A/N: Check this chapter on Wattpad/AO3/HPFF for a most adorable picture. Emma Watson made a little Harry Potter's day on Hallowe'en. She might be associated with some controversies (which celeb isn't?). But no one can deny that her humility and kind-heartedness is just plain heartwarming.

#LoveYouEmma

[I know it must be annoying for you guys that I constantly keep advertising my Wattpad/AO3/HPFF, but FFN does not allow pictures & videos, so there's nothing I can do :(]

[31st October 2005]

"Daddy! Daddy wake up!"

A very familiar voice burst into the piece of his bedroom. He let out of moan and snuggled further into the pillow.

"Daddy!" The boyish voice now began to irritate him. Its owner was shaking him vigorously.

He groaned and turned his head the slightest bit. One eyelid opened slightly. The clock revealed itself through the fogginess. It was ten to six.

"Wassermarrer, Jamie?" the half-asleep man asked, clearly piqued at being awakened at such an unearthly hour on a Monday of all days (clearly, he was not a Monday person). Mondays were half-days at the shop.

"Oh, Daddy, you're so dumb! Don't you have any idea what day it is?"

"It's Monday," he replied blankly, his vexation increasing by the second.

"It's Hallowe'en!"

"What!?" He shot up all of a sudden. All trace of sleep vanished. Hundreds of thoughts flashed through his mind at once.

"What 'what'?" asked a faintly puzzled James.

He gave a 'What? Oh!' upon the breaking of his scary reverie.

"What happened, Daddy?" James asked, looking a bit concerned. A precocious child, he knew something was wrong.

"Oh... er... nothing, nothing!" proffered the father, a bead of sweat breaking on his brow. Unusual, considering summer was long over.

James shrugged, deciding not to pursue the topic. The Hallowe'en fever gripped him once more.

"Daddy, it's Hallowe'en! We're going to have yummy food, lots of sweets, jack-o'- lanterns and - "

"Yeah, yeah, yeah, we're doing everything. Stop it. Sometimes you rant just like..." He trailed off.

"Who?"

"No, no, no one."

"You have to tell me."

"I don't know myself! It's just that it's... it's... someone."

A sly smirk plastered itself on James' face. "Is it a girl?"

"What!? No! James David Walker, you're treading down the wrong path!"

The boy in question let out a giggle. "Fine, let it go. Now, would you please get up? I don't fancy wasting my time on such a nice day!"

David rolled his eyes and swung his legs off the bed. Sometimes, having a boy downright killed him.

David James Walker stood in the kitchen. Twenty-five, single dad, coffee shop owner. He fried eggs for breakfast. As his hands mechanically did everything for him (thanks to years of conditioning), he allowed himself to get lost in his thoughts.

He had no memory whatsoever of his past, his family. He (supposedly) grew up in an orphanage, even though he did not have the foggiest idea where it was. It was as if he had sprung into existence all of a sudden. How can one possibly think of any other way a fully-grown 18-year-old man could make an appearance out of nowhere? Magic? Ridiculously mad. Otherworldly powers? Nonsense. The only logical explanation was that something provided enough energy for air molecules to split into atoms and recombine in a most pathetically wonderful way to form a living, breathing human.

He also had this nonvanishing, lightning bolt-shaped scar on his forehead. It was permanent; it lived in his very flesh. No matter what he did, it didn't go away. He and his friends had come to accept it as a part of his being.

Why his name was David James was also a question. And an even bigger one was why did he get the urge to name his son as James David? Seriously? Some of his near-permanent customers even joked about starting a nightclub. DJ JayDee would be quite a choice for a stage name.

But the $64,000 question was the reason for his dreams. Or rather, nightmares.

Every now & then, strange images popped into his mind. And strange here means very strange, not just strange. He considered himself deranged. Who in their sane mind sees magic in their dreams? And not stage show magic, mind you, but real (!) magic with a whole bunch of complicated spells! He'd heard them so many times that he even remembered some of them. Wingardium Leviosa? Expelliarmus? Protego Totalum? Salvio Hexia? These are not words that you just dream up!

The second most frightening image of all of them was that of a ghastly green light and a woman screaming. This particular scene was the one, along with one other, that made his skin crawl.

And then the most frightening of all. A horrendous, deadly serpent-faced man. He found himself walking towards him.

