21 Aug, '94 — Dervish & Banges

For a street urchin of Hogsmeade, there were never any questions about her future. Those were the sort asked of young ladies who looked, and acted, like one. Nobody would ever ask her anything that didn't question what she would ever amount to. Charley was used to that by now, and half glad that she wouldn't need the answers that young ladies her age had to recite. Thinking of what type of lizards she preferred or suitors she might attract —and both seemed the same thing to her— made the gutter far more appealing anyway.

Not that the young men of Hogsmeade were immune to it, either, Charley just happened to like their questions better. She found most of their answers boring, or always related to their fathers somehow. Hovering around for answers might give her a few ideas, but never any real satisfaction. And the urchin didn't think a flower shop was going ever going to be very satisfying for her, either.

So when Charley spotted a familiar young man stepping into Dervish & Banges, she followed him. The shop wasn't as familiar as she would have liked, her pockets were always too light —and too small— for the sort of equipment the shop sold. Luckily, her item of interest was walking around on polished shoes and with a complete set of buttons again, making him much more affordable. Talk was cheap, after all.

"So, what's a fella like you get to do after all your learnin'?" She didn't even bother to greet him, Charles probably wouldn't be very happy to see her either. It would be just quicker to ask, the urchin figured, and didn't pause to let him answer yet. "Can't exactly run 'round in yer pretty suit all day for livin', eh?"

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Charles Whymper

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This summer felt like a welcome reprieve after the last. Without major exams to study for--and now, with the reassurance that he'd crossed the first hurdle by passing his OWLs--Charles' summer schedule was much less hectic now.

Not that it had been a perfect summer all around, obviously, only really good on a personal level. There was a sinkhole in Padmore Park, and Charles' mother was still there now lending her healing expertise, which was actually why Charles found himself today at Dervish & Banges', running an errand for her like the good son he tried very hard to be.

As he stepped into the shop, though, he was almost immediately greeted by an entirely too familiar face. Charles sighed heavily. He was half-convinced that Charley had been sent by some higher power specifically to punish him for something. "I'm going to be a healer, like my parents before me," he said, hoping, perhaps uselessly, that she'd leave him alone if he answered her questions without a fuss.

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   Charley Goode

This one, a healer?

Charley burst out laughing, then brought a hand to her mouth. She felt like one of the young ladies strolling out on the High Street boardwalk, batting their eyes and giggling behind fans. Oh, the look on his face! Charles probably thought himself quite dignified in saying so, but the urchin just couldn't see him as someone with a healer's touch at all.

"You? Gettin' blood on them fancy buttons o' yers?!" She couldn't help but squawk about them, she was wearing one of his, too. It fixed the front of her vest together now, and if the urchin pushed out her chest he might notice it again. She shook her head at his hopeless case, clicking her tongue like she was an older lady now. "Nah, not buyin' that. What's it really gonna be?"

Nothing she did would ever make Charley into someone like Charles, she knew that enough. It wasn't like she wanted to be a boy, either, or she would have asked someone to spell her a long time ago. Still, if she wasn't the sort to have all the prospects that a girl had otherwise, with a family or an education, the urchin would have to make do for herself.

She circled around the other side of him, not about to let him confuse her with his world-weary act. Charley wasn't going to fall for that one. "Tell it straight, got a big pile o' gold waitin' for ya, right? Figure on winnin' some girl's heart, then spendin' all yer days on horseback, an' all yer nights carousin'?"

If he was going to make up stories, then she could do him one better.

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Charles stared at Charley, genuinely baffled. "How much money do you think I have?" he asked. His cousins were the ones with that kind of money. They could afford to go traveling the world, but Charles couldn't and, honestly, he doubted he'd have been able to give up responsibility so easily even if he could. "I live in Bartonburg. I don't have time for carousing."

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   Charley Goode

"More'n me, that's for true," Charley threw back, looking plainly at the boy's clothes and styled hair. He could afford to look nice, no matter how much else he could afford. And not entirely like a wizard would, either, wearing a getup she might have spied on someone in the Muggle parts of the country. Only rich folk could afford to look nice with clothes from somewhere else.

