A Spell for Growing Pains pv. Siobhan's Friends

October and birthdays was traditionally a mournful omen for the greatest disasters in the young Master Campbell's life, and although he had outright refused all offers to "celebrate", with those kind enough to grace him in calling him a friend, for his own birthday he would not refuse Siobhan's offer. If anything it gave the month a sense of relief, a breath of fresh air that he could switch the melancholic attention it arose and shift those feelings elsewhere.

To say that Siobhan and he's relationship had been rocky would be offensive to rocks, if a regular friendship formed like a pebble there's was obsidian. They had both been cut by the damage their friendship had faced, yet, despite all odds, had managed to come out the other side stronger. So much so that Siobhan was constantly proving herself to be one of his most compassionate and trusted friends. Still the echo of their past rang through his mind as he got dressed that golden evening for her party.

Donning on a crosshatched green and white oversized shirt that he tucked into some brown corduroy overalls he cuffed at the bottom to stop from trailing. Most likely assumed that Matthew's acquisition of his father's clothing was a comment on his wealth, and to an extent their was some merit, but actually he just liked the fit and the way they still smelled of Patrick's paint supplies and cologne. Finishing off the outfit with some mushroom and frog patched socks and his brown hiking boots he ignored the disgruntled grunts of his dormmate from hell and fled the judgement with haste.

Before he could make his way towards the greenhouse he had one more stop to make on is trip for while he had gathered the main part of his gift throughout the month, there was one special flower he wanted to be fresh. Dashing through the corridors completely ignoring any onlookers as he raced past, he would find himself at the greenhouse and in one of the mundane pots he would draw a small bunch of chamomile flowers he had personally grown for the occasion. In the Victorian Era such flowers represented patience through adversity, a story most befitting their tale. A symbol of what they would overcome, together.

Then racing into the golden shimmering hues of the mid autumn sun he made his way towards the campgrounds as instructed. Traversing the hills of the grounds was always a pleasure but with the autumnal setting painting the trees in fiery colours and crushed leaves nestling his boots he felt a sense of peace not often known to him. Despite all its qualms, this truly was one of his favourite times of year, and he was in need of a true reason to celebrate it. To which Siobhan was more than reason enough. Picking two small sticks up that the trees had so graciously spared him, he tucked them behind his ears and weaved them through his curls to look like some kind of antler like fae being. After all, Siobhan was nothing if not whimsical.

When he finally made it to the cabin Matthew pondered over whether to enter right away or hold back. Had others already arrived, would he be the first, who was even coming? The spiral beginning to form in his mind like a dark looming cloud darkening his judgement. Breathe, the thought coming to him through his calming gift. Thanks mum, he whispered to himself before pushing open the door and taking a shallow breath realising he was the first to arrive.

"SIOBHAN, HAPPY BIRTHDAY!" There would be no attempt to control his excitement as the words leaped from the deepest bounds of his heart reverberating off the walls of the small wooden hut. It was almost spectacular how the sight of someone, their very presence alone could settle the ease in the head and heart, like all problems ceased to exist around them. Whatever it was, Matthew was sure to be glad of it and rushed her with a hug making sure not to poke her in the eyes with his handmade antlers. "I got you some things, I'm shit at wrapping so I didn't really bother plus given you can't see them anyways I thought it rather pointless. Maybe I was wrong though, I don't know anyways here."

Shoving into her hands two items he nervously fiddled with his fingers as he hoped he had done a good job. Matt didn't grow up with the notion of presents in the traditional way, his family hand crafted goods and made things of personal touch. So Matt had done the same, at least to start. In her dominant hand she would find a small leather journal that on each page had a pressed version of a flower with its meaning and a small section on how she reminded him of that meaning. Written in both text and brail he hoped it would be memorable.

Then came the heavy spender. This year Matt was finally in a place where he had saved up enough that a small pet might have been affordable, nothing exciting like an owl or snake but perhaps a small toad. But his actions of last year had not been one that was deserving of such a reward, he barely deserved the things he still had. So instead he had swapped focus to alter his course and rectify some of the damage he had made. This gift made him particularly nervous though, he wasn't sure how Siobhan would react. Would it be an insult or thoughtful. He had no idea but he wanted her to have it nonetheless, a small apology in a sea of apologies he would be doing for the rest of his life.