Harry Potter... the Boy Who Lived... come to die.

These words gave him cold sweats. And these were the reason he hated three days of the year: 2nd May, 31st July (coincidentally, his and his son's birthday) and 31st October. And today was one of those days.

But there was a face. Besides magic wands & spells (and flying broomsticks & buzzing balls & bubbling potions and whatnot), a face always showed itself whenever he was experiencing heavy bouts of magical fantasising. She was laughing, and he was certain it was a she, for he could hear highly feminine giggles. But no matter how hard he tried, the image always remained blurred.

Sometimes he found himself laughing along with her, sometimes hugging her, sometimes breathing her. He didn't know who she was, but she was the one who made those dreams enjoyable. He had never touched her but could feel himself touching her. He had named her the 'Mystery Girl'.

A voice cut through his ridiculous-turned-frightening-turned-beautiful-and-lovable daydream. And a smell too, one he could not recognise.

"DADDY! THE EGGS ARE BURNING!"

David immediately snapped out of his reverie and found James shouting at him. A burning smell filled his nostrils, causing him to pinch his nose.

"What were you doing!?"

"Sorry, James," he apologised as he scraped off the burnt eggs. "I'll make more."

He decided to keep his tongue wagging to prevent mishaps. "So, what are we doing today?"

James scowled. "Dad," he said, "we've been doing since I was three."

"Oh, right. I'm dropping you off school, and then I'm buying pumpkins & opening the coffee shop, which closes at half past two. Then we have tea and go shopping, right?"

"Yes," came the reply, the gleeful tone returning. "We're gonna buy lots of costumes & swedes & candies and make jack-o'-lanterns - "

"Not more than 3."

"Oh, c'mon, Daddy, we need at least seven! One for the - "

"No," came the response, stern. "It takes a lot of time to carve them to perfection, as you put it." He turned around to put the eggs on their plates to find Jamie scowling again. "Instead," he continued, "You're getting double the sweets as compensation." He smiled as his son broke into a toothy grin. "You're the best Daddy in the world!" He ruffled his hair and gestured him to eat as he sat down to some bread.

The alarm beeped at 6:55 to indicate that she had only five minutes before she would have to get up. A slender arm snaked out from under the comforter to silence it, retreating with a subtle stealthiness. After a minute, the figure turned to lay on its back. Her upper torso was out of the covers, her hair brilliantly splattered on the pillow. A small, involuntary smile graced her lips, accentuating her beauty to beyond human perception. A man would've died to see her in that state.

Slowly, the eyelids parted to allow the vaguest view of her irises, and exactly at seven, they fluttered open (thanks to years of conditioning) to reveal the orbs in full glory.

Rising, she shed off the covers and stood up, shivering a bit at the slight chill in the air. She rubbed her arms comfortingly and made for the window. The curtains parted to reveal the rising sun.

Her hands found their way to the windowsill, the smile gracing her lips widening as she took in the warmth of the rays. The ball of plasma shone brilliantly on her visage, illuminating her hair. The unnoticeable specks of gold in her eyes reflected the rays so perfectly that someone might've died if they saw them.

There stood Freya White, upcoming actress. Clad in a childish girly nightsuit, she was the very definition of beauty. A peaceful feeling imbued the air surrounding her, her body radiating cuteness, grace, calm & serenity; all at the same time. It was as if she could extend her aura, her very soul. A photographer would've sold himself to get a photo of the Morning Freya.

Sadly, the moment did not last long, with her plans for the day on the cards. She did not have any shoots planned for at least 11 weeks; she'd rejected two offers. Yes, within five years of being in the industry she'd attained the level where she was rejecting films.

A small, graceful sigh escaped her body as she turned around to begin her daily morning routine.

As she sat walked into the kitchen-cum-dining area after showering, she mentally recalled her schedule. Breakfast, then a stroll in the park, reading, mooching around and relaxing until twelve. Lunch, then books again before Samantha came over at two when the two would go for some 'light' shopping. She giggled a bit unconsciously. Light? Samantha and 'light' shopping? The world's surely ending if that's happening!

She decided on some toast and cereal. Caffeine was not her cup of tea. [Slightly ironic ;)]

Her legs found themselves walking towards the main door at half past eight. She put a light autumn-winter coat on herself and stepped out, locking the door.

