Chronicles of The Boy Who Lived

August 27th.

Tori coughed as she joined Chanel backstage. "Sorry," she offered immediately, trying to cover her cough.

Chanel shot her an irritated glare her way before flicking the cigarette to the ground and crushing it under her heel. "Et tu, Brute?" she grumbled.

Tori glanced at the crumpled butt. "How much time do we have?"

"Twenty minutes," came the reply, followed by a dry laugh. "You just missed the Veelas; they had guys jumping from the upper deck onto the stage."

"Oh?" Tori asked, snapping her camera case shut nervously. "Did anyone get hurt?"

Chanel shrugged. "Didn't see." She stared longingly at the smashed cigarette butt on the ground.

Tori noticed. "Hey, no one wants to kiss a smoker." she said jokingly.

"Who said anything about kissing?" Chanel fixed her with a look. "I was thinking more along the lines of tonguing."

Tori blushed and looked at the stage, where Draco was performing.

Chanel laughed. "I don't think he'd mind. He subscribes to an even more toxic brand than mine. And he's a chain smoker at that."

Tori remained silent, watching, trying to quiet her nerves.

"He's got something," Chanel admitted grudgingly, "That snarling and twitching his hips. Kind of reminds me of Elvis."

Tori had a fleeting version of Draco with blonde sideburns in a white jumpsuit and bit her lip.

"And that song he led off with--'I'm a Marked Man?'" Chanel trailed off, her eyebrow raised.

Tori nodded, before looking around her. "Is Harry here? Or am I the only one late?"

Chanel glanced over her shoulder. "He's over there. First time I've seen him in hours; he's been shut up in his dressing room all day."

***

The applause and cheering sounded like thunder as they took their places. Chanel took charge by kicking some beats as Harry checked his microphone and adjusted his guitar strap. Tori nervously flipped her sheet music, and wiped her sweaty hands on her pants.

A sudden hush fell over the arena, punctuated by random screams and yells. Spotlights flashed over Chanel, who waved her drumsticks and hammered a mean beat for the audience as she was announced. "On the drums--Anti-Sweet!"

Tori forced herself to look up and smile as the spotlights crisscrossed over her, and she let her fingers run up and down the keyboard, the smile becoming relaxed as she heard her name being announced, "On the keys--Broomstick Babe!"

Tori snorted as the spotlights left her. Chanel had 'given' her the nickname, and she couldn't really tell if it had been a serious one or a more mocking stage name.

Chanel began a drum roll, which Tori matched with a frantic up-and-down rhythm on the keyboard as the spotlights soared through the crowd and met in the center of the stage, where Harry was announced. Every sound was drowned out by the deafening roar of the crowd.

Feeling a strange combination of amusement and queasiness, Harry looked back and with a nod, started into "4 Privet Drive."

Tori glanced over at Chanel, who mouthed the words, "Chord change." She nodded while simultaneously singing the 'Ooh' in the background, remembering not to skip the change-up she had had trouble with in earlier practices.

They cruised through the next six songs easily, becoming more relaxed with each one. Finally, there came a one minute break for Chanel and Tori, who jogged backstage and grabbed some water from a nearby table.

"Your drum solo was great!" Tori said, after gulping down the entire cup's contents.

Chanel nodded. "These stage lights are fucking hot!"

Tori laughed as she heard Harry announce the final three songs.

"You sounded smooth during the first number," Chanel said, causing Tori to turn.

"I didn't miss the change up," she answered, somewhat proudly.

Chanel shook her head, and started walking back onstage. "I meant during your back vocals--the lip-pout thing."

She laughed as Tori followed, looking puzzled, as she tried to recall. "Oh...yeah, I guess I do that, huh? I didn't really think about it."

"Yeah, well--he can't kiss you from there!" she said loudly, as she passed the keyboards.

Tori froze, staring at Chanel as she took her spot behind the drums. Harry turned back to check that they were ready. Tori blinked, saw Harry nod at her, and she nodded in return, shaking her head and joining Chanel as they started "My Creature's Keeper."

***

After the concert, they immediately met in Harry's dressing room. Harry was mostly concerned that the speakers hadn't been working properly; they had faded three times throughout the concert, which had gone unnoticed to the entire arena, save for Harry, apparently. Chanel told them she thought it went better than expected, and to be ready the next day at nine o'clock for the press conference.

Then she got called out by PR, and a stagehand came looking for Harry; he wanted to talk about the speakers, so they left the dressing room. Tori went to hers, to lie down; the car to take them back to the hotel wasn't due there for another hour, after the fans had left.

