It's a kind of magic...
Trawling through my lj entries, looking for something completely different, I came upon this ficlet, which I’d completely forgotten about. Written just before DH came out.
Rating: PG
Under the cover of his Invisibility Cloak, Severus watched the young Muggle woman as she paused at the kerb before crossing the road. As was her usual habit, she entered the café on the other side, struggling with the pushchair as she opened the door. He had observed her closely for several days now and had decided that she was a suitable candidate for his purposes: a bit down on her luck, coat on the threadbare side, in need of a few bob to pay the bills, no doubt. Well, he thought, taking a deep breath. I suppose it’s now or never.
* * *
The young woman stared at the blank page on her notebook, picked up her biro and chewed the end thoughtfully. She glanced up briefly as the café owner put a cup of tea down in front of her.
‘Still no luck, then?’ he enquired.
The woman shook her head regretfully and thanked him for the tea. He smiled and went back behind the counter. She stared a while at the face of her sleeping baby and thought how wonderful it must be not to have a care in the world. The baby stirred; her mother quickly grabbed the handle of the pushchair and began to rock it.
‘Not yet,’ she cooed. ‘Mummy needs some time to think.’
The baby stuck her thumb in her mouth and sucked contentedly.
Bringing her attention back to her notebook, the young mother sighed. A children’s book. What sort of thing did kids like to read nowadays? What would her daughter like to read when she grew up? She tapped the page with the biro distractedly. Come to think of it, what kinds of things had she liked reading? What were the themes that were common to all generations? ‘Hmm…’ She bit her bottom lip and started to make a list.
Enid Blyton: Boarding schools, midnight feasts, lacrosse. Famous Five. Solving mysteries. Adventures. Thomas the Tank Engine. Sport: Working class hero wins Wimbledon etc. Arabian Nights. Sinbad the Sailor. Treasure hunting. Magical lands. Pegasus. Ancient folk tales/fairy tales. The orphan who’s a Prince etc. Arthur. Merlin. The Once and Future King…
Her musings were interrupted by a loud slamming of the door. She spun around as a young boy entered, clearly out of breath. Her heart went out to him; she’d seen him before. He was a skinny scrap of a thing – probably a bit on the small side for his age, dressed in obvious hand-me-downs that were much too big for him.
Her mind played its usual games. Orphan. Abandoned as a baby… Rags to riches story… Amazing natural talent for… No, he’s hardly the sporty type – not with those glasses…
Not taking his eyes of the door, the boy backed into a darkened corner and shrank back against the wall. Outside, a gang of boys stopped, looked around and then ran off again. The boy in the corner heaved a sigh of relief.
The woman sighed too. Bullies, she thought. She turned around in her seat again and nearly jumped out of her skin. A man was sitting at the table next to her, staring at her intently. She had not seen him come in; how the hell had he done that? There was no way he could have got to that table without her seeing him.
Feeling decidedly uncomfortable, the woman dropped her gaze, but could still feel his eyes on her. She looked up again, challengingly, but the strange man continued to stare at her, and she found that this time she could not look away. Beady eyes, she thought. Black. Like a beetle. As if looking at him down a long tunnel, she took in his appearance: thin, sallow complexion, rather a beaky nose. He looked like he hadn’t had a bath in days: his hair was greasy and his fingernails looked in need of a good scrub. She felt slightly light-headed. Was it her imagination or was it getting hot in here? She closed her eyes and shook her head, breaking her gaze with the man. When she opened them again, he was sitting in the chair opposite her.
‘Wh-what do you want?’ she asked.
‘I have a story to tell you,’ he replied. ‘One I think you might like. It could make your fortune.’
‘I doubt it,’ she said.
‘Nevertheless–’ A loud hissing noise from the coffee machine drowned him out. The baby woke up, crying.
‘Stop that noise at once!’ he ordered.
The baby hiccoughed and went back to sleep.
‘How did you do that?’ she asked in amazement.
‘I have a way with children,’ he replied. ‘Now, do you want to hear my story…?’
* * *
Her cup of tea was cold and long forgotten. She asked the café owner for another one – no make it a pot – while she tried to put her thoughts in some kind of order. The man’s – no the wizard’s story had been unbelievable, but was it saleable? It was hardly suitable material for children – not how he’d told it, anyway. Some people would find certain aspects of it disturbing and morally dubious. And his looks, well – he was hardly a romantic lead. There was definitely something of the night about him. Although… some women went for that sort of thing… She shook her head. No. No more bad boys. That was how she’d got in this mess in the first place. Still, it was a start – and a good one. Deciding to treat herself, the woman ordered a toasted teacake to celebrate. She noticed that the young lad who had run in earlier was still there. He looked at the teacake hungrily as the café owner put it under the grill. She decided to take pity on him.
‘Would you like one?’ she asked.
Warily, the boy nodded.
‘Why don’t you join me?
Slowly the boy got up and walked over to her table. He sat down, and she gazed into the greenest eyes she’d ever seen.
‘What’s your name?’ she asked.
‘Harry, miss,’ he replied.
‘So, Harry, who are you hiding from?’
* * *
Severus returned to the cheap hotel room and closed the door quietly.
A sleepy voice asked, ‘How did it go?’
‘Quite well. Now go back to sleep. We’ll talk in the morning.’
Severus undressed and got into bed, pulling the young witch into his arms. He knew most people would condemn them, say their love was wrong, immoral even, but he was not going to give her up without a fight. With money running out, he had made a wild gamble. Only time would tell if it paid off.
‘Will she do it?’ Hermione asked, wriggling around to face him.
‘Yes, and she is prepared to give us a generous percentage of the profits,’ he replied.
‘Are you sure? Do you think…?’
Severus kissed the top of her bushy head. ‘Trust me, my love. She won’t want to cross me.’