𝐬𝐰𝐞𝐞𝐭 𝐬𝐨𝐫𝐫𝐨𝐰!
act one, chapter one
" 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒂𝒍𝒅𝒘𝒐𝒓𝒕𝒉 𝒍𝒊𝒃𝒓𝒂𝒓𝒚 "

𝐀𝐔𝐆𝐔𝐒𝐓 𝟏𝟗𝟗𝟕

          𝑺𝑼𝑴𝑴𝑬𝑹 𝑺𝑰𝑻𝑺 𝑼𝑷𝑶𝑵 𝑨 𝑯𝑰𝑳𝑳 𝑰𝑵 𝑨𝑳𝑫𝑾𝑶𝑹𝑻𝑯. A hill that sogs when the rain falls, like a curtain dropping to reveal the inevitable Autumn season behind it. It's like dancing on a volcano ─ one wrong move, in the form of a bad weather day and the following days up until April will be just the same. But for now, that hill beneath Aldworth is illuminated by the newly radiant sun and sprinkled with the watercolour hues Spring left behind, and even as September looms, Aldworth is the brightly coloured bliss, a village can be in summer.

          Wyatt Buckley wonders if Autumn strikes as early as September first in other counties across England, as it does in Berkshire. Even if the weather report predicts a sunny day in early September, the sky is still speckled with clouds, and the sun is too shy to kindle the whole landscape. It's not quite "summer" from Wyatt's perspective. Technically, summer doesn't end until late September so the black and white calendar says, but, to Wyatt Buckley (an avid summer fan) in Aldworth, Berkshire, the first day of the ninth month feels like a bright red stop sign and the ripping of a page from a notebook.

          August is almost over, and the next time that Wyatt Buckley will be home in Aldworth village, rapid temperature drops, and frostbitten fingers will be delivered to her on a frozen platter. Weather doesn't count at school in Wyatt's eyes. Sure the snow is nice, but is she ever paying enough attention to care that much? It's Scotland ─ incredibly far from the equator, and rather frickin' cold. Autumn is like a fever dream. That's why she loves summer ─ brightly lit, a burst of colour, and warm enough temperatures to sleep with the window open. She doesn't want it to end.

          A chill grazed her skin, as Wyatt stared out of the window. She didn't mind it, even if it made the hairs on her arm stand up. Her trunk was already packed and resting at the foot of her bed, her knitted jumper of black and yellow poking through. She told herself to remind future Wyatt to tuck it back in at some point, but for now, she wasn't bothered.

          The sun was at eye level, far from setting, like a globed orb, easy on the eye. Wyatt likes to think she can see all of Aldworth from her window. All of the winding paths, and where they sprout out to different houses. The rows of bushes, full of life, that line the roads, which are never hosting any cars ever. Aldworth's got everything anyone would need. All that anyone would need. Not stuffy with pollution, nor with traffic. It's a tiny village, yet so bursting of life. The kind of place where everyone knows everyone, and no one has a problem with that. Besides one family, that is. But Wyatt chooses not to count the Nott family, since their mansion (Wyatt would like to reiterate the size of their house) stands right on the outskirts of town, with vast countryside surrounding it, the clouds low enough to conceal it completely.

          Wyatt hates that house. Too little colour, too little life, she says. Big enough for a ten-person family, but only inhabits three. Wyatt can't be sure how many maids, and butlers, and chefs the Nott family employ, but she doubts they are the type of people to have their servants live under the same roof. She's never seen Mr and Mrs Nott leave their manor. Not even on September first. She's seen them before visiting their son at the Hogwarts castle, but she has never once seen the three of them together, in their local village. Whether that be at the tiny, white panelled church, or even at the small post office just by the toad pond. Even in Primary School ─ Aldworth hosts a tiny Catholic school for the children, but once they turn eleven, they have to seek outside of the village for further education ─ she only ever saw their employed Nanny dropping off Theodore Nott and picking him up. It was like they weren't even a family.

