Charming is a Victorian Era Harry Potter roleplay set primarily in the village of Hogsmeade, Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, and the non-canon village of Irvingly. Characters of all classes, both magical and muggle — and even non-human! — are welcome.
With a member driven story line, monthly games and events, and a friendly and drama-free community focused on quality over quantity, the only thing you can be sure of is fun!
"Are you always this forward?" He asked teasingly since it would be a very short thread if he just ignored her entirely. — Tobin Cartwright in Take A Peek
Did you know? Churchgoers and worshippers had to endure a foul stench during prayers due to the amount of bodies often stored within the vaults of churches and chapels.
Bella had been working as a welcome witch for three months and there hadn't come a point where she was pleased with her new so-called "career". She knew it wouldn't last; she had plans to enroll in a healing internship come the end of the next Hogwarts year. Her greatest worries involved how the staff at St. Mungo's would take to having a "disowned debutante" on their team of healers, but she still held onto hope.
While Bella was expected to stand at the entrance of the hospital for most of the day, she did have some time to sit down in the tearoom for a break. It just so happened that on that day, a familiar face walked in that made her heart jump in her chest. It was Fletcher Peverell, the assistant head of the healing department she wished to work for.
Her anxiety towards speaking with him didn't only exist because he was in a position of power—no, he was also an older man and all the lecturing she'd gotten from her mother on the topic of "men of marriageable age" had caused her to somewhat fear speaking with them. Today, however, the draft from the cool outdoor air had tired her and lowered her inhibitions, freeing her from that silly fear.
"Good morning, Healer Peverell," she greeted, wondering if he even knew her name. She wasn't exactly a social butterfly, but she had greeted him on more than one occasion, name tag stuck to her dress, as he entered the building. "I hope the workday hasn't been too hard on you so far?"
Fletcher was exhausted. He'd been working a good deal of overtime in the past week and it was starting to wear on him. He'd neglected some of his duties to spend some extra time with Eavan so had felt the need to make up for it that week. As such, when he'd managed to find a brief window of time for just himself, he'd quickly made his way to the tea room for a much needed cup of coffee.
He'd just managed to grab a cup when he'd heard his name being said. He glanced up, cup halfway to his mouth, to see who it was who had spoken to him. He didn't know her name but it was clear the Welcome Witch had been the one speaking to him.
"Not overly much, no," he said simply, trying his best to sound as cordial as he could without really knowing who she was. Perhaps it would do for him to pay more attention to those around him. It wasn't his intention to be rude, however, as he generally was a rather kind and polite man. He simply threw himself into his work with vigor and often forgot his surroundings unless they were pertinent to his situation.
It didn't take much for Bella to notice that the assistant healer-in-charge didn't recognize her, nor did he express any great interest in speaking to her. It was somewhat disappointing that even after three and a half months he didn't seem familiar with her; on the other hand, it likely meant he knew very little—if anything—about the scandals that plagued her reputation. She need only view the glass as half full.
"The flow of patients has seemed slower than most days. I would think that the days after Christmas would be the busiest—people drinking too many holiday potions and the like," she commented casually, catching eyes with tearoom server to request a cup of tea.
Fletcher nodded in response initially, waiting to respond until he'd managed to actually drink some of his coffee. Once the magnificent substance and passed his lips and gone down his throat, he smiled. It was evident the warm liquid was much needed by the healer and he sat silent for a moment and enjoyed the taste. Most, he knew, felt the drink was bitter and not to their liking. He, however, enjoyed it very much. His was taken with a dash of milk and a few cubes of sugar though so perhaps that was what made it better.
"They mostly show up later in the evening," he finally said, looking to the young woman, "Though, most should come in much earlier if I'm being honest. They seem to think that their mistakes aren't as serious as they are. Luckily, though, nothing has been too awful." Potions were finicky things that shouldn't be toyed with. But if it weren't for the overly arrogant or ignorant types, he surely wouldn't have the job that he did.
"Did you enjoy your holidays?" he asked then, perhaps too abruptly but he preferred not to talk about his job all the time, especially when he'd already spent so much time working as it was.
The mention of holidays was a distressing one. Her last pleasant Christmas had been when she was eleven years of age—the last Christmas before she'd gone off to Hogwarts. Since then, her holiday breaks had been stuffed with etiquette lessons, and more recently, the feeling of loneliness.
"I enjoyed it just as much as any year," she replied smoothly, flashing a neutral smile towards the healer. "I suppose it wan't really much of a holiday. The hospital is open all day, every day—and where would it be without it's bright-eyed welcome witches?" she joked before turning her attention to the cup of coffee that was placed in front of her.
She took a moment to enjoy the drink's warmth as the chilly draft swept across the little bare skin that peeked from under her robe's sleeves before tilting her body back towards the man.
"Am I wrong to assume your holiday was similarly as short? The life of a healer seems like a very morally rewarding one, but not a very leisurely one," she pondered, taking another quick sip.
Fletcher offered her a pleasant smile at her response though he felt an inkling of unease. She spoke a bit too pleasantly despite her joke. He didn't know the young lady not he had a feeling that there was much more to her response than what she lead on. He wasn't the type to pry though so he'd simply leave it at that.
