chapter thirteen,
window shopping

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  DAPHNE'S HAD A CRISIS OR TWO in the time it took to get ready.

  She wasted far too much time on making her hair curl like Farah Fawcett's — and it looks amazing, thank you very much — but her eyeliner kept going askew and she ended up binning it in a fit of rage, opting for mascara so that she wouldn't end up killing someone. She draped on a green wrap top that'll hardly keep her warm in the November chill and a pair of blue bell bottoms, her fluffy socks poking out of her platform mary janes. A tote bag she got on her holidays ages ago hangs off her shoulder, misshapen from all of the rubbish she's stuffed inside it, and she toys with the many bangles encircling her wrist to distract her mind from all the worrying.

  After some self reflection and tears to wash away the remnants of eyeliner, Daphne had to wonder why she's putting in so much effort for Lily Evans of all people! ( She's too deep in denial to come to her senses. )

  Naturally, she's been second-guessing herself since she had woken up. What if Lily only said yes as a joke? Or was it some kind of an accident, a mistake? It's not exactly as if they have a history of being nice to one another, so why the sudden change of heart? Whatever the case, anxiety festers in her gut as the clock hands flick further onward.

  An old Nancy Sinatra record spins around on her turntable and it's surprisingly sunny outside, the frost glistening under the buttery rays of light and lightening the moldavite water that laps at her window. She winds a scarf around her neck and disappears up the stairs, racing to the Great Hall to try and get there on time, which she never could do. Her bag keeps sliding off her arm in a jingle of crystals and lipgloss, warring with her for the entire journey.

The castle is alive with the bustle of everyone hurrying to Hogsmeade, but Daphne can easily pick Lily out of the crowd. She's tiptoeing on a ledge to raise herself above everyone's heads, teetering back and forth. At first, Daphne feels like she doesn't notice her, but then Lily smiles and the frost spreading around her heart thaws.

  She waves, no matter how stupid it makes her feel. They meet halfway.

"Hi," Lily beams.

"Hello," Daphne replies, the contagion of her smile infecting her. "Are you ready?"

"Ready as I'll ever be," her voice is cloying, trying her hardest not to laugh. Her grin would always betray her.

Daphne giggles. "Ew, stop. That's so cheesy."

"I know," she shrugs. Her eyes twinkle. "So, there's this bookshop on Lethe Street—"

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  THEY HEAD STRAIGHT TO THE BOOKSHOP ON LETHE STREET.

  Obviously.

  It's a sweet little place run by an old couple with every piece of literature imaginable, muggle or magical, and floral armchairs at every corner. A tame kingfisher warbles on the front desk, preening its turquoise feathers as a miniature river flows beneath its perch, wetting the edges of any paperwork strewn too close. ( Who's in charge of designing bird cages these days? Their creativity shows no bounds. ) Flower boxes are plastered to the front of windows, overflowing with gorgeous blossoms despite the harsh winter ahead. The pastel walls are all hand painted with moving scenes of woodland creatures roaming around, prancing from wall to wall as customers flock to the shelves.

Daphne picks up a copy of the Crystal Cave pensively, running her fingertips over the intricate cover art. She's not much of a reader, but she knows that it'll make Lily happy to be there, and that's all that really matters.

She nearly jumps out her skin when a flash of red hair clouds her vision, resting her hand over her heart and swearing in French. "Merlin, don't do that! You'll give me a heart attack one day."

Lily has a copy of the first Dune book cradled in her arm as if it's a newborn, and there's a twitchy look in her eyes that makes Daphne nervous.

  "Why are you looking at me like that?" she asks carefully. "What have you done?"

"Daphne, it's a two for one deal," she stresses. "I can't just get one book — that would be insanity — but I can't choose, either. It's like having to decide between a puppy or a kitten. It's fucking impossible."

"Alright, then," she replies. "What are my options?"