Many people were out to enjoy the sun. Kids chirped & youths jogged, while the elderly ones either walked barefoot on grass or sat on the benches. It wasn't full, but enough to make the atmosphere lively. A few people smiled her way. She smiled back. They were perfectly comfortable with having her in their midst as they'd known her since her days of struggle.

She'd worked in thirteen films so far, having landed the lead in the last one. She still lived in the same place she used to live six years ago and did all her chores herself. It wasn't that she didn't have money; she just didn't crave it. The sharp, analytical part of her brain excellently monitored her income & expenditure. She could've bought a big house and employed people to do the chores, but it just didn't feel right. She was happy, content with these people who'd come to accept her as their own, especially the children.

Something hit her leg lightly, causing her to look down. Little Frank's big black eyes locked with hers. She lowered herself to level her eyes with his.

"What are you doing, Frank?"

"I just came to fetch the ball."

"Ball? Which ball?" she asked playfully. "Ah, this one?" She picked it up.

"Yup."

"Well, I think your Daddy will have to buy you a new one, because this is mine now." She smirked in a 'just kidding' manner.

"No!" Frank lunged forward to snatch it from her. She got up, using her height advantage to the fullest.

She fooled with him for a while amidst his pleas of 'Give it back! Please, give it back!'. Just when it looked like he was about to cry, she levelled with him once more and held it out for him to grab. But being the devil she was, she withdrew it at the last moment.

"You're getting this only on one condition!"

"What?" asked an annoyed Frank, ready to do anything to get it back.

"You have to take this as well!" She surprised him by pulling out a handful of lollipops.

"Lollies!" Her grin widened upon hearing his squeal of pure delight.

"Ok, so how many do you want? There's one per kid."

"I'll take four. One for myself and one each for Suzie, Dolly and Aaditya."

She gave him a mock scowl. "Am I not your friend?"

"Oh, right! One for you as well!" He took five and held one out to her. "Yours!" She laughed at his innocence. "I was just joking. Give it to Margaret from my side, will you?"

"What? That Margaret? She's a total nincom - " Her glare stopped him. "Never, ever, call her that, ok? She's different from you, but that does not mean she deserves to be called nasty things! She's a very nice girl if you ever try to talk to her."

"Sorry," he said timidly, lowering his eyes.

She smiled and ruffled his hair. "Just be nice to her." She returned the ball to its owner and gestured him to go.

"Nice lollies, huh?" A deep voice spoke behind her, causing her to turn back. "I want one too!"

She got up, laughing lightly. The voice belonged to Jake Simpson, one of her friends.

"Oh, Jake, when will you grow up!"

"When you give yourself to me," he muttered to himself.

"Sorry, what?" Maybe he'd been a bit louder than he'd thought.

"Oh, nothing! I'll never grow up. I want to remain a boy who is content with lollies!"

That earned him a light swat in addition to another giggle. He decided to keep the atmosphere light. They began to walk side-by-side.

"So what are your plans for today?" she asked.

"Oh, nothing. The usual. I don't have any shoots and so decided to have some 'guy time' with my buds in the evening. I'm free in the afternoon." Jake was a photographer. "What about you?"

"Same old!" she shrugged.

Silence reigned for a few seconds before he decided to make his move.

"Er, Freya?"

"Hmm?"

"Er... I was thinking - well, I was thinking - (under his breath) Goddammit - As you're free today, maybe you'd like to go Hallowe'en shopping with me?" That way maybe he could make it a date, he thought.

She let out an inaudible sigh and looked at her feet. She didn't particularly enjoy male attention; she was used to it. Innumerable guys had tried to woo her over the years and had failed miserably. But Jake was different. He was her friend since '02 and had been trying to break the 'friendzone' barrier since last summer. He refused to back off despite her subtle hints that they were just friends.

"Well?"

She realised she'd remained silent for too long. Lifting her head, she said, "Thanks for offering Jake, but I'm already going with Samantha." He frowned. "You may join us if you want to," she hastily offered.

"No, thanks. I guess I'll just go with Drew. Enjoy!" He left.

She shook her head lightly and resumed walking. Men!

