June 24, '77: Flowers In Your Hair: Hestia

[Doc Dearborn]

▶︎ be in my eyes, be in my heart

dearborn house

"I've got it!" Doc paused in his thumbing-through of a not-yet worn out book of poetry, turning with an elated smile to his dear friend. Hestia's perfectly cockeyed curling tumbling-hair splayed out underneath her, and the want he'd had to kiss her since her earlier arrival only deepened. She and Arnie had split in the early days of the month, and he knew some of his friends would be properly furious that he hadn't yet made a move. He more than cared for the girl, and their invigorating sneakings-off to snog had been interrupted again and again over the years, whether he was giving her distance to recuperate after someone who would not be named tried to take advantage of her, or she'd been in a committed relationship. The moment to rekindle what they'd once had, it'd possibly already come and gone, multiple times, throughout her visit. Greeting her at the door with a kiss, for one, would've set the tone. Or when they'd nearly lost their way back from a walk, hair and hands filled with wildflowers and the path they'd strayed from nowhere in sight, laughs and looks exchanged allowing him to share in ways beyond words that he wouldn't want to be wandering with anyone else...

Granted, all of Doc's hopeful musings hinged on Hestia wanting him too. And on his sister and their housekeeper leaving the door shut. And on his parents staying at the university to their usual late hour.

There'd been some distance between them in recent months, as he'd felt ousted by a bloke who was supposed to be his friend. And he'd had separate experiences from her, romantic ones, that he didn't regret, just as he hoped she didn't regret hers, whatever they had been. But he felt good, sitting cross-legged in his childhood bedroom, close enough for the back of his neck to feel the warmth of her breath... 

"This one's you and me, baban, listen." He cleared his throat and read Cummings' words aloud, as always doing his best to feel out the words and their placements as the poet intended. A quiet laugh left him at its end, and he leaned his head back onto the sheets. "Big bullying daisies," Doc quoted, smile broadening as he exhaled a happy sigh. He closed the book on his finger, brushing through his hair with his freed hand, still feeling petals and leaves from their earlier lark. "Will need to pay more attention when we see some again. What d'you think he means by that?"

[Hestia Jones]

She loved when he read poetry to her. There was a part of, that hopeless romantic part of her, that felt herself falling for Doc just a little bit in moments like this. Their whole day had been wonderful so far, and Hestia found herself glad for her time in Cardiff. She loved spending time with Docs family here, it was always so interesting. To watch a family do everything without the help of magic - a place so different than her own home. Today was only the first day of her visit here, and it was so splendid already. Going wandering with Doc, without any cares in the world as she’d braided flowers into her hair, or attempting to braid flowers into Doc’s hair. She didn’t know how their day could get any better.

Well, that wasn’t entirely true. She did know of a way, but wasn’t bold enough to suggest it. They had spent the last year as they had spent many of them, caught up in each other without putting any labels on things. Catching feelings for her friend, she supposed, had been inevitable. They fit together so well, but they didn’t do relationships. That was part of their friendship was that they didn’t label what they were, and Hestia was mad at herself for thinking about what it would be like to be his girlfriend during their walk today.

Turning to lay on her side as she listened to him speak, she was once again tempted to kiss him. It wouldn’t be that odd of a thing for her to do, and she wasn’t in a relationship. They snogged often when the circumstances allowed it. The poem was simple and sweet, and she found herself smiling at him as he laid his head back on the bed. “Big bullying daisies,” she repeated back to them, a laugh tumbling out of her. “Maybe he means they are resilient. They always grow, even if you don’t want them to. I think daisies are like Hufflepuffs. What do you think?”

[Doc Dearborn]

"I like that. Resilient, and deceptively so. But however much of a Hufflepuff you may be, you are no mere daisy, Hestia Jones," Doc remarked with an affectionate, slow-growing smile, leaning his head back into her arm. He turned himself around to see her, arms overlapping themselves on the light summer quilt, chin resting atop them as his dark eyes considered her. As if hers is a face you don't know in your heart. But every day, if you paid attention, you could note something new. For had she had the sun-freckles at the end of term? The slight burn coming to be on her nose and cheeks was his fault, he thought, due to their getting lost today. "You..." The lad swallowed, knowing that no flower could do the beauty justice, but not wanting to let the moment go to waste. "You're more of a poppy," Doc declared after a few moments more. "One of ours, of course, the big orange ones. Resilient yet - through the rocks, the wind, the salt spray. But you...you steal the room." While perhaps not as showy as the fiery red Scottish ones, he felt that the Welsh poppy had its own understated grandeur. And for Hestia to be a common daisy? Not so - hers was a life in color.

