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Astoria was having a wonderful day. A sparkling, effervescent day, just as if she was a mermaid swimming in champagne. Real champagne. First, because her husband's mother had alluded to perhaps inviting her to tea one day in the future. Second, because her husband's father had given her a rare, uncursed piece of family jewellery he claimed he was otherwise going to ‘chuck’. And third (and most spectacular of all) because she had discovered she was pregnant.
But her day becomes even more wonderful and fizzy pop, even more full of hope and cheer, firstly because a delivery of flowers she'd been very anxious about arrive on time for the Christmas rush. Hundreds of scarlet blooms, straight from the USA, all in boxes, all needing to be unpacked, put into the cooler, and then used in fabulous displays to bring stunning beauty to homes and churches all around the area. A lot of work, a lot of beautiful work.
“These are simply glorious.” she says, lifting a poinsettia to the light. The glorious blooms are the world's most economically important potted plant, and they definitely deserve to be. For a couple hours she and her assistants busy themselves with all the manual labour necessary in a florist, much of it very repetitive and akin to cleaning, whilst also serving customers. Most of the time her customers are perfect strangers to Astoria, but now and then someone she knows, or knows of, arrives to patronize her little shop. Lately there's been many such meetings, as people get into the festive mood and decide to treat themselves and their loved ones to the gifts of nature.
Around midday the little silver bells above the door ring with a greater than normal volume, a hairy man's hand awkwardly pushing it open from high up, allowing a small woman to enter first. Chivalry. Not something one sees anymore. Draco is always chivalrous to her, but he is a cut above the rest of mankind. Astoria gazes mildly for a moment before her eyes flip open wide. Dodging behind a couple full buckets of poinsettia, she peers through the blooms, letting her assistants assist.
Hermione Granger, once the bane of her husband's existence, walks around her store accompanied by a man, a well built, nicely put together and overall pleasing man. Astoria need ask no questions, as the intense look in his eyes when they alight upon his bushy haired companion says all.
“Ooh, these are lovely. I'm going to have these made into a bouquet.” Hermione says, as prim and proper as ever, her clever hands fingering a glossy leaf.
The man with her frowns, but in such a way that Astoria immediately begins quietly cheering for him. “Good God, girl. Hyacinths and chrysanthemums?”
“Yes, actually. Have you never studied the language of flowers, Leo?”
“Dammit girl, I'm a doctor not a botanist.”
“I really think you ought to study the language of flowers, Leo. It might surprise you.”
Astoria bites her lips to prevent them from flapping and releasing a giggle. Never ever has she heard Hermione sound so playful, so self-aware about her tendency to lecture, so…free.
“When someone loses their mind and decides to give old Bones flowers, then I'll study it. How about that?”
“Good enough.”
Simply from her knowledge of the woman, as well as her tone of voice, Astoria knows what is about to occur, even without seeing the small and satisfied smile on Hermione's face and the glitter in her eyes when she steps up to the counter to have her order made up. Pink hyacinths and yellow chrysanthemums, how playfully bewitching.
All the while ‘Leo’ walks around, studying plants, asking an assistant something in a whisper before finally settling on an oldie but goldie, red roses and white orchids, a combination impossible to beat for sheer passion and exquisite taste. It's enough to make Astoria cool her face with a brochure. Not playing around, him. Not going cheap either. If he doesn't present them to her former schoolmate, with a diamond ring as a future follow up, Astoria vows to hunt him down and deliver a lecture on how he's a silly billy.
Fortunately he is not a fool, and almost immediately gives them to Hermione as soon as they're placed in his arms.
“Here, my favourite flowers for my favourite girl.” he says, with a frown, an expression which his smiling lips modify into nervousness.
Nerves are wholly unnecessary.
“Oh, Leonard!” Hermione drops her purse on the floor in favour of clapping her hands to her mouth, her eyes tearing up. “Leonard, put those down.” she eventually says. Once he does, she gives him a flying hug, which he transforms into a romantic spin. It's enough to make Astoria and all her employees sigh.
When the couple is preparing to leave, Hermione indicates the flowers she bought. "I had the same idea. For you.” she says. The gift makes her companion blush as furiously red as his roses.
“Bookshop.” Leonard croaks, picking up both bouquets in one arm, while wrapping the other around the shoulders of his little witch.
Astoria makes a note to subtly quiz Draco on his flower knowledge when she gets home.
