Tilly hadn’t been sleeping as soundly as usual, not since the news of Lukas’ death, the discovery that he was, in fact, still alive, and the rendezvous with her best friend somewhere in the middle of the two other life-changing events. Guilt had started to grab at her. And when she wasn’t thinking of Dennis, and how she was going to bring up The Thing They Awkwardly Avoided, she was brainstorming ways to reunite her amnesiac cousin with his sons (the one who had tried to disown him, and the other whom he hadn’t even known to be his). Though it had only been a day since she’d bumped into the older, newspaper-headlined Quinn, who had been sweeping floors under the alias James Quill, it felt like centuries had passed.

The music in the store today had alternated between more somber than usual, and more overtly cheery than usual. It was a strange, almost clashing mix, but it kept Tilly on her toes, and allowed her to avoid pondering one thing for too long. This habit of avoidance was entirely new for the shopkeeper, who liked not only to face her own problems head on, but to encourage others to do the same.

With a sigh, she finished applying Spell-O-Tape to a box that was to be shipped to Wales. A recent Hogwarts grad was stacking similar packages in the back room, preparing to Floo them over to the owl post. Her parents would be proud of her, were they to count the number of things Tilly mailed off each afternoon.

It was lucky that wizards still used records, where Muggles had since moved on to electronics. Ironic, too. But Tilly would always prefer the old-fashioned way.

It had been a few months since his overreaction over Tilly’s status as a squib. And he’d regretted it almost instantly. It had taken a few days for him to process the odd feeling he’d been having, that gnawing in his gut, the inability to concentrate, that feeling that something just wasn’t right—he was feeling guilty over what he’d said to Tilly, and he regretted letting her walk out of his life. Or throwing her… out of it.

Either way, he realized after a bit that he’d made a very bad mistake. One not easily fixed. So he had stayed away as best he could, attempted to absorb himself with work, anything to keep his mind off things. Even work had started to feel dull; cloning strains of the same plant just didn’t have the same adrenaline rush he normally got. Samantha was really the highlight of his time, and he only got to see her a couple times a week.

He’d been back home, and he’d stopped in to see his grandmother on occasion. He was closest with his sister Gertrude, after their traveling together, and she had noticed his mood the quickest; it was more sour than usual. Or that was what she said. So then it was just a matter of time before she worked it out of him as to what it was that was bothering him so.

His father had been the easiest to tell, in all reality. He had never really gone along with the mainstream pureblood ideals, and offered a different viewpoint for his son to consider. Tavin helped his father with his work, carting around the food for the dragons, making sure everything was oiled up and ready for use, and Malcolm helped his son by listening and offering his advice. And in the end, it had been about Tavin needing to live his life and enjoy it; what did it matter, really, if she wasn’t magical? If Tavin cared about her, then there was something special, whether others understood or not.

That had come about in August. Then it was just… trying to figure out what he would do. Now that he had that boost of confidence from his father, Tavin felt like it wasn’t as big of a deal as he’d first thought. In reality, he’d let himself not see the signs. He’d let himself be clueless. She was still Tilly… And he was pitiful. It had just taken him time to accept that.

And then he’d decided on something completely idiotic… a few hours later, and he’d had the song written. He wasn’t sure if it all went, or if it made sense, but then it was too late. It would have to work. When he wasn’t working at the Ministry or spending time with his daughter, Tavin spent time getting a worthwhile beat for his song. Before long, he felt it went right.

Finally he decided it was time. Now or never sort of feeling. Either she’d listen to him and give him a chance, or she’d kick him out. After eyeing his bongos, he’d gotten dressed, his gray trousers held up by a simple black belt, a slightly lighter gray sweater over his white collar shirt, opened up at the top. It was comfortable and didn’t look completely ridiculous with his bongos resting across his midsection.

A short while later and he was in front of Reducto Records; how often had he walked by the place in the last few months? How many times had he thought to go in, but found something farther away to occupy his time? Pushing open the door, hearing the little bell, he swallowed his pride and tried to focus on finding Tilly. And then he saw her, and his heart skipped a beat. He at least had to do this, to explain he was sorry.

