It's been a long day, always [Amelia]

It was that time of the month again, and John was as nervous as he always was. He never knew how things would go with Amelia when they met up, and it always left him achey for a few days afterwards. He tried really hard to keep it together, but sometimes seeing her was just too much for him. He missed her. He really did, and it hurt. He hoped to some degree that this time she would tell him she found someone new, someone who could take care of her and Carina and help her run the shop. Someone with a good job and a good sense of morality, who would honor and cherish her the way John never did, who loved her and wanted to build a life with her. Of course, if he did ever hear that, he didn’t know how he would react.

was what Amelia deserved. She deserved a husband who would do right by her, not someone like him, but he missed her. Sometimes, late at night, he thought he could be that man for her again. He thought that he could be with just her. He loved her, still, more than he had ever loved anyone. He certainly had never replaced her with his partners. They never held a candle to the spirit that Amelia had, in her subtle way. He would never ask her, though. Almost never. He didn’t deserve forgiveness, even if she was ready to give it, which he doubted. If he was her, he would never forgive himself. He was lucky she talked to him at all.

He walked into the coffeeshop sheepishly, ordering two coffees and two fresh cheese danishes. Perhaps in the old times, they would have split one, but it wasn’t those times anymore. They could just take their leftovers home, and John would reheat his half-danish in the morning, with stale coffee, and go to work for a double-shift. His life used to be so grand, full of life and experiences, and as the times passed by and he grew older, the girls came less and less, and he spent more and more time alone with a bottle of Jamison than he did going out on new adventures. He was becoming his father, he knew, and it hurt him to think of it that way.

Between work, work, and more work, there was little time for fun anymore, and he had grown so depressed that he hadn’t been seeking it out like he used to. He was getting old now. He was thirty-eight. He wanted to settle down, but he had ruined that chance, and there was no one he would settle down with but her. Perhaps he needed a dog to keep him company, but with all the work he did now, it probably wouldn’t be fair to the dog.

He sat down at a table in the back, far from the hustle and bustle of the shop counter, and watched the door for a flicker of brown hair and warm eyes. He sighed, gripping the envelope with her money inside with a chill going down his back. He hoped she took it. Sometimes she did, sometimes she didn’t. He liked being there to help her, though, in the little way that he could. He wanted to see Carina. He missed his daughter more than words could ever make, and he thought that leaving Amelia was quite possibly the worst mistake of his life. They deserved better than what he could give them, though, and he had to remind himself of that. They deserved better, and he deserved whatever scorn Carina had for him. Had he been her, and he had, once, he would hate himself too.

@Amelia Lennox

He always got there before she did, and as Amelia was swinging open the door she spotted him, as expected, with two pastries and coffees, waiting. She gave him a tight smile and went up to the counter to order herself a decaf. Though she stood pointedly not looking at him, holding the strap of her purse with both hands, she imagined that he was watching her. It was rude of her, of course, and her mother wouldn’t approve of what was no more than base pettiness, but it gave her some satisfaction anyway, to sit down across from him with her own drink and say, as a shoddy explanation, “I’m trying to drink decaf now.”

She took the Danish, though.

John looked tired today; he looked tired every time she saw him, recently. It made her wonder how he was taking care of himself-- but she had learned, by now, not to wonder about those things. Instead she took a long sip of coffee and cleared her throat. Someday she’d get up the courage, or she’d lose the self control she’d built up, and she’d let herself worry about him properly. But she wasn’t there yet, she thought.

Even so-- he looked tired, and she wondered if he was getting enough time off. It would be like him to overwork himself. And he probably didn't have anybody to tell him not to, just now-- but whether he was seeing someone was another thing she refused to wonder about.

“So how are you keeping?” she asked, conversationally. He was holding an envelope; Amelia had already decided to take it this month.

“Sorry Carina couldn’t make it out,” she said, as was her custom. Even though they both knew it was less about bad timing than their daughter’s refusal to see her father again, it felt kinder to pretend otherwise, just as it felt like a basic necessity to keep John posted. “She’s worrying about her NEWTs already.”

Lately Amelia remembered her school years with mild amusement, recalling how her NEWTs had been the most important thing in the world. Or-- the second most, she amended, after John. She was glad, for her own sanity, that Carina's NEWTs were her top priority. As much as she wanted her daughter to grow into someone she was proud of, another part of her wanted Carina to stay right where she was for at least a little longer. Sometimes she wondered how John felt about it-- although, she reflected, she supposed she probably wouldn't ever know. They didn't talk so much about things like that, anymore: when they talked about Carina it was superficial. Amelia was always loath to tell John how Carina still felt about him.