          Wyatt used to think it was just their wealth that made them stand out. Compared to everyone else's, their house was like a castle. It has six large windows from the front, all of which are always boarded up like they want to be shut out from the rest of the world. Well, they chose the right location at least. Vines curled up and down the grey cobblestoned walls, and yet looked so detailed, it looked as though each individual ivy leaf had been meticulously placed by hand. The lights were almost never on, and a green glow seemed to accompany the house even during the day, which made it seem as though it should be the focus of a crime show, and yet it was so uniquely beautiful. Wyatt could not say the same about the people that lived there.

          But there's another reason the Nott family stand out ─ they are a complete mystery. Again, Aldworth is a place where everyone knows everyone. Except for the Notts. No one knows anything about the Notts. Wyatt believes she knows the most, considering she goes to school with their son. The biggest mystery, however, was how two wizards, from one tiny, little village in the county of Berkshire, ended up at the same school.

          Theodore Nott was the only one out of the three that seemed to have any life left in him. Wyatt would like to say that that most certainly does not mean he is a fun person to be around. He just seems to be the only one to have some spirit left, and the ability to show his face outside of his Vampire-Esque household, and socialise when he wanted to. The people in the town of Aldworth think he is fourteen and goes to an all-boys boarding school in Wales. He is in fact seventeen and studying magic and dragons in a castle in Scotland.

          Wyatt drew her eyes away from the arcane house, and they fell onto the cracks between the pathing stones sunk into her garden's patch of grass, where blooms of petals shot up from, painting the ground with bursts of colour.

          It was two days until she boarded the Hogwarts Express to start her seventh year at Wizarding School, and her future loomed closer than ever, creeping in through the back door. This shouldn't be scary for Wyatt ─ she's had her life planned out since she was seven. Graduate Hogwarts, study theatre at University, perform in the Globe Theatre by the time she's twenty-five. What's scary is that she doesn't know how successful her three-part plan will be. For now, she's telling Professor Sprout she wants to work an office job in the Ministry during their termly career meetings.

          But in the meantime, before school begins again, Wyatt plans to soak up the last of the Berkshire sun, and bury herself beneath a pile of Shakespeare and Wilde, until she has read their entire complete collections of work.

          Lucas and Megan Buckley were sitting at the worn, wooden table and chairs outside on the patio when Wyatt came downstairs ─ Lucas with a ball of yarn at his feet, knitting a jumper for the Autumn season, and Megan, reading the local newspaper. Wyatt bid her parents adieu, packed a scarf in case it grew cold before she got home, and left through the front and headed into town.

          It was a Saturday in Aldworth, the sky almost clear, and the time had just gone midday and Wyatt was heading for the library. Her favourite place for miles. It was small ─ granted considering the village was just only possessing the qualifications required to receive the title of "village" ─ but that's what made it so nice. It was cosy, especially in winter. Never busy, just how a library should be. And had more books than Wyatt could fit on her own bookshelf, back home. Wyatt was pretty certain she was the only resident to ever check out a book.

          The bell chimed as Wyatt opened the door, and it made her smile as it did so. Libraries don't have silver bells hanging over the entrance ─ it's a shop thing, not a library thing. It made her feel content because she knew it meant there would never be any visitors.

          Shelley, the Librarian ─ late fifties, greying hair, stereotypical Librarian ─ greeted Wyatt on her way in, before Wyatt vanished behind the bookshelves, and sunk into the same table she did almost every day of summer right at the back, where the only opening windows were. There was just enough light back there, and not too stuffy when the window was cracked open. But enough privacy from the towering bookshelves, even if Wyatt was only one of six people inside (including Shelley and the maintenance man, Joe), and she could see them and hear their rustles of paper, through the cracks. It was comforting, but not lonely. Books were comfort, ergo, the Aldworth Library was also comfort.

          Wyatt was around halfway into act two of William Shakespeare's Titus Andronicus, weirdly the only Shakespeare Wyatt has ever read that she actually doesn't know what's going on when the scuffing of feet on gravel and the out-of-tune drone of a hum woke her from her period of peaceful, silent reading. Turning in her seat to check out her disruption, Wyatt internally groaned at the first chance she got, for not recognising that familiar inability to carry a tune sooner.

