you can find happiness right where you are [dean]

It was a busy day in Neroli. The weather was slowly getting nicer again which seemed to be reason enough for various witches and wizards to pay the city a visit. Usually Alessandra would have liked the busy streets but today it was simply annoying. One of their shop workers had called in sick which meant that she had to run all kinds of errands instead of staying at Veneficium and she wasn't too happy about the fact that she'd been reduced to some kind of errand girl. Still, things needed to get done and the sooner she'd delievered the potions, the sooner she could go back to the shop.

Apparition would have been the easy choice to deliver the small bottles but whatever her mother had mixed was apparently too instable to be transported that way and so she was walking towards her destination, her heels clicking on the cobblestone. As most of the woman in her family, Alessia had basically been born with heels on her feet and despite being extremely clumsy most of the time, she was an expert when it came to walking in heels, the higher the better.

"Scusa," she repeated over and over again while hurrying through the crowds and she'd almost made it to her destination when someone suddenly turned on the spot and bumped right into her, so hard that one of the vials dropped to the ground, the glass shattering. A bright green liquid spread out immediately, reaching the stranger's shoe and she began swearing loudly in Italian, her blue eyes shooting daggers at the man.

It was only then that she realised what exactly the potion was doing. "Take off your shoe," she hissed at him and repeated her words quickly in accented English when she saw his confused look. "Quick!" The liquid was already eating its way through the material and the last thing she needed now was a tourist she had to take to the nearest healer.

He liked Neroli. Could he live here? He was still deciding. He wandered down a residential street, observing the buildings. It would be new. He had always lived in the city, surrounded by concrete and metal. Never in wizard-made buildings, never in goddamned Italy. He guessed he could apparate to the nearest muggle city if he wanted. It was just a matter of what he wanted to see out his window.

Dean turned back onto the center street, lined with shops and restaurants. They didn’t seem to have anywhere for tattoos, that was a good sign. He could start something here. As he walked he imagined it, a place of his own. The thought was nice.

He bumped into someone, quite hard.

“Sorry!” he gasped, and then, “Sorry—scusa—“ The last thing he wanted was for anyone to think him some ignorant tourist who couldn’t watch where he was going. The woman he’d hit had her hands full and he instinctively brought out his wand to help her with what she’d dropped. She was cursing him rather angrily, he wanted to be as courteous as possible.

But she was not calming down. She snapped something at him in Italian, but he must have looked like he didn’t understand, so she instructed him to take off his shoe in English. He looked down then, noticed the toe of his shoe disintegrating, and pulled his foot out of it as fast as he could. Some of the potion had got on his sock, and Dean yelped as it burned through to his toe.

He shook out his foot and lifted it to look, but the potion seemed to have eaten itself up. “I’m alright,” he said, looking up at her again, flashing a tentative smile. “Bene.” Dean looked helplessly down at his ruined shoe, wondering how best to fix it with magic. He apologized again. “Sor—scusami.”

Thank Merlin, he wasn't an idiot then. Following her instructions, the stranger took off his shoe but it was already too late. The potion had gotten through the shoe and on his sock, surely burning as hell. What a wonderful day. Not. Careful that she wouldn't drop any of the other vials, Alessia bent down a little to see if the potion would do any more damage but it seemed that the guy was lucky. The potion seemed to have eaten itself up which meant he wouldn't lose his foot. Good.

He was alright? Alessia cocked an eyebrow at him as he tried to speak Italian and shook her head. "Please don't butcher my language anymore, okay? English is just fine." Some people might find it endearing if strangers tried to speak in a language they obviously didn't know that well but to her it was always a waste of time and right now she was definitely out of time. And missing a vial. Another sigh escaped her lips as her thoughts wandered to her uncle who would clearly not be satisfied that one order was missing but since she was family, he hopefully wouldn't be that mad.