  Lily procures two novels from the shelf next to her, a tatty copy of the Wind in the Willows in one hand and a paperback Rebecca in the other. Daphne thinks that she looks pretty, all frazzled and rosy-cheeked, bundled up in a crochet scarf that her friend made especially for her. Her curls are poking out of her two plaits but Daphne only finds it more endearing, wishing that she could brush back those flyaways and show the true appreciation she has for every freckle on her face.

But she wouldn't do that. Not in a million years! That would be a bit strange, would it not?

  "You remembered the book I told you about?" Daphne grins. She runs her fingertips over the intricate cover art. "I completely forgot I mentioned it."

  "How could I not? It seemed important to you, Daphne. It was sweet."

  Her eyes glaze with pure adoration. She feels giddy enough that she could do fifteen laps around the school grounds and not feel a thing because of all the pure adrenaline thrumming in her veins. She just hopes that the smile she's wearing isn't too lovesick.

Lily waves a hand in front of her face. "Hello?" she says, blinking her doe eyes. "Earth to Daphne."

"Yeah, sorry," she breathes. "What were you asking?"

  "Wind in the Willows, or Rebecca?"

  Daphne flits her eyes between them indecisively. She chews the inside of her cheek as she weighs her options.

"Why can you not get both, yeux d'ange?"

  Her cheeks turn pink, like rose petals. "I don't have enough pocket money, and getting all three would be like ten quid. No chance that's happening."

  She pauses. "I reckon you should get Rebecca," Daphne decides. "You like a bit of mystery, do you not? I can lend the Wind in the Willows to you some other time, anyways."

  Lily nods, slightly unsurely. She takes her books to the till and puts her change in the charity donation box — almost like a choreographed routine that she's done a million times over. Afterwards, she tries to leave quickly to save herself the embarrassment from pushing the pull door. Daphne scoffs a laugh, but she doesn't follow her outside before she can slip back to the front desk and buy the Wind in The Willows with the scraggly notes in her purse. It was clear that Lily wanted both of the books, so Daphne was simply sorting out a Christmas present, so to speak.

  When she steps out into the biting cold, Lily's waiting quietly. "Alright?" she asks.

  "Yeah," Daphne assures. "Where to now?"

  "I don't mind," she answers. "I picked the bookshop, so you can be in charge of where we go next."

  She puffs out a sigh, watching in wonder as it forms a tiny cloud that soon dissipates. "Alright, I'll be boring. Let's go to the Three Broomsticks."

  "Oh, thank goodness," Lily breathes. "I'm freezing my tits off out here."

  Daphne snickers. "You know, I've never had butterbeer before."

  "Never?"

  "Not once," she says. "It's not really a thing in France."

  "Well, you've never lived if you haven't had butterbeer."

  "I believe you, but we have to hurry because I'm not prepared to die of hypothermia before I've properly lived."

  "That would be tragic."

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  UNSURPRISINGLY, IT'S ABSOLUTELY packed in the Three Broomsticks.

Boisterous chatter riots within the four walls of the pub, a mixture of students and Hogsmeade residents congregating inside. Everyone seems drawn to the fire that roars in the hearth, stoked by spell work and working hard to combat the icy cold. Getting to the actual bar to order is almost impossible with the thick veil of people in their way, but they manage to slither through to the closest bartender and ask him for two butterbeers.

  They shuffle through the clusters of people, mumbling apologies whenever they trod on a foot or nudged someone too hard. Eventually, they stumble upon a booth that's mildly cleaner than the others and totally free, so it's a win-win situation! Daphne unwinds her scarf and clutches her drink in her hands, settling into the sweltering comfort that surrounds her. ( Maybe, for once, her lack of layers wasn't a mistake after all. )

  "Daphne," Lily says, tracing a ring left by someone's glass on the table.

  She hums in response.

  "Can I ask you a question?"

  "Go for it."

  "Why did you ask me to come? To Hogsmeade, I mean."