          Theodore Nott, fostering a messy hairdo, and black cap, was strolling downhill, a bag slung over his shoulder like he was in a world of his own. A movie. Then again, Theo Nott has always believed he was the star of his own blockbuster; everyone around him merely extras.

          Wyatt Buckley is pretty sure Theodore Nott is jobless. Bored out of his mind, useless-being kind of jobless. Wyatt isn't in the library every day, but when she is, Theodore will always stroll by at some point during her stay. Not every time, because maybe Wyatt had missed him, but almost every time. Since he can't play Quidditch and since his parents are stricter than strict, Wyatt would be right to assume the boy is bored. So she has since concluded he just walks around the village aimlessly because his house is in the middle of nowhere and his closest friend lives in Wiltshire.

          So Wyatt thinks she should have recognised his awful humming, and pace of feet since she hears it too damn often.

          Theo must have caught Wyatt briefly looking at him through the window because seconds later, his once unaware expression adopted a broad smirk, and his hand flew to shoulder height in an awkward wave. Wyatt spun back around held her book closer to her nose and begged not to hear the doorbell any time soon.

          She heard the chiming of the doorbell four seconds later. Followed by the shuffling of shoes against the ratted carpet, and the irritating voice of a boy brought up with lots of money.

          "Fancy seeing you here." He sang, his voice so high-pitched, Wyatt would have thought Theo was actually pleased to see someone. He must have been seriously attention deprived lately.

          Wyatt didn't look up from her book. "You walk past this library every day."

          He took a step closer, and she felt his body language change, and she assumed he was shrugging lamely. "Yeah, I know."

          Her eyes travelled up her book and landed on his. She bored at him spiritless, with high hopes he would get the message and leave her be. Wyatt may think that Theo has the best personality out of his family but that's only because there are literally just three of them, and only because Mr and Mrs Nott barely see the light of day. "You also wave at me every day." She said. It's true and also annoying. Wyatt never waves back.

          "And you don't wave back." He replied. Wyatt seriously hopes that disappoints him considering this boy has gotten everything he's ever wanted in life including popularity and plenty of attention from his classmates. Hopefully being ignored by one girl humbles him even just a bit.

          Wyatt lowered the book to her lap, and her forehead creased. "Am I supposed to?"

          Theo tilted his head then recovered it straight after. "That is the common courtesy, yes." He said. "But never mind. It hasn't put me off staying for a little while."

          Wyatt watched as the boy reached an arm forward to pull out the chair in front of her, at the other end of her table, and she edged her torso forward hastily. "Well," she hummed, "I think I see a free table just over there." Wyatt pointed to a lone table on the other side of the library.

          Theo followed her finger, then squared himself to face her once more and squinted his eyes. "Is this table not free?" He asked sceptically.

          "No," Wyatt stated flatly, "in case you hadn't noticed, it's occupied by me."

          His brows furrowed deeper. "Right," He singsonged. "But it's a six-person table."

          "So?"

          "So. There's one of you. Plenty of space for me as well." Theodore said with a short shrug.

          Wyatt gently shut her book, marking the page with her finger, and sat up straighter. "There seems to be a mistake." She said as politely as she could muster. "I'm not welcoming you to come and sit with me."

          Theo smiled innocently, but Wyatt could read through the act and caught a glimpse of sarcasm. "No, there's no mistake. I welcomed myself." He said with a punctuated nod.

         "That's not how it works."

          Wyatt had been to several different libraries hundreds of times, this particular one at least two hundred times and yet Theodore Nott had caused her to forget the primary library rule: be quiet.

          An angered: "Shh!" coming from the table behind the closest bookshelf in front of Wyatt caused her face to heat up, and her expression to tighten on the boy standing awkwardly in front of her.

          "Sorry!" She called out as sweetly as she could, before whipping her head sternly back towards Theo, her expression changing in the snap of a finger. "See?" She whisper-yelled harshly. "A library isn't a place to socialise."

          Theo also decided to lower his voice: "Gee, sorry. Didn't mean to touch a nerve." He held his hands up in a surrender motion.