David sighed as he started on his daily morning 'shop' routine. It was Hallowe'en and earnings were low, considering how many people preferred to do nothing. Working ones still had office, school-goers still had school, and those who had nothing to do preferred lying in bed. The bright sun, however, gave him some hope. Two or three guys might just want to pop in.

He was wiping the mugs when the bells above the glass door chimed, signifying a customer. Somehow just the way they sounded told him who it was.

"Hey, Dave! 'Sup?"

He let out a groan; he wasn't in the mood for small talk. Frankly, he never was.

"Are you going to say something?"

He turned around and opened his arms wide in frustration. "What d'you want to hear? 'Oh, I'm all hunky-dory! It's All Hallows' an' I'm dancing & cackling like mad & watching horror films an' making merry!' Jolly good, isn't it, Allhalloween?"

"That was uncalled for," Rob Atkinson answered, frowning.

David closed his eyes and breathed in short, ragged gasps. "Sorry," he managed to utter after some time. "I'm just fed up." He turned around and resumed wiping the mugs.

"Of what?"

"My life. I'm irked."

"That's obvious," Rob replied, walking past the counter up to him. He clapped his back hard and rubbed it in a masculine manner. "You know what," he continued, "I know what you need."

"What?" David asked, still not completely placid.

"A girl," he replied with a smirk.

Seriously? Does anyone on this planet have any sense?

Turning around, he looked his dolt-of-a-friend in the eye. "Look, Rob, if you're starting on your 'girlfriend' shit again, then I'm throwing you out and having a Rob-repellent sprayed inside my shop, get it?" he threatened. His temper was rising by the second.

"Hey, relax! There's no need to be all hyper. I'm just suggesting."

"Well, I am the one who has to deal with your horseshit, and so I know better when you're just suggesting," he remarked in a venomous tone.

"Oh, God, you're impossible!" Rob rolled his eyes and raised his hands in defeat. "Anyway, let it go. Set me a Death Wish; two, actually. One for yourself. You need to charge down." He turned around and made for a table.

"What!? You have a death wish?" David was aghast.

"Death Wish coffee, you dunderhead! Now c'mon, get your lazy arse up & moving!" he said in a voice twenty decibels higher than usual.

After fifteen minutes, David set the tray down on the table and placed one mug in front of Rob before taking the other and settling into the other chair.

"So," Rob asked, sipping some coffee. "Would you be kind enough to elaborate upon the reason for your grumpy mood on such a nice sunny day?" he pointed outside. No response. David kept looking into his mug. "Dave?" Still no response. "Hello, David? Buddy, you ok? Where are you?" he asked, snapping his fingers in front of his face.

All of a sudden as if powered by some sort of inner beast, David jerked and grabbed the mug and downed the freaking hot drink in five large gulps. Rob looked on as his jaw fell open. Dave set the empty container down with a bang, panting.

"Are you mad! You'll burn your throat!"

"Not that I already have."

Rob gave him a serious look. "Tell me."

"What?"

"I know you've been hiding something from me for years. I've tried to get it out of you many times but in vain. But today, I'm not leaving without knowing the reason for your sudden outbursts. Tell me everything."

"Fine," David sighed in defeat. He'd had enough; he needed someone who could understand him. He began.

"You know that I've got no family and that I grew up in an orphanage?" Rob nodded. "Ok, so what if I tell you I have no memory whatsoever of my childhood? I mean absolutely nothing." He paused for a response. "Go ahead," Rob said. "Take your time, but give me everything."

"I simply don't have anything that relates my childhood to me. I don't even remember where's the orphanage."

"It's as if I popped out of thin air, a fully-grown 18-year-old bloke. Just like - just like magic."

"Magic?"

"Yeah, magic. And things are about to get even crazier."

"Quite frequently, I have these dreams in which there are wizards. And no, they don't do stage show magic, but real magic."

"They have these magic wands an' complicated spells an' repulsive potions an' flying broomsticks an' buzzing balls an' man-hunting plants & beasts & centaurs & dragons - oh, I'm going insane!"

There was a pause as he caught his breath. "Sorry."

"Go on."

"I know all of this sounds like something picked out of a children's adventure book, but it's all too real to be imaginary."

"Real as in?"

