She didn't hate the boy.
She didn't fear him, certainly, and she never found him uncomfortable or worrying in any way. One who got to know the boy would say he was kind and loyal and trustworthy; a fine specimen of a man, ideally, as her mother would say. He was cute and shy; a brown haired muggle student with green eyes and rectangle blue glasses and a trademark black jacket that he would leave unzipped in the summer, and fixed all the way to his chin when it got too cold. And every weekday, after school, he would walk down to Cooper and Wolf and take a window seat, order jasmine tea, and open his reading book. At exactly five o'clock, he would leave for home.
No, she didn't hate the boy; rather, he intrigued her. She didn't know why; Ravenclaws had never attracted her for the very reason that they were far too witty for her liking, and Hufflepuffs were even farther down the list, as their endless devotion was quite sickening. But somehow, this boy, who possessed both wit and loyalty, caught her eye. How was that so?
At first, his very presence managed to clench her heart and catch her breath, and whenever he looked at her, she'd feel a cold sweat on the back of her neck. Over time, she became accustomed to his occasional glances and even attempted to meet his eyes, but he never spared more than a few seconds for the Slytherin witch who would watch him through the cafe window as he read.
She became exasperated, although at the boy or herself, she wasn't certain. All she wanted was to hold the boy in her arms, to brush his hair from his eyes, and to feel his tender lips on hers. But this wasn't a very keen idea, as muggle-wizard relationships were essentially quite unstable; especially for a Slytherin witch, where everyone expected her to keep her bloodline pure... and most especially since He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named was apparently getting closer and closer to rising. The last thing she needed was that sort of trouble.
Nevertheless, she still wanted him. Sometimes it made her angry. Sometimes it made her depressed. Sometimes it made her defiant. And sometimes... sometimes it would make her consider.
A very, very reckless plan.
But the more she pondered, the more she thought... the more tempting it became. The more logical and wonderful it sounded. The more frightening and appealing. More and more until finally, she made up her mind.
Tomorrow, she would apprehend him.
He was sitting at the same booth he always did when she entered the cafe that Tuesday. He was leaning on the table with both elbows, his book resting on the platform as his eyes scanned the words on the pages. Near the edge of the tabletop waited his tea, barely touched. It was raining that day, so he sat directly under a vent, relaxing in the heat that billowed out of it, reading by the soft gray light of the clouded sun.
She took a deep breath, attempting to build confidence. She held it in for a few seconds before letting it out quickly, determined, and marching over to his booth.
She slid in across from him, propping her chin up on her right hand as she copied his stature, leaning onto the table. At first, he didn't seem to notice, but when she shuffled for the menu, he looked up. His mouth formed a little 'o' of surprise, and the Slytherin girl tried her best to keep her cool, giving him a small smirk in return.
"Anything you like in particular?" She asked, pointing at the menu. "It's my first time here."
The boy looked around to see who she was talking to, and when he realized that it was him, he stuttered for words. "U-Um... P-Pardon me, but do I know you?"
"No, you don't." She winked. "But we can fix that."
The boy looked anywhere but at her, clearly uncomfortable. It seemed he didn't have much experience being flirted with. It was a shame. He was quite the looker. Not to mention his voice was a gentle sound; not quite high, not quite low, and adorably timid. Who wouldn't like this kid? For a dominant girl such as herself, he was the perfect match for the Slytherin girl.
"U-Uh... I would recommend the tea." He swallowed roughly and pulled his book closer to his face. As the witch looked it over, she saw the title, proudly declaring in a curvy font, 'To Kill A Mockingbird'. A classic muggle novel. Of course, the witch had never read it; she didn't need to, didn't want to. All the same, he seemed quite taken with it.
She summoned the waitress with by lifting a finger, and requested a fresh mint tea. When he waitress left, she turned back to the boy, who was by now visibly flushed at the cheeks. She rested her chin on both hands now, eyes flicking carelessly across his figure.
"What can you tell me about that book you're reading?" She drawled, attempting to get him to speak again. He glanced up meekly, then back down, avoiding her intimidating brown gaze. Very nice. She liked that.
"It's, um, It's very enlightening." He mumbled. "Offers a new perspective on, uh, some political issues."
"Politics?" She snorted. "What's politics gotta do with killing birds?"
This time he frowned and looked up again, his gaze lingering a little longer than before. Hmm. "The mockingbird symbolizes a misunderstood person."
"I see?"
"It's... Well... I suppose you'd just have to read it for yourself.
"Not much of a reader. Why don't you read it to me?"
This made him draw in a shaky breath. He was obviously very uncomfortable, but this only made the Slytherin witch chuckle. He was cute when he was flustered. She decided she'd have to do it more often.