Letting the quiet sit, letting it sink into him, it was good. Her face and body so close to his, only a few breaths away, eyes looking into hers. Having the freedom to truly look at her again without fear of a talking to. While she'd gone on dates before, a distance like that he'd felt in the last few months hadn't happened. He hadn't thought he'd lose his friends forever, never really understanding the pair as a couple, but it'd been more difficult than he'd anticipated. To not feel comfortable in his usual group of male friends - Arnie and Tommy not at rights with each other, either - and to have moments like these with Hestia rather abruptly cut out. But the past was just that - and while he usually allowed his life to happen to him, Doc felt that this moment, this day, this soul, was too precious to let pass him by.

"I'm glad we can do this." Again. I've missed you. The soft words matched his smile, the unspoken ones felt between them, or so his heart told him. Doc was itching, yet, to fully go to her. To climb into bed and pick up where they'd left off in the cold of winter, to move with renewed confidence after new experiences. But haste, a rush - wasn't needed, not with them. The tension built in the small moments of shared looks and smiles, the slow knotting of nerves and anticipation...

[Hestia Jones]

Hestia smiled, finding it quite flattering to be referred to as no mere daisy. He turned to face her fully, and she had to resist the sudden urge she had to lean in and kiss him. Her heart had some sort of strange ache during the months they hadn’t been as close, as she’d been dating someone else, but she knew they’d never truly drift apart. They would always be Hestia and Doc, that much she knew to be true. Their friendship would always go with the flow of their lives, and they’d always have moments together to cherish that no one could take from them. Her smile grew as Doc continued, feeling quite happy in her heart to be considered to be such a pretty flower, and to be told that she stole a room. It took everything in her not to kiss him then, the butterflies in her stomach almost too much to ignore. “If I’m a Poppy, then you’re a Poppy.”

Because Doc certainly stole the room. He lit up her life in such a way that no one else really could, he was one of her soul mates. She believed everyone had many different types of soul mates, that it was limited to just love. She did love Doc, of course, he was so dear to her. But she wasn’t in love with him. At least, she couldn’t say for certain that she was or wasn’t. Sometimes she wondered what it would be like, sure. But she liked the way they were now, right at this moment. He was her best friend besides Ana, and going and catching real feelings would surely ruin that. “I’m glad too,” she whispered back to him, one hand reaching out to run through his hair gently, “You are whatever a moon has always meant, And whatever a sun will always sing is you.” The words weren’t her own, rather those of her favorite poem by E.E. Cummings, a poet she’d grown to love thanks to Doc. But they said more than what she could at this moment between them, and she knew Doc would understand.

[Doc Dearborn]

Unable to resist any more - the invitation of Hestia's touch and her eyes and her poem would be rude and misleading to ignore, at this point - Doc climbed up next to her, making space for himself where there was none, to recite the final lines of her favorite piece. His heart - and hers, if the words were true, which they were - lay both in his voice and hands as he spoke of months-hidden things. The words didn't belong to them, but they were theirs, in a way. For how many rain-soaked afternoons did they spend hiding away in their badger tunnels, reading poetry to each other with as much feeling as if they'd composed the lines themselves? Laughing off mistakes and feigning fainting spells? And if poetry was made so it could only apply to the author's immediate intended scenario, oh how limiting would that be! Was it not purely wonderful that the words lived on, passed from hopeful to lover? Doc certainly couldn't be as eloquent off-the-cuff as he could be when reciting from memory, and if the resulting meaning was the same, why not tell a beautiful girl something equally glorious?

We are free to be, again, aren't we?