Twenty minutes later, Chanel was back in her dressing room. She barely had time to kick off her boots when there was a knock at her door. She walked swiftly across the room and threw open the door, expecting Mike from Sound, wanting to drag her into the speaker mess.

It was Draco. He leaned against the door frame, his concert-whipped hair now meticulously slicked back from his forehead. He was wearing a soft emerald green sweater and pressed charcoal slacks, looking as if he were about to step out somewhere for the evening.

Chanel tried to smooth the shocked look from her face, but he had already caught it. Instead, she herself took a casual stance at the door and raised her eyebrow.

"Heard anything about this Muggle press junket?" Draco drawled coolly, giving off an easy air of boredom.

Before Chanel could think, she said, "Why? Worried about Crabbe and Goyle?"

Draco smirked and wrinkled his nose slightly.

Chanel folded her arms across her chest. "I'm trying to find out myself."

Draco opened his mouth as if to say something, then stopped, as if thinking better of it.

Chanel frowned without thinking. He suddenly seemed indecisive. It made her nervous.

Seeing her expression, Draco stated firmly, "I thought your performance was quite...interesting. Potter do all the writing?"

"No," she answered, just as firmly. "Tori wrote the lyrics to 'Snitch' and the melody for 'Erised.'"

Draco gave a soft "Mm," in reply and shifted his weight.

"If you hear anything about this Muggle press business..."

"Will do," she said rather quickly, suppressing the sudden, ridiculous urge to give him a snappy salute.

He straightened himself and nodded curtly, his cool grey eyes taking in everything. "Later, then...Sweet," he finally said.

She merely nodded back and abruptly shut the door. Seconds later, she peeled it open, peering down the empty hall.

***

Tori sat up at the knock at her door. She answered it, and found Harry standing there, looking utterly beat.

"Got a minute?"

"Sure," she said, backing away from the door to let him in.

"I just wanted to see how you were feeling after our first concert." he said, taking a seat on the couch.

Tori sat down as well. "It was amazing. Well, I was nervous at first, but then I relaxed."

Harry nodded before stifling a yawn. "I think we did really well, except for the speaker mess. Other than that, and a few other minor things, it was a good start for the tour."

"What's next?" she asked.

"The press conference, the second concert at Westminster, and then we leave for Cologne." Harry stood up then, rubbing his face tiredly. "I'm going to go check on the speakers one last time before the car gets here."

"Sounds good." Tori replied, and then a thought popped into her head as he turned to leave. She blurted it out before thinking it through. "What's a Muggle?"

There was silence as Harry's hand dropped from his face, and Tori was surprised to see that he didn't look tired anymore. It was replaced by a curious look. "How did you hear about that?" he asked, sitting back down.

The anxiety Tori had first felt seconds after asking receded slightly upon seeing his reaction. "I did overhear your conversation last night," she admitted. "Chanel said something about you not being a...'Muggle.'"

Strangely, Harry relaxed. "I'm not."

There was a pause. "Uh-huh. And...what's a Muggle?"

"A non-magic person." Harry said, his voice even.

Another pause. "A non-magic person..." Tori murmured, staring at nothing, not comprehending.

"A person who can't do magic." he offered quietly, when she looked back at him questioningly.

Tori's first instinct was to laugh, but the look on Harry's face prevented it from leaving her mouth. "...And...you...can?" she asked slowly, her mind seemingly refusing to work properly.

Harry watched her carefully as he spoke. "Yes. I'm a wizard."

Tori blinked. Then she relaxed, and allowed a smile. "At what?"

Now Harry was confused. "Excuse me?"

"You're a wizard--a whiz--at what? Besides the guitar."

Harry laughed thinly. "No--a real wizard."

Tori's face fell as she realized that he was taking this seriously. "You can...do...magic?"

Harry nodded. "Yes, but I don't do it so much anymore."

Tori frowned. "You mean like a magician?"

"No." Harry shook his head, and Tori could think of no more excuses, nothing more to connect his statement to reality. She sat there, stunned, struggling to understand.

He waited for more of a reaction, but none came. "Tori--"
She turned to him quickly, wide-eyed, hopeful he was going to say something that made sense.
There was a sharp knock on the door. "Car's here," came Chanel's abrupt voice.

Everyone was silent during the car ride. Chanel stared out her window, musing over her brief conversation with Draco. Next to her, Tori was staring blankly out the other window. Across from them, Harry sat, feeling slightly better now that Tori knew, even if she didn't understand--yet.

