Little Earthquakes (Cameron, openish?)

[Savannah Lyons]

Students weren't really supposed to wander out this far on Hogsmeade days, so Savannah was already taking a bit of a risk, just by going to this place. Of course, for her it wasn't a really big deal, because she usually went this way when she went to Hogsmeade. It was near the cemetery, which she visited every Hogsmeade weekend. Except for this one.

That was actually the shocking thing about this little trip off the beaten path for Savannah. Instead of going to visit her parents' graves, like she did every other time, she walked right past the cemetery and went straight to the little run-down bar she had spotted there on the outskirts of town.

Yes, she supposed that she could do what she wanted to do here at either of the other, more popular bars closer to town. It probably would have been safer, too. But she didn't want anyone to see her or recognize her when she sat down at the bar and ordered a drink. Of course, it would occur to her later that it wouldn't be much of a rebellion if no one was around to witness it. But right now, she was only thinking about the task at hand.

However, after walking into Stu's, Savannah nearly walked out. The bar was dirty--no, grimy was the more appropriate word. It was the kind of dirty that comes from dirty people and not from lack of cleaning. It smelled of alcohol and sweat.

There were a few people in the bar, and none of them looked like someone that Savannah should be hanging around. Two batty-looking old ladies were cackling away on one corner, while another who looked suspiciously like a hag was gulping down a drink at the bar. Two sleazy-looking wizards were in the middle of a game of billiards and looked up at her as she passed. And finally, there was arather hairy-looking wizard crooning away to an old Elvis tune on the karaoke stage.

Savannah bit her lip and looked over at the bar. All she had to do was walk up there, order her drink, and take a sip. She could do this.

With a deep breath, Savannah moved forward. When she reached the bar, she cleared her throat to get the attention of the bartender, who was facing the other way.

"Excuse me. I'd like a firewhiskey, please."

[Note: If you want to start out with Nathalia, you can do that, but I did leave room for Cameron to possibly be the bartender, if you wanted. It's up to you... Just so long as he shows up at some point. ]

[Cameron Wilder]

[Did we discuss Cam being a bartender? I don't remember it, but I really love the idea. So Imma roll with that.]

It wasn't exactly what his mother had hoped for him after graduation. Then again, he didn't imagine any mother wanting their child to turn to bartending as a job. But Cameron, with all the charm inherited from a father he never met, had sold Janet on the idea.

It was temporary. It would let him help take care of her for once- the bills, their home, whatever. She'd sacrificed so much for him growing up that he wanted to give back a little now that he could. It was the kind of job that would allow him to look for something more suitable during the day. It was also the kind of job that would allow for a flexible schedule if he started picking up music gigs, and Merlin knew his biggest leverage in convincing her that working in a bar was okay was that he swore he would pursue music.

That was the hardest one, to be honest.

This was only his second shift, and though it was slow, he was purposely working with Nathalia, a pretty blonde who mixed a drink as well as she batted her eyelashes, so that she could train him. Stu had stopped by earlier, just to see how things were going, but now it was just the two of them, plus a small trickle of customers. He asked Nathalia if Stu's was doing well enough to warrant hiring someone else, and she only laughed and said no, that she was certain Stu suspected she would quit soon. She left it rather vague if she was thinking to or not.

The blonde was now on the floor, checking up on a couple of tables, and leaving a drink on the edge of the stage for their current performer. As a musician, the karaoke was painful to him, but he tried not to let it show. He was cleaning a glass when a painfully familiar voice caught his attention, and he turned, coming face to face with Savannah. He actually had to do a double take, since Stu's was the last place on the entire planet he would have ever pictured her in. It became apparent really quickly that she was unaware he worked here, and he thought maybe she walked into the wrong place and didn't realize.

But then, she did ask for a firewhiskey, with a confidence in her tone that he wasn't ever sure he'd heard before.

He leaned against the bar, kicking his surprise and confusion and giving her, instead, his patented smile. "How about a.... root brewsky?" Then, he waved that off, realizing she wouldn't get the reference to root beer. "Muggle thing, sorry. Why, uh.... what are you doing here, Savannah?"

