Daydream Believer

As usual, Marlene chickens out on asking Dorcas to Hogsmeade. Mary goes with Patrick, so the two of us decide to go together anyway. After we finish our butterbeers at the Three Broomsticks, we go to Gladrags just to look around, strolling down the aisles and trailing our fingers along everything we pass. 

“Oh, Lil!” She holds up a horrendous gold sequined gown and grins. “You should wear this to the ball.”

“Ha-ha,” I say. “No, I’ll be in coveralls with a paint roller.”

“Oh right!” She says, ditching the dress as we continue to the next rack. “You’re setting up and everything. Prefect stuff.”

“Prefect stuff,” I repeat absentmindedly, fiddling with the collar on a men’s shirt folded next to us.

She closes her eyes and holds up a finger, as if receiving a vision. “I’m seeing you in a newsboy cap covered in chimney grease.”

“Chim chiminey, chim chiminey, chim chimpanzee,” I sing, doing a few clumsy prances down the aisle.

She dissolves in laughter, doubling over. “Those are not the words,” she says, gasping for breath.

“Oh.” I frown. “Aren’t they?”

Just then, movement outside the window catches my eye. I look up. It’s Tommy breezing by, his hands in his pockets. Marlene notices and follows my gaze and turns around just before he disappears.

She gasps. “Come on!”

She grabs my hand and we dart to the door, the little bell ringing as we scramble through.

“Thank you!” I call to no one as we leave.

Outside in the sun, I see Tommy on the sidewalk up ahead, still bouncing along to the beat of some song the rest of us can’t hear. Marlene and I catch our breath and slow our pace to follow him slyly.

“Is this creepy?” I whisper, clutching her arm.

“Not at all,” she replies.

Suddenly, he stops. 

We stop. 

He looks at the storefront to his right. 

I squint to see what it says. 

He pulls open the door and goes in.

Marlene throws me forward. “Well, go on!”

“What—but that’s the music shop—”

“You like music,” she says dismissively. “Go!”

I go, the excitement building in my chest as I get closer. I pull open the door. It’s quite small inside, and completely silent, with a checkout counter to my left that no one is behind. There’s a grand piano in the centre of the floor and guitars and other instruments haphazardly lining the walls. Tommy is looking at the back wall, but he glances around when a short piano jingle announces my arrival.

“Hey,” he says.

I take a few hesitant steps inside. Suddenly I’m very glad I put a little effort into my appearance today. I mean, all I did was brush my hair and put on a semi-cute outfit, but still. It’s only the second time he’s seen me sans uniform, and I wasn’t exactly dressed to kill for the early morning quidditch tryouts. Not that my white blouse and jeans constitutes dressed to kill. He, on the other hand, looks very good, in laced up sneakers and a striped blue t-shirt that matches his eyes. The same white shell necklace I spotted before is on full display.

“Hi,” I say. “Um, do you play?”

My cheeks burn immediately. Do you play? Play what? What the hell kind of a question is that? Get it together.

He shrugs. “I was just seeing if they had this new album I want. But...” He looks around. “It doesn’t look like it.”

I take a few more steps and pluck the string of a guitar. “What album?”

“The new one by Joan Armatrading.”

I look over in surprise. “Oh my god, I love Joan Armatrading.”
“Really?” He’s lit up. “Most people have never heard of her.”

“Well, here people know her more,” I say.

“Oh, right.”

“I played Whatever’s For Us so much that my record got scratched beyond recognition,” I say.

He smiles. “I thought nobody here knew what a record was.”

I give him a look. “We may not be the states, you know, but we’re not that far behind.”

He laughs. “No, I mean, like wizards. All of my friends at home, their parents are no-majs, but I heard that over here it was different.”

“No-majs?”

He frowns. “You know, people that can’t do magic.”

“Oh, muggles,” I say. “Yeah, that does sound a bit different.”

“Are your parents, um,” he laughs, “muggles?”

“Yeah,” I say. “But most people’s aren’t. And you know, the war...”

I trail off, expecting him to understand, but he’s giving me a blank look. 

“Well it’s not exactly the best thing to be right now,” I finish. “A muggle-born.”

“Right,” he says. “I’m sorry.”

I shrug awkwardly. I didn’t mean for the conversation to get serious. 

“Anyway...” I round the corner of the piano and sit down on the bench. “I always wanted to play the piano.”

“Really?” He comes closer. “You wanna learn?”

“Oh,” I laugh nervously. “I don’t think I could. My mum had me in violin lessons for six years and I could barely play twinkle twinkle little star.”

“Oh, come on,” he says, sitting down next to me.

I resist the counterproductive urge to bolt as soon as he gets close. 

“Anyone can learn.” He puts his index finger on a key and presses it twice, then another one. “Twin-kle, twin-kle,” he hums methodically.

I glance over at him and look away immediately, scalded from the proximity of his face to mine. I can barely make eye contact when he’s a metre away, and now he’s sitting right next to me. I feel like my brain is short-circuiting.

“So you do play,” I manage.

He shrugs. “The basics. I prefer guitar.”

“Wow,” I say. “Many talents.”

He laughs. “Not really.”

There’s a pause. I look down, folding my hands in my lap, wracking my brain for anything to stay. Abruptly, he stands up, the piano bench screeching as it pushes back. 

“Um, you know what? I actually should get going.”

“Oh, alright,” I say, standing up after him.

He’s already heading for the door.