Rich folk or theatre folk, anyway, and Charles didn't act the part of a player.

"Never thought I'd hear a Bartonburg lad hurtin' for time," she said, thinking of all the deliveries made to the area. Their homes were all clean and rather nice, much better than most in Pennyworth. Now there were the people who had none of the time to lose, and all of it to worry about. The urchin gave ol' Chuckster another look, looking pointedly to poke more holes in his story. "Mebbe if ya weren't wastin' time thinkin' too much, you'd have more time than ya knew what to do with!"

She gave the boy a wink, chuckling to herself. Charley did feel a little sorry for whatever gal or lady wound up with him at the altar. Then she really did laugh out loud, trying and failing to imagine Charles dressed even finer than he did ordinarily. "Ahh, forget 'bout it. I'm wastin' my breath, eh?"

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Charles honestly didn't know what to say. It wasn't his fault his family had more money than Charley. And he shouldn't have to explain himself to her of all people, anyway. "What do you want, Charley?" he asked, exasperated. "Don't you have anything better to do than to bother me?"

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   Charley Goode

"S'pose a smile's outta the question, eh?" Charley grinned at the quip, and all at once thought better of it. She could already see the frown lines forming on the boy's face, were they a bit deeper since the last time they'd met? And he had such a pretty face, too, rather fit for all those dapper suits he wore. "Nah, won't ask ya for that."

The urchin scuffed a shoe along the floor of the shop, ignoring what stares might come her way from behind the counter. A sigh came out, not one of those long sighs by wistful girls, longing for their true love or something just as laughable. She wasn't that pitiful of a creature, and thought Charles might have known as such by now. It pained her to be honest with him, with anyone really, it was much more fun to never tell the whole truth and always leave someone wanting more.

Today, she was the one left wanting more.

"Jes thought, with all yer fancy talk an' fine ideas, ya might have a word or two on..how..us ordinary folk get on. Not now, 'course, but someday..." Charley shrugged, letting the words roll off her shoulders. Something else stayed there, keeping them hunched, her head tipped down while her eyes searched the floor. As if there was some answer down there, maybe dropped carelessly unlike those suit buttons he kept so shiny and intact. She might have looked quite pitiful at that point, and the thought tipped her chin up.

"Laugh if ya want, or summat, I dunno. Yer off soon from Hogwarts, an' you'll be a healer an' all. Prolly a good one, too. Bettin' they told ya that since you was knee-high." Just like her Pa had said a hundred times to her since she could learn, not just to deliver lines, but to act. Keep at it, and one day she could be a star. Maybe take after him for real and write a play or two. Not that any of that would be happening now. "Alls I get told is not to get got. Mebbe I en't s'posed ta be a real witch after all, nor a real lady neither. Hard to see there's much beyond that."

Charley looked at the boy, really looked at him. He was actually a bit more than the gangly fool he seemed to be at first glance, all dressed up in suits finer than his address. She would have scoffed if she'd met him anywhere but in an alley. On a street corner or in a gaggle of students, he was just one of them. High-brow, classy, and if the urchin could admit it, better than her. How she was standing here, asking his advice, didn't even make sense to her. "Not like you'd understand, not with yer pretty plans laid out an' all. Must be nice, not needin' ta get yer suit dirty for 'em."

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Charles didn't owe Charley anything, and he knew it, but something about her words rankled anyway. Part of him knew he shouldn't let her get to him, but then again, if Charles was good at walking away, the two of them wouldn't keep having conversations like this. "Look," he said, trying and failing to keep his frustration out of his voice. "I'm sorry your life's so hard, but that's not my fault, and whatever you think, I've got my own problems."

It wasn't that Charles didn't care about what other people had going on, it was that he didn't have the energy for that and his own things. "I've got my mother and sister to take care of. That's what I've been hearing since I was 'knee-high,' so I'd better be a good healer." His throat suddenly felt very dry. "I have to be."

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   Charley Goode

It was always something with the posh sorts like this one. Never a good answer, and always her fault for asking. It was just like him to miss the point of the whole ask, and Charley had put herself out on a real limb for it. She didn't have all that many people that might have advice worth taking, not that it seemed like Chuck there seemed to have any at all. "En't thinking it was yer fault, really. Jes..."

