Let's Brew: Amortentia!: Frozen Ashwinder Egg part 2 - Like an Ice Queen (or King), you must sink a ship that you have previously written a romance about.
A/N: This is based on a writing prompt I saw on tumblr a couple of years ago and tucked away to use when inspiration struck. I found it funny that it is actually possible to convey loathing using flowers. If I had to sink one of my favorite ships, this was the only way to do it!
Word Count: 699
Special Delivery
"Katie Bell?"
Katie was greeted by a large bouquet of red roses and an unfamiliar voice when she answered the door. "Yes?"
"I have a delivery for you from Oliver Wood." Katie could just make out dark hair and a pair of grey eyes set into the face behind the flowers being held out to her.
Lips set in a grim line, Katie accepted the clear crystal vase containing the flowers. "Thanks." She tightly gripped the cool glass as she read the card attached.
Katie, Please forgive me. I miss you. All my love, Oliver.
Katie gritted her teeth. The nerve of him! Without thinking, she threw the vase to the ground, getting some satisfaction from the sound of breaking glass. Water poured over the pavement and the roses scattered.
Katie looked up, triumphant, only remembering the man who'd delivered the flowers when she met his wide eyes. His mouth was agape as he stared back at her. Glancing back down, she realized his shoes were thoroughly soaked. She felt her cheeks burning. "I am so sorry! I didn't even think – I just – "
Katie's words were cut off by a snigger. Looking back up, she saw his shock had been replaced by amusement. "I'm sorry," the man said between fits of barely suppressed laughter. "It's just – that's never happened before – and it's – it's rather amusing."
Katie didn't understand what was so amusing. She'd probably ruined his shoes and destroyed a perfectly beautiful bouquet. Even if it did come from a complete arse, it was still a shame. "You mean, no one's done that before?"
He shook his head. "Not in my experience. It's kind of – refreshing, to be honest. I can't tell you how many 'I'm sorry, forgive me, take me back' bouquets I've delivered. Never once has a girl so spectacularly rejected them." He smiled and reached into his pocket, handing her a white card. "Here. If you ever need my services, call me." He turned away, still sniggering as he walked back up the pavement to the van parked on the side of the street.
"But – your shoes – "
"Don't worry about it," he called over his shoulder. "It was worth it."
Katie studied the card as he drove away. It gave the direction for a flower shop that she passed every day on her commute to work. It was just another shop, another part of the background of her life. Marcus Flint, Proprietor was proudly proclaimed at the bottom of the card. Even if she didn't need to send anyone flowers, Katie knew she had to make amends somehow.
Marcus looked up from his paperwork when the bell above the door tinkled. He grinned when he recognized the vase-breaking woman from the previous day. Katie, if he remembered correctly. "I didn't expect to see you so soon."
Katie shyly approached the counter. "Well, I had intended to ask if I could buy you a cup of coffee or lunch or something to make up for yesterday, but I thought I'd like to place an order for a flower delivery." She didn't quite meet his eyes as she spoke.
Marcus, intrigued, leaned on the counter. "Oh?"
Katie, blushing, finally looked at him and murmured, "Do you know how to passive-aggressively say 'fuck you' in flower?"
Marcus was taken aback at first, but was soon unable to hold back his laughter. She certainly is an amusing one. Collecting himself, he thought for a moment before answering. "I do. I assume it's for this Oliver bloke?" Katie nodded. "Well then, leave it to me. No payment needed, as long as you let me take you up on that offer for coffee." He wasn't sure what this girl's story was, but he intended to find out. She was certainly more interesting than anyone he'd ever met.
Once she'd jotted down her number and left the shop, Marcus set his other orders aside in favor of hers. He'd never made a bouquet so full of loathing and he rather looked forward to the task.