Propped up on an elbow, his other arm lay across her hips, fingers slowly fiddling with the hem of the shirt at her back in the quiet of the moment. The tense but exhilaratingly so quiet of the moment. "Poppy to poppy," he whispered, smile quirking as he steadily - through the rapidly increasing beat of his heart - met her gaze, "I've missed...us. I'm glad that you feel free to explore what you want to explore - " Even though we both know we've got better chemistry than anybody else ever had a chance at having with you, not that I'd say it. " - and I don't want to hold you back from your heart, but...with you, I'm home." And this is why we stick to poets, Doc. You're already home. But the lad could turn that voice away, for Hestia would know what he meant. This house was a house; a collection of rooms and belongings and memories, a place for his family to lay down their bodies and rest. Home...home was his people, and the girl beside him was most decidedly one of those special few.

[Hestia Jones]

Doc climbed onto the bed next to her, fitting himself in around her and finishing her poem, and Hestia wanted to say that maybe she was a little bit in love with him. It hadn’t felt like this with Arnie, where her whole body tingled just at his words as he whispered them to her. She trusted Doc, more than she trusted most people. It was comforting to know that she had someone she could be her true self with, and not be judged. She’d always had that with Ana, since they were children. She’d thought that she’d never find someone she was comfortable like this with after fourth year, but lying like this with him seemed like the most natural thing in the world. There was such chemistry between them in this moment, and Hestia loved every second of it.

It was the anticipation of what came next, on what step they took whatever this was between them farther than they had before. That was what she wanted, she’d decided that Doc was the person she wanted to do this with. She’d known that for a while now, and so she savored this moment as he hand fiddled with her shirt, whispering to her. “Exploring is nice and all,” she whispered to him quietly, giving him a grin before she continued, “But with you I’m home too.” It didn’t matter where they were, Doc was one of her people and he always would be, no matter what life through their way.

Right now though, her mind was on the next few minutes. Would their time alone in his room continue, or would they be interrupted by someone in the house? She was savoring the tension between them, the fact they both knew where this was going to go without having to say anything. As much as Hestia loved Doc’s sister, she would kill Rhi if decided to come and check on them now. Smiling at Doc, she reached up to run a hand through his hair gently, “Are you going to kiss me or not?”

[Doc Dearborn]

As he lay next to her, Doc breathed in the salt of the sea air that had settled in her hair, the petals of wildflowers still tangled within it, and home had never been closer. He couldn't imagine a better fit than this for either of them - as much fun and as much thrill as there could be from other partners, it meant something that they kept finding each other. To think that the girl he'd met on his first night at Hogwarts, the one who spoke his language even as she spoke of incomprehensible things, was at his side whenever he was his happiest self in all the years since? It wasn't random, it wasn't coincidence, as he'd thought of it before. He was his happiest when they could be this way - was she? Hestia's words made it seem that way, and he easily returned her grin. 

His eyes closed in contentment as her fingers brushed through his hair, and Doc smiled like the schoolboy he was at the simple outreach of affection from her. And at her question? Doc laughed a quiet, body-shaking laugh in his glee, and fell onto the pillow beside her with a bounce. He turned to kiss her cheek as well as he could with the largest grin he could remember ever sporting. "Ie. Gyda'r holl lawenydd yn fy nghalon."* Concerns about her not wanting him like this anymore, or not being open to anyone after the breakup, they dissipated faster than the spray of the waves on the rocky wharf and left behind a great sense of relief. He'd have to thank her later for having the courage to speak up in her own words, but for now, he propped himself back up and over her and prayed that they would be left alone.

"Dwi wedi dy golli di, Hes,"** Doc reiterated in a sigh, smiling eyes and lowering tone as he cupped her face in his hand. He leaned in to meet her lips, elated at the confirmation of the thrill that she still gave him as he deepened the kiss. They hadn't spoken plainly about their separate experiences in these last months, and he had a few wonderings about what she'd be open to should their kisses turn...lively...we'll figure it out together.

