» Everything's Coming Up Roses, open

[Owen Beauregard]

Flowers seemed to be universally accepted as an area that mostly girls delighted in, or men attempting to court said girls without really knowing what they meant. A well to do gentleman with only loving intentions could present the darling of his dreams with a bouquet of aesthetically pleasing almond flowers and marigolds, only to have the poor young woman run away heartbroken that the man she admired had suggested she was of a vulgar mind (Marigolds) and that she was positively stupid (Almonds). Though Owen noticing flowers wasn’t a precaution against such a horrible mistake occurring (Not yet anyway), it was still a thought that amused him greatly as he pottered along his home street in Bartonburg.

The young lad was in quite a positive nature that afternoon after his filling lunch of cucumber sandwiches, and had soon after been released from the Beauregard household on account of it being a pleasant day. However, he couldn’t help but notice no-one else was asked to go out, that his mother seemed quite red in the face after he knocked over the armchair for the third time that day( while running around) and nor was it a nice day. The gauze of grey cloud had threatened wet weather all morning, making it highly likely that Owen would be caught in a shower at some point, and yet Mrs Beauregard didn’t even think to thrust an oversized umbrella upon her son! This meant he would certainly have to come in if began to pour, but not yet. First, it would let him stretch his legs, and then he could give it permission to rain – it was only courteous of the skies to respect this.

He frolicked across the cobble with a merry skip in his step, admiring how peoples flowers pots and beds still exuberated summer colour in the greyest of days. The roses a few doors down were certainly his favourites, though he had never met the neighbours that grew them. Though thorny and threatening when you briskly walk past, they are quite beautiful when navigated past carefully, without them taking a knick out of the shoulder of your jacket. The pearly full blooms were always present in early summer, and Owen often took the time to stop and examine them. He was at heart a rough and tumble boy, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t appreciate things that were pretty – well, as long as they weren’t dresses, dolls or lacy doilies. However, Owen appreciating them didn’t mean he was confident at expressing this to others – he would look girlish, and no doubt one of his brothers wouldn’t let him hear the end of it if they caught him sniffing a rose.

Looking around sheepishly, Owen held the largest rose of the bush with his two hands and inhaled it’s scent. It wasn’t anything compared to the smell of mud, tree bark and biscuits, of course, but no-one could deny the aroma was anything less than pleasant. He bit his lip, wondering to himself if picking a single petal of it would be considered theft – and came to the conclusion it would be silly for anyone to go to Azkaban over a petal – it wasn’t even worth anything! Unless it was a boil from a mimbulus mimbletonia, that would cost a fair penny. But it wasn’t, so Owen plucked an outside petal from the rose, and held it between his finger and thumb, studying its minuscule grey veins.

“Hello, Petal…” he murmured to himself.

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[Cecily Gallivan]

Cecily Grace Gallivan was no longer a child. She had completed her first year at Hogwarts and her birthday was in about two months, which made her a young lady, rather than a child. Dolls no longer attracted her, although she loved playing with them before she went to Hogwarts. All of her dolls were now locked in chests, waiting to be used by someone else. If Veronica had a daughter, the dolls would go to her, or they would be used by Cecily's future daughter. Some of her dolls were actually her mother's and they were the ones she refused to give to anyone. They were some of the few things she had from her dead mother.

The weather was pleasant and Cecily did not want to spend it inside the house. She couldn't find Theodore and Veronica was too busy with the baby, which meant that she could either have a walk or spend a really boring day inside her room. It was a pity that her friend Ada was not at Hogsmeade during the summer. The two would have spent a lovely day in one of the shops, but Ada was too young to apparate and Cecily doubted that her grandparents would allow her to visit her just for a couple of hours. They still sent letters to each other, but it was not enough for Cee. She missed talking with her friend.

Today she had picked a lovely soft pink dress for her walk. Although she was not interested in dolls anymore, dresses seemed to be far more interesting to the blonde. She liked being pretty, although she didn't want to end up like those silly, vain girls. There was some girl called Brynn Malfoy in the Slytherin house who at the age of fifteen dressed like a lady in her twenties. Cecily was taught not to criticize people she didn't know, but she still didn't want to end up like the Slytherin. Dresses were nice, but so was simplisity.

