Her hair was long again. Not as long as it was in sixth year, but longer than last year, enough to be tied at the base of her neck with a thin, green ribbon, the pitch black waves running between her shoulder blades. And the color almost looked warm, like if it was spread out in front of a light it would turn brown. She had those little foam headphones on.
He leaned on the railing of the second-story balcony and peered down at her.
"Sylvia Callis returned from the grave."
She turned around at the sound of his voice and looked up, a sweet smile spreading across her face as she slid the headphones off her ears and let them dangle around her neck. She was willingly smiling at him in public. And he returned that smile, unable to contain the little spark of joy he got from seeing her face. She looked very well put together, with brown derby shoes and a sharp leather blazer. Resting on the bridge of her nose was a pair of round, tortoise-shell glasses. He suddenly didn't know what to say.
"Howdy."
"Howdy." She chuckled, "Long time."
"How are the states?"
She didn't say anything, just huffed a short snarky laugh through her nose and nodded her head.
Fred stuck his tongue in his cheek.
"You're not listening to country music and visiting the shooting range now, are you?"
Her smile spread and she showed a row of perfectly crowded teeth, letting out a little laugh. Her eyes even crinkled a little at the corners. Fred's heart fluttered, but he swallowed it down as he cleared his throat.
"You home for Christmas?"
She nodded, her eyes leaving his for a moment to look around the shop. Her cheekbones caught the light, showing that those lovely freckles were still there.
"This is quite something, Fred." She actually sounded impressed.
"Yeah?"
"Yeah."
"Didn't think a joke shop was your idea of 'quite something'."
"Oh no, it's very impressive," She stepped over to the nearest table, picking up a bottle of green pills, "How else would you describe..." She read the label, "U-No-Poo?"
Fred snorted, raising an eyebrow down at her as she returned the look, her dark eyes peering up from behind the spectacles.
"Why would someone want to take pills that make them constipated?"
He let out a laugh, "You use them on other people."
She raised both eyebrows, setting the bottle back down on the display table.
"You don't know that's what your customers are using them for. There are some weird people out there, Fred, you'd be surprised."
"I suppose you know that from experience?"
She gave a quick smirk before directing her attention elsewhere, scanning over the other products slowly, pretending to be fascinated by the WonderWitch table. Fred took the moment to run down down the stairs while her back was turned and slowed to a casual strut when he reached the ground floor, digging his hands deep into his pockets as he stepped up beside her.
"Those are our best sellers, believe it or not."
"I don't doubt it." She bent down a little and squinted her eyes at one of the labels. "'Not for witches or wizards under the age of sixteen'?"
"I know what you're thinking, but Daydream Charms don't have to be sexual."
"I didn't say anything," She shook her head and blinked quickly, "Although now I'm curious as to why that would be an option in the first place."
"Would you like to find out?" Fred raised his eyebrows down at her, receiving a small smile and a huff of a laugh in return. Smooth.
They stood for a moment, not speaking, just listening to the rush of customers around them. Fred could hear the faint twang of music play from the headphones around her neck. He wanted to ask her what she was listening to. He cleared his throat.
"Are you staying at your place in Wimbledon?"
She blinked quickly, her eyes shifting around a little, but she smiled, looking up at him and shaking her head, "No. No, I'm staying here actually. I have a room at the Leaky Cauldron."
"You're not going to see your mum?"
Her eyebrows raised and she cocked her head to the side a little bit, shrugging and letting out a little mumble of a "yeah, well."
"Quentin? He's still at home?"
She nodded, rolling her eyes at the name and turning back to the violently pink display table, mindlessly turning bottles and pretending to read labels.
"It's not even seeing him that makes it a bummer anymore. He's calmed down quite a bit since last year, actually. I'm just glad he doesn't seem interested in becoming a Death Eater."
"Well I wouldn't have put it past him a year ago."
She nodded and widened her eyes a little, as if to say you're telling me. There was an air of effortless coolness about her, but it wasn't like before, not harsh and intimidating or even scary when she wanted it to be. It was comfortable, and sweet even.
"You look really well, Sylvie." He said, suddenly.
She smiled, "Thank you. Thank you, I am." She glanced up at him, absentmindedly running her finger over the lid of a little fuchsia box before looking away.
Fred knew she could feel his eyes on her. The way her eyelashes fluttered around and she kept tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear and pushing up her glasses by the end pieces. Her cheeks were full and flushed, but she looked older, more adult, like she'd finally grown into herself. There was the smallest ghost of a smile on her mouth as she chewed on her bottom lip, turning suddenly to meet his eyes.
"Do you want to get a drink with me?"
He blinked quickly, "Tonight?"
She nodded, "Mhm."
"I -- Yes. Yes, yeah." He stumbled over the words, suddenly feeling a rush of nerves fill his stomach.
"Good." She tried to hide her smile, but the corners of her mouth turned up the slightest bit, "Good. When do you close?"
"Oh. Right. Right." He looked away from her, having to actually think to remember, blinking hard, "Nine."
She smirked. She always had liked it when she made him nervous and she knew she was the only one who could do it, "Alright. Meet me at the Leaky Cauldron then?"
