Fourth Time The Charm || Amelia ||

Honestly, Amy thought she’d have more time to plan out her own life before the fates took control, but things never really seemed to go as planned, did they? She supposed it wasn’t horrible to be engaged to a man she’d yet to properly meet; her parents had agreed to the marriage and they wouldn’t have done so if they thought they were signing their favorite daughter up for a lifetime with a dud. Her mum had assured her that if she didn’t get on well enough with Mr Bulstrode that she could always back out (rumor has it, her new fiancée is not unused to being left in the lurch by a witch, though Amelia had no idea why or even if the stories were true). Her betrothed was well off and apparently attractive. She was looking forward to meeting him, and at a museum no less. That was surely a good sign. Her father was certain that Jake and Amelia had met before at some party or another but her mum wasn’t as sure, neither was Amy. She was given a generic description, told he was “older” whatever that meant, and sent on her way.

Green eyes scanned the atrium as she stepped inside, looking for someone who fit the description her mother had given her. Dirty blond hair. Thin face. Handsome. Tall. Thin. With the understanding that he came from a well-to-do family, Jacob Bulstrode seemed great on paper (sans the previous broken engagements). She was hoping that things went well. A man fitting her date’s description who had been sitting on a bench looked in her direction, then stood. Amy smiled politely in recognition as she headed his way. She switched her handbag from her right hand to her left, then extended her now empty hand out toward him. “Jacob?” she inquired, offering him her hand. “I’m Amelia. Pleasure to meet you.” He was cute, and not nearly as old as she’d been picturing him, though if she had encountered him naturally Amy might have deemed him too old for her. Perhaps that was why he had been described simply as “older” and not “a few years older”.

How much trouble did a man his age get into with his mum? Unless he meant when he was younger, in which case he should really be over his trauma by now. Jacob was a much nicer name than Jake. Their wedding announcement would most certainly say ‘Jacob and Amelia’ not ‘Jake and Amy’. Amelia had already decided to make a mental list of all the things about the date that she needed to discuss with Jovi, good and bad, and a grown man preferring ‘Jake’ to ‘Jacob’ was going on the list for sure. Amy smiled politely as he corrected her, at least he was having a laugh at himself. A sense of humor was important. They’d only known each other for 30 seconds but she thought it was going well. They had plenty of time to get to know each other. Their whole lives. Well, wasn’t that an ominous thought? She brushed it aside and took his arm, ready to enter the museum properly and see if this bloke passed the test.

Amelia was a lover of learning and art. She fancied herself something of an artist but despite working for the gallery, she’d yet to sell any of her own work so she was technically an amateur. She had aspirations of one day being a bonafide professional artist – a marriage most certainly would not interfere with those plans. Perhaps it was too early in their arrangement to mention her professional intentions, some wizards were close-minded enough to think they owned the witch they married and that was absolutely not to be the case with Amelia, or perhaps it was better to rip off that bandage and gauge his reaction now before either of them wasted any more time. She would bring it up naturally, if conversation allowed, but it wouldn’t be the only aspect of their day that Amelia would be evaluating Jake for his reaction. Her mum had best not have been simply coddling her when she said that Amy could refuse the marriage if she desired. She loved her family dearly and would never do anything to displease them, but the idea that she truly was stuck with someone she didn’t fancy was a little suffocating.

Her thoughts were beginning to lead to a worrisome place. She changed course. “I was pleased to hear you had suggested meeting here. I’m afraid it’s been a while since I’ve attended a museum myself.” It had been far too long, in Amelia’s eyes. The last time she’d come was nearly three months ago, so many of the exhibits had changed since then and she might have even missed a couple. Her work kept her busy, but it was a fair trade off.

An admirer of art; that was nice. At least he hadn’t only shown up here because his mother had suggested it or some pathetic sodding thing like that. She wasn’t sure she could live with a man who didn’t at least minutely enjoy fine art. And travel. Amelia loved a good holiday, taking in the historic sights and visiting the great museums and libraries all around the world. Merlin, imagine her life if her parents had set her up with a dullard who thought quidditch and gambling were the height of entertainment. Amy nearly rolled her eyes at the thought but schooled her features into a content expression.