After getting back inside the apartment, Chanel muttered a quick 'Night,' and disappeared into her room without so much as a glance at either.

Wordlessly, Tori knelt by her suitcase at the end of the couch. She automatically pulled out a pair of flannel pants and a long sleeved top as Harry walked past her and down the hallway. She watched him blankly as he went into his room before ducking into the bathroom to change.

When she came back out, Harry was sitting on the edge of the couch, massaging his temple with one hand, his glasses in the other.

Tori sat down at the other end, and crossed her legs beneath her while Harry sat up and put his glasses back on. They looked at each other, but neither spoke.

Curiosity won out, and she spoke first. "So," she managed.

The briefest of smiles flitted across his face as he watched her struggle with what to say next. She hadn't run away screaming, nor looked at him like he was, well, different, but she was obviously having difficulty understanding.

Tori didn't know where to begin. Questions were popping into her head like popcorn. What the hell should I ask first?

"What are you thinking?" he said, his face serious once more.

"It sounds absurd." she blurted out. Before he could reply, she continued, "But--you're so...serious. I mean, when you told me, you were serious...I think."

"I was. I am."

Tori blinked, still confused, and decided to ask something else. "Why did you tell me this?"

"I hate lying," he stated sourly, "and sooner or later, you were going to have questions. I thought you deserved to know sooner, since you're part of the band."

Tori pulled her legs out from under her and stretched them, mostly to have something to do. "So...you're going to be doing m--magic? On the tour?"

"No, I probably won't. But most of the others on tour probably will--stagehands and whatnot," he admitted as her mouth dropped; quickly adding, "It won't be going on around you, or us, every second," Harry said. "But it may come up from time to time, because it can help things...move faster."

"Uh-huh," Tori murmured unconvincingly. So it wasn't just him...there were others...

"I thought it would help the tour run more smoothly, also, if you knew sooner."

Tori stared at him. He was serious. Or a really good practical joker. And from what she had learned about him these past eight weeks, he wasn't a practical joker.

She swallowed. "Can I--can I ask a question?"

Harry nodded, wondering if this meant that she was starting to believe him.

Tori bit her lip, unsure of what to ask first. After a pause, she asked quietly, "How do you--do magic?"

"With a wand."

Her eyes traveled over him momentarily, as if she expected to see one.

"It's in my room; I don't have it on me." he answered.

"Oh." Another pause, then: "Where do they live? Where did you live? In a certain place?"

Harry scooted himself further back onto the couch. "Wizards live everywhere M--regular people do. Well, there are some places that are specifically wizarding places, but for the most part, we live...wherever."

Tori raised her eyebrows. "W--wizarding places? Here? In Plymouth?"

He nodded. "Quite a few places, actually, in London, but they're pretty well hidden. You'd have to be a wizard to know where they are."

She looked thoughtful. "Why are they hidden?"

"Because then more of the everyday world would know about wizards and witches."

"They...don't know about it?" Tori asked, before realizing how silly she sounded, she apparently hadn't known.

"No, there are a few Muggles who know--"

"Muggles...oh, non-magic people." she interrupted.

He nodded. "But for the most part, they don't know, and the wizarding world generally prefers it to remain that way."

She didn't ask why, because she could guess the reason plainly: people who could do magic would be sought after, expected to use it to solve the world's problems, as influence, to satiate a perpetual greediness that would never be fulfilled...she'd used those exact words in her junior high essay on Ella Enchanted.

Tori started suddenly as something occurred to her. "Is--is Chanel a--one?"

"A witch?" Harry asked, and she nodded. A strange look passed over his face, before he said, "She doesn't do magic."

Not noticing, she exhaled, relieved for an unknown reason. "How did you learn that you were...one?"

"I got a letter when I was eleven, from the wizarding school in Britain." Harry suppressed a smile. Well, it wasn't exactly one...

"There's a...school for that in England?"

"Yes," he replied, leaning back into the couch, readying himself for more questions.

***

August 28th.

Tori's eyes fluttered open briefly, registering the fact that it was morning. She turned on her side, starting to readjust the blanket, before she bolted upright, as last night's events flooded her memory.

Harry...wizard...magic...Oh... She decided to lie back down.

She rubbed her face, trying to wake up and remember. The one 'question' had turned into nearly three hours' worth of questions. Wait...Had it just been a dream, that I had asked Harry about Muggles, and he had told me that he was a wizard?

Now she sat back up, wondering. No, I don't think it was a dream. The conversation had happened; she remembered it clearly now, but it still seemed surreal.

