[Declan O'Dwyer]

Looking outside the window filled Declan with a sense of mild panic. It had been raining for the last two days straight and it didn't look like the weather would be letting up soon. It was only typical that his city, Dublin, would throw him a curveball like this when it mattered the most. The sky was an ever-darkening grey-blue colour and he could see the river Liffey swelling and threatening to flood. All things considered it didn't look good for his planned date with Farren Abercrombie.

On top of that he was worried if Farren would find Viridian easily. Assuming she hadn't apparated into the area before the easiest way to come was probably to head south from Aston Quay and slip past the enchanted walls in Bedford lane. He'd sent Farren a note with instructions just in case she didn't know her away around town and how to find the small pockets of magical Dublin. However, having sent the note did little to easy his nerves and every so often he looked at Ha'penny Bridge waiting to see her standing there surrounded by busy muggles rushing up and down the bridge with their umbrellas.

He'd chased away his sales staff a little while ago and had turned the sign in the door to closed even if it were still a little early. Business had been slow due to the weather anyway, which also meant there was little for Declan to distract himself with. The counters and display cases were clean and arranged perfectly. All his potions and scents on the shelves were lined up neatly in their ornate crystal bottles. Viridian Dublin looked the way it always did: black and gold, spacious yet opulent, with touches of green here and there. While the Belgravia store was substantially smaller, it was a style copy of the original with the same look and feel.

Having nothing to do but wait, meant time passed at a tortuously slow pace. In hindsight, he rather regretted having chosen Viridian as their starting point for the evening. He'd only suggested it because she had wanted to see the store. He supposed the jewellery pieces on display here were more intricate and he had all his fragrances in stock - but otherwise he doubted that it would be exciting. With a bit of luck, they would make a quick exit and embark on something a little more fun. He had a vague plan in place - weather permitting.

Once again, he checked that he had everything ready. His umbrella was in the stand next to the door, right next to an empty, woven wicker basket. The jacket of his deep-blue velvet double-breasted suit was resting on one of his counters. He had money on him. Yes, everything was ready. Except perhaps that he still had his shirt sleeves rolled up from a potion he had been working on earlier. A bit of skin on his arm seemed to be stained purple and rather persistently refused to change back no matter how many times he washed the area.

Figuring that he had nothing better to, he popped back into the staff room to give removal another attempt. Sometimes, hot water, soap and a brush helped where magic failed to be effective. It wouldn't really do if Farren laughed at him once she arrived. 

[Farren Abercrombie]

Having unexpectedly run into Declan O'Dwyer earlier in the week had unexpectedly created quite the stir up in her week. He'd offered to see her any day after work and she'd picked Friday as to be as soon as possible that did not have a work day after it. She'd forgotten that there was a dinner party at Dalemain she was supposed to be attending that same evening. When she'd written her mother to cancel she'd gotten a howler from her mother back that same day. The following day her Grandfather had written an actual letter explaining to her how important it was she could be there so she could meet her Grandmother's 'political' friends. She'd met quite enough of them in Vienna though and was sure the dinner party was either some kind of trap to get her to meet fancy Bloodists or Bloodists who fancied marrying her. Neither of which she wanted to meet.

She'd further upturned her week by moving her typical Thursday happy hour with her cousin Bellona to her house. When Declan had invited her to Dublin he'd made it sound so casual. A pop by after work, like it was any old thing, oh and perhaps a spot to eat after, even though he'd just told her he'd wanted to ask her out years ago and regretted not doing so he'd hardly made himself clear. Only to then muddy the waters further by asking her favorite flowers. So it had been necessary to pick an outfit that simultaneously turned the head of every man in the room but also looked like she'd potentially come from work.

The girls had picked apart her closet and finally settled on a vintage style dress. The fit was tailored close but didn't hug tight, a v-neck showed off her décolletage, and the elbow length puff sleeves added a hint of vintage whimsy. The waist was defined by a silk waistband and the long, narrow skirt skimmed down her body. The prussian blue complimented her coloring perfectly and the immaculate fit accentuated her figure perfectly without any hint of vulgarity. Her hair was pulled up to frame the earrings she'd selected, a family piece gifted to her Grandmother in the late 1920s, emeralds and diamonds. Resting between her collar bones, was the elegant silver and onyx Victorian locket she'd been gifted upon being sorted into Slytherin and worn nearly everyday of her life since. It was in her eyes a nearly perfect look. If this didn't make Declan regret having wasted a decade of his life not begging her to go on dates nothing would.

Now there was but one problem remaining- getting there.  Declan had helpfully sent a note with suggested directions the day prior. Farren assumed that if one had ever been to Dublin this note would have been very instructive. However out of the six times she'd been to Dublin each time involved going directly to a specific place via the Floo. Her maid had also informed her that morning that it was pouring rain in Dublin.

Farren had handed the note to her maid and instructed that she was to go to Dublin and scout out the route. Once she'd ensured she understood how to traverse the streets and locate Viridian she would then meet Farren at her office at 5pm to help her freshen up and then accompany her to Dublin. And so here they were, wrapped up in cloaks, ready to leave the office for Dublin. Farren had protected her cloak, shoes, and the bottom of her dress with a quick water repellant spell as her maid had magically fortified her hair style against the weather. The two women linked arms and her maid apparated them to some rainy, cold alley she'd never seen in her life.

"Alright Miss, it's not far from here. This is the magical Lane in this part of town, don't worry." Her maid tugged her forward into the dim alley, rain pelting down on them.

"Lane seems a bit of an overstatement doesn't it?" Farren quipped as they hurried down the passage hardly wide enough for three people to walk side by side.  They turned a corner and her maid led her through an enchanted wall into what was clearly a muggle street. Even in the rain it was too crowded with muggles for her liking. Her maid gripped her arm more tightly as she tensed at the sight of muggles and cars.