That was something new for him as well. He never apologized… or felt guilty about such… things. His pride was all ready wounded from contemplating this. So instead of backing out of it, he took in a slow breath, cleared his throat softly, resting his fingertips lightly on the top of the bongos.

“You ran away from me today.” And his fingers lightly started to tap a slow beat with it, glancing down to make sure he was in the right place briefly before looking up at her, slowly advancing to where she was. “And I just watched you go.”

He felt an odd feeling in his chest. “I don’t deserve to ask your forgiveness-
It’s just a simple kind of hope.” He licked his lips as he forced himself to continue.

“If I can talk to you, beg for you, promise to be true.
Maybe it wouldn’t have to be so complicated.
Just to take back what I said,
To make you trust how much you mean
To
Me.
I’d give…  anything.”

And then he started to pound out the rhythm he’d made up, the volume of his voice increasing as he turned an aisle of records, standing a few feet from her.
“Hurry! Back to me…
Hurry, back to me.
I can’t stand another minute
without holding you in it.
I only want to see you happy
And I’m sure I can do it.
Let me try to be the man you need.
The one who loves everything
You do.
Hurry back to me.”

And he slowed on the bongos, the beat pattering out. With the end of the song, he felt childish and silly, standing there with his bongos and unsure of what his audience would think. Plus he'd had a little competition with the soft music that seemed to vibrate off the walls.

Tilly heard the door chime, but didn’t have time to look up from her stack of papers, lest she lose her place. Because she didn’t have a nifty little wand of her own, she’d have to pop into Weasley’s later and load up on a new stash of charmed quills-- spell-checking, proof-reading, book-marking, the usual. One of her friendly employees would be sure to great the customer before Tilly could offer up a familiar smile.

But when her bright gaze reached the bottom of the page and she looked up at the light sound of drums and a voice that were not in tune with the music, she had to blink several times, in shocked unison with her jumping heart.

Tavin.

She was not being deceived; Tavin had no doppelgänger roaming Diagon Alley-- surely not one who understood bongos or dressed so smartly.

He was singing.

He was singing to Tilly.

And it was a song she’d never heard...

As he moved closer, she froze. She wasn’t sure what to do. She’d been so upset, and then angry, and then numb. And then she’d managed to push him to the back of her mind, what with the drama surrounding Lukas, and Dennis, and her cousins, and the Pratts. But there he was, bringing everything rushing back to the forefront of her imagination. Her eyes fluttered shut for a moment, the colors and light just behind her eyelids swimming and threatening to blind her.

And then she opened her eyes again, and he was right in front of her, his voice ringing louder and more melodically. Her lips parted in surprise, but the wind felt knocked out of her. She continued to stare. If she’d been holding the papers, she might have dropped just as she’d done the night they’d met in the very same spot.

The sound stopped, finally, gently. But Tilly’s heart was still racing. Her eyes searched his face. Her cheeks were flushed, somewhere between rose and peach. Before she knew what she was doing, before her brain could process the information, she leapt boldly and carefree in his direction, one arm ringing around him, in nearly a choke of a hug. Her opposite hand made its point: she slapped him clear across the face. A very pretty face, one that had haunted her for a while before she’d let it slip to the back of her memories. And then she was kissing him, letting her mouth make the decision in lieu of speaking. She had too much on her mind to say anything just yet.

But, after a moment, she backed up. Her palms used his chest to repel her own body. The bongos had left quite the pain in her hip, even through her jeans. She’d been clumsy, if Tilly-ish-ly graceful in tackling the man. People were staring. They couldn’t believe it-- not even in Reducto Records, home to more than one underdog and strange breed.

“I... What are you doing here?” She demanded in a loud whisper, backing away a bit more. She shook the curls from her face and frowned. Her shoulders pressed forward tightly as her fingers hooked into her belt loops. “What is this? Is this a joke?” She stared at him, examining him carefully before staring past him, toward the door, as if expecting someone else to show up and aid in the strange act.