Tori looked around, wondering what she had gotten herself into. She didn't feel scared--well, maybe a little--but it was mostly confusion. Like she hadn't heard Harry right.

What was strange that he had just explained it so calmly, like a normal conversation topic. He hadn't revealed that he was a wizard who was going to take over the world before evilly laughing, nor said that he was a wizard saving the world from the clutches of evil and then brandishing a sword--no, wand--to make his point.

No, he had just said it quite plainly, as if it was an everyday-something she needed to know while on tour that he had forgotten to mention. "Keep your sheet music with you...equipment will be here....most of the people on tour, and myself, can do magic, by the way...oh, and don't forget, rehearsal starts at five..."

Tori shook her head, trying to clear it. She couldn't back out, even if she wanted to; she had signed a contract. Not that she wanted to go back home anyways. The concert last night had been amazing, a huge rush, she was doing something she loved, it was new and exciting.

She sighed, and a piece of paper on the coffee table caught her eye. She picked it up and read:

Tori--Press junket cancelled. Leaving for Cologne instead. Harry

"What?" she said, standing up, forgetting all about her previous thoughts. "Leaving when? Today? "

Although she figured the note was left because no one was there, Tori went to knock on their doors anyways. After not getting an answer, she picked up her cellular off of the ground near the couch and flipped it open. She dialed Chanel's number first.

"Yeah?"

It took her a second to answer. "Chanel, it's Tori."

"I know. What is it?" Her reply was short, causing Tori to stumble over her words.

"I--the press junket was cancelled?"

"Mm hm," came the reply, sounding preoccupied.

"Why?"

"Don't know. Just happened. Found out this morning."

"Oh." Tori paused, then asked, "When are we leaving?"

"Day after tomorrow, as scheduled. We do have another concert."

That's what Harry must've meant, Tori thought, feeling silly. "Okay, then, I'll see you..."

Chanel cut her off. "So I ran into Sharon this morning."

"Oh?" Surprised that Chanel was continuing the conversation after sounding obviously busy, Tori sat down. "Is that who told you about the junket being cancelled?"

"Uh huh. She told me she had heard it last night, but was running an 'errand' at the time and didn't have a chance to tell me."

"An... 'errand'?" Tori asked, mimicking the way that Chanel had emphasized it.

"I saw Draco last night."

"Oh." Now Tori understood why Chanel seemed preoccupied. Although she alternately cursed his arrogance, it was apparent to Tori that she had an interest in him. Whether it was reciprocated or not, Tori didn't know, he wasn't around much, nor did he talk to Tori much either. He didn't speak to Tori at all, but if they crossed paths, he'd merely glance at her uninterestingly, as if she were a bug on the wall, which irked Tori and caused her to agree that Draco was quite arrogant.

And Tori could tell from Harry's glares and muttering under his breath that he and Draco didn't get along. All four of them had been in the same room only twice in the past month, but the conversations between the two had been...

"...apparently when I saw him, he was on his way out."

Tori blinked, realizing that Chanel had been talking. "On his way out?" she repeated blankly.

"Yeah. His...'visitor' was unhappy with the hotel accommodations and was demanding that Sharon move her into the villa where the Veelas were staying."

"He had a visitor?"

"Pansy."

"Who's Pansy?" Although Tori could easily tell by Chanel's tone that she didn't like whoever Pansy was; she was obviously connected to Draco. Girlfriend? she wondered.

Chanel didn't answer the question, but continued, "Sharon accidentally spilled the beans; she looked like she regretted telling me. Guess Pansy is getting on her fucking nerves because Sharon said, 'I don't recall being Pansy's house elf.'"

House elf? Tori decided not to interrupt Chanel's flow, and started to ask what happened when she heard a knock through the phone.

"Hold on," Chanel grunted, setting the phone down and crossing the room to open the door. "I don't know anything about the sound problem, M--" she stopped, stunned speechless. She pulled herself together quickly. "Draco," she said coolly.

"Were you on the phone? I don't trust them -- Muggle devices."

"No," she said plainly. "Can I help you?"

"Yes." His eyes slipped down towards her partially exposed bra.

Chanel indignantly snapped the loose ends of her blouse in her fist.

He continued. "Sharon told me about the press junket being cancelled. So I came to see what your arrangements were for the next stop." He coughed, his eyes were twinkling.

"Thanks, but we already know. And we've made arrangements." Chanel replied huffily.

Draco leaned against the door frame lazily. "So does that mean you won't be joining us on our flight?"