"Now at the end of this bit turn left and it's the last door down there on the end. I'll stand here and make sure you get to the right place before heading home." her maid instructed her as they rounded the corner to what was to be the street Viridian was located on. Dropping her maid's arm she thanked her and bid her goodbye before turning to walk down the street towards Declan's shop. It occurred to her that likely Muggles passing her could not see the shop door as she could. At the threshold she turned to check with her maid down the block. She waved back at her with a smile before disappearing on the spot. The shop sign was turned to closed but she knew he would be inside waiting for her.

Stepping into the shop she immediately waved her hand to dry her cloak off. Looking up she noticed this space was larger than his Belgravia location but much the same in atmosphere and decor style. He was not immediately visible so she took advantage of the moment to take her cloak off. "Hello?" she called as she hung it on the coat rack. Smoothing the front of her dress she stepped into the shop moving towards the nearest counter to wait for him. "Declan?"

[Declan O'Dwyer]

Declan muttered something barely comprehensible under his breath. Why had he chosen today to work on a recipe involving sea snail mucus? The stuff always turned everything purple and was hard to clean up after. He held his forearms under the sink and reached for the soap in the hopes of being able to scrub it off.  Things getting messy was a bit of an occupational hazard of being a potioneer and there was little to be done about it. He rather fondly remembered a time when Master Penhaligon had been working on magical colourants only to turn his own skin a deep blue colour. At least, it wasn't as bad as that.

Of course, the moment he had worked up a good lather and was scrubbing away at the nasty purple stain there was somebody at the door. "Coming," he shouted out from the staff room, trying to rinse as quickly as possible. He picked the towel beside the sink from its hanger and entering the shop floor while hastily drying his hands. "I'm sorry," he mumbled apologetically, "Didn't mean to keep you waiting. I had a bit of a situation earlier with a Sallow-Fernsby recipe. Apparently, sea snail can react rather spectacularly with dragon's blood despite MacQuoid's third and forth law. It's really interesting when you think about it." He stopped himself from speaking further blushing a little. He doubted that Farren really cared about MacQuoid's laws of potions or atypical ingredient behaviour.

Even though he had been expecting her, seeing her here in his Dublin shop felt simultaneously overwhelming and surprising. He hesitated for a moment before getting his bearings and deciding to greet her properly. "I'm so glad you've made it," he said offering her a broad smile. Suddenly, it didn't matter that his hands weren't entirely dry and that there was still some of that purple stain left on his forearm. He pulled her close anyway, placing a light kiss on each of her cheeks. She smelled heavenly, even without any of his Viridian perfumes.

And, of course, she looked fabulous. Funnily, they matched, both wearing all blue. As far as he was concerned though she looked almost too formal and put together for an evening out in Dublin. He briefly considered if maybe he should change his plans in favour of something fancier. No, he'd stand his ground. The two days he had been thinking about her, and their date, and request to see Viridian. He doubted she'd meant it the way he'd interpreted - but if there had ever been an invitation to show her a part of his world this was surely it? He'd taken his chances with things. He was done with making decisions he'd regret for the sake of politeness and ready to start making significant memories. Hopefully, Farren would be along for the ride.

"So here you are, Viridian Dublin. Seen one, seen them all I am afraid." If he knew her at all, she would probably be less impressed with this location. Sure, it looked much the same on the inside, but Temple Bar was a far cry from the nobility and exclusivity of Belgravia. He liked it though; seeing muggle and magical folk alike going about their days always gave him inspiration for his work. He liked looking outside at the various ladies and imagine what they were doing and where they were going. He'd make up the perfect fragrance for each imaginary situation, adding to his ever-growing library of recipes available at Viridian.

"I hope you've come ready for a bit of adventure and an evening out in town," he told her with a mischievous little grin. "Hungry yet, or would you like to take a look around here?" He vaguely gestured around inviting her to step up to any of the displays to take a closer look. "Or I could give you a tour of the place." As far as Declan was concerned this part of the evening was really the least exciting: Viridian was just an excuse to get together and renew their acquaintance further.

[Farren Abercrombie]

She didn't know what she'd been expecting. Bellona had told her to pay close attention to this and so perhaps she was overly aware but when he walked into the shop from the back she felt a sensation she could only describe as thrill in the moment. He was talking about potions, something about interactions, it all went over her head. Professor Slughorn had heavily favored her but that didn't change the fact that she was an average potion maker at best and Declan's abilities were entirely above her. But then he blushed, clearly realizing he was prattling on pointlessly, and she couldn't help but smile brightly, perhaps he was very much still that boy she'd known 10 years ago.

"Thank you for having me, I'm happy to be here," she let herself lean in as he pulled her close, placing her hands on his arms as he kissed her cheeks. This was different than the boy she'd known. He didn't greet her like this in school at least and while it had taken her by surprise in London this time she liked it. For a moment she wondered if he greeted others like this, this enthusiastically.

His introduction of the shop was diminutive which surprised her. Yes, this shop did look nearly identical to the London shop, but it was still splendid. If he spent most of his time here it would make sense that it was less special to him after all this time but she was still quite transfixed but it all.

Farren was surprised when he followed up his simple introduction to the shop by saying he had prepared an adventure about town for them. For the last few days she'd been mulling over this very event in her mind. Endlessly playing his invitation in her mind, replaying the conversation they'd had, and she was still unsure if it was a date. Bellona had grown annoyed with her and insisted both she and her husband agreed it was a date. Farren had remained unconvinced - until now. In fact she was not at all prepared for an adventure. She'd actually mentally prepared herself for a long tour of the shop and his many little bottles followed but a low key but pleasant meal.  It dawned on her exactly then that in fact this was a date and the shop, which he acted like was nothing special, was the excuse. He clearly had no intention of faffing around the shop, he'd planned something else entirely.

Once again that tinge of sensation reappeared, thrill. She'd wanted this to be a date. No one interesting ever took her on dates. Declan was interesting. Farren offered him a sly grin, "Should have warned me, I'd have worn my wellies under my dress," she teased. It was both a light hearted dig at the monsoon outside and Dublin in general. From what she'd seen it was a far cry from Belgravia.

