It seemed like I had been willing them away for hours when they finally left. Usually I enjoyed the people, the chatter, the noise, but not today. They had sat there long after they had finished their drinks, apparently unaware that the bar had closed an hour before and they were the sole beings in the place.
Dragging the rag that seemed attached to my hip across the bar, I let out a sigh—it was beyond relieving to be free of customers. A sudden pang of monotony hit me in the chest, and I lay my head on the cool wood of the bar in an effort to push the harsh feeling away. This was my day everyday, and I had always loved it, but not lately. I had started to want something more, something exciting, something that took me away from London and the same people I had seen everyday of my life.
Suddenly, the bell to the entry door jingled, and I looked up, half in confusion, half in loathing.
As soon as I saw who it was, though, my spirits lifted, if only a little. Sirius Black always seemed to bring joy wherever he went.
“Hello, Sirius. You know we have closed up for the night,” I said as he brushed the snow off his coat, letting out a shudder as if trying to ward the cold away. I leaned on my elbow, and I felt a sticky residue pull at my skin—I didn’t move my arm, though. I figured no matter where I put it there would be residue.
“I can leave if you’re on your way out,” he started, but as I shook my head, he continued, “I saw you were in here and just happened to be moseying around Hogsmeade.”
“At this hour?”
“I keep late ones,” he returned with a grin, his face crinkling with happiness. He sat down opposite me on a bar stool and I smiled back, my stress fading away as my lips stretched farther.
“I see,” I returned, my voice light. “Well, I was just getting ready to clean this place up if you want to…”
He turned, his eyes searching around the worn pub, and he shrugged as he turned back to me. “Looks clean to me. I mean, just look at that shine on the counter.”
I laughed, though it was a bit duller than I was used to hearing. “I suppose so. Honestly, I really don’t have the energy to clean tonight anyway.”
Looking at him, I stared up at his eyes that were so much higher than mine and realized that I really was as short as I thought, even when sitting. I let out a huff, trying to shake away all the dull thoughts that seemed to be invading my head. Thinking like this was not going to get me anywhere: I either needed to get out like my brain was screaming, or fall back into the routine like I had done all my life. I had to choose or these thoughts would not cease.
~*~
In a sudden, offhandedly-casual movement, I rested my elbow on the counter. I realized my mistake instantly as Rosmerta drew back from the bar, drew into herself, her brow furrowing in confusion. I spoke quickly to move past the awkward moment.
“So don’t clean up. One night won’t hurt. I’ll even make you a deal: spend a night with me—a night on the town—” I quickly added before she could find another meaning in my words, “—and come morning I’ll arrive here bright and early to clean the whole place, before you’ve even opened your eyes. I’ll even dust the baseboards. How does that sound?”
I watched her face carefully, savoring the little changes that came over her, the way her body turned towards me, leaned forwards unconsciously, a little smile twitching at her mouth as her eyes saw far-off visions from where they were downcast at the tap. It was one of the best things about Rosmerta: it was so easy to make her happy.
She looked up, a real smile transforming her face, making it glow with innocence and trust, a rare blend for girls her age. She nodded wordlessly, tossing her rag into the sink, slipping off her apron and draping it over a hook as she pulled on her scarf and coat. That was another of Rosmerta’s charms: she was a girl of simple needs who could and did look out for herself.
“Come on, you,” she grinned, weariness seeming to leave her body with every increasingly-springy step, back straightening, premature wrinkles almost disappearing before my eyes as she locked up the family pub with the thick ring of keys she kept strapped at her waist.
We began down the street, and on sudden impulse I grabbed her hand—it had seemed so lonely swinging by her side, as if it dearly wanted to be warmed, but didn’t know how to ask. Rosmerta stiffened for the barest fraction of a second, but then I broke out in a silly skip, because it seemed like the right thing to do. I had managed to pleasantly surprise her, and she was under my spell again, infected with the lightheartedness, skipping along herself, and never mind who saw.
Gradually we came to a stop, laughing and ruddy-cheeked, in the small town square. “Where to?” she called over the bitter February wind, looking around in expectation.
I smiled to myself. It had all felt so spur of the moment, hadn’t it, but now she’d have to doubletake.
“The Shrieking Shack,” I said, unable to prevent myself from glancing upwards, though I knew I’d only see a thumbnail there. Old habits die hard.
She gave me a strange look, which was very understandable, as Britain’s Most Haunted Dwelling (as the guidebooks billed it) was neither entertaining nor romantic—though neither of us would acknowledge the latter. But Rosmerta was a different sort of girl, and on this special occasion when I had managed to lure the diligent barmaid from her labors, a different sort of night seemed only fitting. I’d make it worth her while.
~*~
At first, I was alarmed by the idea of the Shrieking Shack—I had heard the noises that gave it its name, but when I saw the look of pure confidence on Sirius’ face, I let the fright fade away. It was a good feeling—to just let it go, let it fade. I shook my shoulders a bit, whether reveling in the feeling of immense freedom or in fright of the place we were going, I did not know.
“Why were you walking around Hogsmeade at two in the morning?” I asked, the strangeness of the occurrence suddenly hitting me.
He turned his head slightly to me, a naïve grin sliding across his lips. Shrugging his shoulders, he said heavily, “If I told you that, I would have to kill you.”
“I see,” I stated, trying to choose a response as they flitted aimlessly through my head. “Very mysterious, Black,” I ended lamely.
His grin had never left his lips as he watched for my reaction, but he didn’t respond, simply letting out a small laugh and opening his arm wide to the nailed shut door of the Shrieking Shack instead.
“How are you—?”
Pulling his wand out, he replied, “We are magical, you know.”
