Daydream Believer

November begins uneventfully. The weather offers a million variations of cold and grey, with an occasional side of gloomy, pattering rain. Not even a downpour, which can be fun in a way, when you’re curled up by the fire in the common room. No, it’s a half-arsed sprinkling, which isn’t enough to justify ditching your schoolwork for chess and a cup of tea. I take to hot showers in the evenings to warm me up.
On one such day, I’m washing the conditioner out of my hair when there’s a loud knock on the door.
“Lily?” Marlene calls. “Are you gonna be done soon?”
“I’m almost out,” I yell back. “Why?”
There’s no response. I turn off the shower and step out, wrapping myself in a towel and opening the door.
“What do you—”
I freeze. Potter is standing in the doorway.
“Marlene!” I yelp.
“Sorry!” She lunges forward, slamming the door in his shocked face.
I stare at it for a moment, paralyzed. Potter just saw me in a towel. He just saw me in a towel with my hair probably slicked to my forehead and my pale, bare legs dripping.
“Sorry!” She says again.
“Why didn’t you tell me he was here?” I hiss. “Why the hell is he here?”
“I didn’t realise you would be in a towel!” she says in defence. “I don’t know, he said he needed something.”
I groan and go over to my bed. “I can’t believe that just happened.”
There’s a knock on the door then. “Evans?” comes Potter’s hesitant voice. “Can you come out a sec?”
“Coming,” I call back, trying not to sound too peeved.
I let out a breath and try to stay calm, but my heart is still racing like I’m in a horror film. I put on the first clothes I see, which are my pyjamas that I never put away this morning. It’s only shorts, thick socks, and a baggy t-shirt, but if Potter needs me for anything that involves going outdoors he’s going to have to wait longer.
I swing the door open. “What?”
He’s still standing just outside the threshold as if he’s been rooted to the floor. I’m trying not to think about the fact that not only did he just see me in a tiny towel dress, but now he’s seeing me in my pyjamas too.
He looks down then back up again, still stricken. Clearly, neither of us are succeeding in not thinking about it.
“Um, sorry,” he says. “They got locked out.”
He steps to the side to reveal a group of first year girls behind him, including Lucy without fringe, Annie, and two others named Sylvie and Sinead.
“Sorry Lily,” Sinead says. She’s giving me puppy dog eyes, but I’m pretty sure her face just looks like that.
“It’s okay,” I say, then immediately wish I hadn’t. What kind of an authority figure am I?
“Do you have the key?” Potter asks.
I sigh and go back into my room, rummaging around in my drawer for where I keep the spare keys entrusted to all the prefects. I have all the girls’ rooms and Potter has all the boys’ rooms, so why he’s the one knocking on my door, I have no idea.
“What room are you in again?” I call out to the hallway.
“103,” Potter’s voice calls back.
I grab the key and hold it out in front of me as I walk back.
“Here,” I say, shutting my door behind me. “Go run and unlock it and then come and give it back to me, okay?”
“Okay!” Lucy without fringe takes it from me. “Thank you!”
“Yeah, thanks Lily,” the others echo in a high-pitched chorus.
They run off whispering and giggling. Potter is still standing next to me in the hallway, watching with his arms crossed. His curly brown hair is mussed, and he’s in pyjamas too—blue flannel trousers and a white t-shirt.
I look him up and down. “Three.”
He looks over at me, bewildered. “What?”
“Your outfit,” I say. “Three.”
“Out of five?”
“Ten.”
He rolls his eyes and looks away again, like he’s too tired for my antics. “Sorry that my pyjamas don’t live up to your standards, Evans.”
“Well, you should be,” I say.
He huffs. “Fine, I’ll judge yours then, shall I?”
“Be my guest.”
He takes a step back and looks at me. I feel the slight heat of self-consciousness rise to my face along with his slow gaze. Suddenly I sincerely regret giving him this opportunity—now that he’s just seen me in two very vulnerable states that he never should have seen. I’m terrified he’s going to say something about the towel, but he doesn’t. For a moment, he doesn’t say anything.
“Yes?” I say.
He opens his mouth.
“Here, Lily!” Lucy without fringe is coming down the hallway, key dangling from her little hand.
“Thanks,” I say, taking it from her. My heart is racing again. “Goodnight.”
