Love Among Muggles

Claire Culpeper was slightly startled when Andromeda Black grabbed her arm in the corridor on the way back from dinner. She knew Andromeda from classes, but the other girl spent most of her time chatting with other Ravenclaws and Slytherins, never Hufflepuffs. Certainly never Muggleborn Hufflepuffs. Still, Claire had nothing particular planned, so was prepared to go along with things.

Andromeda steered her up several flights of stairs, to the corridor decorated with the tapestry of Barnabas the Barmy, and through a door opposite. Behind it was the most bizarre room - to a wizard. To a Muggle, or Muggleborn, the only strange thing would be that it was hidden away at the top of the castle. Several squashy sofas and beanbags lay on the floor, large mirrors decorated the walls, and just about everything a Muggle teenager could dream of (apart from The Beatles) was there.

"You never told me about this!" Andromeda accused. "You've never shared it with any of us! I suppose you're keeping it secret?"

Bemused, Claire wandered around the room Andromeda had brought her to, which vaguely resembled Biba, a very fashionable shop that she'd only seen in the pages of magazines. She flicked through the clothes rails - they contained all the very latest Muggle clothing, all right up to date. A rack contained packets of tights and stockings. Shoes and boots were stacked up against one wall. A sheaf of the latest teen magazines lay on a table. "It's a secret from me, too," Claire mused. "It's perfect. How did you find it?"

Andromeda flushed. "I wanted to be by myself, somewhere where I could... revise my Muggle Studies, and found it. Have you really never seen this room before?"

"'Fraid not," Claire told her, fiddling with a display of eyeshadows. She quite fancied seeing how the bright blue would look on herself.

Andromeda drew herself up and tried to muster some of her mother's imperiousness. She needed to gain control of the situation. Somehow, the Muggleborn girl was scary up close. She was so secure in this room of weird objects, whereas all Andromeda wanted to do was ask questions, even about simple things like shoes. "Play some music," she ordered.

Claire raised one eyebrow.

She hasn't the sense to be scared of a Black, Andromeda thought. That's Mudbloods for you, stupid things... She winced mentally for thinking the word 'Mudblood'. It was hard to lose the attitudes she'd learned over her first 11 years of life, even though her own experience told her what she'd been taught was wrong. "Please play some music," she amended. "Some Muggle music. You see, I was thinking, I need to learn more about Muggles. And then I found this place."

"This place isn't what all Muggles would want," Claire told her. "It's more for Muggle girls. Teenaged girls."

"Girls like us?"

Claire nodded. "It's as if... it's as if this room was made for you to become a Muggle in."

Andromeda was filled with horror. This was a conspiracy! Somehow her mother had found out she was attending the Muggle Studies Club and had arranged it as a test. She looked around for signs of someone listening in or watching, but there were none. "I don't want to be like a Muggle," she declared. "I want to pass my exams." That ought to satisfy Mother if she's listening, she thought. The last thing I need is to be hauled up before Father.

Claire put a record on. She wasn't entirely sure why Andromeda had wanted her here, but she wasn't going to miss the chance to enjoy some of the comforts of home. "The Kinks. I really like them. Oh, you should see their lead singer, Ray Davies - he's got the brownest puppy-dog eyes!"

Andromeda listened for a bit. "It's good. You've played their stuff before, at Muggle Studies Club."

"True," Claire said, thoughtfully turning the record sleeve over in her hands. "But this is their latest single, and I haven't been able to get it. I was going to buy it over the holiday. I wonder how it came to be here..."

They sat in slouchy chairs facing each other and flicked awkwardly through the teen magazines. Andromeda's mind was a whirl, and the static images and strange clothes did nothing to calm her. What is this perfume? Who is this band? Is a scooter a bit like a Muggle broomstick? "Who... who's this?" she eventually asked Claire, laying her magazine down and stabbing her finger on a photograph of a lovely girl.

"Jean Shrimpton," Claire explained. "She's a model. They call her 'the shrimp'."

"Like Wanda?" Wanda modelled robes in advertisements in the wizarding press.

"Yeah... although there's one more like a Muggle Wanda, a girl called Twiggy. Jean's quite elegant, whereas Twiggy's much more... now. Much more of the moment."

"Show me Twiggy! Erm, please."

"I don't know if we have any of her..." As Claire's hand brushed across the pile of magazines, several with Twiggy on the cover fell out. "Well, what do you know? Weird, I didn't see those earlier." They surveyed the panda-eyed, stick-limbed girl.

"You can do that with your makeup, can't you?" Andromeda said excitedly. "And I saw a dress just like the one she's wearing on the rack. We could dress up like Twiggy!"

Claire changed the record and helped Andromeda into the Muggle clothes. This was all so strange, so unlike the quiet, withdrawn Andromeda Black she knew from class. There the girl seemed determined to act as though she hated everything Muggle, yet here she was, eyes shining with delight at a Mary Quant frock. Claire's family couldn't afford Mary Quant, but her mum had made her a few knock-offs. Andromeda, she knew, could have bought the things by the dozen.

Thoughtfully, she helped Andromeda with her makeup.

"There," she said finally. "You wouldn't look out of place in a coffee bar on the King's Road."

Andromeda looked at herself in the long mirror. What a strange girl she had become! Her eyes were sooty and black, and she could see her own knees above the shiny boots. "Would Ted Tonks drink in a coffee bar on the King's Road? I mean, do I look like a girl in the slides he showed us?"