In a way, Tavin thought he might have had it easier; he was the one doing something, not the one standing there, having something done to them. That had to be harder… then again, he didn’t often like to make a public display of himself. Still. He’d thought about it a long time, and he supposed if he had to make himself a fool, then he could do that for Tilly. Even if she didn’t listen to him, or give him a chance to explain, or told him where to stuff his bongos… it was nice to just be close to her again.

So when she launched herself at him in a hug, he tensed up in expectation of something worse. Then he put an arm around her, hugging her to him. When he felt her pull back, he opened his eyes half way before he felt the sting, his head whipping to the side slightly as he winced. Tavin wasn’t used to physical stimulation like that… and wasn’t too sure he cared to have more experience. Did he deserve it? Of course. Did he anticipate it? That was why he’d tensed up after getting so close to her. Did he actually expect it to happen? Hell no.

So he blinked and opened his mouth slightly, a sharp intake of breath following his grimace. But then he felt her lips on his, and as surprised as he was… he easily leaned into it, his hand moving to her back a little late. Why did he have the bongos on?! They were in the way now! He shifted just slightly, parting her lips as he tried to deepen the kiss. But then she was pulling away, and he tried to lean after her, feeling the hands on his chest.

He didn’t allow himself to lean forward after her for very long, feeling the rush of slight embarrassment flood in at the display of public affection, realizing all too quickly how many people could be watching. He tried to focus just on her, but after her sudden push away from him, he found his eyes darting back and forth around her.

“I… What are you doing here?”

Tavin grimaced and he took a step towards her; how was he going to talk to her if she kept backing up? He wasn’t going to shout his purpose.

“What is this? Is this a joke?”

He frowned at that, stopping for a moment before he grasped the bongos, lifting them over his head and setting them down. Then he took a few steps to close the distance between them, glancing around long enough to give the audience a stern look that said ‘don’t look at me.’ His eyes finally softened as he turned back to her, biting his lower lip. “Not a joke, no.” He shook his head a little, his hand shakily leaning out for hers before he thought better of it, allowing it to fall back to his side.

“I just needed to come here. See you.” His eyes looked her over before he focused on her face. “Tell you how sorry I am.” He winced at that; he didn’t like to apologize, to admit he was wrong. “You were right about me. And I was wrong. Very wrong.” He bit his lip and glanced down at his shoes, shuffling them just slightly as he tried to give in. He had to admit to her his feelings if he had any hope of her listening to him. “You mean a lot to me, Tilly. I mean... I kind of hoped the song would... say some of that.”

The hug was momentary-- an instinctive reaction to his sudden appearance, so much more surprising than any wizard’s Apparating could ever hope to be-- but Tilly came to her sense, or what she thought were her senses, and drew away. Her hand stung from the slap, and she wondered for a moment if he might not turn and leave, proclaim it a mistake, or start on her for being a silly squib again. One who used five fingers instead of a wand.

But she gave him no time to react, really, because she’d changed her mind yet again, or really hadn’t made it up at all, and was attacking him in a different way. The kiss seemed out of place to lookers on, and shocking to the one or two employees who had figured out that the pair had broken up and were no longer friendly. Tilly was the most confused of all.

She waited for him to explain, she waited for the rest of the stunt to come to a climax. Friends of his she’d never met, or cruel laughter, or some salt for the wound. But it didn’t come.

He was apologizing. Telling her she meant something to him. And, however angry she’d been with him, however ragingly mad, and upset, and worried, and sad, and guilty for still thinking about him in ways she couldn’t help, she  was sure Tavin couldn’t be acting. He’d written a song for her. He’d sung it to her. In the middle of the store! In broad daylight!

Finally, she glanced toward the nearest employee, and pulled a key from her pocket. Her eyes had begun to well up, and she rubbed at them with her wrist before tossing the key. “Watch the place,” she whispered loudly.