With a house elf by her side, Cecily walked happily in one of the streets of Bartonbourg. She and the house elf were going to Honeyduke's sweet shop in order to buy chocolate and sugar quills. Cee always had a sweet tooth and she was rather glad that there was the house elf to keep her from buying the whole shop. Her father would be really disappointed if she ate too many sweets. Besides, that would ruin her teeth and who would want to marry a lady with yellow, crooked teeth?!

A bush of roses caught Cee's attention as she and the house elf walked. Roses have always been Cecily's favourite flowers, especially the little pink ones. Those roses seemed as preety as the ones Professor Ollivander created using magic. Cecily suspected that those roses were bewitched in some way as well, but that did not stop them from being pretty. " Ah, this is such a beautiful colour!" Cee exclaimed, and she smiled.

When she realised that a boy no younger than her was standing nearby, she couldn't stop her blush. He probably concidered her stupid for not noticing him earlier! She examined the boy and then decided to speak. " Excuse me, sir. Do you live here? These roses are beautiful!"

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[Owen Beauregard]

The young lad was quite lost in his own world, and remarkably quiet for a boy who had spent the majority of his day hollering all over the Beauregard household – so it wasn’t surprising that the young woman hadn’t noticed him as she commented on the roses beautiful colour. Feeling a little awkward after his jump of nerves and the sudden appearance of quite the pretty girl (who too seemed to be blushing), Owen dropped the petal from his gaze, and shuffled back from the bush a little. He wasn’t intimidated, for she seemed exceedingly friendly – but perhaps just slightly embarrassed at being caught red-handed looking at flowers. However, not a single mocking comment was made. Instead it was a rather kind compliment – at least to an eleven year old boy.

" Excuse me, sir. Do you live here? These roses are beautiful!"

Oh, she called Owen sir ! Normally he was addressed as young boy, certainly never the prestigious title of sir ! His ego had been quite accidently fluffed, and due to this he smiled a little, the jolly countenance of his afternoon beginning to appear. ”Well, no –I don’t –“ he paused , if he said he lived here and in fact had nurtured these roses himself, would she take a shine to him? Oh goodness, no. That would be lying- and lying was not very gentlemanly at all. Though there was a possibility she could scold him for touching what’s not his to touch. Hm – quite the social conundrum. It would seem he was encountering those more and more lately.

”They are pretty, aren’t they?” Owen chirped, looking up at the slightly taller girl, surprisingly taken aback by her face. The combination of rosy cheeks, wide hazel eyes and golden locks strangely made Owens heart skip a beat or two – something he was ashamed to say he hadn’t felt before. Was she his age, at Hogwarts, living in Bartonburg? He felt it quite prudent he find out, or perhaps it was the strange stirring in his chest that suggested it. Well, whatever it was, it felt like their appreciation of the roses was common enough ground to start some kind of friendship. “My name is Owen Beauregard” he introduced, putting his hand out for a good ol’ fashioned hand shake, assuming she’d reply with her name. Do girls like handshakes? He wasn’t sure. He hoped girls like handshakes.

Oh goodness, she was ever so pretty, so much so he had become quite distracted from the original subject of roses, and rather enchanted by the new prospect of friendship. He could only assume that she was either attending Hogwarts, or was going to come the month of September, and if this was the case he quite fervently wished for them to be in the situation in which they could spend time together, whether that meant being in the same house or a few classes. Gosh, she was very, very pretty.

(((He gave that bitch a handshake. Bitches love handshakes.))))

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[Cecily Gallivan]

Cecily could see that the boy felt rather embarassed, but that made her like him more. She herself used to be a rather shy child before going to Hogwarts. It seemed that the castle had changed her from a little, shy girl to a confident young lady. She was going to turn twelve years of age this coming August, so Cee could no longer act as a child. A lot of girls started wearing corsets at the age of thirteen so acting like a child would no longer be suitable. Cecily also happened to be an older sister now, which meant that she could no longer be the baby of the family. Unlike other girls, though, Cecily did not mind that at all. She liked her father's attention, but she was old enough not to need it all the time.