"Lucky for you my life is in desperate need of some adventures," she pulled away from him with a smirk and took a few steps to the nearby counter. "Before you expose me to the wilds of a Dublin evening though....I was hoping for an exclusive." She walked along the counter slowly, her eyes on him instead of the jewels inside, "Off the record of course."

"I did come all this way to see your shop afterall," her tone was matter of fact but her gaze and manner of pacing made it clear she was flirting. One of the many skills she'd perfected to land her at the top of society. She'd come here to see his shop, yes but mostly she'd come here to see him. Now that she was confident he felt the same she wasn't afraid to be playful about it, the jig was up. "Besides I'm deeply curious about something I wasn't able to find out the other night in Belgravia."

Looking across the counter at him she smiled, she was having fun. Of course she wanted to go eat, of course she wanted to go run around Dublin with him, but she also wanted to test him a bit. "You have created this impeccable place and I have made being impeccable a profession. So, what inside these four walls would you say most suits me? If you had to pick the most perfect fragrance and most perfect jewels just for me?" It was something he probably did everyday for a dozen ladies. But she wasn't just some lady that saved up her petty cash and walked in off the streets to buy a luxurious trinket. Her budget was obviously unlimited and she was in no short supply of pretty sparkly things. What she was asking him for was much more personal.

Declan had watched her grow up. He'd sat through what was likely hours of her practicing on her antique violin until she was good enough for conservatory. He'd spent hours pouring over books with her consuming gallons of tea as they discussed the world as presented on the pages. He'd dueled her so many times they'd lost count exploring each other's deepest magical weaknesses. He'd all but carried her through her 7th years potions class. He'd celebrated with her when she'd been accepted to conservatory. He'd watched her marry and then bury Clive. Perhaps all the while questioning why he'd never just asked her out himself when he'd had every chance. Surely, there was something in all of that? Surely there were objects here, in this shrine to elegance and sentiment, that made him think of her?

[Declan O'Dwyer]

Her request was typical of Farren and really made him smile. He'd always found these moments charming when she inadvertently admitted to just a hint of insecurity. He'd do his best to pick some pieces and show her that he appreciated her. Why she even had to ask he wasn't sure. He'd have thought that his goofy smile was telling her fine how much he enjoyed seeing her again.

"Something for you, hmm, that is difficult," he teased. "I'm not sure I have anything that lives up to your exacting standards. Normally, I would say the right fragrance depends entirely on the occasion and maybe skin type - but I think I know what you're after."

If she wanted an insight into how he saw her, he could give her that. The only problem with that was that he wasn't sure she would necessarily like his answers. He'd always seen the world through softer lenses than Farren. Things weren't absolute, clear-cut or black and white in his world. Everything had nuance and meanings and he often found his enjoyment of people and things in the finer details rather than the overarching story.

"But I think I have just the thing."

He retrieved a key from behind the staff counter and unlocked one of the drawers embedding in the pedestal of a display case. It was quite a similar setup as in his laboratory, extension charm upon extension charm pushing the limit of what was possible. It took him a little while to find what he was looking for all the while humming a little melody to himself. Eventually he retrieved a small, delicate bottle made from white Murano glass boasting a traditional balloton texture in a raised, criss-crossed design.

"There we go," he muttered softly and carefully uncorked the bottle. "Water lily, wisteria, neroli, jasmine sambac and perhaps a thing or two more." He wasn't about to disclose the entire recipe. There was something about it that seemed to capture the scent of a fresh spring rain, or maybe it was more like sparkling champagne. "It's actually called 'Báisteach' and this one here is the only bottle I ever made."

In a way the scent matched her as well as they moment they found themselves in; rainy, romantic and complicated. He thought it was perfect. Hopefully, Farren wouldn't think poorly of his choice. From what he remembered she'd always been fond of rose. He could see why. It suited her and yet he thought that he liked something less powerful and more nuanced for her.

As far as the jewellery was concerned, he wasn't sure what to do. Any lady would be flattered by being shown the most expensive item in the room and hearing that it suited her perfectly. However, Farren knew better than to be impressed by being shown the most exclusive item. He concluded that really there was no good way of answering her request. Pretty much whatever he picked could be a let down for her. Eventually, he settled on an emerald and diamond brooch. A simple, yet elegant piece consisting of a yellow gold and platinum mount formed as a pointed ellipse, with each point set with a deep green, square-cut emerald. The arc of the ellipse consisted of double row of pavé diamonds matched perfectly in size, colour and clarity.

"And this piece for now," he said as he took the brooch out of it's display case. "I might have more suggestions some other time." There was a vague thought in his mind that perhaps in the future he would like to give something to her as a gift. Therefore, the fewer things he showed off, the better his chances to surprise her with something pretty.

[Farren Abercrombie]

She could tell by the way he was grinning at her he thought her request somewhat amusing. Perhaps it was but who wouldn't want to know what he'd select? What young lady wouldn't want some insight into how someone saw her? Queen of society she might be but she was still human, at least when it came to this. He appeased her happily enough and she waited, watching him with a bemused grin on her face.

Watching him in his spaces with all his potions was fun. There was something beautiful about it, about him doing what he clearly loved. Thankfully before her mind could wander very far down that path he produced a bottle. The notes were not something she'd usually pick but sounded pretty nonetheless. Was this how he saw her? "I'm very intrigued," she said softly with a smile reaching for the bottle.

It smelled fresh and green yet also like a twinkling night sky. He was well and truly gifted at this. Inhaling again she tried to put her finger on the mood of the scent. Green floral but dark. Romantic but soft. Twinkling but not sweet. "I like it very much," she said, unwilling to put the bottle down and re-cork it just yet.

He moved onto the jewels. She was curious about his selection. Asking a man to pick out jewels for you on the first date was a bit much perhaps. It was his profession though so how could she resist. Either he went over the top with something very grand and romantic hoping to appeal to her tastes and the romantic nature of the evening, if there were one or he played it safe and demure.