Either way, he just hoped to give her a day worthy of her wonderful self. If anyone in the world deserved it, she was the most worthy candidate and gods forbid anyone deny it.

Interacting with @Siobhan McCarty
The final gift will remain secret to the group but has been sent to Siobhan

Astra had few friends close enough to remember their birthdays, let alone be invited to celebrate with the aforementioned friend, but Siobhan was gladly one of them. It was funny how they met, how they became close over Astra's lack of ability to keep anything but herself, her cat, and a poison ivy plant securely alive, and Siobhan's desperate efforts to educate her. They bonded over muggle things, too, like Star Wars. They once reenacted the iconic scene from Episode III between Obi-Wan and General Grievous on the moving staircases their first year with a poor bystander who had to both carry Siobhan on their back while double wielding lightsabers and witness Astra nearly falling and busting her head after jumping five steps so the staircase wouldn't carry her away while holding a plastic lightsaber and quoting Obi-Wan.

They were a good team, each with their own strengths. Siobhan was phenomenal at the cultivation of flora, while Astra had become skilled at identifying, preserving, or harvesting from them but still struggled with the whole keeping them alive thing. Astra was at least decent at most other subjects, able to help when needed, but one of her biggest contributions to the relationship were not found in academics but in how she treated Siobhan since the onset of her blindness. Never coddling, never pitiful, simply dutiful. Eyes when necessary, guide when needed. And there was that one time with her EpiPen and peanut allergy which Astra was still proud of. Siobhan was a grounding presence, Astra a protective one.

Astra didn't know if her green sweater counted as whimsical enough, so she had asked around and eventually come up with a few novelty enamel pins shaped as mushrooms and flowers from the Muggle Artefacts Shop. She also maybe forced Hermes to participate in the forest fairy aesthetic by getting a flower printed collar at Hogsmeade to temporarily replace his regular drab brown one.

So girl and cat made their way to the campground, gift in hand- a rather book-like package toted under one arm of the girl and the cat several feet ahead, sniffing around in his handsome new collar.

The workshop was beautifully set, Siobhan's vision clear. "Happy Birthday!" Astra announced as she entered, a way to communicate her presence and a wish. She noticed another presence, excited and loud. "Hi. Matthew, right?" She'd met the boy before. Astra held her gift as she waited to greet her friend properly and give the wrapped parcel to its recipient.

She hugged Siobhan, one-armed, a gentle gesture. "Ah, I forgot, Hermes is here and could possibly be underfoot though he's typically more sensible than that especially around you, as you know," the redhead warned. "Any particular spot for gifts or do you want me to just give it to you? And happy fourteenth!"

@siobhan mccarty ∆ @matthew campbell
inventory : wand, cat, gift, playing cards, exploding bon bons
notes : siobhan has received her gift, the rest of you losers get to suffer muahaha

date ; sio's bday mentions ; @Siobhan McCarty @Matthew Campbell @Astra Norrick languages ; english | thoughts

small hall ; location 1033 ; wordcount uh hello ig! ; ooc notes

XXXXXPrat hadn't expected his name among those invited. In truth, when she first told him about the birthday thing, his eyes scanned her twice; slowly and deliberately as if he expected her words to rearrange themselves into something else. He knew Siobhan had friends she treasured and people she shared her time with. People who'd offer her respite and softness without having her request it. He was not that, at least not in his own eyes. The actions seemed neither natural nor effortless.

Yet, the invitation had been undeniably addressed to Prat and despite the twist in his chest he refused to fully acknowledge, even he could not ignore it. Something between the two had shifted a while ago, slightly, subtly and though neither of them would dare label it yet, the pull remained.

He would show up, and Showing up in style was something he never failed to do.

Dressing with the same precision that marked his very construct, his base was a fitted black shirt and black formal trousers-sleek, sharp and unmistakably him. He added a dark forest green scarf of expensive wool draped once around his neck. Accessory that only brought out his regal features further. His boots too were polished to a mirror shine.

Then he slipped her gift into one of the hidden pocket, one he used only when something mattered enough to keep it close to his bearings.

Neoth whined at his feet as the good boy's tail flicked wildly. The half-crup seemed to know exactly where he was going and despite his reservations, Prat allowed him to accompany.

"Fine," he muttered which his tongue clicking. "Just don't eat anything, bite anything. Dead or remotely edible-looking."

