Under a Willow Tree

The next few moments were way beyond awkward for both Tom and Willow as she finished applying the rest of his makeup. Silence persisted incredibly amongst the two, itching for either one of them to speak. Tom would open his mouth to speak every few minutes, but something in him told him not to. Willow wanted to talk to him, as well, but there was some sort of hindrance within her that told her she wouldn't. It told her that she shouldn't.

"I believe you are finished." She finally spoke, standing back to judge her work.

Tom took a good look at himself on the mirror, and nodded. "Nice job."

Willow smiled weakly, and proceeded to pack up the makeup materials as Tom exited his trailer. Once he was outside, Willow collapsed on the makeup chair.

"Oh, dear Lord," She sighed, throwing her hands to her face. "I'm such an idiot! Stupid! Stupid! Stupid! How can I be so stupid? What the hell is wrong with me?"

"Probably because you're talking to yourself."

Willow jumped up and saw Tom standing by the doorway, half smiling and half puzzled.

"Oh, piss it." She moaned, causing Tom to chuckle.

"Let's just assume I've never heard anything." He said, smiling genuinely at her.

"Oh, yes, please do so. I'm a rather odd girl, you see." Willow explained, quickly getting up from the chair and fixing the makeup kits. "So, if you must, you can simply ignore me. Or call me the strange girl who really has nothing to offer but pure insanity and all the likes of it. Whatever you prefer. I don't mind. Alot of people talk to themselves, I suppose. I think that that's perfectly normal. Or, so I think. I dunno, I guess it's just me. I've never been this odd. There was probably that one time back in primary school... but, I guess that doesn't count, considering it be primary school and tons of little kids are crazy. Oh, God, I'm really in over my head. Why am I so in over my head right now? I mean, it's not like I'm really mental or anything, but you know what I mean... Right?" She looked up at Tom with the strangest expression on her face.

Tom couldn't help but leave his mouth half open, as he tried to comprehend what in the world Willow was rambling on about.

"Um... Right." He finally said, shaking his head from the daze.

"Right." Willow nodded. She grabbed Sophia's makeup suitcase and headed out, and without missing a beat, she also managed to make a fool of herself by slamming her insensible head on the doorway of the trailer. "OH, PISS IT!" She cried as she threw a hand over her throbbing forehead, and then headed on out without another glance or word to Tom.

After Willow returned the makeup suitcase back to Sophia, she got the fortune to stand by Mr. Martin as he observed the shooting of one of the scenes in the film.

"You were supposed to be helping out with cleaning up the cafeteria, but when Mrs. Beckworth found out about it, she nearly had a heart attack." Mr. Martin told her, as they hung around the set.

"Oh, well that's my Aunt Ariana for you," Willow commented. "But I would have helped out, even though."

The director called out for everyone to shut up on the set, and then the cameras began to roll. Willow saw that Tom's co-stars alongside him were on the set portraying their roles. She watched intently as Tom worked his "magic" in front of all those cameras and his peers. She was amused of how he became a totally different person than the guy she met in his trailer. She also enjoyed the fact that she could see how the world-renowned Harry Potter series came to life. The set design didn't look anything close to the scenes she saw on the theaters, but that didn't seem to matter when Dan and Emma and Helena and Tom all knew what they were doing. For an insignificant moment, Willow had thought Tom was the world.

"Cut." The director said, not intending to raise his voice. "That was perfect. Perfect with all capital letters and every sort of punctuation to emphasize how perfect that scene was." A few people who stood around in the set applauded the actors, while the director, Mr. Yates, made his way to them. "Well, done, Tom. You're very much improved since yesterday."

"I thought you did exceptionally well." Ms. Bonham-Carter remarked to him, before walking off with Mr. Yates to discuss her next scene.

"What went wrong with you the other day, though?" Dan asked.

"Yeah, all of a sudden you were nothing but rubbish and then today you're on top of the world." Emma added.

"I dunno, I suppose I just had one of those days." Tom said.