The waitress returned with her tea, and she accepted it with an elegant 'thank you'. The woman eyed the girl and the blushing boy with a slight frown before shrugging and turning away to leave. Perhaps this was an interesting occurrence, a strange new girl filling the empty seat of a booth that a boy had taken alone for so long. Oh well. It's not as if she knew them, or that it mattered what they thought. They were muggles after all. What did they know?
She sipped her tea. It wasn't as good as the minty beverage her house elf Margo made, yet still, it left a nice aftertaste.
"Well..." She began again, smiling a bit. "...I know you might not be much for activities, you being such a bookworm and all, but I was wondering if perhaps you were interested in a little sport later?"
The boy paused mid-sip his own tea. "A sport?"
"Oh, yes." She tempted. "...Well, more of a... magic trick."
He gave her a suspicious look. "That isn't an innuendo, is it?"
The Slytherin witch laughed aloud, nearly spewing her tea all over his oh-so-interesting bird book. "Ha! No, no, don't worry. I'm being quite genuine."
The boy bit his lip, considering whether or not to refuse. Being the polite fool that he was, he ended up nodding slightly and muttering a hushed, "Why not?"
The witch grinned and stood up carelessly, bumping the table and nearly knocking both drinks onto the ground. The boy dropped his book in a scramble to catch his cup and he lost his page as it fell like a wounded bird to the floor. The witch picked it up and gently placed it back into his hands.
"Follow me."
Once in the empty alleyway next to the store, the Slytherin witch pulled out her wand. The boy gave it a doubtful look. "What is that supposed to be?"
"Look," She welcomed, and faced him. "Avis!"
Suddenly, out the end of her wand burst a few little white birds, and they fluttered wildly around the boy's head before taking off into the gray sky. The boy cried out and stumbled back, staring with wide eyes as the birds flew away. He turned his look of shock to the witch.
"H-How...? What was that?"
The witch giggled and leaned in close to him. "Magic."
He sat there on the cobblestone ground for several minutes more before swallowing and requesting, "Show me more."
She smiled and announced, "Orchideous," allowing some purple wildflowers to sprout from he end of her wand, their pretty petals catching the drops of the last falling rain. She carefully plucked the floral arrangement and knelt down next to the boy. "For you, dear."
The corners of his mouth slowly turned up and he accepted them. "How did you do that?"
She never lost her smile as she leaned in a little closer... a little closer...
"Magic."
He didn't stop her. She wouldn't have stopped anyway. The sky was growing dark and the rain was falling cold, and all she wanted was to feel him against her - soft, warm, and timid. He was inexperienced, and she almost laughed at his shy peck at her lips. She didn't let him stop there and touched his again for four seconds longer before pulling away. Her heart clenched and her neck went damp with sweat just like before, but she never let it show. He was new and strange, just as she was new and strange to him.
"Magic..." He murmured. "Is it real?"
"Of course it is. You're here, aren't you?" She winked, hoping to get another kiss out of that. She leaned in again, and it worked.
She leaned over him, watching him as he lay sleeping. She had followed him home unbeknownst to him, and had climbed to his bedroom window on the second floor, looking into his poster covered room, admiring his book collection and his drum set. And now she watched him as he turned onto his side, eyes closed. He looked so cute in his sleep. How interesting it was, to be in ones presence without their knowing. Not like the witch hadn't done it before, but this boy was somehow different. For the first time, she felt as though she was intruding on something she wasn't supposed to see.
She smiled a bit at that. Silly me, she thought as she pulled out her wand. Silly me.
"Obliviate."
"What's that book about?"
A different approach. A new reaction.
The boy looked up, considerably less disturbed than yesterday. The corners of his mouth twitched. "Killing birds." So, this time, he has a more playful approach. I suppose it pays to be polite sometimes.
The witch slid into the seat opposite him just like last time, although he was notably more relaxed. She said, "I thought it was about a new perspective on political issues."
"My mistake," He grinned.
The witch summoned the waitress and ordered the fresh mint tea. The waitress blinked a few times at the girl showing up a second time, but still, she said nothing as she whisked away with the new order.
"Pardon me," The boy began, folding down the tip of the page as a makeshift bookmark and setting the book down. "Do I know you?"
The witch smiled. "No, you don't."
He laughed as she led him to the alleyway. "Come on, what is it already?"
"A magic trick!" She replied, giggling. "I'll show you when we get there."
The alley walls loomed above them, allowing tiny shafts of gray light to filter down into it as the rain fell quietly. Garbage bins covered up patches of the wall from pedestrian view on the streets, as well as little piles of rock and concrete. It was perfect.
She set him still against the wall and pulled out her wand. He gave her a little smile. "What's that?"
"Look," She murmured, and he did. She picked up a rock from the ground and pointed her wand. "Avifors."
The rock began to vibrate. Suddenly, the creases became more pronounced, and a few chips began to crack away. Slowly, a little white head lifted up and opened a beak wide as if to scream silently. Little wings fluttered to get chips of rock off, and feathers puffed out. The boy watched with wide eyes as the bird picked itself up, shook itself off, and took flight. The bird disappeared into the rainy sky, blending into the gray clouds that choked the atmosphere.