"You're not from here," she stated matter-of-factly, blue eyes scanning him carefully. He was tall and decidedly handsome and on another day she wouldn't have minded at all that he had bumped into her but right now she had to finish her errand as soon as possible and he was definitely in the way. Still, she couldn't let him stand here in the middle of the street with half a shoe missing, could she? Knowing the potion, it wouldn't be easy to repare the shoe, it would probably be even better just to buy a new one and she knew exactly where the closest shop was.

Thoughts were racing through her head and she quickly made a decision. "I know just the place where you can get a new pair of shoes." Her gaze fell on the ruined shoe before she looked back at him. "Can you wear this for a little while longer? The potion should be gone by now." She paused for a second and turned around. "Follow me." Alessia didn't know if he would but well, if he didn't, at least he wouldn't be her problem anymore.

Dean felt hot blood rush to his face. “Sorry,” he said quickly. “I didn’t know how well you—never mind.” Grinning ruefully, he scratched his jaw. “That bad, hmm?” Well there was a tick against moving to Italy. His attempts at the language were apparently so horrid they offended the locals.

“Er, no,” he said, idly wiggling his exposed toes. “I’m not from here. Probably obvious.” He wasn’t sure whether she wanted details, but he panicked and gave them anyway. “Londoner. Just visiting—unless I like it, I’m thinking about moving…though maybe I ought not to if my Italian’s that dreadful…” He only stopped taking when he ran out of things to say. The woman was very pretty and very angry, it made him nervous.

She offered, after some hesitation, to show him someplace to get new shoes. “Thank you,” he said gratefully, looking down again at his foot. “You, er, can just point me in the right direction, I don’t want to take up any of your time.” He shrugged. “You seemed like you were in a hurry. I’ll be fine.”

Had she been too harsh? Judging by the look on his face and the quick apology she had but she couldn't take it back now. "Yes, but it's fine. You couldn't know I know English." It wasn't exactly an apology but it was the closest thing to one he'd get. His grin was cute and once more she was annoyed by the circumstances that had brought them together. The next time someone was sick she'd have to make sure to be busy herself.

He began to ramble then, talking about his home and the thought of moving here, and all she could do was stand there, looking up at him, not believing that he was actually telling her all of this. Alessia shook her head slightly in astonishment but before she could say anything, he commented on his language skills again and she couldn't help but smile at that. "Practise makes perfect, I guess?" Merlin, it wasn't easy to stay mad at the man, was it?

It looked like he hadn't realised yet that she hadn't really left him a choice there. She was busy, yes, but she wouldn't let him get away that easily. "You won't find it on your own," she said as she looked over her shoulder back at the stranger. "Besides, you owe me a drink at least." Her blue eyes fell on the shards on the ground before they focused back on him, a challenging look on her face.

She seemed to have gotten past some of her anger, thankfully. He hoped eventually she would forget that he’d been the one not looking where he was going. Dean hated to make mistakes like that. He hated for people to have reasons to criticize him. Apparently his Italian also invited critique. He resolved to stop trying to speak it, but was “ignorant English tourist” an any better vibe to put out? He bit his lip. Travel was nice, as long as you didn’t have to interact with anyone. At least this woman seemed to be trying to be softer now, a bit apologetic. He already felt more at ease.

“Suppose so,” he said. In truth Dean was already planning to never return to Italy ever again. London was where he knew, where he understood, where he belonged, and there he probably ought to stay. She was smiling, though. He didn’t want to ruin it with his thoughts, and smiled back.

The woman insisted on leading him to the shoe seller, which apparently he wouldn’t be able to find by himself. “Erm, if you’re sure,” said Dean. He thought that sounded like a bit of a flimsy excuse, and wondered what was really being asked of him. And then he wondered if he was being presumptuous. Probably there was something lost in translation here. He knew he was okay-looking, but not enough for women on the street to ask him out in seconds flat.

He almost scoffed when she said he owed her a drink, but he figured the potion wouldn’t have damaged anything if he hadn’t knocked it down in the first place. And then again he wondered what she wanted of him. But he didn’t think he would complain. Maybe this was what he’d been looking for.

“Sorry about your potion,” he said as he followed her. “Can you replace it? Oh—my name’s Dean, by the way.”