"Er...Right. I thought only girls had 'those days'." Emma commented.

"Speaking of girls, who's that new face standing over there next to Mr. Martin?" Dan asked, pointing inconspicuously at Willow.

"That's Willow... Coult. She's the niece of Mr. Beckworth." Tom replied.

"Oh, she's the one who's supposed to work here now?" Dan implied.

"Yeah, she's helping around and all that sort. I thought she was going to be an extra or something like that, but nah, she's like an intern or whatever." Tom said, nonchalantly.

"Helping out with what?" Emma inquired.

"I don't know, really. But she was assisting Sophia with my makeup earlier today."

"Makeup," Dan snorted. "Well I guess that explains it. Rich girls love makeup."

"She doesn't look like the girl I was expecting. I was expecting some minx to come on over or probably one from the bookish department, no?" Emma suggested, scrutinizing her.

"She does look a bit boring." Dan smirked. "All rich kids are usually boring."

"Well, she never really grew up with the Beckworth's all her life. From what I heard from her, she never really got to see them and her life was pretty 'quiet'." Tom explained.

"Is she the quiet type?" Emma asked.

"I can't say. I've only talked to her once."

"Her true colors would show up soon. Especially with her uncle being the boss around here." Dan noted. "That's the last thing we need; a privileged nobody coming over and charming everyone with her influence."

Meanwhile, Mr. Beckworth approached Willow as she stood in the middle of the action of several set designers and workers.

"Enjoying yourself?" He asked her.

"A bit, yes."

"I truly hope you are. You wouldn't want to look a bit uninterested in front of your aunt, or else you and I would hear alot of 'I've told you so's'."

"I understand," Willow chuckled silently.

"I recall, dimly, that we were supposed to have a party for you tonight." Mr. Beckworth said.

"Oh." Willow sighed helplessly. "Uncle Peter, I appreciate that I get to have a party thrown in my honor, but I honestly can't find myself on the verge of attending. It's a lot to ask -"

"Not another word, Willow," Uncle Peter cut her off. "I know what you are saying."

Willow looked down shamefully, feeling awful for declining Uncle Peter's plan for the welcoming party.

"However," He continued. "I have a feeling that I, myself, can not find any power to attend it, either."

"What are you trying to say?" Willow looked up at her great uncle.

"Sometimes certain circumstances can cause people to be too late - even absent - from events." Uncle Peter shrugged, indifferently.

"What do you suppose we do?" Willow asked.

"There's a trailer outside that has the tendency to get it's door stuck or even locked up, if you slam it shut too hard."

"I fully understand." Willow said, a big grin forming up on her face.

"Martin." Uncle Peter called out to Mr. Martin.

"Mr. Beckworth?" Mr. Martin approached.

"I noticed that trailer #19 is quite the pig sty that it is. I want you to send Willow over there to fix it up." Uncle Peter ordered.

"Trailer 19, sir? But that's one of the cleanest caravans there is - "

"Martin, I know what I saw, and I believe it was and still could be a mess."

"Alright, sir. I'm on the job. I would help out Willow."

"No, no. Willow needs to do the jobs herself." Uncle Peter tossed a smile at Willow and turned back to Mr. Martin.

"Okay, sir." Mr. Martin replied, motioning Willow to follow him out.

"Good luck." Uncle Peter told her as she walked out. "And make sure not to shut the door too hard."

It didn't occur to Willow immediately that the nineteenth caravan was none other than the same trailer she had just entered earlier.

"Isn't this Tom's caravan?" Willow asked. Mr. Martin merely grunted; which meant two things: yes, it was his caravan, and that he preferred not to be spoken to by some insolent girl, whether or not she was the great niece of his boss.

A subtle surge of pain occurred inside of Willow. No matter how hard she tried, Willow could not stop her stomach from doing that thing it always did when she was excited. But why was she excited? No, I'm not excited, she thought. Probably indigestion. Or not, on the count that I haven't eaten a thing today. That's probably the answer. I'm just hungry. Just hungry, that's all.

