mirrorball

chapter twelve

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

The smell of beer and pigs awoke Clara two days later. She didn't know where she and Ron were exactly, only that it was a small tavern in Scotland called 'Piggy Wiggy'. Classy.

Clara got out of bed and kicked Ron gently. He grunted and slowly rose to his feet as Clara brushed her teeth in their bathroom. She glanced at the redhead, who was looking anxiously out the window at the vast nothingness that surrounded them.

"Penny for your thoughts," said Clara after spitting out the remaining saliva and toothpaste that was resting in her mouth after her two minutes of oral hygiene had been completed.

"I think there might be someplace we can go, at least for a bit. It's free, but it'll be hard to find."

"Alright, where?"

"Shell cottage."

Ron was right. Finding this cottage was becoming a large hassle. After apparating to Cornwall, the two tried walking the area Ron had remembered the cottage to be, but of course it was hidden well by magic. The area, though beautiful, was becoming an annoyance to Clara as she walked the same three miles back and forth.

"Are you sure this is the right area?"

"Positive, see that rock?" said Ron, pointing his right index finger at a large rock protruding into the ocean, "Bill told me all about how when I came to visit we'd go jumping off it together. This is the right place, I know it."

The two searched the area for another hour. By then, the sun was setting and darkness was blurring the pair's vision. Clara sighed and stopped in her tracks. "We should call it a day, maybe... maybe we'll find it tomorrow."

"Yeah, alright," said Ron. He opened his sack and pulled out a large sleeping bag. Clara did the same and the two grabbed some small sticks to get a makeshift fire.

"You know," said Ron, "Dad says Muggles make fire out of just sticks. Something about friction, I think it's called. Makes heat or whatever. Wanna try?"

Clara raised her eyebrows apprehensibly. With a small shrug, she pocketed her wand, though she was almost certain she'd need it soon. She doubted Muggles could make as good a fire from rubbing sticks together, which Ron had begun to do fiercely, as she could with a simple flick of her wand.

A small flame erupted from the stick and Ron pulled his hands away in shock. He looked at Clara and laughed loudly. "Well don't stop!" she cried, a smile forming on her face for the first time since the two had left Harry and Hermione in the woods. Ron began rubbing the stick between his hands again and the flame grew stronger and stronger.

After a few short minutes, the fire was burning steadily and Ron let the stick drop into the flames. He smiled at his work and lay back on his elbows. "Isn't that something?" he said quietly, "Maybe dad was right... Muggles are pretty fucking cool."

Clara let out a small laugh and put her hands up to the fire, letting the warmth ease her tender and cold fingers. Ron's stomach growled and he shifted uncomfortably. "You don't reckon we could catch a fish in this darkness, do you?"

Clara grabbed her pack and rifled through it. She pulled out a loaf of bread and two apples. "Stole them from the market," said Clara. She tossed Ron an apple and began ripping the loaf apart. 

"Clara..."

"I know, I know, stealing is wrong. I left a bracelet for them in exchange. If they have any sense, they'll sell it and it will get them more money than us paying for this meal would."

"Clara, you didn't-" said Ron, hoisting himself up and grabbing her wrist. He let out a sigh of relief as he saw a small silver bracelet hanging from her wrist. Clara pulled her wrist back immediately, holding onto the branches that pulled the bracelet together. "What bracelet did you give them?"