“Don’t let it happen again, alright?” Potter says.
“Of course not,” she says, and runs off. “Goodnight!”
There, I think. That’s an authority figure. It kills me, the ease with which that firmness comes to him. How quickly his word is taken as law. They might like me just as much, but I’ll never get the same automatic respect. But somehow, it doesn’t make me hate him. It kind of makes me admire him. What a perfect paradox.
“Merlin knows why they knocked on my door first,” Potter says, yawning.
I glance at him, remembering their fawning over him at the social. “I think I know why.”
He looks over at me. “Why?”
I give him a pointed look, like, Hello?
“What?” He’s oblivious.
“Really?” I say. “You really don’t know?”
“Don’t know what?”
I laugh and shake my head. “Never mind.”
“Hey,” he protests, but I’m already turning.
“Goodnight, Potter.”
From behind me, he sighs. “Goodnight.”

To my relief, the Towel Incident is never discussed. The Potter of old would have taken every opportunity to exploit my weaknesses, but he doesn’t. We’re on rounds again later that week, and I wouldn’t say it’s fun, but it’s not totally unpleasant. I begin to think he’s actually kind of enjoyable to be around. Of course, that’s when he pulls the old bait-and-switch and decides to be an idiot again. I never can win, can I?
It’s Wednesday in Care of Magical Creatures, and I’m chewing on my lip. “I don’t know about this.”
“Come on,” Tommy says. “You got it.”
I look at him in doubt and he nods encouragingly.
“Okay,” I say warily, and hold out my hand.
The lizard crawls from his palm into mine.
I say lizard, but it’s less an actual lizard and more a lizard-adjacent thing. Big pointy ears jut out the top of its head like a cat and its tiny wings flutter like a dragonfly. We’re only working with the babies of the species, for safety reasons, so they can’t yet fly, but it’s trying its best.
“Look,” Tommy coos. “Isn’t it kind of cute?”
I eye the thing in my hand. “That’s not really the word I’d use.”
He grins at the disgusted face I must be making. “Okay, let’s do the observations now.”
Grateful, I put the creature gently back in its cage and shut the small door. We spend the rest of the hour filling out Hagrid’s worksheet and I’m relieved when it’s time for lunch. I might be interested in healing, but definitely not healing animals.
“Ugh, and its feet are all slimy,” I’m complaining to Tommy as we walk up the hill.
It’s chilly today, and I’ve got my scarf wrapped tight around my neck. Tommy still looks like he has his own personal California sun shining down on him. I don’t know how he always seems to be glowing. Over his jumper, he wears a denim jacket with soft-looking fur on the collar and a pin that says “McCabe’s Guitar Shop”—some relic of his American life that I’m of course dying to know about.
He laughs. “Imagine if we all had slimy feet.”
“Oh, no.” I shudder.
“But you would be able to walk on walls,” he adds.
“True,” I say, “but I bet you can do that with magic—”
“Finally know what a moke is, Evans?” someone interrupts. It’s Potter coming up behind me, choosing once again to ruin a perfectly pleasant conversation with his miserable presence.
“Shut up,” I say, adjusting my bag on my shoulder. “I always knew what it was, now I’m just... more sure.”
He laughs. “If you say so.”
I can feel my face getting hot in embarrassment. Must he humiliate me right here, right now?
Then he reaches around my shoulders and punches Tommy on the arm. “Practice this afternoon, yeah, Riley?” There’s condescension thick in his voice.
“I know,” Tommy says neutrally.
“You gonna be alright for the Hufflepuff match, mate?” Potter goes on, sarcastic.
I almost forgot how patronising and rude he can be sometimes. I wonder if he’s like this at all their practices, and why Tommy puts up with it.
I scowl at Potter.
“What?” he says. “They can be tough.”
Tommy looks completely unbothered. Of course he can withstand Potter’s teasing with grace. How is he so cool?
“That’s actually true,” I say to him, once my withering glare at Potter seems to have lost its effect. “They’re really good.”
“We’ll be fine,” Tommy says, then flashes a sharp smile. “Right, mate?”
Potter doesn’t say anything, and I resist the urge to roll my eyes at his immaturity. I don’t know what this little fight he’s picking is, or why he’s being such an arse. It shouldn’t come as a surprise to me, but somehow it does. That in itself is cause for concern.