Approaching closer to the caravan, the flips her guts were doing inside of her were intensifying, as if she were on top of a roller coaster. Willow shut her eyes tightly to try to push the pain away. Her palms began to sweat without a good reason, for the weather was exceptional that day, and her fingers quivered violently, like a great surge of electricity was passing through her nerves. She couldn't stop fidgeting: tugging on the skirt of the dress she wore that day, twirling her hair, biting her lip, etc. Mr. Martin did a double take on her as she was biting off the nail of her finger.

"Are you alright?" He asked, though he didn't sound a bit worried. Annoyed, yes.

"I'm good." Willow managed to say without trying obstruct her voice with her nervousness.

As a response, Mr. Martin simply grunted again.

Why am I so nervous? She thought to herself. It's just a caravan. So what if it's his? That shouldn't make a difference. Let's just say it's somebody else's caravan. There, that would work out. Yes, Willow, say that to yourself! This is somebody else's caravan. This is somebody else's caravan. This is NOT...

"Tom Felton's caravan." Mr. Martin said, as they arrived there. "Well, there you have it. Have fun. He doesn't return until after an hour, or probably later. But I'm sure you'll be finished within minutes, considering it being one of the cleanest caravans on the lot... Nonetheless, sweep it up, sort it out, and do whatever it looks like you need to do it. God, I need a smoke." Mr. Martin added, as he walked away.

Willow took a deep breath before going. "Oh, you stupid twat." She told herself. "Pull yourself together. It's just a stupid caravan."

Stepping in, Willow finally took a good look around. She didn't have the chance to take a look earlier, but now that she did, she noticed that it didn't look any exciting except for the photo collage that was hung up on a side wall. She thought for a second how it was rather odd for a guy like Tom to have a collage hung up on his caravan, considering it more of a girl thing. Willow saw that most of the pictures on the collage consisted of, to her disappointment, Tom and girlfriend. The roller coaster ride that her guts were on earlier had suddenly collapsed and her heart fell, deeply. Even if it was upsetting, she couldn't help but look at all those pictures. He looked so happy, and Jade looked so beautiful, compared to her. A majority of the photos showed Tom toting around his guitar. Willow looked around the caravan and saw a guitar standing on its place of glory. She went over to it, and picked it up. She admired the form of it, causing her eyes to twinkle as she wished deeply for a guitar such as his.

Willow wasn't always talented. She couldn't act, nor could she stand in front of crowds and speak up. But one thing was that music became her solace. The night her mother died, when she was just a child, music became her first comforter. The first words of console were "Here comes the sun" and from then on, the sun was the harmony that flowed through like love on the line.

She touched the guitar gently, and when she felt confident, she began to play a little melody. It wasn't much, but it was one of the most beautiful songs she's learned since the day she first picked up a guitar. Halfway through the song she was strumming, Tom burst inside.

"What the hell?" He exclaimed, slamming the door behind him. Willow quickly, but cautiously placed the guitar down.

"Oh, I-I'm sorry." Her heart began to beat rapidly at his entrance. Despite how frightened she was of Tom, she noticed how she'd forgotten to shut the door hard to lock herself up. Well, at least he's done it for me, she thought.

"It's just you." He said, calming down. Tom strode over to his guitar and took it to examine any damages. "Why are you here?"

"Er... I was asked to clean it up." Willow replied, looking at Tom as he wiped his guitar clean from her finger marks. She made a face of how disgusting it was for him to be obsessing over a mere instrument. "I thought you were still doing that scene?"

"David let us off early today." He answered, not looking up from his guitar. "Your fingers are really dirty. Have you washed your hands lately?"

Willow scowled as she examined her fingers. "My fingers are most certainly not."

"I was just joking." Tom smiled, finally putting down the instrument. "So, why are you really here?"

"To clean it up." Willow repeated.

