aberforth gawain werian michael dumbledore (goatwhisperer) wrote in fourteenshades, @ 2013-02-14 17:05:00 |
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Entry tags: | alicia spinnet, x-aberforth dumbledore |
Who: Aberforth Dumbledore and Alicia Spinnet
What: Valentine's Day plot of win! (In which Aberforth is adorably awkward).
When: Thursday afternoon, February 14th
Where: Alicia's home
Rating: TBD
Status: Incomplete
If you had asked him earlier today, he would not have been able to tell you why he felt the way he did. Something had caused a shift in his world and it left him feeling sick and wonderful all at the same time. He just couldn't put his finger on what. The feelings were so strange and foreign, not too mention they were far too intense to simply ignore or brush off. They were there, swelling up in his chest and demanding that they be acknowledged. It wasn't until he had ventured into town that he realized the cause of them. It was strange, really, how quickly this had come on, but when he saw Alicia standing behind the counter at the winery it all made sense.
She was ... beautiful. Aberforth could not recall a single woman he had ever encountered who was more beautiful than she. How he had not realized it before was beyond him because it was impossible not to be struck by her very presence. Everything about her called to him. The fall of her hair, the light in her eyes, she was perfect and it left Aberforth absolutely dumbstruck. Never before had he found himself in such a situation. Normally he did not let people get close enough to him to develop such strong feelings, but these ones had blindsided him. Alicia had managed to get under his skin without even trying and as scary as that was he did not want her to go away. She was just so wonderful and lovely and he wanted her to know that. He needed her to know that. While he was certain his feelings would not be reciprocated, he could not bear the thought of her going through this day without any tokens of affection for her. Aberforth was unsure if she had someone special in her life, but he wanted to guarantee she had something to show for just how splendid she was.
Which was why he found himself standing in front of her door, a bouquet of flowers in a mason jar clutched in his hands as he cleared a bit of the snow away from a step to place them there. The note attached contained no more than a poem. As soon as it was settled, her name peering up from the piece of paper is precise cursive, Aberforth turned to leave. His name was unsigned. She would not know how he felt though he desperately wanted to tell her for some strange reason.