August 8th, 1894 — a street corner

The summer was advancing without care for the boy Leonard Blank, who had a hard time keeping up with it. Today again he was on his way down from Wellingtonshire, where he had overstayed his welcome.
He skipped down the street towards the slums in his too-short trousers, carrying his too-small shoes in his hands.
The aunts and ladies of the Shire did not like him without his shoes and in ill-fitting clothes; it reminded them that he was poor, growing poorer and, worst of all, he had the likewise growing suspicion, was growing out of being so adorable that they wanted him around.

After a while, he stopped and stood at a street corner, set out his hat in front of him and started singing.
The pure voice of the boy filled the morning air, climbing through the solo verse of "La Nuit" in French, perfect in pronunciation and devoid of understanding.

A few coins landed in the cap, tossed in by passersby.

Oh nuit, oh laisses encore à la terre
Le calme enchantement de ton mystère
L'ombre qui t'escorte est si douce
Est-il une beauté aussi belle que le rêve
Est-il de vérité plus douce que l′espérance

Leonard focused on the second repetition and closed his eyes, which was, perhaps, unwise with the cap and the coins in front of him and the street corner now empty.

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--- Charley Goode ---

  

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The streets of Hogsmeade had a powerful rhythm to them. Not everyone could hear it, that was something the urchin had come to notice. Sometimes the idlers and amblers could, and usually the merchants. The sort who spent their days relying on it, or might have the time to waste on it. Charley didn't exactly waste time, she simply enjoyed her free time when it came to her.

Right now her free time was letting her follow the rhythm of Hogsmeade, letting it coax her deeper into the slums. The urchin had little to fear here, not when she had lived and lurked in shadows like the ones she passed by. She wasn't looking for a shadow to hide about in today, today Charley wanted to be in plain view. A player more than a watcher, all she needed to find was the right rhythm.

Her ears perked up as Charley heard the song drifting around the street corner. Rounding it, she found a boy of pure voice carrying a sweet tune, far better than any her own could carry. Curious at first, she found herself inching closer. Her body felt drawn to him, captivated by the music he was making with only his voice.

She stepped over the cap set before him on the street, extending her legs and arms with the new rhythm they had found. Charley hadn't danced like this for so long, but now she danced to the boy's solemn tune, taking her steps wide and slow while the rest of her followed gracefully. Perhaps more graceful than an urchin was expected to be, drawing from all the nimbleness of the hands that could lift out a wallet undisturbed and feet that could run easily across rooftops.

When her own cap fell from her head, she let it stay there on the street corner. If the corner had not been empty someone might have thrown a coin or two in there, but all Charley cared about now was following the rhythm of the music. As if the boy was singing to her, alone. He might be, all she cared for now was the dance.

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Sometime after the girl had appeared in his corner, Leonard opened his eyes; he saw her dancing and his voice grew unsteady for only a second. Then he found his way back into the song and into the third repetition, the fourth and then it was over.
He glanced at her, then smiled. She was a small girl with reddish hair. He thought he saw her around sometimes.
"Want me to sing another one?"
Her dancing he liked. She was nimble and a bit odd; there was something charming to her graceful movements. And no one was here.
What else was there to do?
Leonard looked at her, expectantly.
"Tell me a song, I'll try to sing it for you. And you dance. But hands off my cap," he decreed, putting out the rules of the game they were about to play.

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   Charley Goode

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The song ended, and it was too soon for her feet. They kept going, with nearly a mind of their own, for a few beats more. Charley might have kept humming it herself, her voice wasn't the best for singing but she could hum and intone with her lips moving. Her feet stilled, alongside her desires, to find the boy staring at her.

"That was pretty," she shrugged, glancing back at the singer. He was tall and lanky, but the oddest thing to her was that he seemed alone. Most boys his shape ran with others, there was strength in numbers down here. Charley wasn't all that scared of those sorts, she could outrun most and outclimb the rest, but it made her peer narrowly at the boy for a moment.

Then she glanced down at his cap with a giggle. "En't a thief," she murmured. Not that there was anything there to steal, exempt maybe a knut hiding in the creases.

Charley kicked her own cap to the side, not caring for its snug embrace at the moment. It was times like these that she could have found comfort in a dress again, letting it flow and whirl around her as she moved. Trousers would have to make do today, just like they would have to make do with the boy's voice alone. "Issit a free song for every lass that'll spin for ya? 'Cause I en't payin', neither, not with coin nor nothin' else, so don't be gettin' ideas."

She grinned, like it would soften the blow for him. He seemed nice enough, or rather polite enough, and that was dangerous. Her pa always thought the polite ones were the real vipers, better to show some fang in the streets than find herself in one's nest. "D'ya know the Bold Fisherman?"

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   Leonard Blank

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"It is free for you, today, because I'm nice like that. Tomorrow I'll need to think about it again. Have a business to run, you see?" Leonard watched the girl, half laughing. She was feisty, he could see it. "It's not like I have a spinning lass around my corner every day," he added suddenly and defensively. No one should say that he was giving girls any favors. What else she would be paying with, he did not even understand, but he did not like the sound of that. He turned, maybe, a slight shade of red.
"D'ya know the Bold Fisherman?" she asked him. "Sure do," he replied. It was kinda romantic, that song; the kind girls liked, and the women down at the taverns.
Leonard felt a bit shy now. But no one could say that he did not try to deliver whatever was asked of him.