"Honestly? Have you seen this place? It's as clean as a four year old's mouth."

"I don't know. I was just doing as I'm told." Willow said, starting to pick up litter off the floor and tossing it away.

"So, that's nothing new, right?" Tom asked.

"Nothing new?" Willow looked over at him, confused.

"The whole 'doing as you're told' deal. You were never the spoiled one, right?"

"Yes, at least I think so. I told you, I've only began to live with my great aunt and uncle. I'm not used to their lifestyle, yet."

"But why did you move in with them?" Tom asked, getting situated on a chair, as if he was in for a long storytelling.

"To attend university. My father wants me to go to Oxford, but of course, we don't have the funds for it. So he sent me away to my Aunt Ariana so they can help me out, and also because they live closer to the campus."

"Ahh... I understand." Tom nodded, musing on the thought. "What are you majoring in?"

"English." She answered, looking around for a bottle of glass cleaner.

"Why?"

"I don't really know why not." Willow tried hard not to show that she was slightly annoyed by his asking of questions, though she couldn't help glancing up at him once in awhile through the mirror that she was now wiping clean. She was trying to reach up to wipe the top of the mirror, but she simply couldn't.

"Here," Tom said, getting up and taking the paper towel and bottle of glass cleaner from her. With a longer arm and taller height, he was able to reach the top of the mirror and wipe it thoroughly.

"Thanks." Willow smiled sheepishly when he gave back the rag to her.

"Sure." He could only say, feeling a little bit uneasy as he noticed her smile. He settled back down on his chair and stared away. Silence, once again, itched the ears of the two.

"How old are you, by the way?" This time, Willow finally spoke to create a casual conversation.

"Twenty-one." Tom stated, causing Willow to spin around to face Tom.

"21?" She asked, incredulously.

"Yeah," He chuckled. "Did you guess that I was younger than that?"

"Honestly, yes. Or at least around my age."

"How old are you?"

"I'm eighteen."

"Eighteen? Wow. I was right. You look eighteen."

"And you look 19."

Tom laughed out loud. "Thanks. I've been wishing to hear that from somebody for a time now. Growing older isn't as enjoyable as growing up."

"I hear you." Willow smiled.

A few seconds of silence presided as Willow finished up cleaning the mirror. Tom consulted his mobile phone for the time of day, and got up.

"I ought to be moving out now and meet my love." He said dreamily, as if Willow wasn't present. She remained quiet listening to him hum cheerfully as he made his way to the door.

"Oh, for the love of Christ." He groaned out, turning the knob on the door helplessly and kicking it.

"You've locked us in, haven't you?"

"Bloody yes I have." He said, raising his voice. He suddenly realized that he was getting angry with Willow and looked at her with an apologetic look. "Do you happen to have a crowbar in possession?"

"No, I don't usually break in and enter restricted property." She replied with a sour hint of sarcasm.

"Really?" Tom chuckled. "So apparently, what you were doing just now isn't breaking in and entering restricted property?"

"I believe not." Willow smiled back, causing every inch of Tom's body to quiver excitedly. At that one point, all seemed right...

Too right, evidently. Willow was sitting on the floor, exhausted from all the laughing, and Tom was sitting right next to her, telling her about a time her Uncle Peter placed a dead rat on the set hoping to scare any crew member. Candy and snack wrappers were scattered along the floor of the caravan and music was playing faintly from Tom's iPod dock nearby.

"I can't believe he actually did that!" Willow tried to say between bouts of laughter.

"You should have seen Rupert's face when he saw the rat. He nearly dropped dead next to our director! Your uncle is a legend." Tom replied. The two laughed hysterically, unaware that they were actually giving each other high fives and interlocking their fingers, as if they were the best of friends.

"Oh, dear," Willow said, wiping a tear from her eye as her laughter died down, "What a mess we've made around here. I'm supposed to be keeping it clean - "

"But instead you've created it into the pig sty that you claimed it to be." Tom finished the sentence for her.

