by B. N. Hale
“I think you grew up good,” she said, a touch of pink appearing in her skin.
Uncomfortable with the attention, he said, “I didn’t actually date much in high school. It wasn’t until my second year here that I started dating like this.”
“What changed?”
“I just got tired of waiting,” he said with a shrug, hoping he didn’t sound evasive.
“Everyone is waiting for the right one to come along,” she said. “But that doesn’t explain how you started to date like this. What was your first creative date like?”
“A disaster,” he admitted. “I tried to do a breakfast date but the girl didn’t eat carbs. The breakfast was homemade waffles.”
She laughed. “So you started doing research?”
“I adapted,” he said. “And like I said, it gets easier.” He suddenly realized they were staying close to campus. “So what’s this date you have planned?”
“Why do you ask when you know I won’t tell?”
“Perhaps I’m just hoping we’re going to Hogwarts.”
Her smile was smug. “You’ll see.”
He’d expected them to travel off campus, but instead they returned to her house. The other cars were absent from the driveway and she parked close to the front door. They ran through the rain to the porch and caught the door handle. Her smile was excited but nervous as she swung the door open. He stepped on the threshold and came to a halt, stunned by the transformation of the room.
Sheets made to look like stone covered the walls, while flickering candlelight glimmered in brackets. A golden snitch made of paper hung in the corner, spinning and twirling above a strategically placed fan. Books had been wrapped to look like spellbooks, the one on the corner table labeled Hogwarts, A History.
Other candles hung from the ceiling from barely visible fishing line. Although plastic, they glimmered like real floating candles, casting the room in a spooky light. A sign above the kitchen had a crooked arrow beneath the words To Hogsmead.
A cauldron sat on the kitchen table, smoke bubbling up from the interior and flowing off the table to dissipate above the floor. Plates on the counter contained what appeared to be treacle tart and cauldron cakes. A bag had a note marking its contents as Bertie Bott’s Every Flavour Beans.
The table had the main course, including a salad and corned beef sandwiches. Next to the table, the TV had been set on the floor and showed a roaring fire, the flames crackling on the screen. Boxes had been painted like bricks to resemble a hearth.
“It’s stunning,” he breathed.
“Welcome to Hogwarts,” she said.
He spared her a look and found her veritably bouncing on her feet with excitement. It was abundantly obvious that she’d spent the entire two weeks preparing the room, and likely enlisted the help of her roommates—as well as anyone Ember had coerced into helping—to finish by tonight. The sheer volume of effort was both impressive and humbling, and he offered a short bow.
“I tip my hat to you, good witch.”
She pulled him through the room, pointing out every detail. He admired each in turn before she led him to the table for dinner. As he took a seat she dipped a ladle into the cauldron and filled a cup.
“Butterbeer?”
“I assumed it was root beer,” he said, peering into the smoke.
“Nope,” she said. “Brittney wanted it to be authentic, so she put a pitcher in the middle with dry ice, and then filled the rest with butterbeer.”
“Clever,” he said.
“She actually did all the cooking,” Kate admitted. “I’m a decent cook, but I would have needed a wand to do what she did.”
He laughed and sipped the butterbeer, which tasted deliciously like caramel. Throughout the meal he continued to praise both the decorations and the food. By the time they moved on to desserts they were sitting on the floor in front of the fire.
He nibbled on the cauldron cake, which tasted like hot fudge wrapped in a warm brownie. Savoring every bite, he sampled the treacle tart while polishing off another glass of butterbeer. She enjoyed the food just as much, and sighed as she licked chocolate from her fingertips.
“You missed a spot,” he said, reaching out to brush a streak of fudge off her cheek.
The motion made her flush. “Thank you,” she said.
His touch had been instinctual—yet pushed against his rules. Surprised by his own action he covered with a smile. There was an awkward moment of silence and then he spotted the bag of Bertie Bott’s Every Flavour Beans.
“Are those real?”
“Actually, they are,” she said. “Brittney bought them on her trip to Orlando and ate two. Then she refused to eat another.”
“What were the flavors?”
“She swears they were band-aid and blood.”
He grimaced. “Do we dare brave them?”
“I will if you will,” she said. “But you first.”
He grabbed the bag and selected one that looked like chocolate, but turned out to be burnt toast. She laughed at his expression and then chose a green one, which she announced was evergreen.
Choosing another color, Reed said, “I can’t believe you pulled this off.” He swept his hand at the room.
“I liked your idea of a theme,” she said. “And when I was trying to come up with one I was in my room.”
“I remember your posters from St. Patrick’s Day,” he said.
She cocked her head to the side. “You know, you’re the only non-boyfriend that has been in my bedroom without me.”
He grinned. “I hope I didn’t leave it too messy for you.”
“Actually, it was quite messy,” she said, and then flashed a smile. “But if you’re not careful, you’re going to make my roommates fall for you.”
“I did warn you about dating like this,” he said. “Spend this much time on a date,” he swept his hand at the house, “and the guy will think you really like him.”
“Perhaps I do,” she said with a smile.