I ducked my head, my cheeks lighting with rogue. He lifted his wand hand, flicked it, and the door opened. His arm smoothly transitioned from casting spells to welcoming me to the dust-filled house. I took one cautionary step inside, my mild fright leaping up within me now that we were actually here. I once again glanced to Sirius, and seeing his complete confidence, it faded away, forgotten again.
“Is this place really haunted?”
“Who knows? I choose to live on the wild side and act before I think,” he responded nonchalantly, his hand once again grabbing mine, and he turned to face me. “Now close your eyes—I’ve got a surprise for you.”
I looked at him suspiciously through squinted eyes. “Aren’t planning on taking advantage of me, right?”
“Of course not, Rosmerta. I’m a gentleman—” I scoffed. “Now, please close your eyes.”
Rolling them before I closed them, I felt butterflies erupt in my stomach as he placed his hand over my eyes for extra cover. His other hand guided me forwards, and I stepped cautiously.
“You’re not leading my into any sort of trap.”
“Of course not.” I could hear the smile in his voice.
“Nor a bedroom, correct?”
“You worry too much.” The smile was still there.
“I do not. And you’re not going to Apparate us somewhere without warning me?”
“Lord, woman. Open your damn eyes.”
He removed his hand, and I cautiously opened my eyes to a small, round table set perfectly in the middle of a furniture-less room. There were two chairs opposing one another, and plates sitting expectantly in front of each. The moonlight shown through the curtain-less windows, and the flicker of the single, tall candle danced enticingly across the dust-ridden walls.
“Sirius, you shouldn’t have,” I whispered, my eyes trailing from the wonderfully simple set up to him.
~*~
“Nonsense,” I murmured, the setting before me, the one I had so carefully contrived, seeming to require soft speaking. “I most definitely should have. You deserve only the best from life, Rosmerta. I wish I could show you that more often.” We had only ever had a few laughs together – a drink here, a walk down the main street there – but Rosmerta was a special girl. She had deserved a night like this for too long.
I watched her take in all the little details, the candlelight reflected in her brown eyes, her mouth set in a straight line of emotion. She didn’t think she was worth any of it, thought she was just a good barmaid, and it broke my heart a little.
I stepped forward quickly and with a neat courtier’s bow pulled her chair out for her. She blushed sweetly and ducked her head a little the way she did when she was embarrassed but pleased.
I sat myself down across from her and fiddled a bit with my napkin ring. We were suddenly awkward, made shy with the acute realization of how alone we were. Rosmerta kept looking down and then glancing up, before her eyes darted away again like timid fish, a small smile framed between flushed cheeks. She waited for my move.
I cleared my throat. “I am now going to perform a tremendous feat of magic,” I proclaimed seriously. Rosmerta looked up quickly, her smile widening.
“Is that so?”
I nodded impressively. “It is. But for this magic to work, all fair damsels present must close their eyes.”
Rosmerta laughed softly. “What you do when my eyes are closed, I try not to think.”
I smiled. “Other than magic, of course—”
“—of course—”
“—I look at how lovely you are.” Her smile fell a little in surprise, and then returned full force. “A magician must find happiness where he can, you understand.”
“Surely.”
“And there is the matter of trade secrets. Now, if you would be so kind…?” She complied, shutting her eyes theatrically, but I could see she was squinting.
“Nourishmenus summonus, foodus conjurus,” I intoned, watching her fight giggles, as I silently stood up and tiptoed over to the nearby bookcase.
“Do magicians need to walk to perform magic?” she quipped from the table.
“They do. Exercise stimulates these sorts of things, you know…” I knew she was still watching me behind seemingly-closed eyelids as I slid the two pots off the shelf, their contents the makings of a perfect meal, courtesy of the Hogwarts house-elves.
I set them down silently on the table and then slipped into my seat once more. “Et voila! It is done. You may now look and marvel.”
She opened her eyes in mock astonishment. “A true feat! You continue to amaze me with your untold powers.” I laughed, and she added under her breath, just loud enough for me to hear, “Especially at stocking up beforehand.”
I feigned chagrin as we ladled food onto our plates. It was delicious, of course, and one of the house-elves—probably Betsy, my favorite—had thought to cast a Perpetual Heating charm on the food.
Halfway through the meal Rosmerta seemed to come to a realization. “Strange—why hadn’t you eaten yet? Do you always eat dinner at two in the morning?”
I gave her a challenging look. “I noticed that you hadn’t eaten, either.”
~*~
The night had chilled slightly, the moon fading into morning, making me wonder when I had lost track of the time. I shrugged into myself, exhaustion hitting me tenfold as I leaned into Sirius on our walk back to the pub. I hadn’t felt the way I did while at dinner in a long time—the simple feeling of complete uncaring freedom was refreshing beyond anything I had expected.
It felt like something had been set free in me and let out, forever gone and hardly missed. A simple night with Sirius Black did this for me—I felt like I would never be affected like this again, never the same way that was so refreshing.
“We can do this again?” he asked, and I realized we were back at the Three Broomsticks.
Turning to face him in the shadow of my doorway, I responded, “If it includes the Shrieking Shack again, then I don’t know…”
A look of mock hurt overtook his features. “If that’s how you really feel, then…”
“You know I loved it, Black,” I whispered before he could finish his sentence, and the look on his face faded into one of complete happiness.
“Good. So really, again? Soon?”
“I would really enjoy that.” I meant every word. After a slight pause, I continued, “Well, I’ll see you next time, yeah?”
He smiled down at me for a moment before leaning slowly and surely in, placing his lips softly on mine. I grinned out of the kiss after a few moments, happy that it all was so easy.
I backed away, placing my hand on the doorknob and studying the look on his face. I never wanted to forget it—it was the reason I was able to forget it all and move on from the sickening feeling of stagnation I had felt merely hours before.
“Until next time?”
“I can hardly wait.”