" Whoever lives here must be a really good gardener." Cecily commented with a nod to the boy's comment. That, or he was just really good at charms. Cecily knew how to make roses beautiful using her wand, but she couldn't use her wand outside of Hogwarts until she turned seventeen, so she couldn't show the boy how to do it. Even if she could use magic, though, she had not brought her elegant hazel wand with her, since she did not really need to use magic when she was simply having a walk with her house elf.

She smiled when the boy introduced himself as Owen Beauregard. The name was quite familiar for Cecily. She knew there was a girl called Elsie Beauregard, but they had never spoken to each other so Cecily decided not to ask the boy if they were related.

She gave him her little gloved hand for a hand shake. Hand shakes were usually what men did when they introduced each other, but it would probably be rude not to give her hand when the boy was so friendly to her. He seemed to be younger than her and Cecily did not want to be mean and impolite to the younger students. The prefects at Hogwarts were always polite with the younger students and Cecily always viewed them as her role models. " My name is Cecily Gallivan." she introduced herself to the boy.

" Are you going to attend Hogwarts this year?" she asked with a friendly voice before continuing. " I just finished my First year. I was sorted into Ravenclaw, though I always thought I would be in Hufflepuff." Cecily was not sligthly sadened by the fact that she ended up in Ravenclaw, though. She liked it better there, although she didn't really know what was like to be in Hufflepuff.

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[Owen Beauregard]

Cecily Gallivan . That was one of the prettiest names Owen had ever heard, and she possessed the prettiest, daintiest hands too! They were gloved of course, so for all he knew there could be callouses, warts and wrinkles lining her fingertips, though that was unlikely. He highly doubted a girl as pretty as her would do enough dirty work for even a single blemish to spot her lovely skin. Cecily Gallivan. She sounded like quite the friendly witch too, her words simply laced with good cheer. Oh goodness, he’d quite like to shake her hand again. Maybe hold it. Like they were really good friends. Or something.

Owen was fully aware that his little heart was thumping a little faster than is normal, that his tummy basket was fluttering with butterflies, and that he was blushing like a tickled beetroot. It was embarrassing, but the young lad looking at all chivalrous or dashing was to be forsaken so he could look at her, even if it would be easier if he closed his eyes and imagined Cecily was an ugly old hag. That way, he could probably carry the conversation much more smoothly, without jitters or the stutters that were beginning to threaten his tongue. Oh, this was silly. She was just a really, really, really pretty girl. She probably wasn’t even that interesting, one supposes she-

" I just finished my First year. I was sorted into Ravenclaw, though I always thought I would be in Hufflepuff."

She was already in Hogwarts!? Oh goodness, she knew spells, magic, charms! She was in Ravenclaw, which meant she was rather intelligent too! Owen felt a little mean, for in the back of his head he had made the incorrect assumption that Cecily was a little air-headed, though there was no evidence to back such a claim up. Oh goodness, Cecily must know everything about Hogwarts, probably more than Bentley, or Adella! Cecily was simply too perfect to be Owens friend, how were they even in the process of talking when there’s a clear imbalance? He was a little lacking in the brain department whereas she… she was a scholar. She liked roses! The young lad could randomly mentally list everything that made the young girl in front of him the most desirable friend a boy could ever wish to have. But most of all, she was very, very pretty.

What Owen didn’t realise, as he cluttered his mind with a hundred dozen potential compliments to pay her, the tree’s he wouldn’t climb with her incase she hurt her pretty dress, and the counting of days until he might see her again in the Great Hall – that he had stopped talking. Completely stopped talking. Didn’t even answer the question. He was stood there, not dissimilar to a goldfish, mouth slightly agape and blue eyes wide. Perhaps, if he was a character and the creator of him was aware of his social blunder, she reached her godly hand down into his universe, and flicked his little noggin back into consciousness – just as embarrassed as he is by the whole situation. Owen blinked, stifled a “What?” and instead drove his mind back to the front of conversation. Was he going to attend Hogwarts this year? Unfortunately, the first thing that blurted from his lips after quite the long brain fart was…

“I-I am if you are.”

