Cause we'd all like to find a little magic...

xxx

It starts like this.

Your parents were the no-nonense kind of people, all logic and cool reason and not a hint of imagination. Both were doctors, and from a young age you knew you were supposed to grow up to be a doctor, too.

But the nanny would read you stories of fairies and unicorns, princesses and the gallant knights that loved them, and you knew that was your future. A future of castles and magic and singing animals.

The nanny was chastised, of course, for "filling your head with nonsense," and your heart absolutely broke. The tears fell hot and fast onto your pillow, remembering how bad it hurt when your dad took you by the shoulders and proclaimed that there was no such thing as magic.

xxx

You graduate high school, valedictorian. Your parents arrive halfway through your speech and don't clap at the end of it.

You go to a big name university, a pre-med student. The classes are impossible and the work you have to do each night makes you want to break down into tears. You start four letters to your parents, telling them about your decision to switch majors, to drop out, to quit life, but you rip each one into a hundred little pieces and flush them down the toilet.

You return home for summer vacation after your second year, displaying your excellent report card that cost you a social life, sleep, and happiness to achieve. In July, you're given the task of cleaning out the attic and come across a dusty box with even dustier books inside. Your hand brushes across a volume of fairy tales with yellowed pages. There is no such thing as magic...

xxx

You return to school in September and immediately switch to a degree in English literature. Your parents scream and yell and show some sign of emotion for the first time in years, but you've passed the point of no return. It doesn't matter if they won't pay for your tuition; you'll pay it all if you must.

And you decide that while you're completely doing a one-eighty, you might as well go abroad. See the world. Within a week you're set to study in London for the next semester.

The accents, the weather, the people...everything draws you in. You fall in love with the city, fall in love with late nights, fall in love with the taste of cigarette smoke on your tongue and the feel of a stranger hand on your thigh.

Sure, the calls and letters and demands of GET HOME NOW stain your life, but that's nothing that a couple drinks can't fix.

xxx

You're wandering the streets at two in the morning one day late in May, just a little drunk, and with no destination in mind. Somehow, you make it to the park on the outskirts of town that you found last week and discover that a man is already there, sitting motionless on one of the swings.

Some little voice in the back of your mind urges caution, tells you to turn around and leave, but that little voice drowns under the liquid courage you have coursing through your veins and you march over and plop into the swing right next to him.

He has pale skin and bright red hair, blue eyes hidden behind gold-rimmed glasses and a deep sadness etched into the lines of his face. He can't be that much older than you, you decide. You can feel him appraising your dyed jet black hair and bright red lipstick, those pretty blue eyes wide and confused.

You open your mouth to say something witty, something charming, but that part of your brain must have been tampered by the shots you took back at the club, so instead all that comes out is, "This isn't my real hair color."

His eyebrows rise slightly. "Oh. Um, what, ah, what is it then?"

"Blonde."

He nods slowly. "I see."

You sigh deeply, staring up at the sky. "Why are you sitting in the park so late?"

His splutters and coughs and his awkwardness can't help but make you smile. "I could ask you the same thing."

"I suppose you could." You giggle, the absurdity of the moment catching up with you. "I'm trying to find something," you finally answer, all logic and reason disappearing as you decide to discuss your life with a stranger at 2 AM in a London park.

You turn your gaze back to him and find that he's staring at you with utter confusion. You bite the inside of your cheek to keep from laughing at the adorable expression. "Now answer my question."

He stares at you for a moment longer before glancing down at his shoes. "I'm...thinking."

You nod seriously. "Always a good choice of action."

His lips almost quirk into a smile but his thoughts catch up with him and he falls back into the sadness you found him in.

"I'm looking for magic," you say, elaborating on your previous answer. His alarmed expression registers in your peripheral vision but you shrug it off. "What are you thinking about?"

His eyes are wide as he disregards your question. "M-magic? What on earth do you mean?"

You shrug. "Just...magic. I'll know when I find it."

You can tell that he doesn't want to drop the matter. He knows you want give any more details though, so he sighs deeply and grips the swing chains tightly. "I'm thinking about my brother."

You make an "ah!" sound in the back of your throat. "I wish I had a brother. Or a sister. Any sibling really."

"I have six," he says quickly. Suddenly the overwhelming sadness is back. "Five. I have five."

And then you understand why a grown man would be sitting on a child's swing in a deserted park at two in the morning.

"Can I walk you home?" you ask, and stand up before he gets the chance to answer. You grab at his hand, surprised by your own impulsiveness, but he willingly stands and allows you to tow him away.

There are tears glistening on his cheeks but he still manages a shaky, "Shouldn't this be happening the other way around?"

Maybe you've got a few tears of your own, but a quiet laugh escapes you. "Yeah, maybe."

You lead him to his flat after he gives you the address and only once your standing outside the entrance do you remember that you don't know his name.

"Percy," he whispers when you ask. "My name is Percy."

"Audrey."

And when you give him the lightest of kisses you think you might just be on the path to finding what you're looking for.

xxx

It starts like this.

Charlie regales everyone with his tales from the reserve while George prods his wand at a stack of fireworks that light up the night sky. Lucy squeals as she chases a gnome through the tall grass and Molly offers you a handful of dandelions that she picked. Percy's arm tightens momentarily around your shoulder and you can't help but grin, knowing you found the magic at last.