10am


Léonie shifted from foot to foot, hands in the air as she danced a little to the muggle record playing on speaker in the shop. Sometimes she liked to come in early in the day with new records from the Other society to try and broaden magical tastes with her mate Dido. It wasn't really crowded around this hour but it wasn't like they were gonna get dirty looks for doing it anyway. Harmless.

The dancing, though, maybe worth a dirty look. Dido grasped at Léo's hand and spun her around in the lounge area before letting go, both the girls laughing. They were dressed like twins today - jeans, white tees, black cardigans. Jinx!

            "Oh oh let me turn it down, it's getting super loud!" Dido giggled, heading back to the counter she was supposed to be wo-manning.

"Come back!" Léo mock called, slowing her dance to a simple swaying while she shuffled over to some records to see if any cool stuff was in. Lola and the Azkabait had a new album - and the Hallows, which she'd heard on the Wireless last night, maybe something she didn't mind spending precious galleons on.

As the volume quietened, the door jingled open and she looked up from the album cover in time to spot a tiny witch coming through. Like... someone who really looked like a witch. That witchy vibe. A witchy witch, if you will. Léonie smiled politely, before the girl caught her staring like an owl. From behind the counter, Dido yelled, "Did you bring anymore of this muggle shit?"

"Yeah!" Léo called back, putting The Hallows aside and reaching for her tote. "Brought you some Florence, Dido."

Nemo was up early. Her current roommates' dog, whom Nemo usually liked, had awoken the entire apartment over a pigeon. Instead of trying to get in a few more hours' sleep, Nemo packed her shit and headed out to handle a few things before she needed to be at Stardust for a rehearsal.

Amongst these things to be handled were trading in some records at Reducto and getting them to hang her flier. She came into the shop, laden as always with a large shoulder bag, undid a few of her layers and brushed some of the wet off her hat. Good music was playing and Nemo saw it was because Dido was working.  Other than a dad and daughter over at the seasonal section, the only other person in the shop that Nemo noticed was a girl in the racks. She was tall and had lovely black hair and seemed to be in conversation with Dido and stared at her when she came in.

Nemo paused pointedly on her way over to speak with Dido. "Hey, you," she greeted the tall other-American-she'd-met-here. She'd leaned on the counter but opened her stance to make room for the girl approaching with some records from her bag.

"Is this Kate Bush?"

Wand tucked behind her ear, Dido fiddled with the record player behind the counter to lower the volume just in time to hear a customer approaching. Oh! It was Nemo. Other American. She loved Nemo's voice - it sounded like home, even though London had been home for nearly a year now. Sometimes she wondered if she'd ever get used to the smell of wet dog.

"Yo!" Dido grinned. "Kate Buuuuush??" she glanced at Léo, who placed another album on the counter. "No, not Kate Bush. Someone newer. Léonie, this is Saint? Saint Valentines?"

It was hard to try and remember wizarding AND no maj artists. They all had super strange names, didn't matter if they were magical or British or American. Musicians were weird everywhere.

           "St. Vincent." Léo supplied with a quiet smile at Nemo. "If you like Kate Bush, you'll like her. Maybe."

"I like her," Dido chirped, leaning against the counter from the other side as she picked up the Ceremonials record to study the cover - a red headed woman reflected twice over on either side. "Florence + The Machine. Muggles fucking love machines. Like, steamrock... steampunk."

She turned the album around to show it to Nemo. "Up your alley?"

The other girls' name was Léonie. Nemo smiled back and nodded. "Yeah, cool. She sounds good."

She giggled at the machines bit. Machines and steam and robots. "Robits," uttered Nemo, pronouncing 'robots' how her shop teacher used to say it. Nemo bobbed her chin a little with music. "Florence n' the Robits." Florence Welch, no way she wasn't really a witch.

Dido was full of energy and brightness and Léonie had some of that glow as well. Joie de vivre of being young and in the city in a place with vibe. Nemo would have been there along with them, but she would've liked another hour or two of sleep. Even in a cold December, the city was alive and Nemo needed to catch up.

 "I don't know how you're so awake right now. So hey, you still do trade-ins, right? I'm in need of strings. My violin's jacked."

She'd fallen on it. Down a hole. Into a pit of bones. Trade in some of her records, get some store credit, get some strings. Circle of life. Destruction is creation.

             "So hey, you still do trade-ins, right? I'm in need of strings. My violin's jacked."

The other witch was here for business and Léonie smiled as Dido did a little salute, coming around the counter again. "Yep yep yep!" she said as she made her way towards the stairs. "Lemme just pop upstairs and see if we got the right strings. Don't go anywhere!" Her head of wild curls disappeared around the banister. A real pixie, Dido.

St. Vincent was still playing, so Léo picked up her copy of Ceremonials and snuck around to the record player to switch songs. She glanced over her shoulder at the witch.

"I'm Léo," her eyes matched the smile on her face, one of friendly curiousity. "Nice to meet you. I like your hat."