“See you later,” he calls.

“Bye.”

I flop back down on the piano bench and let out a weighty breath. My shrill “Bye!” echoes nightmarishly in my head. That was weird, right? All of a sudden he was in such a rush to get out of here.

“Oh, hello, dear. Can I help you with anything?”

I turn around as an elderly man shuffles out of the back room with a few papers in hand.

“Um, no, thank you,” I say, standing up and starting for the door. “Have a great day.”

He mumbles something I don’t hear as the door closes behind me with a creak. Outside, I squint down the street. Tommy is nowhere to be seen, and neither is Marlene, or even Mary and Pat. With a sigh, I turn right, heading towards the hill back up to the castle. It’s been a successful enough day. I did have a relatively extensive conversation with Tommy that wasn’t about school, which is progress, even if it did end sort of strangely. And he likes Joan Armatrading! We have something in common, a splendid thing. It was good, right? I should feel good. Mostly I feel a little unsteady, like I didn’t notice the adrenaline coursing through my body until the threat was neutralised, and now I’m just left with these shaking hands. God, I forgot what it was like having a crush.

I write to my mum as soon as I get back and ask her to send some of my records and a turntable. Not for any particular reason. I want them here anyway. And if someone happens to be interested in listening to them with me, that would just be an added bonus.

Marlene gets back sometime later, bursting through the door with flushed cheeks.

“Lily!” She dives onto my bed. “Guess who I spent the afternoon with?”

“Who?” I say, sitting up and putting a bookmark in my book. Outside, the sun is just beginning to set, but I feel like I’ve been here for hours.

She plants her hands on the mattress, like this news is about to rock my world. “Dorcas.”

I let out a gasp. “No way!”

“Yes way!” She squeals, then clutches her arms to her chest. “Ugh, Lil, she’s amazing.”

“Spill!” I demand. “Say everything.”

Until dinner, she does. Apparently they ran into each other at Scrivenshaft’s where Dorcas was buying more ink, and Marlene somehow managed to pin her down for the rest of the afternoon. Longer than I was with Tommy, I think quietly.

“But wait, what about you?” Marlene says, reading my mind.

“Ugh,” I say. “Not as eventful.”

“Well?”

I tell her the whole thing, start to weird finish.

“That’s great!” She concludes.

I make a face. “Not really. He practically ran out of the shop.”
“It doesn’t matter, you had a great conversation first,” she declares. “Look at us! What did I tell you? This is our year.”

I sleep restlessly that night. I’m still not sure how to feel about the events of today, and I’m kept up agonising over them until sleep comes at last, thrown over me like one of my mum’s crocheted blankets. And just like one of those blankets, it’s full of holes. When I wake up for a third time to see light streaming through the window, I decide I’ve had enough.

The others are still sleeping soundly as I tiptoe to my dresser and pull out a blue jumper. I put it on and look down. My plaid pyjama pants will have to do. I’m too tired to make an outfit now, and if it’s as early as I think it is, there’ll be no one around to impress.

As I predicted, the Great Hall is nearly empty when I get down. The Gryffindor table especially—we tend to be late risers. The Ravenclaw and Slytherin tables are a bit more populated.

I put some food on my plate and swirl it around half-heartedly, my vision blurring.

“Hey.” Remus sits down across from me.

“Oh, hi.” My eyes snap back into focus. He looks strangely chipper for this hour, but his brown hair is tousled from sleep. “What time is it?”

He checks his watch. “Ten after.”

“After what?”

He laughs. “Seven.”

“That’s ungodly,” I say, zoning out again.

“I saw you in the music shop yesterday.”

I refocus. “What?”

“With Tommy,” he says. “Is that...”

I’m blushing already. I try to play it cool. “Is it what?”

He shrugs. “I don’t know, anything?”

I get very intent on cutting my eggs into small pieces. “I don’t think so.”

He makes a noise like “Hmm.”

“Why?” I say, narrowing my eyes at him.

“Just wondering,” he says innocently.

“Hmm,” I say.

“Well if it isn’t my two favourite people.” I look up to see Sirius Black sitting himself down next to Remus.

I frown. I’m definitely not one of his favourite people, just like he’s not one of mine. Far from it.

“You’re very cheerful,” I say.

“Ah, Evans.” He sighs dramatically. “I’m in love.”

“Oh, here we go,” Remus says, in a way that makes me think Black has made this announcement before.
“I pity the object of your affection,” I say. “Who is it? I’ll warn them.”

“Absolutely not,” Black says.

“It’s Ellie Adams,” Remus says.

“The Ravenclaw?”

Black gasps. “Where do your loyalties lie?” He demands of Remus, who just shrugs.

“You know she’s a prefect,” I say.

“I do.”

“And she’s nice.”
“Not to me,” he mutters. “What are you implying?”

“Just doesn’t seem like your type, that’s all,” I say.

He throws an arm around Remus’s shoulder. “I’ve had a strange type in the past.”

“I won’t ask,” I say. Black’s romantic exploits are well-chronicled in girl gossip sessions, but I try not to remember anything I hear.

“Smart move,” Remus says.

“Ha, look who’s talking,” Black says, giving him a good-natured punch on the arm.

“Can you—” Remus slaps his hand away, and Black responds by ruffling his hair.

I watch them through bites of food. “You’re a very entertaining pair.”

Black mimes tipping his hat. “How kind of you, Evans.”

Remus pats down his hair. “My favourite thing to be.”