Neoth barked once, delighted, which was quite the opposite of reassuring for Prat as he lifted the good boy over his one arm and made his way towards the destination they'd planned.

He paused at the entrance.

Candlelight flickered from inside, casting dancing shadows against the wood. He could hear faint movement-soft arrangements and gentle humming as he stood there for a moment too long, fingers tightening slightly with no idea of why or what.

If he stepped inside, he'd be stepping inside the experience of what a muggle birthday looked like. A world of flowers and whimsy and things grown patiently rather than groomed from adolescence.

It was ridiculous that he'd come far enough for his heartbeat to be acknowledging any of this.

Pushing the door open, the air inside greeted him with mild scent of rose petals, earth and ginger.
A table set with an attention to detail even he was appreciative of. Neoth wriggled until Prat placed him gently on the floor, the half-crup trotting forward with all the confidence of a creature who believed he was always the center of attention.

Prat exhaled once and crossed the room.

Siobhan was dressed in green with flowers around her hair, looking unmistakably like she belonged in the soft glowing atmosphere of an ethereal forest harboring fairies. The faintest signs of awe in his eyes; impossible to ignore.

"Happy Birthday, Sio." he said with gentle voice, words easily slipping out instead of the usual loud shouts they were earlier accustomed to.

He brushed his fingers lightly against the back of her hand, a deliberating brief and fleeting gesture. one meant only for greeting yet still enough to acknowledge what might lay beneath. Prat withdrew before it lingered far too long. As he always did.

A quick glance around showed him Astra and Matthew already there, Prat inclined his head, "Good evening, Astra. Evening, Matt."

Each greeting was tad formal but genuine.

Turning back to her, he offered her a brief, light hug before reaching into his coat. "This is for you," he said handing the girl the ivory box. The gold filigree details framed the edges like delicate lacework. A tangent from his own cosmetics which leaned towards sharp and regal . He had chosen the box with intention.

"Open it later," he instructed softly.

Inside, when she'd open it, Sio would find a quill unlike one easily accessible to those in Hogwarts. The spine was silver carved with intricate vinework and flowers, wrapping elegantly around the opalescent shaft. Small emerald chips inlaid subtly along the base, catching light upon closer inspection. The feather itself was crafted from kestrel plumage, smoother than silk and balanced perfectly for long hours of writing.

Two inks sat beside it: one a traditional deep-black, the other a rare formula brewed specifically to resist bleeding, tearing or warping even the most fragile or humidity-sensitive papers. Self-correcting ink, capable of smoothing out accidental errors with erasing entire lines.

It was a practical gift with a touch of extravagance, much like him.

Prat stepped back, giving her space and some to himself as well, Adjusting the fall of his scarf as if that'd settle the quiet rush in his chest. He scanned the room without touching anything, and all the decorations, the setting. These were all so...her.

He could not imagine preparing a table like this for anyone.

His gaze once gain drifted towards Neoth, who was circling the room with curious interest and then back towards Siobhan as the half crup watched her with an expectant joy.

"You did all this alone?" he asked, not with disbelief, she probably could pull it off.

He added no further comments; only offering slight praise as he couldn't articulate more without revealing details further than he'd intended. But if one could notice the slight shift in his posture, softened edges of his gaze, they'd carry the sentiment clear enough. The effort was impressive and he found the environment befitting of her and he found her so–

He exhaled once before the thought could fully form in his head.

Prat took his seat, settling with composure. The Daffodils at his place did not go unnoticed. He gave them a soft touch without questioning the placement. He didn't allow himself the time to analyze their meaning and spiral further, he'd already done that enough.

Instead he rested one hand on Neoth's head as the half-crup settled beside him, allowing the event to unfold.

xx

𝐒𝐓𝐀 𝟔 | 𝐄𝐕𝐀 𝟗 | 𝐒𝐓𝐑 𝟔 | 𝐖𝐈𝐒 𝟕 | 𝐀𝐑𝐂 𝟕 | 𝐀𝐂𝐂 𝟏𝟎 𝐅𝐄𝐀𝐑𝐋𝐄𝐒𝐒 | 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄𝐋𝐘 𝐂𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐓𝐔𝐑𝐄 | 𝐄𝐕𝐀𝐒𝐈𝐕𝐄 𝐌𝐀𝐍𝐄𝐔𝐕𝐄𝐑𝐒 coded by elena clarkxx

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