invitation came naturally, but there was still a flicker of self-awareness in the smile he gave her afterward. “I cook. Pretty well, actually. One of the perks of living alone for years.” His brow lifted faintly. “You bring wine or tea, or one of your weird color-changing concoctions and you can ask whatever you want. I’ll tell you about Chicago, the shop, all the ridiculous places I ended up working before I figured my life out.” His eyes stayed on hers steadily, open and sincere before the smile that followed grew warm, unmistakably fond now.

“But yeah,” he said quieter after a beat, glancing briefly out the café window before back to her again, “I think you’re right. Some places leave marks on you whether you want them to or not.” His gaze flicked meaningfully toward her tea, then the visible edge of ink at his wrist. “Guess the trick is deciding which marks you keep.”

[Adeline Green]

Addie smiled as she listened to him talk about how he and his friend worked together on his tattoos. Hearing that there were things behind them all made her that much more curious. "That sounds like it was fun and probably cathartic," she said softly, more than understanding that. "Can I ask how extensive the coverage is?" she asked. If it took years, she imagined the amount of blank space left was minimal, which was impressive, really. Some areas of the body were certainly more sensitive than others, after all.

She tilted her head a little on the legitimate reasons, but didn't pry when he didn't elaborate, making a "that's true" face to his follow-up statement. She sipped her tea as she settled back in her own seat, realizing she'd been leaning forward onto the table a bit. She gave a small smile at his invitation, feeling a little flutter of excitement, "I would really like that," she said softly, "I'll bring something from one of my trips. That's two things now you've given me to look forward to," she laughed softly, toying a little with the handle of her tea cup as she set it back on its saucer, "I can't remember the last time I made plans with someone, much less two," she gave a little snort.

She nodded in agreement with his thoughts about the marks she had said, though she thought it was more than that. Sometimes the marks stayed, sometimes they were just beneath the surface, and wouldn't go away... but you could always decide what those marks mean. Why they matter. But she wasn't going to get into semantics over an abstract idea and simply said, "Though trick may be a bit of an understatement on how difficult that is. But that's what growing is about, right?" She sounded a bit wistful as she said it, like maybe she just took a dig at herself. "Anyways," she waved her hand, "Sorry, sometimes I get into philosophical spirals, or at least that's what Mera called them," she hummed, "She was a student that was staying with me for a little while until her brother was able to come and take guardianship of her. She fit right in with the Ravenclaws with her sharp wit and tongue," she gave a little shake of her head, "Her brother was rather happy though, as the art professor now at Hogwarts, that I did get her to see some benefit in painting."

[Vincent Mathis]

V’s mouth curved into a quieter smile at the way she described the process as cathartic. “Yeah,” he admitted after a second. “It really was.” There was no hesitation in answering her question either, only a flicker of amused self-awareness as he leaned back slightly in his chair. “Pretty extensive,” he said. “Neck down to my feet, mostly. Full sleeves, chest, back, ribs, legs.” His brows lifted faintly. “There’s still some skin here and there untouched, but not much.”

A low chuckle slipped out of him then. “And before you ask, yeah, some of those spots absolutely sucked.” His grin widened slightly around the edge of his coffee cup before he took another sip. The softness in her voice when she accepted the invitation settled warmly somewhere beneath his ribs, though outwardly he stayed easy about it, one corner of his mouth pulling upward. “Good,” he said simply. “Then it’s a plan.”

There was something unexpectedly nice about hearing she was looking forward to it. About knowing he’d managed to become part of someone’s anticipation instead of their discomfort for once. When she mentioned not remembering the last time she’d made plans with someone, his expression softened again. “Well,” he murmured, “guess we should fix that.” The statement came naturally, without pity or overthinking it. Just honest.

He watched her toy with the teacup handle for a moment before her last comment pulled his attention fully back to her face. The wistfulness there wasn’t hard to catch. V was quiet for a beat. Then he rested his forearms against the table again, voice gentler now. “I think growing’s ugly more often than people like to admit.” A faint huff of amusement escaped him. “Nobody talks about the messy parts. The anger, or the fear, or realizing half the things you believed about yourself came from other people.”

His gaze held hers steadily. “But I think the fact you’re trying matters more than getting it perfect.” The words weren’t rehearsed encouragement. They sounded lived in. His eyes flicked briefly toward the scar along her chin before returning to her face, expression open and calm. “You don’t really strike me as someone who stopped growing, Addie.” A small smile tugged at his mouth then, softer this time. “Honestly, you seem more like somebody who kept choosing softness anyway.”

There was quiet admiration in the statement. Then, sensing the conversation drifting too close to heavier territory again, he eased back with another small grin. “Besides,” he added lightly, “you already seem significantly better adjusted than me. I spent six years coping by getting stabbed with needles recreationally.” His gaze dipped pointedly toward his own tattooed arms before lifting back to her again with warm amusement.