Having all the right words wasn't exactly her strength. Some other folk were great at convincing others, making those heartfelt speeches. Her Da was one of them. Charley could give a performance, though lately those felt more for her sake than anyone else's. Da would have found the Hogsmeade wizards a tough crowd, particularly the boys at Hogwarts. "...c'mon mate, have a heart."

For a second, the urchin had to wonder at that one. Did he? Charles was all sorts of stubborn and selfish, to her eyes anyway. With all the things he said about his family, she wasn't so sure about that anymore. Might be that he was just a tough nut to crack, one she might wear down enough to get to the good parts. Even if that was a bigger prospect than Charley wanted here, though, his low mutterings of determination did sound awfully familiar.

"Think if I was yer sister." The idea nearly made her laugh, but Charley held the course. Now that she knew the boy wasn't all buttons and short tempers, there had to be a way to reach him. To dig in and really get an answer. No one else was going to have one for her, so she might as well try with what she had. "Yer en't the sort to let her wonder so, not the way I'm thinkin'. More of a bloke who'd help her out of a tight spot, no matter how big. What'd you say to her then, about a future where nothin's gone right?"

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Charles let out a frustrated breath, though it wasn't really directed at Charley or her question. Not specifically, anyway. More at the difficulty of it--there wasn't an easy answer to it. Not that Charles knew of, at least, and the more nebulous something was, the harder it was to fit it into a tidy box that he could sort through.

"I don't know," he said at last. "That's part of the problem? I barely know how to handle my own problems." But if Lottie had a problem she needed his help with, Charles would try to figure it out, even if he didn't know where to start. "I'd support her as we tried to find a solution, I guess. I--"

It was, of course, at this point that they were interrupted by Mr. Dervish, who appeared to say, "Ah, Mr. Whymper, I have your item ready, just a moment" before disappearing to retrieve what Charles had come for.

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   Charley Goode

At this point, the urchin figured it didn't really matter whether Charles had a heart or advice. He wasn't offering any, only guesses. If he knew anything at all! And that was the sort of thing that Charley was eager to use against him, particularly since he wasn't even trying. It was really his own fault if she happened to knock him down a peg or three.

"Ah, Mr. Whymper, I have your item ready, just a moment. "

Charley's mouth hung open, just about to tear into the boy herself. She couldn't have done any better than the store's owner, and as soon as Mr. Dervish vanished into the back again she let out a laugh. She started with just one, a lonely yelp in the middle of the store. It might have even echoed, which made it all the more funny to the urchin girl. Clutching her belly, she turned to Charles Whymper with a devilish gleam in her eyes.

"Whymper! Ya never said yer name was Whymper!" Charley had to grip a nearby shelf to keep from buckling under her gleeful stomach, which was doing its best to keep her throat bubbling with heady chuckles. "Cor, it's no wonder all you do is mope around 'bout yer big responsibilities or summat. No chance a Whymper'd be taking that one on the chin. Dunno what I was expectin', en't gettin' no pearls of wisdom from a Whymper, that's for sure!"

Her arms rose, just a little to fold at her chest. The urchin leaned back, feeling haughty and superior over him for once. She'd thought he was posh and proper, now he just seemed like a melancholy little man. And still, one whose eyes she couldn't quite reach with hers. "Don't lemme keep ya, Mr. Whymper, ya got more worries'n me, yeah? Best for me to get answers from a bloke who don't whine so much."

Charley's gaze flicked toward Charles Whymper, part of her expecting a fight and the other ready to bolt before he could respond. She didn't want more words, she already knew that much. Words had almost lead her straight to trouble today, without Dervish's slip of the tongue the urchin might have left herself in a vulnerable state. There was no sense risking her underbelly with his sort, no matter how whympering.

Or that's what the urchin told herself, anyway, to stop from being let down again.

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Charles turned away from Charley, mostly so she didn't have a direct view of how red his face was quickly becoming. "Goodbye, Charley," he said, and if his voice cracked a bit, that was just as well. He was probably going to perish from embarrassment before the next time he was forced into this kind of interaction again. That was some comfort, at least.

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   Charley Goode