"As in the spells, for example," David answered. "The spells have fairly complex incantations and wand movements; too complex to be something that you'd just dream up. It isn't every day that you get to hear these ridiculously-alien-yet-familiarly-Latin words. I've heard them so many times that I even remember a few."

"That's interesting. Could you state a few?" asked a surprisingly calm Rob. He was still under the impression that it was all fake.

"Wingardium Leviosa for levitating things, Lumos for light, Nox for blowing it out, Expelliarmus for disarming your opponent, the stunner Stupefy, the shield spell Protego, the - "

"All right, that's enough. Yeah, the names do not sound all dreamed-up. Continue."

"And then there are those... those..."

"Those what?"

"... Nightmares." A slight pause found its way into the conversation.

"Ok," Rob said. "So you have nightmares. What exactly happens in them? Are they the same all the time?"

"Yes, they're always the same. And only two things ever happen in them." He stopped and gulped.

"I'm listening."

"In one, there's a ghastly green flash of light, followed by a woman screaming. I've no idea who she is."

"And the second?"

"The second... er... uhm..."

"The second?" Rob repeated.

"Well... I'm not exactly ok with talking about it."

"You have to. I'm not leaving without getting the full story."

David was visibly sweating. Maybe persuading this much wasn't a good idea after all. After a few seconds, Rob softly said, "Sorry, I should not press you. You can tell me whenever you want to. Let me know if I can be of any help. I'm going." He got up, but before he was halfway to the glass door, David suddenly exclaimed, "No, wait!"

Rob turned around to find David walking up to him. He placed a hand on his shoulder. "I better tell you now." He lowered his hand.

Rob turned to face him and held him by the shoulders, but he looked down. "I'm walking towards someone. He is a hideous, snake-faced monster. His very aura is evil, and he smells of death. And then..."

"You don't have to continue," Rob said in a brotherly, comforting tone. But apparently, David did not listen.

"And then come... t-the wor - the words..." A pregnant pause ensued. He couldn't take it anymore; he just wanted to get it all out. Replicating the exact venomous, deadly tone, he enunciated the words that made his skin crawl.

"Harry Potter... the Boy Who Lived... come to die..."

The words gave Rob Atkinson the worst kind of gooseflesh he'd ever experienced in his life; they were so scary - so real. He let go of David in shock and sat down in the nearest chair. Neither of the two spoke anything for at least two minutes; David was busy reliving the deathly moment, and Rob was too stunned.

Slowly, as he regained sense, he mustered enough courage to try & ask, "Wha- What... Who? Who is Harry Potter?"

"I don't know," David answered plainly, which certainly wasn't all right.

Another long pause ensued as Rob tried to put things together inside his mind. But his efforts were interrupted.

"There's one more thing left," David stated, looking at him.

"What?" He was shocked. He couldn't think of anything else that could be worse than it all already was.

"Don't worry, it's not another nightmare," David assured him. "It's-it's a girl."

The sudden switching of the topic from nightmares to girls made Rob give him a baffled look.

"There's a girl - I'm sure it's a girl - who frequently appears in my dreams. Her face is always blurred, but she's laughing & giggling & cavorting & frolicking with me & hugging me and sometimes even giving me a peck on the cheek."

"Somehow, even when I don't know her, I can feel her; I can feel her very essence permeating my bones when she's with me in those dreams. And most of all, her thoughts are what that drive off the negative ones that keep bothering me. I call her the 'Mystery Girl'."

After about three minutes, Rob declared, "You know what, I think I now know the plausible reasons behind all this."

"And what are those?"

"Either you're a psycho maniac - which I'm pretty sure you aren't - or something really bad happened with you, causing you to lose your memories & think of this bizarre hypothetical magical world."

David sighed. "Exactly what my psychiatrist told me."

"You've been seeing a psychiatrist?"

"Secretively, since '03. Dr Mortimer. I've also been taking medication, but to no effect."

Another pause.

"And about that 'Mystery Girl'," Rob continued. "Have you told your doctor about her?"

"Yes. Dr Mortimer thinks it's some form of 'wish fulfilment'; that's how she chooses to put it."

"Wish fulfilment? As in - "

"As in being alone," David cut him. "As in not being able to feel manly. She thinks I dream of that girl because I crave being able to hold, to feel, to... protect, to... claim a female. According to her, I subconsciously want to have a girl all to myself; I crave being able to play the man."