The brooch was pretty. It was excellently executed with perfect gemstones. However it was not her style. She wondered if he knew this and if he had selected something technically perfect to avoid making an emotional choice. "The stones are absolutely flawless," she commented, picking it up gently. "This would certainly make a powerful statement sitting around the table with the rest of the Editorial Board," she shifted it in her fingers letting the emeralds catch the light. They were her favorite, as demonstrated by her own earrings she wore now. Setting it back on it's velvet perch she looked up at him and smiled softly. "Thank you for indulging me," her gaze locked on his, she found herself smiling more brightly.

"I can tell you're far more eager to go out than stay here so for now I am satisfied but sooner or later I will sit here and test each of these perfumes." She glanced over her shoulder towards the door. "My first time out in Dublin outside of a ballroom." Grinning she turned back to him. "Let's go then, I'm at your mercy now."

[Declan O'Dwyer]

"If you like the fragrance you can keep it," Declan offered her with a soft smile. He wasn't sure that she liked it enough to take him on his offer, but it was meant genuinely non the less. One of these days he would have to sit down and make something bespoke just for her. He doubted that any of his finished bottled creations would ever fully do her justice. When working on new creations for his shop he usually did so with a potential customer base in mind which placed some limitations on his creative freedom.

The brooch, clearly, wasn't to her personal taste and he nodded filing the information away in the back of his mind for when it might be useful again later. He was tempted to ask her what was wrong with the design in her opinion but didn't think he fancied having such a serious discussion now. She was right in stating that he was eager to get going and leave behind his workplace. No matter how much he loved Virdian, it really wasn't an ideal location for a date. They were also getting closer to the time of day when the house-elves started cleaning the shop floor.

Declan put on his blue, velvet jacket and cast a quick rain repelling charm over himself. "I had hoped we'd enjoy better weather when I invited you out," he muttered half to her, half to himself. "I mean it rains a lot here, but it isn't usually this bad." He retrieved his umbrella from its stand, picked up the basket by the door and opened the door to the outside and looked to the left and to the right. "I'd have normally suggested to take walk but given the weather outside I don't think that would be a lot of fun. How about I apparate us?"

He held out his hand to her waiting for her to take it. When she did, Declan flushed at the contact. This didn't bode well. How was he supposed to function for the rest of the evening with Farren when even the slightest contact made his heart flutter. He could only hope that on the outside he didn't seem as excited and frantic as he felt on the inside. There was nothing was than coming across as too keen.

Declan took a determined step forward and focused his mind on the Dublin Flower Market.

A mere couple of seconds later, they arrived in front of a majestic, Victorian glasshouse near St Stephen's Green. The elegant steel and glass construction was impressive, and as far as Declan knew one of only a handful to have even been built by the wizarding community. While he was sure herbology and botany weren't really of particular interest to Farren, he though the Flower Market was worth seeing regardless of that fact. In his opinion it had to be one of the most stunning locations in wizarding Dublin.
 
Despite the hour, the market was still quite busy as was the case on most days. To harness the full potential of a lot of the plants they had to be cut at a specific time or during a specific period in the lunar cycle. As result, the market was almost always open with witches and wizards from all over Ireland popping in and out as required. As he was ushering her through the entrance the passed a small group of wealthy Dublin witches discussing floral arrangements for a wedding.

"I thought we take a look around," Declan said, "And buy anything we fancy. There's also a quaint little restaurant not too far from whenever you feel hungry."

On the inside the glasshouse was filled with many stands where witches and wizards plied their trade and offered their wares: asphodel, bitter root flowers, fresh galanthus blossoms sold by the pound, vervain, gigantic umbrella flowers in all colours of the rainbow and more. Declan stopped by a stall that had an elaborate display of puffapod plants, wondering to himself if their scent would work well in a new fragrance.

Quite a few of the shoppers around them were discussing the recent political news. Minister Eugenia Jenkins wasn't well liked in Dublin and her lenient attitude towards the recent squib marches kept generating heated debates, especially amongst the bloodiest echelons of society.

"Is it as bad in London as it is here?" Declan asked Farren, gesturing in the direction of a gentleman reading a copy of the Prophet featuring Jenkins' latest statement on the front page. "If you ask me, the world is going crazy."

A moment later he found himself distracting by an offering of Moondew bouquets and picked up one of the tiny vases to hold it out to Farren. "What do you think of these?"

[Farren Abercrombie]

"I would very much like to keep it. Thank you," she said with a small smile. For a moment she debated asking him to keep it for her to pick up later, so she'd have an excuse to come back, but that was silly. It was more than easy to put a protective charm on it and drop it into her small bag in the pocket of her cloak that had an extension charm on it. Perhaps he'd think her desperate if she made yet another excuse to see him so soon. Instead she summoned her cloak and pulled it on before tucking the bottle in her little wristlet with an extension charm on it.

"I think that sounds fine," she confirmed as he suggested apparition amidst the steady rain. Stepping to his side she reached out and took his offered hand. Again that sense of thrill hit her as his hand clasped hers and she looked to her right where he stood to see if he also sensed it. Surely it wasn't just her who had felt that warm jolt as their hands clasped? But their feet were lifting off the ground before she could tell how he felt when her small hand slipped into his.

They landed quickly, it had been a short trip, before them was a beautiful old Victorian glasshouse. She was immediately curious. It was clearly some kind of flower and plant market. It took her but a second to work out everyone around them were wizards and witches and that despite the busy bustle they were entirely safe. While that helped ease her nerves it immediately occurred to her that she'd never been to a flower market. Most of the time her maid or her assistant selected her flowers and if absolutely necessary her florist would prepare samples for her review. Of course you could easily work out what one did at a flower market but were there rules? Norms? This would explain his basket.  She now had two things to worry about, what to do on a date and what to do at a flower market.