[Adeline Green]

Addie looked a bit surprised at the coverage, though there was a part that seemed to have guessed. Even still, she had undershot her estimation. She gave a small laugh at the part about it sucking in some places. "I would have bet money on that," she said, nodding. The few she had were minimal, so she definitely could not imagine. His reaction to her acceptance of the invitation had her biting her lip for a moment, a little shyly, before she sipped at her tea again to hide the action. "The lack of plans is probably more my fault," she said, shrugging without getting into how she was always waiting for others to decide they would like to hang out with her because she was afraid of being annoying by asking. "But... I wouldn't mind fixing it," she smiled again.

She looked up when he leaned on the table, tilting her head in a "that's true" kind of way to growing being ugly. His comment about trying definitely struck a chord, and her hand on her cup went still as he said she chose softness anyway. She had tried... she knew if she'd have just gone home, she would have locked herself inside and never come out. She surrounded herself with bright colors and people to keep herself moving. She looked at him as he talked about his coping with being stabbed with needles and read it for the drive away from the darkness she'd stumbled towards for a moment there, "I don't know how much of a coping mechanism creating caustic mixtures could be said to be, but I suppose good things still come out of both either way," she said, smiling lightly again, "I hope I'm not taking up your time by talking your ear off, you're just so easy to talk to," she said, shaking her head.

[Vincent Mathis]

The shy little bite of her lip didn’t escape him. Neither did the way she hid behind her teacup afterward. Something warm and distinctly pleased settled low in V’s chest at the sight, though outwardly all it earned was the slow curve of a smile against the rim of his coffee mug. “Well,” he said easily, voice low and warm,“good. Because I’d like to keep making plans with you.”

The honesty in it landed without hesitation, uncomplicated and sincere. At her comment about caustic mixtures, he let out a quiet laugh and shook his head. “See, now that just sounds like wizard chemistry for ‘creative coping mechanism.’” One brow lifted faintly. “I’m pretty sure if something explodes and leaves glitter residue, it still counts.”

But when she asked if she was talking his ear off, the amusement in his expression softened immediately. “Addie.” His tone gentled, steady enough to make it clear he meant every word. “If I wanted to leave, I would.” Simple. Direct. “I asked you to coffee, remember?” A small grin tugged at one corner of his mouth then. “Pretty sure that means the talking was the point.”

He leaned back slightly again, studying her over the top of his mug for a moment before continuing more quietly. “And honestly? Most conversations I’ve had since getting back have felt…” He searched briefly for the right word. “...careful. Like people are trying to figure out who I am now before they decide how to act around me.”

His eyes met hers again. “You just talked to me.” There was genuine appreciation in that. Relief, even. “You always did, actually.” A faint laugh escaped him then. “Even when I was the weird quiet kid lurking around the edges of things.” His gaze flicked briefly toward the window before returning to her with warmer amusement.

“Though I think current-you might actually be even more dangerous socially than Hogwarts-you.” A teasing glint entered his eyes.

“You’ve already got me agreeing to future plans, dinner invitations, and catastrophe tours within what, an hour?” He shook his head slightly like he was helpless against it. “At this rate I’m gonna end up leaving Hogsmeade with experimental paint on my clothes and ownership in an exploding teacup by the end of the month.” But there was no mistaking how much he meant the affection underneath the teasing now.

[Adeline Green]

She would say he was making her feel like a schoolgirl all over again, but she hadn't exactly felt anything like this while she was a schoolgirl. Sure, she'd had a crush or two, but in just this one conversation, he'd sent her through the most amount of emotions she'd felt in a long time. Positive ones that she had forgotten she could feel in some cases. She laughed at the idea of things ending up covered in glitter, counting. "Well then, I guess I'm doing okay on that end," she said, shaking her head.

When he said her name, she almost blushed, giving a sheepish smile at him pointing out that talking was kind of the point of getting coffee. "You've just always been someone I enjoyed talking to," she admitted. Though the teasing got her laughing again, putting her hand to her mouth to try and tone herself down a little since they were in the middle of a shop. "Who knows, but paint getting on you is a likely outcome," she said, though she did get a faint blush as she said that before schooling her thoughts.

"You can, of course, come when you like, but if you don't forewarn me of when, I'll likely already be a mess. It took me quite a bit of time to find a dress I hadn't managed to get paint on this morning. Luckily, because I am quite the messy painter, I have already made a mix that helps remove just about anything from clothes. Lived-in stains are a bit harder, but when they're fresh, it works every time." She said, shaking her head with a smirk, "I could probably try selling that in the shop too, but I'd rather just make it for people."