"Yeah," Willow chuckled as she started to pick up the trash around them.

"Oh, don't bother. I can clean it up. You've cleaned too much." Tom took the trash from her and picked up the rest of the junk, throwing them away. Willow got up and helped him out anyway. As she was throwing the last of the snack wrappers away, she found herself staring at a gorgeous photograph of Tom's girlfriend, Jade, that hung on the huge photo collage on his wall. The photo showed her smiling jubilantly at the camera. It looked as if the picture was taken at a beach with the wind blowing her hair away from her face, just like what those fans do at a professional photoshoot. Willow felt as if her heart fell through her stomach seeing how beautiful Jade looked in that picture. Tom had every reason to fall in love with Jade, and her beauty must have done a major part in his falling in love with her.

"How long have you been with your girlfriend?" Willow asked Tom.

"About a year now." He replied, coming over to look at the picture that Willow was just looking at. A smile slowly crept along his face as he gazed at the photo.

"Impressive." Willow muttered.

"Yeah, I know. It's the longest relationship I've been in. I guess it's part of growing up."

"She looks perfect."

"Yes, she does." Tom paused, and looked away. "But she really isn't, or at least, not our relationship."

Willow looked over at Tom. She felt a bit uncomfortable as he dropped something as private as that on her.

"Everybody seems to think that she's the perfect girl: witty, beautiful, athletic..." Tom seemed as if he was no longer aware that he was talking to Willow. His eyes were distant and his voice was a bit more low. "But she really knows how to hurt someone. It's odd, actually, that a girl like her could do so much damage. It's amazing, honestly. Still, it's not something that girls are known for. She's unafraid of anything... I guess."

Willow couldn't find herself to respond. She looked back at the picture of Willow, and tried to picture a witch behind that friendly smile. Willow examined the other photos and they all showed Jade in the same happy expression. Not one caught her in a moody emotion.

"But she looks so happy in all these photos." Willow commented.

"These are just pictures, Willow. Little frozen timelines that stay that way forever. But in real life, people change." Tom said, solemnly, staring at the pictures. Just then, a knock came on over the door.

"Tom?" Jade called from outside. Willow quickly looked over at Tom, who put his finger to his lips, signaling her to keep quiet. He pulled Willow flat on the ground with him, trying to hide from the windows.

"Why are you hiding from her?" Willow whispered.

"I was having so much fun," He replied softly. "that I didn't want her to come ruin it for me."

Jade knocked a few times, before they could hear her footsteps heading away from the caravan. Tom got up slowly to look through the windows if she really left. When the coast was clear, he helped Willow up.

"What time is it?" Willow finally asked. Tom consulted his watch.

"It's about 4."

"Four? Oh, dear Lord. We've been in here for nearly two hours. I think I better get going." Willow said, heading for the door. "Now, is there any way to open this bloomin' door?"

"Erm..." Tom gently pushed her aside and kicked the door open, letting the warm afternoon breeze come inside. Both Willow and Tom stood there, staring out into the open like a bunch of idiots who's never seen the outside world.

"So you just had to kick the door open?" Willow asked.

"I-I guess so. I never thought of trying that out before." Tom said.

"Anyway, thanks. For everything. It was kinda fun." Willow smiled politely at him and bounced out of the trailer.

"No problem!" Tom called back to her.

Willow trotted to her Uncle Peter's office secretly hoping that her Aunt Ariana had already left without her. She did have a wonderful time with Tom, but she knew that staying inside a trailer could get tiresome after a few hours, even if she was with Tom. Approaching her great uncle's office, she saw her Uncle Peter, holding her coat, ready to leave.

"Well, done, Willow." He greeted. "Your aunt just left a minute ago. She's quite bitter, but all we know is that there won't be any party tonight. Now, tell me, was it bothersome staying alone for such a long time?"

"Not really. I had some fun." She replied smiling to herself. Uncle Peter gave Willow her coat and led her to his car. And all was well.