Her expression was one of pleasant apprehension as he ushered her into the market. "Alright," she said softly at his suggestion that they take a look around. She paused to gawk at the interior of the space, such an elegant place full of every plant and flower one could imagine like a miniature rainforest in the middle of town. It was rather spectacular and quite unlike anything she'd ever seen. Realizing he'd taken a step towards the nearest stall she quickly followed. Still rather taken by the surroundings she reached out to gently take hold of the back of the sleeve of his velvet jacket, barely holding onto it but keeping her fingertips on him nonetheless to not be separated like a hesitant child clinging to the hem of their mother's skirt in a new place.


Still processing everything and wondering if she should stop touching him she tried to work out how to comport herself. He was looking at some puffapod plants which personally she'd never been partial to due to their small petals and that gave her a moment to come to terms with what she should be doing. He'd asked her out. The whole come to the store bit was a ruse. He'd wanted to take her out. Whatever that meant to people these days. It was quickly occurring to her that she'd literally never been on a date in the real sense of the word. Her only going out experience with men was those choreographed on her behalf by her family and with her husband after they were wed. They had never dated though, well she supposed all the touristic things they did on their honeymoon were like dates but at that point it was too late to be a real date.

Declan was one of her oldest friends. He wanted to spend time with her, not engage in some bizarrely choreographed pureblood social nightmare. So she should just try and be herself and try to not worry about what he was thinking too much. They were already friends, he wasn't going to reject her friendship. If he also felt some kind of thrill and jolt of nerves when their hands clasped they would deal with that when they got there. Wouldn't they? For now she should allow herself to just enjoy herself, if she could.

"That one has a mutated gene," she said nodding towards a puffapod that was bright green and clearly unique compared to the others. "We had a piece in not too long ago about people breeding these mutated puffapods into all kinds of bizarre color combinations, quite the fad apparently, in home sheds." she smirked, "When hobby botanists go wild....I suppose." She wasn't quite sure she was any good at botany humor but under her cool exterior she very much wanted to not disappoint him.

Glancing at The Prophet's cover for today, she nodded. "Of course it is," she glanced over her shoulder to make sure no one was too close. "I'd say if it gets much worse we'll be in for some real trouble. You should hear what is openly discussed in the ballrooms of London. When I made my debut such talk would have gotten you quietly, politely ejected from the party. Now it seems it is the norm."

If they weren't in public she might add that the talk around her family's dinner table was even worse.  It was a frequent topic around the Abercrombie family home that was for sure. Thankfully he had found a new bud to look at. Taking it with a smile she held it up to inspect. "I would say....it matches my outfit perfectly," grinning as she lifted the small buds closer to her face so he could see the blue-green bud paired closer to her emerald earrings. "What exactly are we shopping for? Are we making a bouquet or...?" Slowly she sat the vase back down and smiled up at him a bit self conscious of acting silly.

Then as she turned to consider the next stall, as a distraction from her own behavior, she saw a massive clump of flowers like she'd never seen. It had to be dozens of bouquets displayed together to make an entire stall appear to be full of bushes of buds. Periwinkle petals with yellow centers and smokey blue petal tips. "Oh Dec, look at those," she nearly gasped. Taking his arm she steered him across the aisle

As they approached the vendor waved at the flowers giving their name, Iris Sibirica - Peacock Butterfly Iris, and explained he was the only vendor with this variety in Ireland before turning back to his book. The flowers were unique and truly stunning, displayed as hundreds of blooms together. "I've never seen anything like them. They're perfect."

Reaching down she pulled a bouquet of a couple dozen stems from the basin they stood in. "These would be lovely in a bouquet with white and yellow blooms of some kind," turning to him the flowers cradled in her arms, their massive blooms practically swallowing her slight frame she smiled. "I pick these," she said before gently adding them to his basket.

 "Actually, one could be quite handsome as a boutonniere, it's too early but according to my sources in Paris they are going to try and bring lapel flowers for men back in the spring. It's quite old fashioned and charming." she said thoughtfully. Gently she pried one of the stems with an almost maroon outer petal splay from the bunch. Stepping closer to him she gently held the stem up against his blue navy lapel to demonstrate the elegant selection.

Without asking she placed one hand on his chest to hold the jacket as she threaded the long stem of the flower through the buttonhole on his lapel. Again she felt that jolt in her as she laid her hands on him. Her bright eyes flickered up to his, he probably found her being this close and uncomfortable but deep down she hoped he enjoyed it. She hoped she made him anxious as he did her. Against his navy velvet jacket the flower popped beautifully. Gently she broke the narrow stem off so it didn't hang out from under his lapel.

"See," she said running her hand over his lapel to smooth the jacket, "You look very handsome indeed." She held his gaze for a moment, before moving her hands to her hips. She stayed close though, as close as they'd been in the vanishing cabinet. Being in proximity like this with him made her feel something she hadn't in so long she couldn't give it a proper name other than thrill.  With a mischievous little smirk she turned her head away and stepped around him as if she was unphased, ignorant of the energy she felt between them when they were that close. It was an act, she had to play it cool if for no other reason than she was Farren Abercrombie...Rosier and what a let down it would surely be if she admitted already she liked being close to him again.  "Yellow and white flowers next, and whatever else you need, then perhaps that dinner you mentioned?"

[Declan O'Dwyer]

He'd have liked to talk about more about the political situation, but given their venue, it was hardly appropriate to exchange opinions on the squib marches here. Perhaps, it was something they could get into on another occasion in a more private setting. Nothing much had changed regarding him still appreciating her opinion. Not that he expected they would necessarily agree - but that was half the fun. He'd always enjoyed a good debate.

For a moment though Declan found himself wondering if it was just the politics that made Farren uncomfortable. She seemed a little anxious to him, though he couldn't think of any obvious reason for that. He wasn't the best at planning dates, but he'd been reasonably confident that his choice of venue wasn't a total disaster. He had asked his grandmother for advice on the subject and she'd willingly obliged him with that knowing smile of hers. He normally found her infuriating when she tried to meddle in his life, but just this once she'd been genuinely helpful. Except, maybe not? Was Farren awkward because he'd gone with a decidedly 1880s idea? That would be embarrassing. Though flowers didn't go out of style, did they?