She lifted the needle, the music coming to a halt across the store, and quickly replaced albums. Florence + The Machine fit into place, spinning itself round and round. Léonie lowered the needle again and Seven Devils started playing; a haunting echo to begin with.

"You're American also?" she turned around, looking at Nemo, trying to memorise her face. "What part?"

Aw, Nemo liked Dido and her energy. It was nice to be liked by her and her friends and feel like she filled a very particular niche. Nemo leaned on the counter to wait for Dido, and started to feel like she might just hang around here. She ought to be out hustling, but it was icky and she'd been just ... tired. She hadn't written anything new in awhile and wasn't quite ready to roll into all the Christmas covers.

Léo, Nemo tucked away instead of Léonie. She complimented her hat, and Nemo popped a shoulder. "Thanks. It has pockets."

Up in the inside the cone, and the brim had a sort of a slit to hold a wand snug. She took off the hat and set it on the counter for Léo to try, if she liked.

"You're American also? ... What part?"

"The middle of the middle," Nemo answered and sighed, disinterested in her own roots. "Of nowhere."

"How do you know Dido?" Not from school - Dido had gone to Salem.

Nemo didn't want to say where she was from - which was fair. People didn't sometimes. They were private or they had baggage they didn't want to take with them. Léo gave a lot of vague answers to her muggle friends when they asked about her family so she couldn't begrudge anyone else doing the same.

"Our mothers are friends," she answered while she put away the St. Vincent album, "but, really, Dido's my muse. I paint her and for her - but she's only been shown in muggle galleries so far."

Which was a shame because Dido was ab-so-lute-ly divine and Léonie wished more people knew that about her friend! That was always her favourite part of painting portraits. You got to bring out the part of your subject that others might not always see; a vulnerability or a strength or something unexpected.

Léo looked at Nemo searchingly. "Have you ever been painted?"

"You're a painter." Nemo brightened, and then melted a little for Léonie's whole artist vibe; she could totally see it now . And Dido as a muse, ugh, she really was. Nemo had a few of her own she thought with fond thoughts for Abby and Virgil. She resisted the urge to admit to Léo she could only draw stick figures.

She rested her chin in her hand. Léo had shown in galleries - Nemo imagined the stark bright spaces with everyone mulling over huge canvases, hands on their mouths. Tiny food on trays, earnestly pretentious music. Half the people there to support the artist, the other half just to be out somewhere interesting. She'd been to shows like that in converted factories in old industrial districts back in Omaha. Mmm it sounded glamorous. Nemo had played mandolin at her friends' high school senior show, sat on a stool in the corner, plinking along.

"Have you ever been painted?"

Nemo felt herself smile, basking in the attention. Léo was looking at her with such interest.

"No. I mean not really," she said. She tucked her hair behind her ear, suddenly more aware of her appearance. Not self-conscious, just now realizing why Léo had been staring. "I'd be interested, though. Sounds witchy."

She laughed a little, "honestly would feel like a palm reading."

            "...honestly would feel like a palm reading."

Dido heard Léonie laughing delightfully as she came down the stairs, overhearing bits of their conversation. "Do you get your palm read a lot? That would be very witchy I think," her squib friend said in a smiling voice. Oh good, they were getting along! You could never tell. But Nemo and Léo were both pretty chill so why shouldn't they? Chill witches roll together.

"Are we talking palm reading? I never get my palm read," Dido proclaimed as she joined them back at the counter, carrying a small and narrow velvet green box, "that's the stuff horror movies are made of. Same category as 'hey let's split up!' and everyone gets picked off one by one, right? Crazy fuckers."

           "Right," Léo replied fondly. "I was just about to ask Nemo if I could paint her."

A little spark of jealousy warmed Dido's chest but she stifled it because, hey, she didn't have a total monopoly on Léonie's canvases. Nice as that would be. "You should totally let Léo paint you," Dido smiled widely and a little wildly at Nemo before setting the box down on the counter.

"Okay, got your strings," she patted the lid, "lemme see what you're trading in and you'll be good to go. What happened to your old set anyway?"

Dido returned with a little box and her bounce.

"Yea, sometimes. It's really fun. My friend's got a good sense for it. He's quite witchy too, honestly."[1]

Nemo laughed at Dido's estimation of risky white people behavior in horror movies - it was too true; some of the laughter came from a place of 'honestly I feel so attacked right now' considering her basically transforming into a survivor girl scary movie archetype, running headlong to, 'go check it out'.

Energy growing inside from new friendships, Nemo hoisted herself up onto the counter to have a seat, legs dangling. The glimmer of bright girlfriends was not to be understated. Gave her life.  She kicked her feet when Léo declared her intentions.