There was something about noticing Amelia see him and then go straight up to the counter to order herself something else that made his heart ache. She really didn’t want him to take care of her anymore. He didn’t know her like he had once before. He watched her in line, but then averted his eyes as it ached too much to see her. He swallowed hard and took a sip of his coffee. He had two to drink now, he supposed, so he better hurry up before they got too cold.

She was trying to drink decaf now, she said. It seemed like an excuse, but he took it at face value and said nothing about the extra coffee, starting at him like the one of the many elephants in the room. He looked her over. She looked well enough, she always did. She was as beautiful and put-together as ever and he liked seeing her flourish a little, and resented it a little bit too. She never seemed to let on anything that was bothering her. She was always perfect. It must be exhausting. For what it was worth, though, John was much the same and not above lying to look as though he wasn’t quite as miserable as he really was.

“I’m doing well.” He smiled. “Working quite a bit, though I’ll be off to Brazil for the World Cup in a few weeks. I have an extra ticket, for Carina, if she’s interested in going.” He knew she wasn’t going to go with him, but he couldn’t help himself. He thought that one day he could entice her back into talking to him with presents or experiences or something. Also, he probably wouldn’t have a hard time getting rid of the spare ticket when Carina turned him down. He didn’t have a girlfriend at the moment, but he had several female friends who might be up for an outing, at as a last resort he could probably sell it for as much, of not more, than what he bought it for. He wouldn’t have minded asking Amelia to join him, but that wouldn’t be wise, nor would it happen. She wouldn’t leave Carina alone, even for a long weekend, even if she was interested in traveling with him, which she most certainly was not.

“It’s nice to hear that she takes after you and not me when it comes to her N.E.W.T.s. I have you to blame for all of my test scores, really. If it wasn’t for your study guides, I might not have passed any of them.” That was an exaggeration, but not by much. Amelia had encouraged John so much during his testing years. She was the one who made him take all the N.E.W.T. classes he ended up needing for medical school, so she had her to thank for a lot more than just passing grades. She had secured him a career. She had done so much for him over the years, and what had he done for her in return?

“I miss her.” John admitted, the understatement of the century. He ached for Carina with every breath. He never knew how important his daughter was to him until she was gone from his life. “…but I know she’s a busy girl. I do hope she’ll take some time off for the World Cup, but I understand if she can’t make it….”  He held in a sigh.

“What about you? How have you been?” He sipped his coffee nervously, not touching the Danish.

He made a good effort, grinning as he described what was going on in his life. A little bit of a boast, about the World Cup, but she could let him have it. They both knew Carina wouldn’t go with him; Carina had made the point early on that he wasn’t going to buy her forgiveness. Still:

“I’ll tell her,” she promised.

It was a lot easier sometimes to talk about the distant past-- what had that been, over twenty years ago? They were getting so old. Even though Amelia knew he was right about this-- certainly her help had been the main reason he’d passed his exams-- a part of her still rankled at the praise. It just wasn’t his place, anymore. “If I had the time I’d make study guides for her, too,” she said. “Though it’s anybody’s guess if she’d use them.” She still had some of her old study materials, somewhere at home. How much could Hogwarts curriculum have changed in twenty years?

It gave her the same miserable ache inside that thinking about how he was doing did-- that he missed Carina. As much as his attitude around this meeting, and around so many before, had felt misguided, she could tell that he was lonely, and regretful, and unhappy.

Amelia couldn’t fix that for him. She hadn’t even been able to do so when they were married. And there was nothing she could do to reconcile him with their daughter-- and she’d tried, and he had as well.

“I know you do,” she said. “I think she knows it, too.”

He was keen to change the subject, though, and Amelia understood it entirely. There was no point dwelling on something so painful and impossible to change. “I’m well, myself,” she said, thinking back on the last few weeks. There had to be something meaningless she could say-- “I saw Donncha recently. Went to see a play with Lynne Cresswell. The store’s doing fine. I’ve been doing-- don’t know if you’ve seen, these candles in charming little shapes.”

Probably she had an example in her purse, if she did the digging, but she resisted the urge to rifle through it.