The boy turned back to the witch. "H-How did you do that?"
She leaned in and he let her, smiling in amazement.
"Magic."
"Jasmine tea, right?"
The boy frowned. "How'd you know?"
She shrugged and sat across from him. "I'm a psychic."
"Are you now."
"I am."
He hummed and turned back to his book. "Sure, sure."
She leaned over to catch a glimpse of the page he was on. "Is that the classic novel, 'To Kill a Mockingbird?'"
He hummed again and nodded. "It is."
"Well, what if I told you..." She pretended to think. "That your opinion of the book consists of... a new perspective on political issues?"
He tensed, and peeked over the book. "Lucky guess."
"Well, dontcha want to know how I did it?"
The boy sighed, but this time, he seemed the slightest bit interested. Of course he wanted to know. The witch smiled and leaned forward on the tabletop.
"Magic."
It continued like this for a week. Then two. Then three. Soon, a whole month and a half had passed and the witch still continued her plan.
The Slytherin witch would come to the Cooper and Wolf, sit across from him at his booth, and find brand new ways to fall in love with him. At the end of every meeting, she'd lean in and kiss him, although the length of time would vary, as sometimes he would allow it, and other times, he wouldn't. But in the end, they'd end up in the same situation; with the boy lying asleep in his bed, and the girl whispering, 'obliviate', so that they could do it all over again.
He'd never remember her. That was the spell, after all. It was, in all sense, impossible for him to remember her.
When she entered through his window one night to erase his memory once more, she was astonished to see him sitting up in bed, very much awake, as if he'd been waiting for her... but he couldn't be. He was still fully dressed, wearing that same blue shirt and the same brown shoes he'd been wearing at the cafe, and he was writing in a moleskin with a number two pencil. When he saw her come in, he froze.
"It's you..." He breathed.
"I-I can explain..." She stuttered, cursing herself for not keeping a more thorough watch. She'd have to obliviate him quickly before he made a scene. It wasn't natural after all to see the girl you just met that day come crawling into your window... "I'll leave, I -"
"No..." He stood up and rushed over, catching her arms. She froze, and he held her still so she wouldn't accidently fall over. Why did he want her to stay? Wasn't he horrified? Didn't he want her gone? He continued. "It's actually you... I thought I'd never meet you... for real."
"W-What are you talking about?" The Slytherin witch was confused. Why was he acting this way all of the sudden?
The boy let go of her and rushed back to his bed, scooping up the moleskin he'd left on it. He quickly flipped through the pages before holding it out to her.
"Every day for the last month... I wrote about a girl I met at a cafe." He explained quietly. "I couldn't ever remember that occurring, though. When she continued to show up in my entries, I began to think I'd gone mad. Today... It never occurred to me that the girl might be you." He set the journal down. "Why are you here?" He asked curiously. "Is this a sign of some sort? Are you an angel?"
The Slytherin witch felt her skin get warm. She'd been called many things. A witch. A devil. A bully. A mistake. But she'd never been called an angel.
It crossed her mind that, now that the boy was confronting her on her project, she may not be doing the best thing. It wasn't good at all; for her, or for the boy, much less for the witches and wizards who worked hard to keep their secret locked away for all these years. It never could have bothered her before but... now... It hurt her to hear her mistake in the boy's words. Guilt began to weigh on her chest. She couldn't do this anymore. She had to fix this.
"Just a girl." She answered at last. "A girl mad for attention. I shouldn't have done this to you. I'm sorry."
The boy frowned. "What are you talking about?" Then, he approached her, pleadingly. "Please, let me in. Let me understand."
She sighed, wilting under the boy's gaze; the boy she grew so dangerously and so stupidly to love. He leaned in a little. Maybe it was to look into her eyes. Maybe it was to draw her into an undeserved embrace. Maybe it was to catch her lips a final time before...
"Obliviate."
The witch boarded the Hogwarts train when the time came, finding her friends from last year and grabbing a seat at the end of the carriage. Some Griffyndor boys winked at her from the booth across from them, but the Slytherin witch didn't scoff back like she usually would have. In fact. She didn't feel anything much at all.
"Oi, what's the matter?" One of her friends asked, a bit worriedly. "Are you alright?"
The witch smiled halfheartedly and replied, "I'm fine," before turning to look out the window, ignoring them for the rest of the ride.
Outside, rushing past, was the usual landscape, but this time, it wasn't as exciting. She knew that today, at around this time, a couple hundred miles away, was her boy, sitting alone at Cooper and Wolf, lost within the world of his book, thinking hard about the new perspectives of political issues, and drinking Jasmine tea. All as usual. All as it had happened yesterday.
But one thing would be missing from the scene, the witch knew. One thing that happened once, and will never happen again.
"Magic."