She took a deep breath, closing and opening her eyes to the slow pace of her lungs. “Let’s go talk,” she said softly, reaching out a slightly shaky hand to take his. She gestured toward the back room and led him there, closing the door very softly before turning to look at him again. “Do you... want anything?”

It felt weird, to play hostess to someone who was supposed to be an enemy-- if Matilda had ever had any real enemies, and if Tavin could ever be called such. But her Tilly-ness crept in, and she felt it was the right thing to do. And she needed to know how far his sincerity reached. She needed to know if the random thoughts she had about him, the ones that made her ashamed of herself, were justified. Did she really mean that much to him? Could someone really change so wholly? But then, she had never expected his initial reaction to her little surprise, had she?

“You can sit." The table was piled with papers and records, but a couple of the chairs were empty. She bypassed it and made herself comfortable on the mattress where she often crashed, drawing up her legs and hugging them to her. She looked up at him, soaking him up in that same way she used to. She couldn’t help it.

“Do you really think you can just...” She shook her head, a mess of curls coming loose. “Walk in here and show everyone you have the skills to retire and make records, and that I’ll automatically let you back into my life like... like nothing happened?” Her brows furrowed in hurt, and she frowned a bit. “And I hope you didn’t skip work for this. If you get fired for and it’s my fault...”

Then what?

“Well at least I can tell them you were adorable,” she said with a slight, shaky laugh.

Tavin had stood there, waiting for some proclamation or angry yell from the mighty tiny young woman in front of him. He couldn’t tell what was going through her head; even when she pulled something from her pocket, he momentarily flinched because he worried she was going to throw something at him, or decided he needed a slap on the other cheek to even it out. Though he liked things to be symmetrical, he didn’t mind keeping that imbalanced.

When she tossed what she pulled out, he flinched again. He grit his teeth at his jumpiness; it was ridiculous. Frowning at the employee who was looking at him and back at Matilda like they’d both grown antlers, he let his hands rest uncomfortably on top of the bongos.

“Let’s go talk.”

His frown softened slightly when she reached her hand out. He took it, allowing her to lead them, nodding slightly when she motioned to where she wanted to go. Talking was safe. He wasn’t being kicked out of the store, yelled at, or slapped again. So it wouldn’t hurt anything, right? When she closed the door, he shifted the bongos slightly, grimacing as the straps dug in wrong.

“Do you… want anything?”

Didn’t that seem like a loaded question? A small smirk appeared on his face as he glanced over his shoulder at her, sliding the bongos off of him and setting them down on a table nearby. “That’s all right, thanks.” Even if he’d grown up and had been taught to dislike non magical folk, he’d been taught manners. With the extra weight gone, he felt a little more normal. Standing there, now with nothing to occupy his hands with, Tavin rested them on his hips.

“You can sit.”

He glanced around, assessing the situation and the places he could sit. He raised an eyebrow as he glanced towards her, watching as she made herself comfortable on the mattress. Finally he stepped towards the closest empty chair, picking it up and turning it around, setting it down near her before settling himself on top. “Thank you.” It all felt so… formal. He rested his elbows on top of the back of the chair, rubbing his chin.

“Do you really think you can just…”

His face softened as he watched her, his eyes glancing over her face, her hair, settling on her eyes. He’d been more than silly, his little temper tantrum on his balcony. Stupid, really.

“Walk in here and show everyone you have the skills to retire and make records, and that I’ll automatically let you back into my life like… like nothing happened?”

Was that a real question? He pursed his lips to the side, watching her closely. Finally he gave a half hearted shrug, trying to think of what he could tell her. Was a simple ‘yes’ too full of himself?

“And I hope you didn’t skip work for this. If you get fired and it’s my fault…”

Tavin made a face and shook his head, letting out a grunt. “It’s not your fault, Matilda… And I won’t get fired!” He never called out sick, always put in extra time, and was caught up on his work. Besides… he didn’t have to be at work today.

