Chapter Seven

She saw him before he saw her. He leaned against a column, staring off at the sunset, his hands in the pockets of his robe. He was so lost in the colors, the vibrant oranges, the sweet pinks, and the bright yellows that she almost didn't want to disturb him. She strolled up quietly by him, careful not to disrupt him from his reverie.

"Hey," she greeted quietly. He grinned and turned to face her.

"Hey," they both stared at the sunset, pausing and taking in the beauty.

"Can I be honest with you?" Pandora said after a moment.

"Of course,"

"Before I met you…I never looked at sunsets before," she admitted sheepishly. "And now that I'm here…looking at it with you…all I keep thinking is why the hell have I never done this before?" He laughed lightly in response.

"Want to do something else you've never done before?"

An hour later, the two were hand in hand walking the cobbled streets of a nearby town. He nodded at every person that walked by and she was grinning uncontrollably.

"What are our names again?" she asked excitedly.

"Bob Smith and Megan Jones," he told her. They entered the building, a two story, brick structure that was filled to the brim with people around their age, dressed in multiple outfits. Pandora squeezed his hand nervously and he pulled her into the crowd.

"What if someone catches us?" she whispered.

"They won't," he winked. They walked into a classroom, constructed completely differently than the ones at Hogwarts. Pandora and Harry sat in desks next to one another, waiting for the Muggle teacher to begin to teach. Pandora's pulse was racing. Here she was, in a Muggle town, in a Muggle school, dressed as a Muggle, pretending to be a Muggle! She kept looking over at Harry, biting her lip to stop herself from laughing.

After the class, which detailed a concept called Chemistry that resembled Potions in many ways, the two walked left the school and walked through the town, eventually sitting at a small coffee shop. Harry ordered them both cappuccinos. They sat across from one another, sipping their foamy drinks and taking in the scenery of the small Muggle town.

"I can't believe students here are expected to write down so many things!" Pandora commented. "And with such weird writing implements. I don't understand how they work those clicky thingys."

"They're called pens," Harry laughed. "They're actually very similar to a quill and ink. The ink is inside the pen, and you click it to use it."

"Sounds confusing," Pandora replied. "And we thought we were the ones with magic," they laughed together.

"I've actually never done this before, either." He confessed.

"What? Sip this cappadrink?" she questioned.

"I've never gone to the Muggle world with another wizard," he said.

"Well, neither have I." she joked.

"You know, you're not like most Slytherins," he told her nonchalantly. She froze mid sip.

"What's that supposed to mean?" her voice had taken on a tense, angry tone.

"Nothing bad! You just are much more open to the idea of Muggles. You're much more accepting. And you're not cruel or self-serving. You're helpful, and honest. And sweet." He added hastily, seeing the dark cloud form over her face. She could feel the fight within her to be the person she wanted to be and the person she was. She swallowed hard, and looked at the scene around her. Muggle children rode vehicles Harry has described as bikes, parents read glossy tabloids with still pictures of people deemed famous. She had actually been enticed by all of this? She felt disgust building up inside her, at both the scene around her and at herself. She remembered every Muggle slur her father had instilled in her and she began to stand up, feeling the weight of it all crushing her.

"Hey," he stood up, taking her hand in his and pulling her towards him. "It's a good thing, I swear."

"Take me home." She growled, hating him, hating this place, hating how she knew she didn't actually hate any of it.

When they got back, they walked along the courtyard in silence. They had both skipped two classes at Hogwarts and knew they would get repercussions for it later, but they couldn't get themselves to say goodbye and go. Harry felt like he should say something, anything, but he was at a loss for words. He knew there were some deeper feelings that he held towards her, he could practically feel it within himself; but he struggled to form it into a tangible idea, a tangible thought. Every time he thought he was getting closer to her, thought he was getting through to her, she shut off. Pandora was having the same internal struggle. She fought with the idea that she could be "not like most Slytherins". She both desperately wanted to be the perfect Slytherin and desperately wanted to be herself.

"I've been having weird dreams," Harry said abruptly.

"What kinds of weird dreams?" she asked.

"I don't know…I've had weird dreams before," he began slowly, trying to tell her everything that had been building up inside of him for days. "But this one…it happened two days ago in Divination class. I fell asleep and woke up screaming."

"I heard about that," Pandora admitted. "Are you okay?"

"I thought I was. It was about Voldemort." He said. He felt her stiffen next to him.

"Voldemort is dead," she tried to reassure him.

"That's what people say. But when I told Dumbledore about it, he told me that my dream might be true," he continued, his pace speeding up as he spoke. "He told me that these disappearances…they mean something, Pandora. They mean something and there's a reason I can see it. I just don't know what to do." He turned to look at her, his eyes desperate and searching. Pandora swallowed a lump in her throat. She couldn't tell him what she knew, what she had seen.

"Don't ignore your dreams," she told him warily, paying extra attention to her word choice. She was speaking very slowly, knowing she was breaking every rule her father had instilled in her since birth. "Voldemort…he's powerful. Embrace your dreams and be careful. Your subconscious knows things you may not."

"Do you really think so?" he asked her.

"Yes."

"Thank you, Pandora. For listening to me, I mean. You're really smart."

"See?" she laughed, shrugging. "I can do more than just mix stuff together."

"What do you like to do?" he asked. They approached a bench, surrounded by bushes and the two sat down.

"Well I like potions-"

"No, not with magic." He interrupted. "Just…what do you like to do?" she paused, biting her lip and furrowing her brow. What did she like to do? What kind of question was that?

"I like to…I like to sing," she said sheepishly. "And…I like drawing. Like, pictures. I like sketching."

"I sing…in the shower." He laughed. "What do you usually sketch?"

"People, places. Just things I like." She said.

"So any sketches of me or…?" he teased.

"You wish," she swatted his shoulder lightly. "What do you like to do?"

"I write letters," he said. "I like to write. It gives me…I don't know…this feeling of peace. I feel a lot better when I write stuff down. You know, things I'm feeling or dealing with. It's nice to just let everything out."

"Who do you usually write to?"

"My friend," his voice had taken on a cautious tone as he approached the subject of Sirius. "We…we write back and forth."

"That's good," she said quietly.

"Will you let me see your drawings?" he asked curiously.

"I don't show people my drawings," she murmured. His shoulders sagged. She gazed at him, his messy black hair, his flushed cheeks and sparkling eyes. "But maybe one day," she added quickly. He smiled, his green eyes wrinkling. She felt herself involuntarily smiling in return, forgetting all of the bad feelings she had been holding before. He reached over without thinking and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. The two looked in each others' eyes, not speaking, not looking away, both thinking, without realizing, the exact same thing.

"Are you scared?" she asked suddenly. He took a deep breath, knowing that she could be referring to hundreds of things. Instead of asking her which she was referring to, the third task, the Dark Lord, his feelings for her, he leaned closer to her, his eyes falling onto her lips.

"I can't remember the last time I wasn't," And he kissed her. His lips met hers, slowly and sweetly. They formed against one another, softly like butterflies. Then she kissed back, snaking a hand through his hair and pulling him closer. He gripped her tightly, his mind filled with no thoughts, no words, only sparks and fireworks erupting, reverberating off his bones and throughout his chest as he kissed her. As they kissed, it was both something incredibly new and something they felt like they had been doing all along. The motions were easy, involuntary. They both lost themselves in the moment, kissing and holding one another; feeling like it was something that they should've been doing all along.