He probably needn't have worried as a mere couple of moments later she seemed cheerful again, swept up in the idea of constructing a bouquet. He had no objections to that. It was a nice change of pace to visit the flower market for fun rather than for the sake of sourcing ingredients for potions and fragrances. He enjoyed not having to hurry and having a moment to appreciate the atmosphere.

The peacock butterfly iris flowers had captured her imagination and he found the way she smiled when she discovered them to be rather infectious. They were very visually pleasing with their frilled petals and vibrant purple and yellow colours. He was about to object to her mention fashion trends, but before he had any chance to protest, she was threading one of the flowers through the buttonhole on his lapel. He chuckled softly and looked at her with a sense of wry amusement.

"A bit more colourful that I would choose for myself," he teased. "But I suppose it does go with the blue." He tried to stop himself from thinking too hard about the way she had just touched him. She was probably just being friendly, and he shouldn't be reading into it. There was no denying though that it felt rather nice to have her this close. He could easily grow used to that.

"I don't need anything," he told her in response to her question, "but there is something here I have been meaning to show you. Then we can find you something yellow and dinner after that."

He gently took her hand and lead her further down the greenhouse to a stall that sold what looked to be rather boring bushes that quivered and shook evert so often. "Well take that one," he told the merchant, and after paying a small fortune for it added it to their freshly purchased iris flowers in the basket. "Keep this one," he instructed her, "and I'll ask you out again once it flowers." He didn't know if she were familiar with Flutterby bushes, but he was hoping that perhaps she wasn't and that the plant would provide her with a nice surprise in a little while.
 
The bushes only flowered once a century, but he'd been careful to select a specimen that already showed a few buds. It wouldn't be long until it erupted into full bloom, hence the horrendous price tag. 

"What yellow do you think we should get? I think roses might go well with the irises. And maybe a few stalks of veronica?" As a master potioneer he of course knew his plants.

[Farren Abercrombie]

"Well if it's too much I won't be offended if you remove it for dinner, but I think you look smashing," she said of his flower as he politely objected but played along nonetheless. That same smile she'd had earlier this week, the one that made her cheeks hurt, was creeping back to her be her default expression just like it had in his lab. Despite stumbling initially she was feeling more confident to be herself by the minute.

When he grabbed her hand and ushered her to another booth she followed gladly. The little bushes he led her to were vaguely familiar to her but she couldn't actually put a finger on what they were. Quivering on their shelves she had no clue why he selected the one he did. "Alright..." she said her eyebrow arching when he directed her to keep it, surely there was more context to this?

When he gave his direction that he would ask her out again once it bloomed she laughed. "Oh I see!" she said smirking, "You've given me a plant that only flowers once a decade. So now I must wait a decade for another date just like I waited a decade for this one?" She was teasing, her tone and expression were impish but good natured. Obviously she'd been plenty busy in the last decade but she still wanted to give herself the benefit of the doubt that his fears of rejection back then had been unfounded. Surely she would have gone out with him. "Thank you," she added reaching for his hand again to head back into the rows of stalls. "I will keep this odd little bush close by so I'm prepared the second it flowers."

"Hmmm roses I like but the wild and garden variety, not those oversized, uniform monstrosities for sale on every corner." She paused to glance at some unique yellow flower as they moved along the stalls but when the flower lurched and sprayed a fine dust of pollen into the air she all but leapt back away from it. Glancing at Declan in shock she laughed, "Certainly not those."

"I think yellow garden roses and jasmine. The roses and irises are bold petals with little in the way of foliage, a nice bunch of jasmine will round out the shape and green while injecting some delicate white petals that contrast in size," she stopped in front of a stall displaying both options which looked like someone had swiped an entire English garden up in it's basins and containers. While she might not be a botanist or fluent in the potent petals around them she was an excellent hostess. A good hostess always had good flowers.

Selecting her roses she handed the vendor her irises so he could tie together the three flowers into a bouquet. "So, how often do you come here? Is this part of your secret Dublin life I've been missing out on? It's extremely charming this place." She smiled as the vendor handed her the bouquet she pulled a ribbon from a pile he had laying on his counter and tied it around the stems. "Good thing you have a decade to think of your next plan, plenty of time to come up with a good second location," she teased him smiling warmly up at him trying not to giggle.

Cradling the bouquet in her arms she waited for him to settle up and then held out her free hand for him. "Is there anything else I shouldn't miss while we're here? Or are we going to miss our dinner reservation?"

[Declan O'Dwyer]

He watched her pick out more flowers for the bouquet with a happy smile. The roses and jasmine looked beautiful together, though he was less sure if he would have combined their scents with irises if he had been designing a fragrance. He couldn't help those thoughts. They seemed to come automatically ever since he had started working with perfumes. Every scent or combination of scents he came across was briefly considered as a potential for a future creation.

"Usually, I stop by once or twice a week," Declan responded to her question. "It's always better to work with fresh ingredients you can select yourself, rather than sending one of the apprentices or elves. There's also that I do enjoy getting out and about every so often. Spending all day every day brewing can feel a bit isolating."

"So yes, I guess that makes it part of my Dublin life, but it wouldn't call it secret exactly. Most folks around here know me well enough." He was tempted to point out which of the shop owners he knew well, and where he usually liked to sit down for a quick cup of tea, but he didn't want to bore her with the details of his everyday life. No doubt her routine in London was far more exciting and involves fancy luncheons and matinées. 

"And I see you have divined my motives," he commented. "Coming up with a fun evening does take come careful planning. Would be boring if I asked you to accompany me to some dance, now wouldn't you agree?"

There was also the fact that asking her out to an event or ball would generate public attention. Not that he was ashamed of being seen with her, not even close to it; but he wanted was some time to get re-acquainted again without making the two of them subject of speculation and pureblood gossip. It could be a lot of pressure to deal with and while Farren seemed to master such situations with apparent grace and ease, he always found it difficult to put up with such intrusions into his privacy. 

