School: Ilvermorny
Year: 2
Theme: Redemption
Main Prompt: "I have love in me the likes of which you can scarcely imagine and rage the likes of which you would not believe. If I cannot satisfy one, I will indulge in the other."—Mary Shelley (quote)
Additional Prompts: OC (character) / Invisible (word)
Additional Rule: Muggle POV
WC: 2750 words
Root of the Problem
Blues and pinks and purples – the nicest colours you could ever see. Especially when those colours are painted onto the most delicate canvas ever. That is where flowers come in.
For someone like Michelle Byrnes, the ability to fix anyone's problems with a bouquet of flowers was exceptional. She remembered bringing home that first small bunch of daisies to her mother and watching the smile light up her face. Her mother never seemed to give herself a break so Michelle delighted in that smile. From then on, Michelle was determined that she was going to make that smile appear on every face she met, Whether they were looking for forgiveness or simply brightening someone's day, she honed her skill until she was able to pull together the perfect bundle.
With every bouquet she made that brought a smile to someone's face, Michelle felt the presence of her sister, the daisy chain necklace bouncing encouragingly against her sternum. Michelle was never as good at communicating with strangers as her sister was, but there was a certainty surrounding her actions that helped her know she'd get sisterly approval for them. She could help people in her own way, even if she wasn't a nurse like her mother wanted. She wasn't her sister, after all.
Every morning, she stepped into her shop – her own actual floorspace – and breathed in the mingling scents of the freshly cut blossoms; sweet and spicy blended together into a smell that just said home.
This morning was no different. After placing her well-worn canvas bag on the bench at the back of the room, Michelle set to work rearranging the flowers so that their best sides stood out.
"Good morning, Mr Orchid," she sang softly. "How are we today? Would we like some water and a bit of food? It has been a week after all." Michelle poured some water out of the lime-green watering can, soaking the soil below the bowing head of the purple flower before opening her fertilizer dilute and adding some to the soil too.
"There you go, kind sir. That should keep you happy for a little while," she said with a stroke of her fingertips against the satin petals. She continued her way through her collection, stopping at each one to give it the required talk and treatment.
Within an hour, she had the whole lot ready to her satisfaction.
"Right, let us see what's on the list for today?" She pulled out her list of clients and began to arrange the orders of the day.
For three hours, she worked. She arranged bouquets with lilies and tulips, occasionally one with roses to balance out the bunch, passing them over to any customer that walked in the door.
"I need any sort of flame lily that you have available," a commanding voice sounded through the room, echoing against every surface.
Michelle scoffed, shaking her head at the blatant lack of floral knowledge. "Well, as much as I'd love to give you the most poisonous flower the world has to offer, I'm afraid I don't stock it," Michelle stated, tying the silky red bow on her finished masterpiece. She gave the petals their obligatory stroke before turning to face the voice. She plastered on her customer smile, looking up at the man the voice belonged to, and gasped.
The memories of the platinum hair flashed through her mind.
The bent head hung above a plastic hospital chair opposite her. The lights overhead flickered as Michelle waited for news, for any sort of indication that the blood covering her skin was the worst of it. That her sister hadn't been crushed between the front of the VW Golf and the lamp post. Anything that tells her that nudging her sister on the shoulder, laughing, was not going to be the last thing that she ever did with her.
The platinum blond hair quivered as the owner sobbed. As well he might. It was his fault. He had jumped the curb. He had put her here.
"I panicked." She heard him whisper to the bushy-haired girl beside him as her hand rubbed against his back. "There was a child running for a ball and I panicked. I just swerved. I didn't see her."
"Then you shouldn't have been driving," Michelle spat out, standing up and marching away from the pair. She pushed through the doors to sit in the adjoining waiting room – the family one where she should have been. Sinking down against the wall, she cried. She tried to catch the streaming tears, but soon, her sleeve was soaked through.
She missed the white coat wearing doctor who appeared in front of her.
"Excuse me. Family of Byrnes?"
"Yes." Michelle pushed herself up from the floor, wiping futilely at her cheeks. She looked up at the doctor and even through her tears, she could see the sorrow and regret that filled his eyes.
"No," she whispered.
"I'm sorry. There was just too much damage," the doctor said.
"No. No. NO." Michelle shook her head, tears flowing harder now.
"I can bring you to her so you can say goodbye." The doctor stepped back, closer to the door to bring Michelle to her sister. Michelle nodded slowly, still wishing deep in her bones that he was wrong. She'd see her sister with her eyes open, happy and alert.