[Vincent Mathis]

V watched her laugh behind her hand and felt that same quiet warmth settle into him again, the kind he hadn’t realized he’d missed until now. “You know,” he said, the corner of his mouth curving upward, “I think paint on me might actually improve some of my wardrobe.” His gaze dipped briefly over the floral dress she’d apparently managed to rescue from disaster this morning before returning to her face.

“And for the record? I don’t think you being a mess would bother me much.” The statement came easy, low and sincere enough to threaten another blush if she let it. He leaned back slightly in his chair, thumb tracing absently along the side of his coffee mug. “Honestly, the fact you made a stain remover because you kept ruining your own clothes feels very on-brand for you.” A quiet laugh rumbled out of him. “Creative chaos followed immediately by practical solution.”

There was obvious fondness in the observation now. Then his brows lifted faintly.“And the fact you’d rather just give it to people instead of selling it?” He shook his head slightly like he shouldn’t be surprised anymore. “That’s also very you.” His expression softened after a beat.

“I’m glad you still enjoy talking to me, by the way.” His eyes held hers steadily. “Because I’ve been having a really good time with this.” And judging by the look on his face, he meant far more than just the coffee.

[Adeline Green]

Addie gave a little snort at his saying paint on his clothes would improve his wardrobe, "I doubt your wardrobe needs glitter in it. Might have someone thinking you've got a child," she laughed again. His comment about her being a mess not bothering him did earn another blush, before she sipped at her tea again, realizing she was starting to run out of it from it being her tool to try and keep her face from giving away quite so much.

"I just want people to feel brave enough to explore art and painting in a way that is a real expression with no fear of the mess," She gave a little shrug, the compliment making her sheepish again, though he had her heart doing a stuttering thing when he held eye contact that way, "I'm glad it's not just me," she murmured.

"It seems coming to town today was a really good idea after all," she gave another small bite of her lip before finally looking down at her hands at the table, feeling that blush now a bit stronger, the tips of her ears burning a little. She gave a little laugh, realizing neither had touched their accompanying snacks, and rubbed the top of her ear as if to make herself stop blushing. "It's been nothing if not... quite lovely," she murmured softly, glancing back up at him.

[Vincent Mathis]

V’s grin widened immediately at the glitter comment. “I don’t know,” he mused, voice low with amusement, “I think I could pull off mysterious glitter stains.” His eyes flicked meaningfully toward her then. “Though if anybody asks, I’ll make sure they know the culprit’s a dangerously experimental artist from Hogsmeade.” Watching her blush was rapidly becoming one of his favorite things.

Not because he wanted to embarrass her, but because every reaction she had felt so genuine; nothing calculated, nothing hidden behind games. Just warmth written openly across her face. And Merlin, he liked that. He listened quietly as she explained wanting people to feel fearless with art, his expression softening again with clear admiration. “That’s a really good thing to give people,” he said simply. “Especially now.”

The world after the war had enough fear in it already. People like Adeline; people who encouraged others to create instead of hide, felt important in ways he didn’t think she fully realized. Then she admitted today had been a good idea, and the way she bit her lip afterward nearly derailed his train of thought entirely. His gaze lingered on her for a second too long before he leaned back slightly with a quiet huff of a laugh.

“Yeah,” he admitted, voice softer now. “Pretty sure this is the best decision I’ve made since moving back.” At her mention of the untouched pastries, he finally reached for his, though his eyes stayed on her over the edge of the table. “It has been lovely,” he agreed. Then, after a beat, the corner of his mouth tugged upward again.

“And for the record? You’re very cute when you blush.” The compliment landed gently, but with absolutely no ambiguity behind it.

[Adeline Green]

Addie laughed softly at his saying he'd make sure people knew she was the culprit, "Alas, most people would immediately go 'Ah, that makes sense' if they knew it was me," she said with another laugh, shaking her head. She was a bit more resigned in her smile as he said, "especially now," knowing he meant with everything that had happened with the war. She'd missed all of it, still halfway to the Far East by foot. She hadn't even heard about it right away, it being rather hard to contact her while she was gone. She'd felt a bit guilty about not having been there to help anyone, but by the time she knew it would have been too late to do much of anything.

She broke off a piece of the madeleine, trying it with the blue powder Roland had used, nodding a little with approval as she tasted the combination, but that was when he gave that compliment that sent her face into a burn. "Oh, we-well, I- that is- oh goodness," she put her hand over her mouth with a bit of a self-deprecating laugh at how he'd gotten her tongue twisted on such a simple statement.

It took her a moment to recover, her face still quite flushed, "I-I feel like a thank you is a bit vain, but," she cleared her throat, trying to master herself, failingly, pushing a strand of her hair behind her ear, "I-It seems you know just the right buttons to cause me to do so," she added quietly, avoiding eye contact out of a bit of embarrassment at saying something that she considered to be quite bold.