The umpteenth pause.

"You know what," Rob broke the silence, "I think I know what it is with you and your... girl... and it's different from what your psychiatrist thinks."

"What d'you mean?"

"Whoever it is - or was - you loved her."

Samantha Jones rang the doorbell at three minutes past two to find a furious Freya White glaring at her.

"What now? I'm on time!" she raised her arms in protest.

"On time, Miss Jones? You are a full three minutes late!"

Samantha rolled her eyes. "Oh, c'mon Freya, it's just three minutes!"

"Just three minutes? Just three minutes? D'you even understand the importance of those three bloody minutes? We'd've already been inside the car!"

"Did-did you just swear?" she asked, shocked.

Freya realised her mistake and was almost going to apologise when a voice chimed in: What's the problem with swearing? Anyway, she was the one who provoked you!

"Yes, I did swear. Any problem?"

"No, no problem except for the fact that we've wasted four more of your precious minutes, thanks to your bloody arsehole!"

Freya was about to snap back at her but stopped when she plainly said, "Just get the car keys."

As she drove down the road in silence, she turned to look at Samantha, who looked as if she herself had just turned her head. After five seconds, she caught Samantha turning her head again. And after another ten, they both got caught looking at each other. Small smiles crept up to their lips, changing to grins, and finally to full-fledged girly laughter.

"Now that's my Sammy."

"And that's my Frooti."

They both smiled to themselves.

He waited outside the gate for dismissal to take place. Soon enough, a whole crowd of children ranging from five- to ten-year-olds swarmed out of the classrooms and into the main grounds. David was calm & composed, knowing that James was smart enough to make his way through the commotion unharmed. He spotted him, walking towards him at a childishly composed & leisurely pace. His motor skills were quite finely tuned, considering it was only his first year at school.

James was a precocious child, his emotional quotient nearly equal to that of a fairly mature teenager's. He was very understanding of his dad's situation and had accepted him as both a father and a mother. Yes, there were times when he wished he could have a female motherly figure to care for him, but those were few, as he truly appreciated his father's efforts. That was something that made David's heart ache, not being able to give him a mother's love.

His guilty reverie broke when he felt someone tug at his clothes. He looked down to find that James had already made to him. Sighing, he grabbed his hand and put on a smile. "Let's go."

"Sure."

James was not overly fond of the 'muck' that the school canteen served. He carried one or two sandwiches with him and had tea (which was more of a pretty late lunch) with his father at home.

Once they were done, they set out for shopping.

"Are you done or not?" Freya asked for the umpteenth time, an identifiable hint of anger in her voice.

"Just a minute!" came the reply.

She rolled her eyes. Samantha's 'just a minute' meant at least half an hour.

"I'm going for a stroll."

"Fine! Just throw me the car keys!"

She tossed the keys over the door of the trial room and left, buzzing her lips. Ok, females are obsessed with clothes, I myself am, but Samantha is just too much.

She was just mooching around when a costume shop caught her attention. She didn't know why, but she felt attracted to it. Strange, she thought. What's new with costumes? She didn't get time to ponder over it as a strong, almost magnetic field drew her towards it. An eerie feeling permeated her, but she couldn't stop herself; it was as if her legs were someone else's. Reluctantly, she stopped restraining them. Anyway, what could be wrong with a costume shop?

She walked in and started examining some of the pieces on display. Not one was of her interest, but she kept looking. Suddenly, a voice reached her ears.

"Dad, look!"

She turned to her right and saw a little boy, no more than six, pointing at her. His eyes widened upon registering her full face.

"Daddy!" he tugged anxiously upon his dad's clothes, who was partially absorbed in picking out a good one for his son. He mumbled a simple 'hmm'. The boy kept tugging fiercely.

"Daddy!"

"Hmm," came the response, this time with greater clarity & force.

"Daddy!"

"Oh, God, what is it now?" the man snapped a bit angrily.

"Look! It's Suzie! It's Suzie from the film! Remember last month when we went to the hall?"

David lifted his head to find the person in question doing the same. Invisible waves travelled between them at lightspeed, carrying millions of thoughts & emotions.

David was bowled over by the sheer beauty of the woman standing ten paces from him. Absolutely. Utterly. Completely.