Realising that she had left her bag in the other waiting room, Michelle stepped back in to get it.
The couple was still there, both glancing up when the door opened. The woman put her head back down but the man kept staring at her.
"I'm sorry," the man whispered, holding her gaze, terror lying deep in his eyes.
"Sorry won't bring my sister back." She grabbed her satchel and followed the doctor, down to where her sister's prone body lay in a clinically white room.
"Miss?" The voice broke through her memories.
"I'm sorry, what was it? Flame lilies?" she asked, shaking her head to clear the fog.
"Yes. But you said you don't have them? They're poisonous." The man's voice grated against her, the condescending tone putting every hair on its end.
"Right. Why don't you tell me what you've done, and I'll give you some options?" Michelle lifted her notebook from where she kept it beneath her counter and pulled out a pen from her holder. She opened both and gave what she hoped was more of an award-winning smile than the grimace that it felt like.
"I may have made a mistake with my girlfriend," he started.
"Ah. Cheated?" Michelle interrupted, writing down Girlfriend. Mistake.
"No," the man shouted. He groaned as he ran a hand down his face. "Look, the brief version is that my father is not a very nice man. He and others in my family did some really bad things to my girlfriend and her friends, but he is due for execution next month and…"
"Execution in Britain?" Michelle interrupted again, her pen poised over the words Dysfunctional family. Girlfriend could do better.
"No… we're not from around here," the man said slowly.
"You sound very British for someone who's not from around here," Michelle pointed out.
"I went to school in Britain. Can we move on?"
"Yes, sure." Michelle pressed her pen back onto the pad. "So, father is being executed."
"Yes, and despite the abuse he hurled at me growing up, he's still my father and I wanted to say goodbye. Or rather, lay all my cards down and watch him crumble as he realises he's lost." A vindictive smile crossed the man's face.
Michelle scowled. This man clearly had no remorse for anything that he did.
"So, this is where I got into trouble. Because I knew my girlfriend wouldn't approve, I maybe didn't tell her…" he trailed off as Michelle scribbled one last note. Idiot.
"And she thinks you were cheating?" Michelle asked as she pulled a large book towards her.
The man sighed. "Yeah, slightly."
"So, you need a bouquet that says, 'I'm sorry and please forgive me'?"
"Yes."
"Well, let's see what we can do." She had opened the book to the section on forgiveness and glanced quickly at the page.
"Okay, so here's what I'm going to need," Michelle began to talk to herself as she walked around the room.
"Some of these," she said, plucking up some purple hyacinths from their home, "and some of these." Some pink camellias joined the bunch in her hands. "A couple of these would be nice and these and some of these. I think that will do."
Michelle walked back to the counter, laying her finds down and searching for a stand to begin arranging them.
"That's a lot of flowers," the man remarked.
"You're very sorry, right?" Michelle replied, watching as he gritted his teeth.
"Yes," he spat out.
"Well, then you need these. Purple hyacinths to say, 'I'm sorry', pink camellias to say, 'I'm longing for you', some pink roses to say, 'Please believe me', a single red rose to say, 'I love you', and ivy to convey your fidelity," Michelle explained as she arranged them, finishing by using the end of the ivy to hold them all together. She picked the bundle up and held it out to her customer. "A perfect bouquet to show your emotions."
The blond man stretched his arm out and accepted the bundle.
"Do I have to explain that to her?" he asked skeptically.
"Only if you want her to forgive you," Michelle snarked. "Cash or card?"
"Oh, erm… card, I think." Michelle watched as the man put down the bundle of flowers and pulled out a leather wallet. He appeared to search for a while before finding what he was looking for and retrieving it. He held out the small piece of plastic to her. She pulled it from his hand, pushing it into the machine and turning it towards him.
"Can you sign the receipt, please?" Michelle asked, pushing the slip of paper towards him. She watched him sign the page with a flourish before she picked it up again. Turning it towards her, she finally learned the name of the man who had ruined her life – Draco.
"Thank you for this." He picked up the flowers and nodded at her before leaving the shop behind.
Michelle waited ten minutes after Draco left before turning the sign to CLOSED and gathering her belongings. She grabbed a bunch of forget-me-nots and slipped out the front door, locking it behind her before hurrying down the street. There was somewhere she needed to be.
"Hey sis," Michelle said, kneeling beside the simple granite headstone. She laid the powder-blue flowers along the bottom of it, the stems brushing along the blades of grass that threatened to spill over onto the resting place.