“Well at least I can tell them you were adorable.”

Laughing with that, he finally stood up and moved the chair aside, sitting down next to Tilly on the mattress. Maybe that was too forward, but… Biting his lip, he reached over, taking her hand. “I was hoping I could walk in here and we could forget what I did…” He shook his head, glancing down at her hand. “Or I could try and explain myself, and hope you would choose to overlook it.” His eyebrows rose as he looked up, biting his lower lip.

Tilly tried not to flinch in sympathy-- or amusement-- when the bongos seemed to get the best of Tavin, who step through the door and seemed a little awkward compared to his usual suave, properly upright self... what with the musical instruments hanging from him like a baby carrier, and all. She remained quiet, looking rather pensive, and was relieved to know that she wouldn’t have to further avoid strained silence by preparing tea for the pair of them. It was not as if they were going to sit down with a couple of cups and start jabbing like old women in the park, anyway.

He sat down, and she discreetly took him in-- though anyone watching might have said it wasn’t very discreet at all. But then she launched into her little tirade, and her obvious gaze dissolved. It was Tavin’s turn to stare, and Tilly was not the least bit conscious of his moment of taking her in. If she had been, she might have retained that initial, fleeting endearment that had left her so undecided in the middle of the shop a moment ago. But not many women could claim an ex had written and performed a song for them (in public, no less).

Though clearly frustrated, she tried to stay composed, tried to remind herself that he was reaching out, making an effort, taking the time and initiative... some may have even dared say he’d humiliated himself on her behalf, though she’d secretly found a more endearing act than a sad one. But he seemed to have trouble communicating now, or they both did. She chanced a glance at him, catching his shrug.


“It’s not your fault, Matilda… And I won’t get fired!”

It was a small consolation. While she knew he was right, it wouldn’t stop her from feeling guilty for some illogical reason. “Good. I won’t have to tell your supervisor... or whomever is in charge over that madhouse.” She had not taken kindly to the Ministry after their monumental mixup with Lukas. Not that she’d ever quite understood them. The idea of being so wholly wrapped up in secrets and round-the-clock field work seemed like a surefire way to ruin families. Even if it was for security and governance.

She didn’t stop him, but her eyes followed him to the mattress, again memorizing what she already knew by heart. His profile was as handsome as it had ever been, and thinking that made her heart swim. She was supposed to be angry with him. She was a forgiving woman, but she had pride. And her life was a shambles enough at the moment, without Tavin tossing himself back in. Her free spirit had finally cornered her, and she was caught in a web of doubt, confusion, love, anger, and attraction for more than one person.

“I was hoping I could walk in here and we could forget what I did…”

She let him take her hand, but it immediately stiffened at his words. Forget what he’d done? She’d never forget it. She might find a way to forgive him-- she knew a lot of it had to do with the way people were conditioned, the same way small children were taught not to speak to her even before they had wands of their own-- but she wouldn’t forget.

Slowly she pulled her hand away, folding her fingers lithely in her lap. She shifted a bit, so that she could face him more properly. “I like the second option. Explain yourself. Though I don’t think my looking over it is going to benefit either of us.”

Tavin knew quite a few who shared similar opinions of the Ministry, and kept his mouth shut. It could be a madhouse, but… he worked there as well. And he worked hard. Though some might say his work meant little, partially because it was secretive and because it dealt with plants, he felt as if he made some sort of difference. Sometimes the administration was troublesome, he supposed… but he had always accepted them as his superiors. Clearly the free spirited young woman near him was not so easily won over.

It was part of the reason he’d liked her, beyond the initial physical attraction.

Now, as close as he was to her, within reach on the mattress, it wasn’t hard to see that she still had him so easily snagged. Obviously, if he came back in with bongos and a song he’d worked on for a while…

Tavin felt her hand stiffen in his, and he pursed his lips slightly. That’s what he got for being honest. Hadn’t she asked the very same thing?! Hadn’t he just… been honest about it? Of course he wanted to forget what had happened. Of course he’d prefer to start where they’d left off, on the brighter side of the wand. He tried not to get angry, or upset, or feel that sliver of loneliness that threatened to split him down the middle as she pulled her hand away.

