Little Memories

The next morning, Charlotte sat at the table of her small cottage on the western coast of Ireland, sipping coffee as she stared out of the double doors that she had propped wide open with a couple of heavy stones. The slightly warm, summer morning sea breeze was drifting into the small building and ruffling Charlotte’s cropped hair. She ran her fingers through the unruly curls and let out a heavy sigh. She knew that her lack of hair was the least of her worries, but it would take some used to not having her long hair. Alas, Charlotte knew that hair was hair and it would eventually grow back.

She lifted the steaming cup of coffee to her lips as she watched a flock of seagulls float up and over the side of a cliff like a swarm of locusts. Her world was quiet for once, which didn’t necessarily mean her thoughts weren’t. However, she found herself relaxing ever-so-slightly in the solitude of the cottage. With another sigh, the tall, lithe girl stood from the table and walked over to the gramophone and her menial collection of records. She had much more at the Goyle Castle, but didn’t wish to put the majority of them in a place she rarely got the opportunity to stay at.

Charlotte lifted a record out of the box and glanced over the sheath before letting a small smile curl her lips. She pulled the vinyl out of the sheath and placed the protective case aside as she centered the record on the player and turned it on causing the shiny black record to slowly begin to spin. Carefully, she placed the needle onto the record, pleasant classical music softly filling the room. This earned another illusive smile from the girl and she looked out the open back doors of the house once more, placing her hands on her hips. And as she looked out into the garden, she knew exactly what she would be doing all day.

She walked into her room and popped open her trunk, rummaging a bit through her clothes to find something suitable for gardening in. Charlotte didn’t want to soil any of her good clothing, because she’d be very cross if she ruined a perfectly good pair of trousers or one of her prettiest shirts with a dirt or grass stain. No, she wouldn’t have that ruining her day. Instead, she dug to the bottom of her trunk and pulled out clothes she never thought she would have, nor did she ever intend to wear. With a heavy sigh, she began to strip out of her good clothes and place the other ones on in their stead.

Soon enough, she was stepping out into the bright mid-morning sun, tugging a wide brimmed, blue hat atop her head to protect her face from the harsh rays of the sun. The same couldn’t be said of her shoulders, since they were unprotected from the sun spare the thin strap of her loose fitting white tank top. She wore a ripped up pair of jeans she had in the bottom of her trunk since forever. The green rubber booties that she wore crunched against the gravel pathway she had leading to the garden, which looked as though it needed some tending to. She kept the back doors of the cottage open wide and the sound of the classical music still playing inside mixed together with the sound of the rushing ocean just yards beneath the cottage.

The girl toiled away in the garden, only stopping to fix herself something for lunch and put on a bit of sunscreen before returning to tending to the small vegetable and herb garden that she took great pride in. By suppertime, she had scrounged up a few tomatoes, sprigs of rosemary and thyme, and one onion. Charlotte knew she had pasta somewhere in the house, so she’d fix herself a tomato sauce and pasta for dinner. She loved cooking almost as much as she loved gardening. By the time she got back inside, the sun was setting just over the horizon, casting an orange-red glow over the cliffs and the cottage.

Charlotte placed the small basket of the fruits of her labor on the kitchen counter as she pulled off her dirt-covered gloves and her hat as she wiped the sweat from her brow. All day there had been a constant breeze to keep her cool, but being in direct sunlight without shade had been almost unbearable for Charlotte. A sigh escaped her as she bent over and untied her rubber shoes, knowing she’d have to bathe before she even thought of fixing herself any sort of dinner. She smelled like the salty breeze that blew past her all day and sweat; a combination her nose didn’t agree with.

She picked out fresh clothes and undergarments and placed them on her bed for when she’d get out of the shower before walking into the bathroom and starting the shower. Stripping out of her sweat dampened clothes, she left them on a messy pile on the bathroom floor. Charlotte stepped into the spray of warm water and immediately felt a dull sting where the sun had kissed her skin and perhaps where she should have put on more sunscreen. However, she didn’t care. Staying in the cottage was exactly what she needed. She needed a time to breathe before the beginning of the school year. She needed time to completely recover from Azkaban. She needed time away from the Dark Lord.

Charlotte got out of the shower only when the water began to turn cold, letting her know she had used up all of the hot water in the time she spent getting clean. Grabbing a towel and tip-toeing across the cool cobblestone floors, she went back into her bedroom and quickly dressed, feeling a cool night approaching. Instead of wearing just a thin, periwinkle blue sundress like she had intended, she grabbed a heather grey sweater and pulled it on as well as a pair of black moccasin-type slippers.

