A/N: Dream a Little Dream is the property of The Mamas and the Papas. Good song. Very good song.
There was something about an old vinyl record. CDs had their place, of course, but there was a certain purity to vinyl. The texture, the scent…A memory of the old days, long since gone. It was enough to bring tears to his eyes, sometimes. This was one of those times.
It was a fifties style malt shop, nearing closing time. The man behind the register was a friend of his; they had an understanding. With a surreptitious wink, he slipped into the back room, and Vlad smiled. "Is it to your liking, Maddie?" he asked, mentally cursing the nasally voice that refused to provide a romantic purr.
Soft, red lips tilted upward and parted in an amused laugh. "It's so old fashioned," the woman replied, obviously pleased. Vlad nodded eagerly, perhaps too much so, he chastised himself. He stood quickly to sketch an oft practiced bow, holding out his hand in what he prayed was a courtly manner.
"Would you like to dance, my dear?"
Maddie giggled, torn between delight and skepticism. "There's no music," she pointed out.
Vlad straightened and contrived to look puzzled. "Well, you do have a point. Very well! I'll just have to conjure some!" He cleared his throat, closed his eyes, and waggled his fingers in the air. "Hocus pocus," he intoned to the sound of bright laughter. There was a brief moment when he thought his friend had missed the cue, then the quiet sound of a guitar filled the speakers.
She knew the trick, of that he had no doubt. Playing along anyway, she clapped appreciatively and took his hand. "Why, Vlad," she exclaimed, teasing. "I never knew you were such a magician."
"I know more than magic, my dear," he replied softly, leading her to a conspicuously bare portion of floor.
With a sigh of longing, he pulled himself back to the present, to his lonely castle, and to the words, "And in your dreams whatever they be…"
Almost unwillingly, he whispered along, "Dream a little dream of me."