*yes. with all of the joy in my heart
**i've missed you

[Hestia Jones]

As much as she had enjoyed her experiences dating other people, Doc always felt like home to her heart. Her and Ana were sisters, as tight as could be, but Doc was something special to her. From her homeland, speaking the words of her language she rarely got to use in the world of magic. Every single thing she learned about Doc she loved, from learning of the muggle world to learning of his fears and worries for Rhi as she embarked on her years at school. There was no one better for her, and Hestia so wanted it to be enough for them to just be. To curl up together on the couches at school, to finding nooks to snog, to wandering hands in broom closets. She loved those moments with him, and she cherish them greatly. But just being friends with benefits? Using the words of poets to express a love she wasn’t supposed to feel, it wasn’t enough for her. And every time she found herself back with Doc, she hoped to hear him ask her for more between them. Not that she had ever voiced that to him, because it wasn’t worth the risk of ruining what they had.

But she wanted more, and today she wanted something more specific. She wanted him and she wanted to experiment more than they had done in broom closets. Her first should be with Doc, she just knew that, and there wouldn’t be a better day than today for them to explore more. It wouldn’t be proper for her to come out and say it, but surely Doc felt the same. He wouldn’t be up on the bed with her, so close that she could smell the scent of his shampoo mixed with the salty air from their walk. So her innocent question was enough, and she grinned widely as he laughed and assured her that yes, he was going to kiss her. She wanted nothing more right now than this time with him, unsupervised and letting their hearts take them where they wanted to go. She’d often tell her friends that she loved them, but she’d never admitted to Doc that she was in love with him. Just a little.

“Rwyf wedi colli chi hefyd*, Doc.” she said to him, tingling up her spine as his hand found her face and his lips found hers. Kissing other boys wasn’t like this, it never had been. Sure it was fun to kiss other boys, but she didn’t feel things with them. They didn’t make her wonder if her heart could survive skipping that many beats, or if this was the person she’d walk down the aisle to marry. She wondered those things about Doc, and she only ever spoke of them to Ana, swearing her best friend to secrecy. And now was not the time to think of the future, not when the present was simply so good. She tugged on the front of his shirt, pulling him closer to her, craving his hands on her skin. "Ti yw fy nghartref**."

I've missed you too *

You are my home **

[Doc Dearborn]

They were flowers of the same wild crags and rugged fields, resilient and unexpected moments of color and beauty in a world of gray. They would keep finding each other, Doc believed - their hearts were woven together with a string of knotted wildflower stems and memories that sometimes stretched taut, sometimes gathered up so small that it almost disappeared. Today the string shrunk rapidly as Hestia spoke so dearly and pulled him to her, leaving no room for misinterpretation. It was all the encouragement he needed to let up and press his body to hers, to move together, to knot his hand into her tumbling hair, to not shy away from the excitement...

They could be nonchalant, reckless, impulsive, especially when it was just the pair of them riling each other up - outside of broom closets and dorm rooms too, from deciding to protest uniform rules with pajama days to continuing the protest by skipping the unjust detentions that most assuredly followed. But they usually knew when to pull back, to stop themselves from doing something foolish or something they would regret. The boundaries were there, and they had chosen to cross some together - even before they had tested out their feelings with that first kiss, rushed and messy and perfect as it had been.

And now that they were here, hearts beating a competing, escalating rhythm, Doc wondered as his hands wandered up under her shirt. Her skin was so soft, smooth, hot to his touch, the girl was fit beyond imagining - he wanted and wondered and wandered - he was overheating and the summer breeze did nothing to help, and after a time he tore away from her with a quiet exhale. "Should take care of - " He waved at the door as he grinned and rose, flustered, to and from his bedroom door in a quick manner of steps. On his return, he had accomplished two things - locking the door, to give them time to gather themselves if a member of the house came by, and discarding his shirt.

Doc lay beside her, thumb brushing over her lower lip, and smiled. "I'm curious what you'd think - " His smile turned to a laugh, more excitement than abashment, and he continued, "I'm happy right here, being with you like this. Honest to Merlin, I'm so happy we're here, and we don't need to do anything more." He leaned in to press their lips together, hand trailing to her hips to run along the waistband of her pants. Endless opportunities lay before them, experiences waiting for the right moments, the right person - and he broke their kiss to nudge her nose, finding her eyes with his. "But I'm curious - what do you think about trying something new together?"