          Wyatt gritted her teeth. "Well, consider a nerve touched."

          In one swift movement, Wyatt crossed one leg to rest on top of the other and lifted her book to eye level, the bound paper acting as a shield between her and the insufferable Slytherin staring right at her.

          But even as she flicked over the next page, almost lost once again to the printed ink, Wyatt still had enough awareness to hear the creaking of a chair, and the stirring of a moving figure in front of her, and by the time she had lowered her book to peek her eyes over the top, Theo was hunched over her table, and fishing out a Potions textbook from his bag.

          Her neck jutted out towards him. "Did you not take anything from our last conversation?" She questioned quietly. Theo didn't so much as acknowledge her words and either he had gone deaf or was ignoring her. She concluded it was probably the latter. "Theodore??"

          Theo now had his head engrossed in the page of his book, and acted as if he had only just heard her beckoning. He fluttered his eyes and glanced up with a faked startled look. He sighed. "Sorry, I thought libraries weren't a place to socialise." He smiled sarcastically. Wyatt's chest rose and fell, her huff out loud enough for him to hear. Theo then added: "And my name isn't Theodore."

          Wyatt's copy of Titus Andronicus was now on the table in front of her. She mockingly tapped her head, as if she had had a blank moment."Oh right." She choired. "I forgot. You're too pretentious to answer to your full name."

          "Only my parents call me Theodore."

          "I gathered that much, considering they named you it."

          Theo had since adopted a jaded expression. "Can we move on from the topic of my parents, please, Wyatt? Considering they're the reason I'm in this dump." He slumped into his chair gracelessly.

          "Ah, I see." Wyatt chanted. "I was wondering whether Theodore Nott had visited a public library of his own accord. I would have thought there were plenty of rooms in his sizable manor to silently study."

          "I don't live in a manor." He replied back instantly, in a snooty voice. Theodore did in fact have many rooms he could use to study, including his own bedroom, for his upcoming year at Hogwarts which happened to also be his last and therefore most important, but his parents believed he wasn't focused enough when at home. So they sent him to the library downtown.

          Wyatt cocked her head, and her brows rose. "I live opposite you, Theo." She said. "You live in a manor."

          "Opposite" was a bit of a stretch, but her point was, she lived close enough to truly appreciate the size of the Nott residence.

          Theo must not have prepared for such an argument, and childishly crossed his arms, apparently to stand his ground. He had no reply, and Wyatt took this as her opportunity to leave the boy alone.

          The boy watched as Wyatt marked her page, permanently this time, before slipping it into a canvas bag that was resting on the chair next to her. His back slowly straightened out as she gripped onto the handles and propped it onto her shoulder, finally rising from her seat.

          "Where are you going?" He asked, now inclined forward in his chair.

          "To check out a book before I leave."

          For some bizarre reason, Theodore Nott did not seem too content with this statement. "You're leaving?"

          "I'm sure you won't miss me that much."

          Wyatt manoeuvred past the chairs, and around the table, weaving in and out of bookcases until she came to a halt at the section she was looking for. The library was silent again. The only reason Wyatt had realized this was because a voice disrupted her regular routine of searching for a book in the Aldworth Library.

          "Shakespeare? Is this the guy that thought he was cool enough to write his own language?"

          Wyatt couldn't be bothered to even turn around, but since she could tell by his tone of voice that he was whispering, and by how clearly she could hear his uneducated words, Wyatt assumed Theo was rather close. He must have read off of the label above the shelf she was viewing.

          She ran her finger along the spines of the plays that were tucked neatly onto one portion of a bookcase. She didn't look Theo in the eyes. "It's called Shakespearean."

          "I gathered that much." Came his voice.

          "And he was plenty cool enough to have the right to do that." Wyatt defended, and although she could guarantee that Theo would use her statement as leverage to take the piss, she stood by what she had said.

          "You and I have very different perceptions of what it means to be cool."

          The voice no longer came from the direction of behind, and she no longer possessed the luxury of denying him eye contact, because Theo had waltzed around the other side of the bookcase, and was now staring at her, straight on, from the other side.