Luckily, we get to lunch before he can do any more damage.
“Hey,” I say, dumping my bag next to Marlene and sitting down.
“What happened to you?” she says.
“Magical creatures,” I say. “They’re disgusting.”
Across the table, Mary laughs. “Does anything good ever happen in that class?”
I look down the table, glumly, to where Tommy is laughing with Eric Hodge and Ted Marsh.
“No.”
“Well, perk up,” Marlene says, bouncing excitedly. “I have news.”
I look at her. “What is it?”
“Guess who asked me to go to Hogsmeade with her?”
I gasp. “Dorcas?”
“Hush!” Marlene says, slapping her hand over my mouth.
I raise my eyebrows. “Dorcas?” I say into her palm. It comes out garbled, and she laughs and pulls her hand away.
“Yes, obviously,” she says, “who else?”
“Oh my god, Marlene!” I hit her shoulder with the back of my hand.
“I know.” She’s beaming. “My perfect plan is all falling into place.”
Mary throws a chip at her. “Oh, don’t act like you had anything to do with this. You wimped out.”
“All in good time, Mary dear.” Marlene is still looking around proudly like she’s just won an award.
“Wait, isn’t there a match this weekend?” I say.
She rolls her eyes. “I know, we have practice all day. So I told her another time, but still. Isn’t it great that she asked?”
“It’s great,” I agree.

On Thursday, they’re passing notes in Potions. Dorcas sits across the aisle from Marlene, which was strategic on Marlene’s part, of course, and now it’s finally coming to fruition. I’m trying in vain to listen to Slughorn’s lecture.
“We’ll be attempting it as a challenge, though this certainly doesn’t have practical applications for any of you,” he says with a chuckle. “Can anyone tell me what the purpose of the Wolfsbane Potion is?”
Potter’s hand is up in an instant, because of course it is.
“Yes, Mr. Potter?”
“It’s meant to lessen the symptoms of lycanthropy, sir.”
Someone behind me whispers something loudly, and Slughorn frowns.
“Do you have something to say to the class, Miss Fletcher?”
“I just don’t see how one can lessen the symptoms of a monster, Professor,” Fran says innocently, from a few rows back. I’m sure she’s violently batting her eyelashes. Fran is one of those students that teachers love.
“Werewolves aren’t monsters,” Tommy interjects. “You do realise they’re people first, right?”
“No speaking out of turn, Mr. Riley,” Slughorn says sternly.
“Sorry, Professor,” he says, and then after a pause, he raises his hand.
A slight murmur goes up around the room at his audacity. The air suddenly feels tense, everyone watching the exchange closely.
Slughorn sighs. “Yes, Mr. Riley?”
Tommy turns around in his seat to look at Fran. “It’s really dangerous to say they’re monsters. It’s a condition, not who they are.”
“It’s dehumanising,” Dorcas adds, having momentarily come back down to earth from whatever planet she lives on.
Slughorn sighs. “Miss Meadowes—”
“They’re not human,” Sean Hughes says, his face screwed up in horror.
Tommy shakes his head. “You can’t—
“Alright!” Slughorn shouts. “This is an unnecessary and disruptive conversation. Mr. Riley, please come see me at my desk. The rest of you, open your books to page 128 and begin reading quietly.”
I open my book dutifully but my attention is on Tommy as he gets up and goes to the front of the room. Everyone else seems to be watching too, but what Slughorn says to him isn’t audible from my seat. Tommy nods but doesn’t look very remorseful.
I look around the room and make eye contact with Lupin, who raises his eyebrows at me as if to say, What do you think? I shrug and make a face like, I don’t know. Then Tommy comes back down the aisle and everyone pretends to be reading again.
He’s the main topic of discussion as we leave class—our discussion and everybody else’s.
“Well that was something,” Mary says when she comes over to our desk.
“Kind of cool of him,” Marlene says, packing up her books. “No one ever calls out Fran.”
“Do you think he got in trouble?” Mary asks.
Across the room, Tommy is packing up his books also. Eric and Ted walk up to him and Eric claps him on the back, smiling and saying something. Tommy laughs.
“I don’t know,” I say, watching. “It’s certainly not bothering him.”