"You look perfect," Claire told her. "Of course, you couldn't have a conversation, you'd give everything away. You don't know enough Muggle subjects to discuss."

Andromeda's shoulders sagged, then she brightened. "Next time we come, we have to have a proper Muggle conversation."

Next time? Claire wondered.

*******

For days Andromeda felt as though she were walking on air - or perhaps a small girl once again, chasing a flapping duck round a pond. Once again she had a secret place where she was no longer a Black. It was the place where she could be someone completely new. Because of this, she was not in the least pleased when Claire brought Molly Prewett to the Room of Requirement on their next visit.

"I brought Molly," Claire announced brightly.

I can see that, thought Andromeda grumpily. The Prewetts had been one of the families keenest to bring Muggleborns into wizarding society, which made them personae non grata among the Blacks. Still, manners were manners - she held out her hand and muttered a stiff, "How do you do?"

Claire batted her hand down. "No formality." She pointed at one side of the room, where, as though it had always been there, was a café counter and till, and a table and two chairs. "I think you're supposed to play coffee bars." They had discussed coffee bars in Muggle Studies; Professor Plebianus was unfamiliar with them and so had allowed Claire to do most of the talking.

"Oh, that's a shame. I wanted to try on the Muggle clothes," Molly said mournfully. "It'd be a bit of a treat for Arthur to see me in them." She then blushed so deeply, her cheeks almost matched her flaming hair.

"There are only three outfits this time," Claire told them. "The waitress outfit's got 'Claire' embroidered on it, so it must be mine, which leaves you two to be customers. Let's get you both dressed."

Andromeda rushed though her clothes and makeup, although the mascara caused her some trouble. Still, she got the required panda look in the end.

"Come and look at this," Claire called to her. She'd sat Molly in front of a big make-up mirror. "Molly's got lovely long hair, so I'm going to put it in a beehive."

Molly clamped both hands over her ears. "You most certainly are not!" she squealed. "You and your crazy Muggles!"

"It's a hairdo," Claire soothed. "I didn't mean a real beehive."

Andromeda started giggling. Molly looked hurt, and Andromeda felt bad, even though the redhead's reaction had been hilarious. Lots of people laughed at Molly, for being a worrier or a little chubby, and really she wasn't that bad. "It's a daft name for a haircut, Molly," she told her.

Molly nodded. "It definitely is." Still, when Claire had finished backcombing and hairspraying, they all had to admit it did resemble an old-fashioned beehive. Andromeda was very impressed.

"You'd never get a hat on over it," Molly commented, patting her high-rise hairdo.

"Muggle girls don't always wear them," Claire told her. "Now, let's play shops! I'm willing to bet there's Muggle money in your handbags."

As Claire fussed around making milky coffees in glass cups, Andromeda whispered across the table to Molly, "Don't you dare tell anyone about this."

Molly looked startled. "Arthur already knows I'm doing Muggle stuff with Claire."

"Does he know about me?"

"No... not that I know of. People don't gossip with me, though." Molly looked thoughtful. "I won't say anything."

She knows, thought Andromeda. Even quiet, domesticated Molly Prewett knows what my family are like - or she thinks she does. The thought of how her parents would react if they could see her now chilled her. She toyed with the sugar shaker disconsolately. "How long have you been dating Arthur now?"

"A few months. We got together during a Hogsmeade trip." Molly blushed. Talking about her boyfriend always made her colour up.

Claire brought over their coffees. "No magical chit-chat," she warned. "Oh, stuff it, I'm not standing behind a counter for an hour." She pulled up a chair and joined them.

"We're discussing boys," Molly told her. "Which one are you seeing this week?"

"This week? If you must know, Alexander Macmillan asked if I'd like some help with my Charms homework."

"Shocking bad behaviour!" Molly laughed. "The world's going to be overrun with Hufflepuffs one day, the way you lot carry on."

"We've embraced the sexual revolution!" Claire announced. "Which means I can snog as many boys as I like. Snogging's harmless - I haven't noticed you suffering, and you do it much more than I do!"

Molly looked like she'd swallowed a bottle of Pepper-Up Potion. "Do not," she muttered.

"Grades slipping? No free time? Permanently muddy shoes? It doesn't take a Ravenclaw to work out what you've been up to. If Pringle catches you and Arthur out by the Quidditch pitch, you'll be in for it. Anyway, Andromeda - boys?"

Andromeda was astonished. "Erm, I don't bother with boys... my grades..." The excuse sounded feeble, even to her. She was also amazed to be having this conversation with two girls she barely knew, but wished she could banter as easily as they did. Here in this magical Muggle room, none of the normal rules applied. Perhaps she should tell the truth, just for once. It would be good to let it all out.

"You've probably got a shortlist," Molly said.

"A parent-approved, pureblood shortlist of eligible boys and men!" Andromeda wailed. "A list of bores, bullies, officials and officers! Do you really think there's any point me looking at boys? Every girl in Slytherin is going to be chasing the good ones, and I'll end up with some rich, tedious tosspot."

"Not all purebloods are like that," Molly reminded her gently.

"I know - but not even all purebloods are acceptable. If I took... hell, if I took your brother Gideon home with me, my parents would probably have me locked up in St Mungo's." Andromeda swigged her coffee and refused to meet the other two girls' eyes.

"You've met someone, haven't you?" Claire asked.

"No. Well, I'm not sure... I want to be in a position to meet people. But I can't do it anywhere with wizards, can't you see? My parents will find out."

Claire grinned. "Looks like you're talking to the right person, then."