It wasn’t even intended to be a seedy chat-up line, or flirtatious suggestion – it was just pure idiocy filtered into a sentence that would alienate even the strangest of girls. Even Owens brain flinched at what he said, and the creator (wherever she is) face palmed, hard. The only thing he could do to rectify the situation was to laugh. So he laughed coarsely, having to break eye contact out of sheer humiliation.

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[Cecily Gallivan]

Cecily frowned and tried not to blush when the boy spoke. The way he talked was weird and reminded the witch too much of the way older male students talked so the older female students. Most of the older students did not blush, but the way they talked was similar and it kind of made her feel awkward. She was never a shy person, but she had yet to experience some things with the opposite sex, so these things seemed still weird to the young witch.

She stared at the boy, wondering what to say. His laughter only made the situation worse. Was he making fun of her? Was she funny? Cecily doubted that she was wearing something that would cause the boy's laughter. Her hair was well brushed and her dress was particularly modest. Was there something funny about her, something she had yet to find out about?

" That's nice." Cecily finally replied, feeling awkward but still trying to remain calm. He was younger than her, after all, it would be silly to feel intimidated by someone younger! She took a deep breath and smiled, trying to find a different topic of conversation.

" Do you have any siblings?" Cee asked politely the boy. If he had siblings as well then perhaps they could talk about them, rather than more awkward things.

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[Owen Beauregard]

He peered back up at the pretty face, scratching the back of his neck so that he had something or other to do with his un-sure hands, but it didn’t seem to relieve any awkward tension. Owen wasn’t used to this. He was loud, constantly shrilled at by his mother for being exuberantly rambunctious, so why couldn’t he fulfil those well-known trusted upon character traits in front of Cecilly? Why was she not being as weird as he was? Oh goodness, this was no doubt perfect proof of his potential friendless situation at Hogwarts – what if he met others with which he would have some curiously unfortunate chemical reaction with, causing him to act as strange as he is now? What made the pear-shape even worse was that he simply couldn’t put his finger on why he felt this way, why did this young witch turn him into…into… a male version of Lottie!? Well, speaking of Lottie…

”Uh, well, I have a twin sister, Charlotte, who’s going to Hogwarts too of course. Harvey and Elsie are already in Hogwarts… Adella and Bentley have already left… Bentley is in a Ministry mission at the moment, the Hogsmeade Trail or something! “ he smiled at the mention of his eldest brothers grand adventure, his confidence perking up a little as he willed himself to make eye contact again. Of course, to be polite, he was to return the question – or so he learnt from watching his elder siblings socialise with others. “Do you have any sisters or brothers? Because, perhaps some of mine might be acquainted with them, especially if they’re in Hogwarts…” What an excellent basis for a friendship that would be! If she had an older brother or sisters that were perhaps friends with Elsie or Harvey, then it would be a perfect excuse to see her more often! Though, that all depended on whether Cecily liked Owen at all – which was seemingly increasingly, and depressingly… unlikely. He certainly didn’t wish to infringe into her life when he was wholly unwanted, though the thought certainly dampened his spirits.

Upon asking the question he became distracted by the rose bush as he felt a thorn brush against his sleeve. Angling his torso towards it slightly as to avoid the same slightly painful occurrence happening once more, he couldn’t help but feel heavily inclined to pick the tip of the flower for himself. While the conversation continued, though he did turn to hear what she had to say, he placed his thumb and the distal phalanx of his index finger just under the bloom of the pearly white rose to pluck. Though, he had a sudden wave, a new fandangle light bulb, of gentlemanliness, triggering him to ask “Would you like one?” – Cecily did seem awful fond of the roses upon the first greeting, it would certainly be odd if she rejected an offering of one to keep. It wasn’t stealing was it? Perhaps the moral ambiguity of his actions would repel her… no, certainly not, who could deny a pretty rose? He turned to her, awaiting a hopefully positive response.