She stroked the delicate, symmetrical petals, letting the yellow pollen rub onto her fingertips.
"I met someone today." She sighed. "I know if you were here, you'd bounce up and down and plead with me to tell you all about it, but it's not like that. It's the man who killed you. The one who didn't even see you. The night you appeared to be invisible. At least to everyone but me."
Michelle scoffed. "You know, he told me he was sorry the night you died. As if that would make it better. It's been three years now, and he came looking for help. Apparently he screwed up something else, and I ended up having to be the one to help him. It took everything in me to not give him a bunch of butterfly weeds. If he comes in again, though, all he's getting is some wild tansy from the garden. At least he might get the hint then."
Michelle ran a hand along the top of the headstone, picturing her little sister's flowing blonde hair, trying in vain to tuck it back into place. "I miss you, sis. I miss you every day, but today? After facing him again? I miss you so much. I just wish you were still here. You would know what to say."
Michelle laughed quietly. "Actually I know what you'd say. Forgive him. It wasn't his fault," Michelle said, mimicking her sister's voice. She switched back to her own. "It's not that easy. After losing Mum, it was just us, and then, he took you too." Michelle could feel the tears begin to rise. A slight sniff was all it took for the floodgates to open and streams began to flow down her cheeks.
"I can't forgive him," she gasped out. "I can't. Because he left me alone, and I don't know how much longer I can last." Michelle broke down, sobbing onto the grave.
She cried for everything she'd lost.
It was two weeks later when Michelle had to come face-to-face with him again.
She was busy watering the flowers when the door opened and the bushy-haired woman from the hospital walked in.
"This is where you got them?" the woman remarked, studying the little shop.
"This is it," Draco replied as he walked in behind her. Together, they stopped at each plant container as Michelle finished watering the flowers.
Michelle walked back to her counter, steadying her nerves as she prepared herself for this discussion.
"Hello," she greeted, "can I help you with anything?
"I loved the last bouquet of flowers that were given to me from here. They lasted so long," the woman gushed. "I was hoping you could help me with another bunch today."
"Certainly. Any special occasion?" Michelle asked, looking for her notebook.
"No, none," the woman answered.
"Any favourite colours?"
"Red and orange," the woman answered. Draco scoffed, encouraging a sharp slap to the chest from the woman.
"Always a Gryffindor, Hermione," he said, rolling his eyes.
"And proud of it," Hermione responded, puffing her chest out.
"I have some lovely options, just give me a few minutes." Michelle stepped away from the counter, wandering around the shop, choosing options as she went. Setting down the flowers on the counter, she began to arrange them quickly.
The roses were the basis of the bouquet with some delicate carnations dropped in amongst them. Michelle hesitated for a moment before adding the stark orange lily to the middle of the bundle. She tied them all together with a bright orange ribbon before offering them to Hermione.
"These are beautiful, thank you," Hermione said, accepting the bundle of orange and red. She offered a delighted smile to Michelle, paying for the flowers and walking out. Draco nodded at Michelle, following Hermione towards the door. He paused just before he reached it.
"Why the orange lily?" Draco asked.
"Excuse me?" Michelle responded.
"The orange lily? Hatred? Why?"
Michelle let the silence linger in the room, swallowing audibly.
Draco sighed, continuing his way to the door.
"Her name was Caroline." The remark fell into the empty space between them.
"Excuse me?" Draco turned back to face her.
"The girl you killed three years ago? Her name was Caroline. Six broken ribs, one of which punctured her lungs, but it was the flattening of her chest that killed her. You suffocated her. And if she were here, she'd tell me to forgive you. It was only an accident, she'd say. You were trying to save someone else. But she's not here. And I can never forgive you for taking the last piece of my family away from me."
She stared at Draco, challenging him to argue, to disregard everything she had just said. Her ice-cold glare penetrated his head, willing the sorrow-filled eyes to fight back. She watched as he broke their gaze, dropping his head as he took a deep breath before looking back at her.
"You told me that sorry wouldn't bring your sister back," Draco said, quietly, "and you're right. But she wouldn't want you to spend your life hating the man that took her away. All I can offer is sorry and hope that someday, you will forgive me. Not for my sake but for your sister's." He pulled the door open and stepped out.
Michelle waited for the door to close, watching for her split-second opportunity.
"Never," she called out, just before the door hit its mark, the glass shaking. She watched as Draco stalled before continuing on his way, wrapping his arm around the girl who looked at him questioningly.
Then for the second time in three years, Michelle shed tears for the missing piece of her heart.