His heart thumped in his chest and he covered by throwing a bean at her, making her laugh. “Don’t think you’ve won this competition yet,” he said. “We’re just getting started.”
“Oh are we?” she asked, throwing a bean back at him.
The ensuing Bertie Bott’s Every Flavour Bean War lasted for several furious seconds until they ran out of beans. Laughing, they set about cleaning it up and then returned to the table. Once there, he refilled her butterbeer and she nodded her gratitude.
“I hope you’ve enjoyed Hogwarts,” she said. “But we still have the activity.”
“There’s more?” he asked.
Her eyes sparkled with amusement. “Of course. Are you ready for more?”
He understood the secondary meaning but could not resist the answer. “Always.”
Chapter 4
They exited the house and made their way to the car. After all the effort to decorate the house, he’d expected the activity to be inside Hogwarts, but instead they got in the car and headed to downtown Boulder.
“Where are we going?” he asked, unable to contain the question.
“Are you always so demanding of your dates?” she teased.
“Yes.”
She smiled and shook her head. “When you give answers, I will.”
It was after eight and traffic was light, but as they entered the downtown area it became progressively more congested. Even on a Thursday, the downtown clubs were packed. Passing them by, she entered the lot of the large downtown mall and found an empty parking spot.
“Do we need to remove the robes?” he asked, pulling at the wizard’s robes.
“Nope,” she said. “We’ll fit right in.”
They exited the car and made their way through the rain soaked lot to the mall. Reed expected people to stare at their clothing, but the moment they stepped inside it became clear that they were not alone.
Hundreds of people were dressed in Harry Potter garb. Most were in robes, but some were dressed
as wizard-muggles, with one boasting a purple suit and top hat. Others wore outrageous combinations, and wands were in abundance.
Children in robes rushed about, pointing wands at each other and shouting spells. Teenagers wore scarves of various houses and huddled in groups whispering and laughing. They passed a group and Reed noticed they were holding lists for a scavenger hunt, each specific to the Hogwarts houses. Then Reed spotted the giant banner hanging from the rafters.
Diagon Alley
March 25-30
Reed leveled an accusing finger at Kate. “You are far more clever than I anticipated.”
“This is date number four,” she said, delighted by his response. “I figured you expected an easy win and I wanted to dissuade you of the notion.”
“When did you hear of this?” he asked, motioning to the mall.
“I actually didn’t until yesterday,” she admitted. “I had planned a different activity but when I learned of this I couldn’t resist. It wasn’t very well advertised.”
“It’s certainly well attended,” he replied, gesturing to the wizarding crowd.
“Word got around quickly,” she said. “And Marta heard it from one of her cousins, who works at Cold Stone,” she pointed to a restaurant that now had a sign for Florean Fortescue’s Ice Cream Parlour.
Other shops were also changed, and the mall now contained Eeylops Owl Emporium, Flourish and Blotts, Gringotts Wizarding Bank (formerly US Bank), and of course, the Leaky Cauldron. The Gap had become Madam Malkin’s Robes for All Occasions.
Reed looked about himself in wonder. Every shop was giving away Harry Potter themed candy and treats, with some doing drawings for clothing or real wands. Children dressed in wizarding robes lined up at the bookstore where they were given bookmarks and entered into drawings for books, movies, and cauldrons.
The playground in the mall had been turned into Hogwarts. Kids crawled in and through the castle, their squeals of delight adding to the din. To Reed’s surprise, many of the parents were also dressed up, some apparently choosing specific characters. A Professor McGonagall was so perfect, the wizards she passed called her by name. Another wore stilts and resembled Hagrid, right down to the beard.
Kate turned into the bookstore and threaded her way through the crowd. Harried workers rushed about, but there were smiles on their faces. They too were dressed in robes, most in black but one in garish orange, another in lime green.
Kate came to a halt in the fiction section of the bookstore. “Ready for the game?” she asked.
“I already own the Harry Potter books,” he said.
She shook her head. “We each have nine minutes to read a book, but the book is chosen by the other. We have three minutes and forty seconds to pick out a book. Then we start anew.”
“Nine and three quarters?” he asked.
“Of course.”
He laughed. “Any book?”
“Any in the bookstore,” she said. She pulled out her phone and set a timer. “Clock will be ticking, so don’t be late—and try to choose books you actually like. It’s supposed to help me know more about you.”
“Which roommate came up with this game?”
“Marta’s mother,” she said.
“I’m starting to feel very understaffed in this competition.”
She grinned. “You have the advantage of experience. I needed my own advantage.”
“At least you can admit who is better.”
She snorted and tapped her phone. “Go!”
He darted away and hurried down an aisle, scanning for books that were familiar. As packed as the store was it was difficult to navigate, and he had to slip past groups of browsing shoppers. Stepping into the fantasy section, he worked his way down the row until he found some of his favorites.
He guessed they would only have time to choose a handful of books for each other, so he didn’t just want to pick any title. Passing some of his favorites, he opted for a Terry Brooks title from when he was a kid. He reached their meeting point just seconds before she did, and they exchanged books.