His eyes flitted over her entire body, taking it all in. The thin legs, which fit perfectly in the skin-tight purple pants. The thighs. The waist. The slender arms, the hands being tucked into the pockets of her parka. The neck, so svelte. The light brown hair, the hood covering its lower parts. The impeccable countenance. The nose, the lips, the ears, the eyebrows, the eyelashes and... the eyes.

The eyes were a brilliant shade of brown, auburn to be precise, with the slightest specks of gold. A familiar, instinctual feeling rumbled in his gut. Have I seen them before?

Unbeknownst to him, Freya was wondering the same. She'd never been intrigued by a man before. But this - this was... different. She felt as if she'd known this man for ages, despite the logical part of her mind vehemently protesting. He radiated a certain... feeling, a certain sense of palliness and... masculinity. His build pulled her like a magnet, his aura trying to intermingle with hers. The odd scar on his forehead seemed distantly familiar. But his eyes, his emerald green eyes. They drew her the most. They were simply too beautiful to be real.

Their silent contemplation was being closely watched by James Walker, who was slightly baffled. When he decided it'd been too long, he cleared his throat. Though he failed miserably at pulling it off, the action was enough to break the two grown-ups from their entranced state.

The two hurriedly blinked their eyes and tried to compose themselves. 'Oh...uhm..' escaped their lips together. They were still a bit dazed. What just happened?

"If the two of you are done," James said, his eyes darting alternately at both of them, "I'd like to ask, are you Suzie?" He turned towards Freya.

It took her a moment to register what he asked and another moment to recall which Suzie he was talking about. When she did, she smiled and walked up to him.

"Yes, I am Suzie. Are you Jonny?" she asked, lowering herself to his height. "Yes," James replied meekly. Odd, considering his grown-up behaviour, but understandable. It was his first proper interaction with a female (outside school, of course). Any boy would feel shy if a beautiful celebrity just walked up to them and started being all cute & friendly.

"Good, because we're best of friends!" She hugged him. He visibly reddened.

When they broke off, she asked him, "What are you doing here, best friend?"

"I came to buy a costume."

"Really? What sort of costume?"

"A really scary one. I want to frighten my friends out of their minds!" James was slowly regaining his childish excitement.

"Oh! But you didn't scare me. Instead, I'm happy to be meeting my best friend after such a long time. Would you like to have a photo?"

"Sure! I think dad won't mind taking one, would you Daddy?" he asked, turning to his father.

David, who had been amusedly watching the interaction between his son and the actress he recognised as Freya White, zapped out. "Oh... er... sure, why not?"

He pulled out his mobile phone, the latest model of Nokia. It had a camera. Clearly, his business was flying.

Freya posed with James and David quickly took a picture.

"See," he said, handing it to James.

"It's nice, isn't it, Suzie?" James asked, handing her the phone.

"It's perfect, Jonny!" She pulled out her phone turned to David, careful not to make deep eye contact. "Would you mind if I asked you to take one for me as well, Mister... er..."

"Walker. David Walker. No, I wouldn't, Miss White - er, am I wrong?"

"No, you're not." She smiled at him and handed him her phone, which, coincidentally, was the same model as his. Their fingertips touched, sending sparks of electricity through both of them. She quickly pulled away.

David took the photo. She got up and turned to James.

"So, what's your real name, best friend?"

"James Walker."

"I'm Freya White. I played Suzie." She offered her hand.

"Nice to meet you, Miss White," James replied in a very formal tone, at least as much as he could come up with, given his age. He took the offered hand and shook it firmly.

Freya let out a small laugh. "Nice try, Mr Walker. But seeing that I'm your best friend, I'd like to be called Freya."

"Oh, I'm Jamie, then." Freya smiled even more.

"Goodbye, Jamie. Have a happy Hallowe'en. I hope we meet again." She turned to David. "Happy All Hallows' to you as well, Mr Walker." The subsequent handshake made things between the two grown-ups even more awkward than they already were.

As she exited the shop, she turned one last time to wave at James and caught David looking at her. She blushed lightly and looked away.

A/N: Sorry for the wait, folks! I hope this chapter was up to your expectations. Updates are going to be slow, too slow at times, but I can't do much about it until July 2021 at the least. Still, I'll try my best.

Till then

#HarmioneForever