Then she went to work on fixing herself a proper dinner, humming along with the classical records she had been playing nearly all day. First, she prepared the sauce, chopping up the tomatoes and the onion and adding them to a tomato sauce she had in a cupboard already. She then added the rosemary and thyme, immediately filling the house with the smell of the sweet, spiced aroma of slowly cooking tomatoes. Then, she pulled out some angel hair pasta and began to boil the water necessary for it as she continued to stir the sauce to make sure it didn’t burn.

Just as she added the noodles to the boiling water, the record that had been playing stopped and the cottage fell quiet again, spare the sound of the wind pressing against the tiny building. However, Charlotte couldn’t leave her cooking to replace the record, so she merely let the soft, crackling noise it was producing continue. Then, Charlotte heard the sound of footsteps on the gravel pathway to her front door and her blood ran cold. She froze completely, knowing that her wand had been carelessly left in her room and far away from her grasp. Sure, she knew that she could protect herself without a wand, but nothing powerful enough to defend herself without killing the other person. The door gave a tell-tale click as the steady footsteps grew closer. She immediately killed the heat on her food and turned to face the door as the handle slowly turned.

The first thing she saw when the door open was the blinding blonde hair and pale skin as the man slowly appeared from the night; it was hard to see the rest of his body, because he was wearing all black. He shut the door behind him quietly and slowly brought his bright blue-grey eyes to Charlotte as she stared at him. Her heart was steadily racing in her chest at the sight of him, telling her that she should be happy he went out of his way to come and find her. Her mind squelched the hopeless romantic in the girl, telling her that he was foolish for coming. In the end, her mind won as they stared silently at each other.

“I told you not to,” she said softly, the corner of her lips pulling into a small frown. Draco merely smirked slightly, in a non-malicious way, and let out a laugh.

“When have I ever done what I’ve been told?” He replied, causing Charlotte to let out a heavy sigh and look away from him, bowing her head slightly as her eyes closed. “I can stay only for the night,” he said softly, causing her crystalline blue eyes to lift back up to his slowly, “Gregory’s making sure that no one finds out I’m here. I‘ll have to leave before morning light.”

“If he finds out, Draco,” Charlotte spoke, her voice raising slightly, “he’ll think we’ve both betrayed him and come after us. He is aware that I have left the manor and knows of my allegiance to him. If we both leave, things will start looking suspicious. He will think we've forsaken him and he'll come and kill us both. ”

“Then we keep ahead of him and run away,” he replied confidently and immediately, staring hard into her eyes. Charlotte let out a hiss of disdain and shook her head, looking back to the ground as she shifted her weight.

“And turn out like my parents? Sure…that’s exactly what I’ve always wanted,” she murmured sarcastically as she turned around to her now cooked pasta and sauce. “Go on and sit down. There’s no use telling you to leave now when you‘ve risked you neck getting away.” Draco stared at her back in shock at how easily she had let him stay before slowly moving over to the table as she pulled out two plates from a cupboard. She glanced over her shoulder at him as he sat down, looking over him for a few quiet moments. It seemed she was giving the whole thing some thought and finally a small smile curled up the corners of her lips. “How much pasta and sauce do you want?” She asked.

“Not much,” he said, staring back at her and returning the smile, “I already ate back at home.” He wasn’t hungry in the least, but he thought it rude to deny her offering him food. Besides, she was a fantastic cook. Charlotte merely nodded and placed a bit of pasta and sauce onto the plates and walked over to the table, setting down a plate in front of Draco and at the chair just beside him. She didn’t sit down, instead she walked over to a cabinet and pulled out two glasses and a green bottle that had no label. She filled the glasses up about halfway with a burgundy colored liquid. Charlotte then grabbed two knives and forks and walked back over to the table, balancing the glasses between her fingers. Draco quickly took one from her as she sat, placing his cutlery beside his plate as he gave the drink a hesitant look.

“It’s red wine, Draco,” Charlotte said with unheard laughter in her voice. Draco looked over the top of the glass at her with a raised brow. “I don’t plan on drinking more than this one glass, if that‘s what you‘re thinking,” she replied with a mock-offended look on her face, shaking her head. Draco let out a chuckle as he took a sip of the drink and placed his glass on the table. “We’re having an Italian meal, it’s only proper,” she said with a playful grin before tucking into her meal. Draco took her cue and picked up his fork, beginning to eat a little as well.