“The Night Circus?” he asked, raising the book.
“One of my favorites,” she said. “Be glad I didn’t get you Twilight.”
“Don’t assume I won’t like it,” he said. “Perhaps I like vampiric romance.”
“Actually, I think you like epic fantasy,” she said. “The Elfstones of Shannara? I’ve never even heard of it.”
“Then you’ve missed out.”
The phone went off and they found a pair of empty chairs in the corner. Settling in to read, he was highly conscious of the fact that Kate was just a few feet away, and found himself apprehensive as to her verdict on the book. He also enjoyed the introduction to a new novel, and when her phone rang he was disappointed.
“This really isn’t fair,” he said. “You’re going to make me blow my weekly budget on books.”
“Did you read a lot as a kid?”
“I did,” he said. “But I didn’t have much else to do. To be honest, I only had one true friend till my sophomore year of high school.”
“What was his name?”
He hesitated, and then said, “Aura.”
“A girl?” Kate asked, pausing in resetting the timer on her phone.
“I met her in third grade and we were close friends until college.”
“You were friends for a decade and then it just ended?”
He shrugged. “She met a guy.”
“That does have a way of ending friendships,” she said.
Jumping at the chance to shift the topic back to her, he said, “You sound like you’re talking from experience.”
She smiled. “Perhaps. Ready for the next round?”
They started the clock and then went again. This time he picked a Percy Jackson novel. She returned with Twilight. They both laughed and settled in to read. Nine minutes later he held the book up to her.
“It’s better than I thought it would be,” he said. “But nine minutes isn’t enough to decide if I like it.”
“I thought it dragged a little in book two, but book four was a lot of fun. Are you going to buy it?”
“Shelby has a copy,” he said. “I’ll borrow it from her.” He smiled at the image of Shelby’s expression when he asked to borrow Twilight.
For the next hour they exchanged books, trading genres and titles like they were baseball cards. He liked some, but not all of the books she gave him. He was surprised when she brought a Jack Reacher book, and he surprised her with a book on M.C. Escher. Then the books became more amusing.
She brought a yo-yo trick book, while he returned with a coloring book on Star Wars. Moving outside the fiction section, they began choosing gun magazines, short stories, even game strategy guides. They still read, but their reading time quickly dissolved into laughter as they told stories about why they’d chosen their books.
Reed relished his time with Kate, but avoided any topic that might lead back to Aura. Several times he caught her giving him a measuring look and wondered if she’d noticed his evasiveness. When it became clear they were no longer reading, she gave up on the game and they returned the books they didn’t want. Reed stood in line with four new books, including The Night Circus and Cinder. Kate had three.
“I used to read with my grandmother,” Kate said as they waited in line.
“The one living with your dad?”
Kate shook her head. “My grandmother on my mom’s side. My family would visit her in California every Christmas and we would read by the window. She’s the reason I love to read, and she even bought me my first Harry Potter book.”
He noticed the softening in her tone. “You sound like you had a good relationship.”
She nodded. “She was funny and crass, but she loved me. She passed away three years ago.”
“I’m sorry.”
Kate shrugged, her eyes looking past him. “Her bout with cancer was hard, so I couldn’t be too mad when it ended.”
“I used to go
camping with my grandfather,” Reed said. “He taught me fishing and backpacking. He was really into boy scouts before and after World War II.”
They reached the front of the line and paid for their books, and then vacated the space for a group of girls buying posters of Cedric Diggory and Victor Krum. Exiting the store, he motioned to the mall.
“It’s only 9:30,” he said. “I hope we aren’t leaving the Wizarding World of Harry Potter just yet.”
“We still have the treat,” she said.
“An after-date treat?” he asked. “Are you following my manual?”
“Of course not,” she said with a laugh. “I’m improving your manual.”
Chapter 5
As they walked down the mall he shook his head. “You think you’ve won this round?”
“I would say quite handily.”
He chuckled dryly. “I won’t admit to that—but I will say I like your magic.”
They entered Florean Fortescue’s Ice Cream Parlour and ordered, and then took the only available seats. The crowd had begun to diminish with the hour and the lines had dropped off. Reed guessed it would be even busier on Friday and Saturday, so he was glad they’d come today.
She’d gotten butterbeer and a bowl of mint chocolate chip with a waffle cone on top. He’d gotten the same, and for several minutes they talked about the books they had purchased. Then Reed recalled that they were supposed to play a different game.
“Are we not telling stories of our worst dates?” he asked.
“That was my original plan,” she said. “But how could I pass up taking you to Diagon Alley after Hogwarts?”
“I was hoping to win that game,” he lamented.
“Next time it’s my turn,” she promised.
He grinned and sipped his butterbeer. “I look forward to it.”
She regarded him for several moments, and then said. “Can I ask you a personal question?”
“Of course.”
“Are you okay?”
He raised an eyebrow. “Why would you ask that?”
She shrugged. “I don’t know. Tonight you just seem . . . reserved.”