A small shrug was given when the question, or rather assumption, was turned to him. "Somewhat," he answered after another sip of his coffee, "But as an assistant head, I have a little more leeway when needed. I try to make a point to spend the morning and lunch period with my family during the holidays. Then when they plan to relax and turn in for the evening, I work. At least, if I can schedule it in such a way." Family had always been important in his life and he did what he could to keep them at the top of his priorities.
Bella's nose wrinkled at the thought. It seemed that no matter the industry, the higher-ups were provided more leeway, more pay, and yet less work than their inferiors. While it could be argued that those perks provided incentive to work harder, it was also equally unfair to those who were too low on the social ladder to ever be considered for those promotions.
"It's nice that they grant you time with your family. I suppose many of the others," she said, glancing at a group of healers that had circled around one of the smaller tables, "aren't granted that luxury. Such good people, don't you think? Sacrificing their holidays to care for others."
A brow was raised as Fletcher regarded the young woman before him. He certainly hoped she wasn't insinuating that he didn't make sacrifices of his own. For a long time he was often forced to take time off because he worked so much. It wasn't until recently he'd begun taking advantage of the chance to take time off, and that time typically consisting of holidays.
"It is nice," he stated simply, noticing where her gaze had gone, "Though it is only something I've recently started doing. I'm quite certain I'm here more often than I am at my own home."
"Of course," she responded with a smile. "I doubt anyone who wishes to spend the majority of their time at home would consider healing as an ideal occupation." In fact, the reason she wished to be a healer is so she wouldn't have to be at home.
"I suppose all jobs have their sacrifices. Healers sacrifice family time, aurors and hit wizards their lives, and Ministry office workers their sanity," she chuckled, turning to face the assistant head with an amused expression.
"I'm not sure I could picture my life not being a healer," Fletcher mused out loud. It had been something he'd wanted to do early on and it had never changed. It had quickly become his world, his life, and pretty much all he'd ever known.
He was brought from his slight reverie at her comment and chuckle, answering it with one of his own. "I have to admit I've never looked at it in that way but I have to agree," he said with a slight chuckle. He leaned back some into a more relaxing position, oblivious to the amount of time spend in the tea room though surely he would be summoned if he were needed. "What are your grand plans for life?" he asked, looking to the young lady.
"Most of the healers I know have said similar things. I suppose healing is not just a job, but a part of your soul as well—a part that never fades," she pondered, smiling at Mr. Peverell.
He was definitely a decent gentleman from their short conversation so far. He seemed self-assured, yet not cocky; pleasant, but not boring; and ambitious, yet family-oriented.
"I wouldn't say I have plans. Hopes would be a more appropriate phrasing," she admitted. "I too wish to be a healer, but my life has never been characterized by predictability—hence why I'm a welcome witch at the moment," she quipped with a wide, closed-mouthed smile.
Fletcher nodded. For someone that wasn't a healer, she seemed to know what she was talking about. He really did feel like it was a part of him and his patients easily became family, especially those that remained for extended periods of time.
"Hopes are the best ways to start," he responded with a small smile, "Without them or dreams you're left with nothing." And what a boring existence that would be. Whenever things got stagnant, one had to look for other things to strive for. Luckily, new things had come up for Fletcher naturally so he'd never really felt like he was in a lull.
"Is there a department in particular you're interested in?" he asked.
She'd had hopes and dreams forever, but she felt she was one of the few who recognized they didn't always turn out as ideal as she'd originally hoped. She'd wished for wealth and luxury as a child, only to wish for the freedom and love she'd had in the slums when she was returned to her wealthy family.
Would she have those regrets if she became a healer? Were there parts of her life—parts she didn't recognize at the moment—that she would miss? In her mind, there was little that was ideal in her current situation.
"I was never granted permission to pursue a summer internship here while in school—" And even if she had, it was likely it would have been at the Hogsmeade Hospital. "—so my knowledge of the specifics of each department comes from chatter among acquaintances. I always supposed your department would be the best for me; herbology and potions were my favorite subjects while at Hogwarts."
Fletcher sat silently, softly swirling his coffee in his cup as he listened to her speak. He when necessary and took it all in. She sounded as though she must have lived a rather sheltered life, leading him to believe she was of the upper class. It was then that it dawned on him he still didn't even know her name. And clearly she knew is as she referenced his department.
"Well then it sounds like you have a good direction to head then," he said, offering her a sincere smile. "I don't believe we've been properly introduced though you clearly know who I am," he started offering a somewhat awkward bow from his seated position, "Fletcher Peverell, Assistant head of potion and plant poisoning at your service."
While introductions were usually a good thing—she did very much enjoy being properly acquainted with people—the previous months' events brought the fear that her name would be recognized and the man would subsequently judge her. However, sitting there, a smile on her face, she tried to remind herself that Mr. Peverell seemed perfectly agreeable and not at all the sort to pass judgments based on gossip.
"It's lovely to make your acquaintance, Mr. Peverell," she responded with a chuckle. "My name is Bella Scrimgeour." Better Bella than Annabelle, she thought sourly, though no expression of uneasiness was visible on her features.