He nodded, feeling like he was falling into a daze. Her smirk grew and she nodded back at him, slowly stepping backwards towards the exit.
"Alright." She said.
He just kept nodding, watching as she gave an amused smile and turned away, leaving the shop with a ring of the bell above the door.
Fred's eyes were shiny and reflective and the tops of his cheeks were turning flushed.
"I've always had glasses." Sylvia said.
"No you haven't!"
She cracked a toothy smile and snorted, nodding her head.
"Yes I have! I just wore contacts in school."
Fred pulled the corner of his mouth in and scrunched his eyebrows at her, still skeptical.
"You can ask any of the girls yourself." She grinned as she took a gulp of her drink. Between the two of them, they had already finished three butterbeers and moved on to what the bartender called "Firebolts", which was essentially just firewhiskey and coke. Sylvia's head spun like she was on a round-up ride at a fair, both from the alcohol and the thrilling nervousness.
"How do I know they're real?" Fred squinted at her.
She pulled the glasses off her face and turned them around, slipping the stems over his ears and settling the plastic pads on the bridge of his nose. She purposefully grazed her knuckles against his temples as she did so.
Eyes glazing over and unfocusing, Fred snorted, "Sylvia Callis, you're blind as a bat."
He blinked hard when she pulled them back from his face and grinned as she pushed them up her own nose. They just smiled at each other for a moment and Fred's smile started to fade, not into a frown, but it softened.
"What?" Sylvie laughed.
He leaned in and kissed her. Simple. Sweet. The sticky remains of butter beer and cola on his lips. And when he pulled away, she tried to hide her smile, tucking her lips in and looking down to her drink as she pushed the glass around mindlessly. He swiped a finger gently at her nose, getting her to look up at him. Her eyes looked like big liquid pools in the dim light of the pub. She swallowed.
Her lips parted to inhale as if to speak, but the corners of her mouth lifted up and she shook her head, letting out a self-conscious laugh.
"What?" Fred urged with a laugh, leaning in to catch her gaze.
"Nothing!" She lifted a hand to tug at her lower lip, hiding her grin.
"No, why can't you tell me?"
"Because I wasn't going to say anything."
"That's no fun."
She rolled her eyes away and leaned her elbow on the bar, chewing on her thumbnail, feeling the grain of it between her teeth.
With a childish pout and a groan of impatience, Fred cocked his head to the side.
"Tell me."
Her grin spread at his manner and she looked at him from the side, pulling her hand away from her mouth as she turned to face him again, leaning in close to speak in a low voice.
"You want to know?"
He raised an eyebrow and the corner of his mouth turned up like she was about to tell him her biggest secret.
"I was going to ask you to come up to my room with me."
Not a beat passed.
"Oh, but I have a better idea." His quick response erased any sort of nervousness from her mind and replaced it with amused confusion.
"Oh?"
He cracked a wide smile and looked away from her only to throw back the last of his Firebolt, grimacing slightly before he cleared his throat, regaining strong eye contact.
"You should come to my place instead. Not as many neighbors there."
"Yeah?" Sylvia's stomach was doing flips.
With a sniff, Fred dug into his pocket and smacked a few coins down on the bar, closing their tab as he stood from his seat.
"Yeah." He nodded and held his hand out for her, which she took with a coy grin, hopping down from the barstool and letting him lead her out of the pub.
They held hands for the first time on the walk back.
He lived above the shop with George -- Sylvia had completely forgotten about George until then -- in a two-bedroom apartment with a cozy living area that had windows looking out onto town. Immediately as they stepped in, Fred pulled her in by her waist and kissed her as hard as he could, like he hadn't in years. She let her hands fall on the sides of his neck as she kissed him back, pulling away for a quick moment when he pressed her against the front door.
"Is George here?"
Fred shook his head quickly, eager to press his lips back against hers, mumbling an "uh-uh" into her mouth. She pushed at his shoulders, making him look her in the eye.
"Well is he coming back anytime soon?"
He rolled his eyes, planting his hands on either side of her head, "No, Sylvie, George is not coming back anytime soon."
"I just wanted to make sure." She defended, "Where is he?"
"Do you want him to be here?"
She slapped a hand against his chest, grinning, "Ew, shut up."
Fred's lips curled into a sly smirk, his eyes narrowing in wiliness, "Make me."
She guffawed. Something Fred had never heard before, loud and sharp like a brass trumpet. It was the most beautiful thing he'd heard. He grinned back at her even as she laughed at him, dissolving into a fit of giggles, laughing back at her when she snorted and squeezing her in his arms when she lost the strength in her legs from the fit of laughter.
He held her so close against himself that for a moment he thought he must've been squeezing the laughter out of her by force. But her hands found the sides of his face and she pulled her head up and she kissed him. Over and over again, placing as many pecks as she could on his lips.
And he kissed her back like he couldn't get enough, giving quick kisses along her neck and holding her as close as he could. He could feel her smiling into his shoulder.
"I missed you." He mumbled into her neck, smelling her perfume. It smelled like the violets and irises and lilacs his mother planted outside their kitchen window.
She didn't respond, running her fingers through his hair and sighing into his body. She held him tighter.