"I'd say we grab a bite. I can't send you back home to London hungry, now can I? Your lady friends would be positively outraged." He gave her an impish little grin and then threaded his way through the crowds and towards the exit.

"I am hoping you enjoy seafood."

The place he was leading her too was a small, intimate restaurant furnished in a quite formal and old-fashioned style. Everything looked ancient as well as expensive making it obvious that the place wasn't trendy as such but a local establishment with some tradition. Though Declan had reserved a table, there apparently hadn't been much need for it as it wasn't terribly busy yet.

"It fills up later in the evening," Declan said. "Hopefully, you like it. It's not French haute cuisine, but I'd say it's the best seafood offering we have in town."

[Farren Abercrombie]

For some reason it never occurred to her that his life would be somewhat isolated but of course now that he said he came here regularly for a reason to get out while being productive it made sense. Of course he, the owner and developer, wouldn't spend all day every day catering to ladies in his shop. Clerks would do that surely and he would brew and concoct his potions and perfumes. Offering him a little smile she nodded, "Secret to me then," she retorted when he said most folks here knew him.

"I hope it doesn't take a decade to come up with an evening out. Especially not when I'm actually quite easy to amuse," she offered sweetly before chuckling at his comment about going to a dance. "Oh I'm sure you don't want to go to a dance with me." She could think of a million reasons why not. Since Clive died she'd turned down every single invitation to accompany a young man to a dance. It started as a way to annoy her mother and became a hallmark. Every single lad in London under the age of 50 had asked her at somepoint in the last 2 years. The poor sod who finally did accompany her to a dance was going to become tabloid fodder for the following month. But she wasn't going to point that out, were he to ask her someday, she didn't want to seriously discourage him. "You'd be forced to spend a great deal of time with those ladies in your shop. If you think they're savage over catering you should see how they behave for specialty cocktails and filing dance cards." Farren giggled a little, she was clearly exaggerating though to what degree was very debatable.

"I assure you, my stomach is the least of their concerns," she smirked and followed him through the crowds heading towards the exit of the glasshouse. "Yes of course I enjoy seafood," she said as he led her through the lane to a nearby establishment.

The interior is what she might call dignified, formal but not overly lavish, a mature establishment. As he explained that it was in fact more popular than it appeared at this hour she tried to offer an encouraging smile, it was kind of cute that he felt the need to justify his choice. "French Haute cuisine? Is that what you think my life is like?" she was bemused. If only he knew how simple her life was when she wasn't being Mrs. Abercrombie Rosier. "I'm afraid you're giving me far too much credit, my life is probably not quite as exciting as you think." Part of her wondered if he would be disappointed to learn she spent most of her evenings eating dinner alone in a dining room built for 12 instead of having French Haute cuisine in a trendy restaurant.

A well heeled staff member came over to assist her with her cloak before whisking them away to a secluded table that provided plenty of privacy. Once they were seated, she took a moment to observe the room. She was curious about the place but she was also sweeping the room for familiar faces. The last thing she wanted was some society girl seeing them and starting gossip. Already she was having one of the best evenings she'd had in ages but Declan wasn't the type to put up with society nonsense. If her world encroached on this little rekindling she worried it would put a swift end to things. 

She turned her attention back to him from the wider space with a little smile. "I like this place, it sure is an upgrade from Madam Pudifoots and Three Broomsticks," she was referencing the last places they'd gone together for a meal many moons ago. Leaning in, her eyes locked with his she lowered her voice, "So, once we order I will fill you in on all the salacious talk going around London these days I couldn't discuss in the open. Even to me it is shocking, I'm so curious to know your opinion on it."

[Declan O'Dwyer]

Once they were seated, a strange idea popped into his head. "Almost like old times, isn't it? Except of course we can't have you eat something as homely as Madame Puddifoot's cake. I don't think it would fit into our highly glamorous lives."

He picked up on their earlier thread of conversation about French cooking. "You know, last I heard Mrs Farren Abercrombie Rosier was one of the most handsome and finest ladies London society had to offer, leading an entirely charming, utterly glamorous and perfect life. You know, private pool at home filled with golden galleon coins, 4 manservants to stand at the door and look posh and fancy. And, of course, you have the finest cuisine from foreign countries every day. Private audiences with famous artists and writers. An invitation to every exclusive event in town. Have my sources misinformed me? Surely you can understand that I am just a little worried about living up to expectations."

His tone was a good indication of how he felt about these ridiculous claims. He had an inkling that her life wasn't nearly as perfect as she portrayed outwardly. Nobody's life ever was. Moving in pureblood society though meant maintaining a certain image and putting one's best foot forward. When invited out, Declan made sure he looked regal and debonair, like a suitable heir to the O'Dwyer legacy. He was sure that some of the people who knew him would be well and genuinely surprised to see him working in his lab in old shirt and casual trousers. He could only imagine that Farren's life was more difficult yet. The rules for women always seemed to be even more unforgiving.

"You know, if the press did report on this evening," he continued, "they would say you were dripping in diamonds and that we were eating from golden plates. The chef closed the restaurant for anyone but us. A string quartet played; all the cutlery is made from gold.  We had a wonderfully intellectual and pleasant conversation about something not too serious but capturing the public imagination. Say, making plans for a fundraiser to support hiring more nurses at St. Mungos. Nobody ever objects to more healers and nurses, right? Then we'd have some ridiculously old alcohol that tastes more like vinegar than anything that's worth having to congratulate ourselves on our charity and nobility. Oh, how commendable."

Leaning a big closer he gave her a conspiring wink. "We could spite them. Have fish and chips, drink beer, laugh loudly and just enjoy ourselves. And we'll talk about things we want to talk about. Let's have two deserts and go home way to late when we're both a little bit tipsy.  How's that as a plan? And I must hear what the ladies are saying. I mean, my life depends on it."  He tried his best to imitate the accent and pitch so typical for the kind of lady Farren was referring to. He wasn't even half bad at it.