John all but guzzled the hot coffee as he listened to Amelia talk. He was nervous, and his mouth burned but the stinging on his tongue distracted him some from talking, from missing Carina, from missing Amelia more than he normally would. He was still in the back of his head, imagining them going to the Cup like a family. He could imagine Amelia making sure he chose a moderate resort, rather than the most luxurious one they had available, but making the most of it with him, Carina dressed in Bulgarian colors because he knew how much she adored Krum. He would buy her a jersey, probably: a very expensive one from the vendors around the Cup. Amelia would scold him but smile as she did it. They would eat popcorn at the stadium, or some kind of Brazilian specialty because John always wanted to try something new. He could only imagine how the game would go, but he knew he would love it if  they were all there. What a nice daydream. How unrealistic it was.
 
“Oh, you saw Donnie? How did that go?” Donnie was a safe topic, really. John and Donnie were cousins but they were close like brothers sometimes. It was nice that he and Amelia still spoke, still go along. He hoped Carina still spoke to Donnie, too. At least then he knew she would have at least some semblance of a father figure in her life. He left out his last meeting with Donnie, where the man had come over to his home in the middle of the night, injured and drunk and messed up over a girl not much older than Carina was, herself. Amelia wouldn’t want to know that about Donnie. It might remind her too much of John, and Donnie had always been the better man between them—Slytherin or not.
 
He hadn’t been into the candle shop lately. That was Amelia’s place, and he felt bad  going in there and disturbing the peace when he wasn’t invited. He would have been a patron otherwise. He like candles, especially hers, and he liked to support artists—especially those who raised his daughter. “I can’t say I’ve been in the shop lately.” She probably knew that. Had she hired some outside help, or was she still running the whole thing. “…but that sounds charming. You always were so creative. I’m glad you found something you’re passionate about.” He sighed lightly, looking up to catch her eyes. He was passionate about so many things, and was glad that he’d found those things now… but if he had found them earlier, maybe he could have saved their marriage.
 
He finished his first coffee, and seamlessly began drinking the second. The Danish was still untouched. He paused, thinking about what he was going to ask and deciding that he was, indeed, masochistic enough. “How have things been going otherwise? Have you met anyone recently?” He chewed the inside of his lip. He hadn’t met anyone since Julia, and Julia had been so long ago. He supposed that would make Amelia happy to know. She would love knowing he was alone and miserable. A part of him would be more miserable to know she was seeing someone, but a bigger part truly wanted to see her flourish.

In buying her own coffee Amelia had left him to drink two during the visit; as she watched him motor through his first, she felt a little guilty. “It was lovely,” she said. “You know-- I love to see him, I’m glad he still visits. Fed him dinner. Sent him home with a candle.”

She had to resist the urge to roll her eyes when John went on to tell her that he hadn’t been around the store lately-- they’d been divorced for three, four years now. She knew exactly when he’d last come around the store. As much as it was nice to hear his praise, there was still a part of her that was rubbed the wrong way. She knew she was creative, and passionate, and she knew that the molded candles were charming.

And they weren’t married anymore, and what he probably intended as a friendly compliment was coming across poorly. Amelia knew already that he still loved her-- and she still loved him-- and she didn’t need him to remind her of that. It was hard enough to talk to him.

But she didn’t say so, just chewed melancholically on her Danish and said, a little more crisply than she meant to, “Store’s doing just fine. Once Carina goes off to school, though, I might start thinking about hiring someone to mind it. We’ll see-- just that making candles and keeping the store isn’t as easy as it was when they were all in jars.”

Amelia watched as John finished his first coffee, then asked, obviously dreading her answer, if she was seeing anybody. The question made her wonder the same thing about him-- she still didn’t know how many women he’d seen since the divorce, and had never been foolish enough to ask. He always seemed lonely, when she saw him; that was enough of an answer for her. Even if he was sleeping around, she knew that he wasn’t happy. Somehow it made her pity him, as much as it had once made her furious with him.

“I don’t get out much,” she said. As curious as John must be-- and as curious as she was, too-- she couldn’t bear to talk about this. “Some nice customers come by every so often,” she said instead, changing the subject. “The other day, one asked me for a ‘Sorry I’m a knob’ candle. I charged him out the arse for it, of course. And I guess I sell penis candles now.” She raised her eyebrows at him in amusement-- “So much time I spent making flowers and sweet little animals and singing candles, and this is what people are buying. I shouldn’t have been surprised.”

This was easier territory for Amelia than either of their romantic lives, and even though it embarrassed her to admit that she’d sold a penis candle to a young man, at least it wasn’t going to break John’s heart. It was a harmless and unimportant story, the sort that she was most comfortable with nowadays, when she spoke with her ex-husband. She picked her coffee up again and passed it between her hands. “And St. Mungo’s? Anything interesting happen lately?”