Instead, he sat up a little, putting a carefully stoic look on his face. His breathing evened out, and he took only a brief moment to compose himself, stowing away his emotions. His hands clasped lightly over his lap, and overall he looked rather straight backed and uncomfortable.

“I like the second option. Explain yourself. Though I don’t think my looking over it is going to benefit either of us.”

Why wouldn’t it? He frowned slightly before pushing himself up from the mattress, once again picking up the chair and sitting back in it, resting his arms folded over one another on top of the back. He watched her carefully before he finally shrugged—he wasn’t going to contest her opinion right then. After feeling as if he had all his thoughts straight, he reached into his pocket and pulled his wand out, offering it to her hilt first.

“I grew up knowing a person was judged based on their use of a wand. If you couldn’t use one, then you weren’t much of a person.” Pausing as he looked down at the piece of wood, he turned it slowly over his fingers. Over the back, under the next, repeated in a slow twirling motion before he finally grasped it in his palm. “A good majority of my family members were Death Eaters. Both my grandfather and my uncle died during their… service.”

Shrugging a little, he let the wand dangle a moment before setting it down. “The same woman who threatened to fix me to the piano seat offered her pureblood education any chance she got.” Lifting a hand, his elbow still on the back of the chair, he ran his fingers through his hair. “To be honest, I haven’t really… interacted with non-magical… people.” He only slightly grimaced—he was doing better. “So I didn’t know how to react. I know how I did was inappropriate and hurtful.”

He scratched the top of his head, hung down slightly as he considered his words. “No matter what you are, you’re still Tilly.” He let out a breath—that had been quite a triumphant step for him to acknowledge after the fact of knowing her lack of magical abilities. His hand continued until it reached the back of his neck. Gripping it, he let out a heavy breath before finally looking up at her. “I was scared and reacted the only way I had been taught. I’m… sorry.”

She could see the discomfort in his posture, and in his hands, but she stood her ground. Or, er, sat it. She needed answers, and she felt she deserved them, even if she was trying to openminded, forgiving, guiding. She needed to know that Tavin knew just how wrong he’d been; she needed to know that he wasn’t going to do it again. She still had dreams about her premature departure from his life, and still often wondered what sort of values Samantha was being raised with. The poor girl was too young for this sort of thing.

And so she listened.

She tried not to flinch or frown. Weren’t much of a person. Somehow it sounded much more stinging coming from his lips than one of the regulars over in Knockturn Alley. Tavin had a soul. Tilly knew it. That’s why it had hurt so bad. She knew he was a good person, and good people shouldn’t have such hate in their hearts. But if it was how he was raised, then he hadn’t a chance as a child. She would have to give him one now.

“I’m sorry to hear that, that people you loved wasted their lives for such a terrible cause,” she said softly. “But you’re an adult, Tavin. You have to make your own decisions. And not just for you...” She looked at him pleadingly, but also challengingly. “I don’t know Samantha’s mum, but I know her dad. He’s a good man. I hope he raises her to be a good woman. Give her a chance. Let her know the wand doesn’t make or break the person.” Even if people were much more easily broken than wands.

She felt her heart jump, the familiar swimming of her stomach, when he finally said that she was still Tilly. She knew then-- or rather, confirmed to herself-- that he was being sincere. Reaching for his hand again, she grasped it firmly. Her smile was small, sad, but nurturing. She moved toward him and brushed her lips across his cheek. “Thank you,” she murmured. “For admitting this to me.” She pulled back, and bit her lip, smiling more widely. “And for that song. Although you’ll have to perform it again in the studio so I can keep a copy...”

Situating herself on the mattress again, Tilly sighed. But it was a pleasant release. She could feel some of the strain melting away from her shoulders, and she hoped Tavin more at ease, now, too. “A lot’s happened since... since then.”