[Farren Abercrombie]

She laughed at his comment about Pudifoot's cake. He wasn't wrong. It wasn't inedible but she wouldn't be shocked if Pudifoot used low grade cacao and artificial vanilla flavoring.

"That's not entirely wrong," she said as he summarized her pretend life. "I am the finest lady in society," she positioned her hands to elegantly point to her face and tilted her head dramatically fluttering her eyelashes before laughing.

Gasping in mock shock at his statement that she had 4 male servants waiting on her,  "Excuse you.  I only have one male servant. My butler. He is 79 and quite a sweet man. Most of the time he just complains about the dogs and how my choices in wine pairings are offensive." She smiled, before sliding the elegant wine list hand written in script across the table to Declan before laughing.

"I do of course have private invitations with artists and writers but I'm sure if I weren't the Culture Editor of the Prophet and also a publishing heiress my invitations would drop by at least half." She smiled, for a moment she considered going into more detail about how mundane her life could truly be but decided that could wait.

She giggled at his summation of the press coverage on this evening. "I think you are deeply optimistic about the tone of the media coverage we would get. Do people actually care about more nurses? I think they'd be far more interested in making up salacious suggestions that something untoward happened." Smirking she leaned further forward as he did. She wasn't sure if he was being serious. Did he want to get up and go get fish and chips and skip this lovely dinner? Arching her eyebrow she considered him for a moment. "Yes. We could. Or...we have that Atlantic salmon I have now promised myself, share a bottle of wine, get two desserts and then.....you could take me to the pub? I've never been to a proper Irish pub. Or even an improper one for that matter. We could get tipsy. We could dance. I promise I won't laugh at your dancing too much. We can talk about anything you want and I won't even give you the answers I think you want to hear.  And then when the pub closes we could share fish and chips on the curb like a couple of Ministry interns with no money and nowhere to go. Then you have your house elf take me home so I don't splice myself somewhere over the Irish Sea."

For a moment she managed to not crack a smile. She wasn't joking. This sounded like a brilliant plan to a woman who had never been on a date nor been anywhere for fun with someone who wasn't a family relation or society dame in years. But then she saw the waiter approaching from behind Declan and she broke into a smile, almost laughing that they were being interrupted.

They ordered their meals and she let him pick the bottle of wine. Once the waiter had gone she leaned forward again. "You know....I'm not joking about the pub bit." Almost as soon as he'd walked away the waiter returned with their wine and poured them both a glass, leaving the bottle on the table between them.

"As for London. The ladies say many things. Farren Abercrombie Rosier is becoming a spinster. Farren Abercrombie Rosier killed her husband. Pyxis Abercrombie is a fairy. Declan O'Dwyer is.....ah no, they don't talk about you, not yet at least." She smirked, she knew he didn't care and surely preferred it that way but she would tease him anyways. Leaning closer yet she dropped her voice so even if a waiter walked past them they'd not be able to make out what she was saying.

"Everyone has a story about muggles or mudbloods now. Muggles hitting wizards with cars because they have on our clothes not muggle clothes. Mudbloods using magic to scam muggles out of money then pinning it on purebloods as some kind of prejudice crime. Mudbloods petitioning for their muggle parents to have wands too....all this kind of stuff that seems ridiculous. They talk about it openly, it's as plain as if I saw you at a party and was telling you about my dog eating my new shoes. No one bats an eye. Hardly anyone laughs it off or questions it unless it's so absurd it can't possibly be true. Everyone just agrees and talks about whatever are we to do about the 'problem' if we're not to be utterly replaced in our own world."

Sighing, she shook her head. Of course she disliked mudbloods and muggles as much as any normal wizard. Well, she did find mudbloods who shirked their muggle heritage not so bad. But muggles - ugh. She didn't disagree that it was a problem to some extent but making up tales like this seemed more damaging than useful in her opinion. "When we go to the pub after this is everyone going to be talking about Voldemort? Because they certainly do in the places I go." Reaching for her glass she offered him a crooked little grin. She wasn't going to give up on his idea of drinking beer and having fun but she was indeed very curious what he thought of all this serious stuff as well.

[Declan O'Dwyer]

"The pub? And give them something salacious where something untoward might happen? I'm in." He said so without any hesitation.

"And the salmon is a good choice. I think I'll go for the halibut today." Their order was quickly made, and the conversation shifted to an entirely more serious topic. He liked that Farren was asking his opinion on it.

Declan sighted. "I wished I could report otherwise, but it is a pretty well-discussed topic here as well. The claims don't make an awful lot of sense and it's all vitriol and hyperbole. Some of it doesn't even make any sense. Like that bit about muggles asking to have wands. Even if they had them, they wouldn't have any magic to use them with. So, what difference would it possibly make? I am afraid it's the same old story it always is. People believe what they want to hear because it's easier and more convenient than looking at the facts."

Chances were, he was about to offend Farren. He wasn't too sure what her views on muggles and muggleborn witches and wizards were these days, but he suspected that she was likely a little more conservative than he was. With the attention she received from society at large, it seemed rather likely that she would fall in line with the prevalent views.

"I don't think the problem is being looked at in the correct way," he admitted. "As best as anyone knows muggleborn witches and wizards have existed at any point in our known history. It therefore stands to reason it's a natural process. Even if these people deal with the current generation of them, there will be more. And if we look at muggles and muggleborns they gravely outnumber us. I think we have no choice as a society than to figure out compromise and how to get along with them. A difficult as that may be."

It was clear that Declan too held a certain amount of discomfort and prejudice too, despite best attempts to look at it from a rational point of view.

"As for that fanatic; if what I hear is true the things he says really are no better than the drunk musing of a bitter old man. Raw power he might have, but it seems to be that he rather lacks an understanding of the human condition."

That really was about as kind as he could put it. Stories about the man gave him chills. He'd heard of several incidents where muggleborn children had been harmed. If he were really this great and the wizard of a generation, surely, he would be taking on more worthy opponents than little kids who hadn't even started their magical education yet. No, this was not a movement he wanted to have any part of.