"Totally awesome. Paint me all day, mama." She was falling in love with the idea. "You have to be sure to get my scar," she said as she dug out her records. Nemo had a scar on her upper lip from a cleft palette repair and she kind of liked it. She tapped it with her tongue

Nemo handed over three records. Three Owl Standard, Regina Spectre, Erykah Badu. She figured one or two would cover the strings - Dido could have her pick. Wasn't that she didn't like the records, but she didn't like being burdened with things. She could always find them again.

"Fell on my violin," Nemo said with a sad sigh. "It's a whole thing, but better little 'v' than me bum. It's fixable, but yea, new strings are requisite.

1.	Virgil Carstairs, of course!

            "You have to be sure to get my scar."

Léo took this as permission to more openly stare at the other girl's face, dark eyes taking in the elf-like nose, its silver piercing, the aforementioned scar. Yeah. She could do something interesting with this.... get it out of her system, something in traditional oils in actual daylight.

While Dido hummed and hawed over the records, Léo dug into her bag and took out a plain white card. It had her name, number, insta, and a studio address printed in strong black courier. Mum had a bunch printed for her last birthday, in an attempt to make her present herself more professionally.

"Here," she handed it over to Nemo. "Come see me one of these mornings, I work east." Even if she didn't like the cards Léo had to admit they were kind of useful. "I'm busy tomorrow but anytime before or after Christmas."

Dido handed back Three Owl Standard and Regina Spectre, setting aside the third record. "I remember when you wooed me like that," she sighed and struck a pose, back of her hand to her forehead. "Immortalised on canvas!"

Léonie giggled, shaking her head as she picked up her bag. "You get the biggest canvas, prima donna." The squib leaned in to kiss her friend's cheek and shoot Nemo another smile. "Catch you soon, yeah? I'll paint you all day."

Nemo took the smart little card. It was neat and unapologetically generic, only what was needed.

Dido and Léo had an intimate exchange that Nemo knew better than to take personally. Nemo chuckled under her breath; they were cute together like they'd known each other for years even though they hadn't. She tapped Léo's card between her fingers. Léo lingered for a minute then made her way out.

"Absolutely. See ya."

Nemo waved with her fingers and watched her go. Then she turned back to Dido with a contented sigh and a smile. "She seems cool. I need your friends to know my friends." Two worlds were forming - the Hogwarts wix and their government jobs (Abby was so connected to them, she included her in that group), and the other group people like Dido and who were more her age and more knit into the city. Nemo didn't feel like a perfect fit in either group, but she didn't need to. A bit of fey aloofness could be magnetic.

"You like working here?"

             "I need your friends to know my friends."

"You think so?" Dido wrinkled her nose, laughing as she put aside he traded record to file away for later. "Léo is super muggle-y, might get weird. But weird can be good."

If anything, weird was preferable! That was why she loved hanging out with Léonie and all her eccentric muggle friends. They were all into like... the future. Science fiction, technology, alien worlds. Wizarding society was like, old shit. It was so anglocentric and quaint.

Dido leaned against the counter, arms crossed on the surface. Did she like working here? That was a good question. Maybe not as deep as she was taking it.

"I do. It's money and low pressure," she looked around the shop with a dreamy little smile, "and I like music. Not my endgame, obvs, but I figure I got time. I get to meet all kinds of people too. Why?" Dido raised an arched eyebrow. "You thinking about crossing over to the cool side?"

Nemo was musical and she knew a lot of stuff, songs that even Dido hadn't heard of.

"I have muggle friends, too," Nemo informed Dido. At home, even the magic kids were basically muggle. Nomaj. Whatever. And here in London it had been more kids like her who she'd connected with when she first arrived. They'd all helped each other out. Nemo had eventually got herself stable and it wasn't until recently that she started making friends with the older Hogwarts kids who were all older than she was. But the statement wasn't meant to be contrary. There was a divide, Nemo knew, and Dido was right. Maybe they were binary orbiting stars, never to collide.

She leaned over the counter and absently fussed with all the fliers and business cards arranged on the counter, neatening the piles at right angles.

"Crossing over," she chuckled ruefully, "yeah."

It felt more like giving up but last winter had been a struggle. Cool side, dark side, other side of the cash register.

"I need to get a job. I don't think gigging is going to cut it until spring."

She winced at Dido. "Whatcha think? 'Welcome to Reducto, we spin you right round baby?'"

Maybe Nemo was right. If she was open to no-maj friends and Dido was too, there was no reason their friends shouldn't meet. No Purist bullshit between them, no siree. Might actually be kinda fun. She glanced up as a customer walked through the doors and headed straight for the closest rack of records.

             "Whatcha think? 'Welcome to Reducto, we spin you right round baby?'"

"Yes!" Dido laughed, looking back at Nemo. "You got the spirit. I can talk to Matilda for you, we could totally use more help. Not the morning shifts but it gets super busy at lunch and rush hours. And weekends. I hate working weekends," she sighed through a smile.

One day she'll figure out what she wants to do, and then, hopefully, no more working weekends. "We could be work buddies!" Dido raised her eyebrows, content to linger on short term priorities.