Childhood Daydreams (Harry Potter)
It was a forgetful summer afternoon.
Harry was absentmindedly milling around, clad in his usual thin cotton blue shirt and worn shorts; his sneakers were beat up and a size too big, also the laces were untied but he couldn't bring himself to care in the mind-numbing heat. His eyes lazily glazed over the perfectly pruned and meticulously planted gardens of the monotonous rows of semi-detached houses- Privet Drive was a very tidy neighbourhood. No petals out of place, no leaves ungreen, no fence painting chipped and not a soul in sight.
It was a very hot, forgetful summer afternoon.
He had to get out of the Durlsey's stuffy house, his cupboard had no AC (what a shocker!) and unsurprisingly, it was ridiculously sweltering in there. Harry thought about sitting in front of the fridge but he was in no mood for the company of his aunt and uncle, their tempers were wire-thin: the heat making them especially crabby and unpleasant, not that they ever were pleasant. So embarking with only five quid in his pocket that he'd stolen from Dudley's money box, Harry sought out some form of entertainment.
If Harry remembered correctly, a new ice cream parlour had opened nearby, if ever was there a time for ice cream it was right now. He dragged his feet along the smooth pavement- the sun beat down on his neck, burning it. Luckily, the ice cream parlour wasn't too far: from the outside, the store wasn't particularly eye-catching, it was a standard white-tiled, wooden decked ice cream parlour that was common for this type of middle-class suburban neighbourhood.
Harry pushed open the door to the almost deserted inside of the ice cream parlour and was hit with a burst of sweet cold air, he grinned happily.
"Hey, could you close the door? You're letting all the cold air out," a youthful voice rang from inside.
Harry hastily shut the door, offering an apologetic smile, "Sorry, it's just really hot. It gave me a shock."
"Hot is an understatement, it's twenty-nine degrees, twenty-nine," a pretty blonde-haired girl around the same age enunciated, "My papa says it's the hottest day of the year."
"Really? I mean I believe it," Harry smiled at her, catching himself staring a bit too long, "so, do you work here?"
"No, I stand behind this counter to confuse people," she said in a deadpan before cracking a nervous smile, "sorry, that was supposed to be funny. I know I'm a little young, I'm eight, but my momma owns the place- she's getting some stocks right now. I'm looking after the shop right now!"
Harry laughed anyway, "Do you have any recommendations on what ice cream is the best?"
The girl leaned over the counter, chin resting on her palm, "I'm biased but I would say... Strawberry. You can never go wrong with strawberry."
"I'll get that then," he handed over the money but it was pushed back.
"No, you can have this one for free," the girl blushed before adding, "if you promise to come back here again. It's always pretty quiet in here. My momma would love some loyal customers."
Harry felt his cheeks reddening, "Yeah- yeah, sure." He may or may not have spent the rest of the afternoon eating sweet strawberry ice cream, talking to a girl whom he may or may not have already fallen head over heels for.
It was a very hot, yet memorable summer afternoon.