Things were harsh between them, terse. He knew his question would make her defensive and probably cause her to change the subject—and that was exactly what it did. While he was slightly appeased that she didn’t get out much, he worried that she would be lonely. He didn’t want her to suffer even the smallest bit. He wanted her to be happy, despite himself. He hadn’t been happy since their divorce, but that was his own problem. He still believed he had done the right thing in asking for it. She deserved better than him, and if she didn’t know it—he would have to make the decision for her. He knew that was harsh and not always right, but he was certain that he was doing her a small mercy. Or a big mercy.
 
He missed Carina, though, and that was the hardest part. It wasn’t like he didn’t understand her perspective. He had been exactly the same with his own father. He had promised that he would never talk to him again, and he had made good on that promise as long as Carina had. He hoped, though, that she would eventually soften to him. He didn’t know how to make that happen, other than time, but he hoped that it was coming soon down the pike.
 
As Amelia turned the topic back to work, John smiled lightly. It was neutral territory—safe. He shrugged. “Someone came in after getting their head stuck in a cauldron.” He offered. “The potion they were working on proved to be good for their hair. It grew out long and luscious.” He laughed. “I suppose it could have been much worse. From my experience, most potions are very acidic and could cause burns. He mostly needed help getting out of the cauldron and then a nice barber.” He grinned. “There have been a lot of interns in our department this year, some very promising. Most people like the more alluring magical specialties, though. I doubt we’ll keep many of the good ones. Off to Spell Damage or Potion and Plant Poisoning… or, worse. Pediatrics and Maternity. So many good ones go there.” It wasn’t what John disliked other branches of healing, but he didn’t like how few people stayed in artefacts after their internship was finished.
 
“So, how has Carina been?” He asked. “She excited for her final year at school? Has she been doing well in her classes? Well, of course she has been. Silly question. Does she know what she wants to do after school?” He wished he could ask her these questions himself, but he knew that was a long way coming.

Amelia couldn’t let herself accept his compliments or his praise, maybe— at least she couldn’t let herself take them to heart now that they weren’t married— but she could listen to his Healer anecdotes, that was fine. “Sounds helpful,” she said. “Don’t suppose he shared his recipe? I worry I’m thinning.” She patted at her hair where it curled over her shoulder and gave him a small, wry smile.

Promising interns was a topic she could have done without; she let her smile shrink just enough to be noticeable and sipped her coffee as he spoke, wondered a little bitterly whether he was sleeping with one. That felt unfair to assume, but Amelia had given him the benefit of the doubt before, and she’d learned her lesson.

It wasn’t her place, she reminded herself, to care about who John had sex with. Not anymore, at least. So grow up.

“I wouldn’t have expected poisoning to take more interns,” she said, so that she would have said something to this. She didn’t want to be rude to him— she never did. Pointed, maybe. “I’d have thought Artefacts was the fun floor.” Surely the anecdotes from artefacts had been more enjoyable than the ones from almost every rotation he’d done while training.

She dusted some crumbs off her fingers, let her wrists rest lightly on the edge of the table and smiled, relieved to have moved onto the subject of their daughter. (Amelia knew it hurt him to talk about her, at least a little, but she could never stand to talk about her life as a divorcee for so long— or, worse, John’s.)

“She’s very excited,” she said, “Told me she thinks the best thing that’ll come of it is that nobody can kick her out of the— oh, you weren’t in Ravenclaw, but there was a nice chair in the common room.” Amelia mused for a moment on the unchanging nature of Hogwarts— surely that chair would be much more ragged than it had been twenty years ago, but it’d been amusing to realise it was the same one she’d liked as a seventh year.

Amelia couldn’t say she knew what Carina wanted for her life, though— “She’s so passionate about things, but they really come and go. She’s at least getting the grades for whatever she might want— I think the latest I heard was working with children on something.” She cracked a smile at that— “Presumably not Pediatrics.”

She glanced back away, then finished her Danish in one bite, let him sit for a bit before she spoke again. “You know, she’s taller than me now. Blows my mind— I can’t believe she’s going to graduate soon.”

At that, she paused again, sat on her next words: once Carina moved out, became an adult, there would be no reason for Amelia to keep the house— their house, maybe. It was something she’d thought about for a while, and had not particularly wanted to say to him. Much like taking off her wedding ring, it felt like a sort of ridiculous measure of symbolism, a take-that instead of something purely pragmatic. (She just couldn’t afford the house, and didn’t need it— wasn’t that sad?)