  Daphne nearly chokes on her drink. "Er," she has to pause and think hard. "As an olive branch, I guess. I got sick of arguing with you all the time when I realised that you weren't a total prick—"

  Lily guffaws. "Wow, thanks."

  "—and I'm glad that i came to that realisation. This has been fun. Way better than revising argumentatively."

  "Speak for yourself."

  "Oh, shut up, Evans." She can't stop the smile that springs onto her face. "Here, you have a foam moustache."

  Lily accepts a napkin graciously, wiping her top lip. "Did I get it all?" she worries.

  "Hold on—" Daphne leans across the table, using her thumb to gently swipe a bit of foam off her cheek, just where her dimples form whenever she smiles. She lingers for a bit too long, clearing her throat and drawing away shyly. "There you go."

  Lily blinks rapidly. "Thanks," she mutters.

  Daphne needs to veer away from that situation. Desperately. "Have you got any plans for the Christmas break?" she says curiously.

  "Oh, nothing much," she replies. "Staying in with my family, 'suppose. I'll have to deal with my punchable cousins for two weeks, so that's something to look forward to."

  "I could always rescue you," Daphne jokes. "Whisk you away for a day like the knight in shining armour I am."

  Lily giggles. "Sounds like a plan."

  She perks up. "Really?"

  "Well, that depends." Her posture relaxes as she leans closer. "What would we do?"

  Daphne puffs out a breath. "Whatever your heart desires. I could show you the breathtaking sites of Liverpool," she suggests dryly.

"Oh, I bet it's not that bad."

  "It's just a bit bleak, is all."

  "I'm sure you could make the dullest city on earth interesting. You're just one of those people."

  "Cheers. I'll put that on my CV."

  "You're welcome. How was the butterbeer?"

  Daphne shrugs. "Buttery. I rated it. Anyway, d'you reckon we should start heading back? No rush or anything, but I'd rather not get flogged by McGonagall for being late back to the castle."

  "Fair enough."

  When they manage to wriggle out of the crowds and into the cold afternoon, the sun is already dipping below the horizon. It's worrying how early the sunset is during winter, she thinks to herself quietly, her shoes crunching against the frosty leaves underfoot. The cold is beginning to nip through her jacket, lingering on the odd bit of exposed skin and managing to writhe through the crisscross pattern of her scarf. Her teeth even begin to chatter slightly.

The sky is a million mixtures of royal blue tones mashed against the fading light of the day, a waxing moon on the cusp of fullness clambering over the horizon. Stars begin to twinkle behind a fleet of wispy clouds, appreciation for the night sky fluttering in Daphne's heart. She grasps onto Lily's wrist to stop her in her tracks, leaning close to show her what had caught her eye.

"Look," she says. "There's Cygnus, the swan. Right above the castle."

Lily makes a noise of acknowledgement. "I don't know any constellations, really," she admits. "I swapped Astronomy for Arithmancy in third year. All the star charts drove me up the wall."

"Weirdo," Daphne mutters. Suddenly, she's very much aware of how close they've gotten. "Er— I liked Astronomy when I was at Beauxbatons. The sky in the Pyrénées is amazing, especially in the colder months. Not that it's bad here, it's still lovely! But I think seeing the stars so... clearly is my favourite part of winter, 'cause the nights are always so short in the summer that it's easy to miss them all."

She rambles when she's nervous. Hopefully it isn't too obvious.

"Yeah?" Lily grins.

( It's extremely obvious. )

Although she doesn't like to admit it, those green eyes would eventually cloud Daphne's thoughts for the rest of the night, glittering like emeralds and looking just as pretty.

author's note!

cringe x

lily is the definition of the frazzled english woman aesthetic ty this is not up for debate!!!

idk how to write slow burn so essentially they're head over heels by chapter thirteen lmaoo 💀 there's been a full 180° with the way they talk to each other ik but i was bored of them not being gfs 😧😧

i had to try and work out what would've been considered expensive back in the 70s so ignore how offended they get over three books being a tenner