Jake called her a piece of art and she raised her brow in his direction. As a true art lover, she wasn’t sure exactly how to take such a remark. Surely he meant it in a complimentary way, comparing her to the Birth of Venus or perhaps Leighton’s God Speed. Though if he had a wicked sense of humor, perhaps he meant to compare her to Grünewald’s The Temptation of Saint Anthony; a horribly ugly piece in Amelia’s opinion, and one that brought about unpleasant thoughts whenever she came across it. Jake clarified that he had actually been complimenting her dress and Amelia smiled. “Almost as much as you do,” she remarked modestly. She had put some thought into her look today, but it was an older dress she had already owned. An arranged engagement didn’t seem the sort of thing one bought a new wardrobe for. At least not yet.

They came to a fork in the corridor; if they went left they would first encounter a display of Photorealism, to the right was a new exhibit on Modern Expressionism. “Do you have a preference?” she asked, looking up at the man, hoping he wanted to go right as she did.

A polite smile turned genuine. “Not at all,” she replied. “I was hoping to get to see this exhibit before it left. I heard they’ve a wonderful piece from Athanasius Agrippa that was thought lost before the war.” Amelia felt there wasn’t any need to clarify. Surely, he knew of Athanasius Agrippa, the famed painter who died during an attack on Italy in 1943 at the age of 111. Amelia had seen some of his other pieces in person when her family visited Naples. Her feet wanted to carry her at a much quicker pace but she reined in her excitement and kept to a casual stroll alongside her date who, thus far, was faring better than expected on her mental rating scale.

Amy laughed, assuming his question was more of a conversation starter than a genuine question. She took the bait, happy to talk about her passions. “I ought to be a little, given my work. I’m not sure my father told you, but I work at the Morgana le Faye Gallery. Actually, I just curated my first show a few weeks ago. A splendid new artist, Quinn Blackwood. His work is more post-impressionism, but if you’re interested in that style, they have a brilliant collection here as well. More notable works, of course.” She could just go on and on about fine art, but Amelia didn’t want to hog the entire conversation. That wouldn’t have been much of a conversation if it were one-sided, and she really did want to learn a bit about the wizard she was supposed to marry. If he were the strong, silent type then Amy would be okay with that. It was better than the hot-dumb type. Jovian had brought around enough of those to form a small arm and Amelia didn’t fancy adding her own to the troops.

“Very much so. When I was little I used to want to be an artist myself, but sadly I’m not near talented enough to make a proper go at it. Being surrounded by finer artwork is really the next best thing.” Amelia shrugged casually, not disregarding her skill with a paintbrush entirely but rather having a realistic view of her skill set. Amy grew quiet as they approached the first piece, her steps slowing before coming to a stop just in front of a dainty gold cord that kept the more impulsive museum goers from getting too close to the works. Her eyes scanned the canvas, a natural smile appearing as she admired the painting in front of them. “Gorgeous, isn’t it?” she said in a hushed tone to her date, as if speaking too loudly would frighten the acrylic.

Amy looked over to Jake, who seemed to be less impressed with the painting than she was, but still enjoying himself. "I really like the use of brush strokes here," she remarked, continuing on with her explanation of the painting as she interpreted it. That was really the main thing to take away from art; it was up for interpretation and completely subjective. Each viewer had their own experience with the piece, formed their own opinions of it, and sometimes if they were lucky they found someone who shared their feelings about it. Amy didn't push too much on this first painting however, they had the whole museum to go through. They moved to the next piece and Amy talked about it for a bit, then the next piece, and then the next one. Jake seemed rather amicable to much of her thoughts but as they moved into the next wing of the museum she was starting to wonder if he wasn't just faking it for her benefit. She approached the next piece and paused, admiring it silently before probing slightly. "What do you think of this one?" she asked, not letting on her own feelings about the portrait just yet.