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[Cecily Gallivan]

Cee always liked the idea to have a twin sister. She was always rather envious of the people who had twins, because it seemed incredibly fun to have a sibling who shared the same birthday as you. She liked hearing stories of twin sisters who shared their clothes and knew each other's secrets and switched places in order to help each other. There were still some not so nice stories, of course. Cee was not sure if it would be so nice to have a sister who looked exactly like you. There were two twins sisters in her house, a Cecilia and a Blanche and Cee could never tell them apart.

"I only have two brothers." Cee replied to the boy. " Theodore is older than me. He is fourteen and he plays in Ravenclaw's Quidditch team. My younger brother is called Nathaniel, after our father, and he was born this May. I am really excited, but Theodore is not really excited because Nathaniel is our step-mother's son."

When Owen offered her a rose, Cecily blushed sligthly and she smiled happily. Roses were her favourite flowers and most of her dresses had the same pink as the flower's petals. The boxes which kept her hair accessories also had roses carved on them. Perhaps it would be more suiting if her middle name was Rose, rather than Grace. " Thank you, it is beautiful." Cee said to the boy as she picked up the flower in her gloved hands.

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[Owen Beauregard]

A strange part of him wanted to reply sweetly ”Like you! You’re beautiful too!” but it would be such an out of the blue compliment he was afraid it would do nothing but alienate, rather than the intended purpose of flattered warmth. Cecily Gallivan was truly the prettiest witch he had ever seen, and he’d never really thought so highly, or fancifully, of a girl until now. He had befriended many, yes, but this strange mentality and caution to speaking to them had never occurred until this dreary afternoon. It was almost a little embarrassing, an anecdote of an outing that he would never to tell his brothers. Maybe Adella, she was a witch after all, so would be an interesting perspective from the other side, though the situation seemed transparent enough. Owen looked at Cecily as she carefully took the rose, quite sure that the strange motions within his chest were certainly not mutual, which was a sad reality. Nevertheless, friendship was imminent, surely? Owen always enjoyed new friends, even if they were very girly and probably didn’t climb trees.

After Cecily had daintily accepted his small gift, he reached out to the rose bush once more to dismember another pretty bloom from a thorny branch, but jumped to attention upon hearing a meek little yelp from the doorway of the house adjacent to them. It sounded an awful lot like an angry “Excuse me! EXCUSE me!” and sure enough, as Owen peaked his head over the roses, there was an embittered woman brandishing a watering can, who’d obviously caught sight of her rose bush being interfered with. Owen franticly looked to Cecily, an awkward, slightly unsure, worried smile cracking upon his face. “I suppose you should probably depart, um, I’m sure you can keep-” his hushed farewell was interrupted by “You’re one of the Beauregard boys aren’t you? I know your mother!” . “- the rose.” he finished the sentence, smiling. He supposed the house elf could apparate her, but he was always a bit untrustworthy of house elves having never really spoken to one – he’d heard dreadful stories of them having quite the grumpy countenance.

Owen was to take the brunt of the scolding, for after all it wasn’t of Cecily’s doing – he had given her the rose that he picked. His heart fell slightly upon realising their conversation was quite rudely interrupted, and probably wouldn’t be resumed until September, but it was a fine enough sacrifice to keep the pretty witch from trouble. Besides, Owen quite enjoyed the prospect of chivalry, and always rather enjoyed the opportunity to invest oneself in the noble trait; opening doors for ladies, picking up their dropped bonnet, rushing them away from riled gardening ladies… it was all part of the job as a good citizen, really. However, he wished the witch now marching her way out the front gate had intervened later, for he wanted inquire more about her brother being a part of the quidditch team… but never the matter. Owen straightened himself out and tried to poke the broken rose back into the bush before the banshee rounded the hedge corner.

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[Cecily Gallivan]

Cecily's heart jumped to her throat when she saw the woman exit the house. Her eyes widened and she wondered if the lady would scold her and Owen for playing with her roses. She had surely thrown a lot of work on them ( or perhaps not, if she was using the same spell Professor Ollivander did). She slowly walked away, with the House elf by her side. Perhaps it would be better if they both return home.

She turned at the boy and gave him a warm smile. " I am afraid I must go, Owen." Cee said to the boy. " I am looking forward to seeing you at Hogwarts." After that, Cee turned around and headed to her house with the House Elf by her side.

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