          Wyatt watched as he randomly selected one of Shakespeare's plays, and clumsily flipped to a slapdash page somewhere in the middle. She had already rolled her eyes even before Theo decided to recite the words he read off of the page. Wyatt now identified the book as Hamlet from the cover, and screamed internally because there was no way on planet earth, Theodore Nott was not going to take the mick.

          She saw his neck jerk backwards and his brows crinkle before he started reading: ""The cock, that is the trumpet to the morn, Doth with his lofty and shrill-sounding throat."" The boy took a second to absorb what he had just read before his hands drooped a little and his eyes swivelled back onto Wyatt. "Oh dear God, what on earth is this."

          Wyatt decided to be blunt because she wasn't even going to try and humour him. "It's called literature."

          "This isn't literature," he argued, "it's gibberish." Theo glanced back down to the page, apparently picked up on something else he decided is vital to note, and looked up again. "And who the hell calls their son Horatio anyway?"

          "It's Danish." Wyatt explained.

          "It's stupid."

          "That's rude."

          Theo had no emotional reaction to Wyatt's words but instead flashed his eyes open wide, before moving swiftly on to the next book that he planned to deeply criticize when he has no knowledge of classic British literature.

          Wyatt cringed once she had read the title of his next victim. Theo had once again randomly chosen one from the shelf, but this time, he decided to read the title before flicking to an unchosen page. The play was Much Ado About Nothing.

          Theodore's face lit up with amusement once he had clocked on. "Ah," he sang, holding up the book for Wyatt to clearly see, even if she knew what it was already, "isn't this that silly play you put on a few years ago?"

          Wyatt ignored the ignorance-driven choice of word silly and sported a sarcastic, "proud" look, her head tilted to one side. "Aw look at you, observing things."

          Theo stared down at the book loosely gripped in his hands, almost with a hint of disgust. "That was the slowest two hours of my life." He sighed, reminiscing his boredom.

          "Why did you go then?" Wyatt asked, bored.

          He shrugged, carelessly shoving the playback onto the shelf in the wrong position. "Mum made me."

          "Right," Wyatt replied, taking the same book out and slotting it tidily into its correct placement, correcting his careless mistake. "It would have been hard to comprehend had it been you that went on your own desires."

          "Very."

          Wyatt decided The Merchant of Venice would be good preparation for Professor Flitwick's play this year, and although she had read it before, practice makes perfect, and to get the part of the leading lady, she has to be perfect. She withdrew the play from the shelf and walked back around and out into the aisle where the various cases branched out. Theo must have seen her move and did the same, meeting her straight on at the end.

          His eye line immediately fell to the book in her hands and without warning, snatched it from her grasp. Theo took a few moments to inspect it, skimming the blurb and title, and speedily fanning the pages, causing a draft to waft upward.

          "There's no way you're going to take this home and read it voluntarily, is there?" He questioned dubiously.

          Wyatt looked at him disinterested, her eyes lolling downward. "It's called an attention span. Look it up."

          Theo pursed his lips. "Hard to. I'm a wizard." He shrugged.

          Wyatt sighed. "And an aggravating one at that. See you at school, Theo." She was determined to escape this boy's presence and so sauntered past him, their shoulders grazing as she did so. Before making it to Shelley at the front desk to check out her book, Wyatt span back around to have the final word: "But if I'm lucky, hopefully not." With a sarcastic smile, Wyatt continued her journey to the desk at the front, eventually leaving earshot.

          Theo shook his head with a smirk. He then glanced back at the Shakespeare shelf. For a moment, he contemplated giving one of them a go. Then the devil on his shoulder slapped him around the head, and Theo laughed at his consideration. He collected his textbook and backpack from Wyatt's table (Wyatt was still checking out her book, not having the motivation to see him leave) and left the library having not studied like he was supposed to, and having not checked out a play by William Shakespeare.

          Honestly Theo. A play by William Shakespeare? You must be having a laugh.

¨. ༢ ͎۪۫ ༊*·˚