So he sang:

As I roved out one May morning
Down by the riverside
There I beheld a bold fisherman
Come rowing by the tide
Come rowing by the tide
There I beheld a bold fisherman
Come rowing by the tide

I stepped up to this bold fisherman
“How come you are fishing here?”
“I've come a-fishing for your sweet sake
All by the river clear
All by the river clear
I've come a-fishing for your sweet sake
All by the river clear”

His eyes closed and he focused on the notes. He saw them like lights behind his eyelids. He sang the woman's verse and was relieved to reach the heights of it with ease. It was not the hardest song. Just as he was singing the part about the maid's lily-white hand, Leo remembered to look to see if the girl was dancing again.

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   Charley Goode

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Charley face only held a bit of mischief in it for a boy that coy. Nice for today, she added silently, trying to butter her up to think she was unique. It was hard to imagine that a boy like him, with a voice like his, wouldn't have a crowd on the regular much less a dancing girl or three. On that note, itw as plain to see he was being honest, for today anyway.

That seemed good enough for the urchin today, too.

"Good, it's rare to find a lad brave 'nuff to try it," she mentioned, but her face was lit up with anticipation. Charley leaned in a little as he began, her head bobbing a few times just to find the rhythm. Then her feet started to move, and she didn't even have to ask them to. She just danced the way that felt right, making a big circle around her singer.

With her arms, the urchin made big swooping movements around the corner. Her feet lifted off the street, skipping as she made her round, all while the boy sang away. For a time, it might have been that he was singing to her, not just for her. Charley didn't know the difference at the moment, nor did she care. She reached out to him, grabbing for his hands to pull him into the dance just as he sang of the maid's hands in his song.

Round and round she went with him, spinning slowly at first so his feet could find the same rhythm she felt. When it seemed he might have gotten it, Charley's face broke out into a great smile, humming along with him as he sang of maids and cloaks and marriage.

Until the song ended, he was her bold fisherman.

She forced her feet to stop dancing when he was done, taking long breaths to catch hers. Charley filled her lungs with air so sweet, she could have forgotten where she was. Grinning at first, her face fell when she gazed back at the boy. She could feel a dampness between their hands and she let go, letting them fall uncomfortably by her side, wiping them subtly against her trousers. The urchin tried not to let it bother her, her dauntless heart needed to express its appreciation. "Cor, that's a right good song, that is. I got a bit o' soft spot for that one."

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Leonard opened his eyes to see her dancing and the corner of his mouth lifted up into as much of a smile as was possible while continuing to sing. The way she was dancing was a kind of free that was so different from what he had seen of dances with proper lads and ladies up in the shire. He liked it much better. When she grasped his hands though, his voice cracked for a second. He laughed, trying to continue singing and found his way back into the verse.

They spun around each other, slowly at first, then a bit faster. Their naked dirty feet skipped over the cobblestone. Leonard's voice became louder and more boyish and alive, less of the choir boy, more of a boy in play.

Then he had reached the last note. It hung in the air between them and they looked at each other. The grin on the girl's small face faltered suddenly and she let go of his hands. Suddenly an enormous awkwardness befell Leonard. He wiped his hands against his trousers and looked firmly down at his feet. His ears were bright red.

"Right then," he said. He kicked against his hat on the ground. It flew a few meters through the air and he skipped after it to catch it. Having reached a secure distance from the girl, he picked it up.

"No coins in there today."

He looked at her and turned the hat in his hands. His stomach growled.

"Wanna steal some plums?" he said finally. "I know a garden where they grow aplenty."

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   Charley Goode

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Whatever spell had been cast to lead her to this street corner, spinning herself around the singing youth, it was gone now. Charley could hear the sounds of the town around her vividly again. They had probably always been there, but for a short while there had been no one else in the world but her and him. The urchin tried not to think of how easily someone could have snuck up to catch her unawares.

She nodded at the boy, who seemed to have come to the same, silent conclusion. As long as they were agreed that it wasn't the holding hands nor spinning around that made her freckles blend in with her cheeks and his ears stand out, that would make things easier. The urchin had a reputation to uphold, anyway, and it sure didn't include being sweet on some corner boy.

"Aye, now that's music to my ears!" Charley sported a wide grin while she swooped down to pick up her own cap, shaking it out in dramatic form. Nothing fell out, and there was space aplenty too. Enough to fit her small braids up inside as she liked, not many gave her a second look with the cap and look of short hair on her head. Fewer gave her a first if they didn't catch her from the front to start with, and that was also how she liked it.

The urchin tossed a glance up to the tops of the buildings, not so tall here as along High Street. She often longed for a broom, or a second chance at those wings that Fletcher had cursed her with once. Absent those or the lofty roofs of the town's center, her feet would have to do. Charley stamped one against the street corner, surprised to see a little cloud of dust that somehow hadn't been disturbed before.

"Which way, then? Afore all this dust gets ideas of bein' dinner instead."

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