"No. We have our own arrangements." she repeated firmly, and glanced at the phone. "I'm expecting a call soon, so..."

Draco glanced at the receiver. "I believe you usually need them hung up to work, don't you?"

Chanel scowled at him. Satisfied, Draco smirked, which only irritated her more.

"Is there something you wanted?" she snapped, ignoring the comment about the phone.

"Yes, actually, there is," he answered, smoothly gliding back into the room without asking. "I wanted to extend a few passes to you -- and your band --

during my performance in Westminster."

Chanel frowned. "We'll already be there." Arrogant ass.

"Yes, backstage. It really is more of a credit to my abilities if you could see me work from the front."

Her mouth tighted against the strangely lewd insinuation. "We'll be busy."

Draco blew out a puff of air. "You'll be rehearsing for life; the Veelas are on after me."

She considered it briefly. "I'll see if my other band mates are available."

"You do that." he nodded, grinning slightly.

Chanel suppressed the urge to look at the phone; she wanted to know if Tori was still there. However, she noted that Draco was comfortably posed against the wall. "...Was there something else?"

"No," he replied lightly.

"Well, thanks for the invite. Don't want to keep you from anything," she said tersely.

"I'm in no hurry."

"Well, I'm sure you've got something to do."

Draco straightened suddenly. "Yes, as a matter of fact, I do." And he started striding over to Chanel.

Chanel didn't move, trying not to look defensive. He stopped a few inches away from her, and she stared up at him, attempting to ignore her pounding heart. He slipped his hand into his pocket, casually brushing her hip as he pulled something out.

She was afraid to look down. Noticing this, Draco lifted three concert passes into her view, his hand grazing her shirt as he did so.

"Can't get very far without these."

Chanel snatched the tickets from his hand. "Thank you, Draco, and good-bye."

He casually sauntered towards the door. "See you then."

She drew in a tight breath. "Perhaps."

Draco smirked. "Mm. Later then, Sweet."

She shut the door so hard she heard it splinter.

"He. Is. Such. An. Ass." she muttered, picking up the phone. "Still there, huh? Get a good earful?"

"Uh, yeah, sorry. I thought you were going to be back on sooner."

Chanel exhaled loudly. "He is such an ass!"

So you said. "So he wants us to watch his portion of the show from the audience?"

"Yes," Chanel snorted indignantly, although she felt a tad bit quivery, and hated herself for it. "Who does he think he is?"

Tori could hear a ripping sound, and she guessed that Chanel had torn up the passes.

"The nerve," she muttered. "Stupid Pansy -- who the hell does he think he is?"

"Don't you think you're setting yourself up?" Tori ventured cautiously. "He'll just find you after the show to see why you didn't go. If you went, maybe it would show him that he doesn't...affect you like that."

There was a brief silence, and Tori wondered if she was about to get chewed out for vocalizing something she didn't know anything about, really. Chanel had never come out and admitted to liking Draco.

But either Chanel didn't care or didn't really hear her. "He thinks he's Merlin...or something close. I really don't like her." she muttered without thinking.

Tori remained silent, and Chanel seemed to have remembered her comment. "No. I'm showing that arrogant prick who's boss. He cannot compel me to do something if I choose not to. So good luck to him and his part of the concert." she huffed.

"Okay," Tori replied, not really knowing what to say.

"I've got to get; I'm working on something for HP." Chanel smirked, as she remembered. "Hopefully it'll get him to loosen up and relax."

A funny feeling crossed through Tori's stomach; Chanel's tone sounded familiar, like when she had caught Tori glancing at Harry at the studio. "Loosen up? What--"

Chanel smiled. "See you later," and hung up before Tori could ask anything else.

***

After having tromped angrily up several flights of stairs, Chanel stood in the hallway of their flat blinking stupidly for several moments.

She briefly squeezed her eyes shut, then opened them. The two monstrous burlap sacks and the overstuffed container did not disappear from in front of the door.

Royal Mail.

The emblem on the bags and bin were unmistakable. She peered cautiously at the stacks of letters bound together by ribbon and rubber band, stamps of every creed and color adorning the envelopes.

The Boy Who Lived. Mr. H. Potter. T.B.W.L.

Holy shit --

"Fan mail," she murmured.

A strange lightheadedness hit her just then. She blinked again, just for affect.

They really were out there now, known to the world. And it was just a matter of time before the --

"Owls," she whispered. "Oh my god, the owls."

Quickly darting a look around, she set about dragging the conspicuous deliveries from the hall, making a mental note to set up a post owl box post-haste.