She looked like she needed to talk, and he supposed it fit, since bartenders were supposed to be cheap therapists.

[Savannah Lyons]

Savannah nearly fell over when the bartender turned around, and suddenly Cameron was staring back at her. So much for not being seen by anyone.

She almost backed out right then. She couldn't explain why, but when he looked at her like that, she felt like he pitied her. Like she was a poor sad little girl trying to be something she wasn't. She was getting tired of everyone feeling sorry for her, and it was finally starting to occur to her that she was going to have to stand up for herself if she wanted people to respect her instead of pity her.

"C-Cameron?" she said, biting her lower lip nervously, only belatedly realizing that it tasted of lipstick. She had convinced her roommate, Kellie, to help her put on makeup for the first time in her life. She was also wearing a pale blue dress that lightly skimmed over her figure, and a pair of high heels. OK, they weren't that high, but they were higher than the little-girl mary janes she usually wore. The overall effect was dramatic--not only did she look beautiful, but she actually felt pretty for the first time. It gave her a little extra confidence, which she definitely needed right now. She couldn't let him know that his smile made her knees feel weak.

"I came here for a drink, obviously," she said boldly. "I could go somewhere else..."

"

[Cameron Wilder]

He almost asked if she was old enough for a drink, but caught himself. Even if she was still sixteen, and for the life of him, he did not know when her birthday was, she could walk out that door and into any number of even reputable pubs who would serve her without question. Especially walking in with the kind of 'I belong here' confidence she was sporting now. No... the better idea would be to keep her here, and at least be able to keep her safe. It was all too easy to picture her getting smashed, and some bloke doing harm to her in some way or another.

He nodded. "You could. But you won't."

He could be just as confident as she was acting now, except he had a lot more practice at it than she did. His eyes had been, predictably, drawn to her lips when she pulled the bottom one between her teeth, and he let his gaze linger for a moment before meeting her eyes again. He could see the difference, the drastic change. The dress, he liked. The make up, not so much. Not on her. He appreciated it on someone like Brenda, who was gorgeous with or without it, but it was her thing. It didn't fit Savannah, but he refrained from telling her this. He refrained from telling her she looked nice, too, because he almost felt like she was fishing for it. Whatever she was doing here, he wasn't going to encourage.

"So that was a firewhiskey? If you say so. I'm not a fan of the taste much, but if it's your thing..." he shrugged, leaving it open and hoping she would change her mind. Either way, he reached for a lowball glass and filled it with ice.

[Savannah Lyons]

There were three pubs in Hogsmeade, so why did she just have to walk into the one Cameron worked in? It might have seemed like a calculated move, for her to walk into this little out-of-the-way bar dressed the way she was, but really, she wouldn't have come here if she'd known he worked here. But she wasn't going to let him see that she was nervous.

This whole thing wasn't about him, or Elliot, on anyone else but herself. She was trying, rather desperately, to find something that fit. She wasn't happy the way she had been before--it had always felt too constricting, like a corset pulled too tight. And maybe this wasn't right for her, either, but how was she to know if she didn't try it on for size? She just wanted to taste firewhiskey... not enough to get drunk, but so that it would be one less thing she was afraid of. Just like wearing heels and makeup. The dress was different, though. She had seen it in one of the shops in Hogsmeade a few weeks earlier and fell in love with it. It was the first time she had ever looked at something and knew that it was something she wanted. She had written to Ryder to ask him for money so she could buy it, and he had sent it promptly. This was the first time she had ever worn it, and she loved the way it made her feel.

"Yes," she lied. "It is. Thank you."

She hesitated for a minute, looking at him as he poured her drink. She wondered whether he was still seeing that Brenda woman, but she wasn't about to ask.

"How have you been, Cameron?" she asked instead.

[Cameron Wilder]

He'd hoped she would change her mind, and he knew she was watching him. The best he could do was load it with ice and hope she sipped so it could be watered down and maybe she wouldn't finish it.

He waited until he set the low ball on front of her before he met her gaze again and even thought about answering her question. Cameron, thanks to Janet, didn't ever feel ashamed of who he was or his stature, but for reasons unknown to him, he didn't like Savannah seeing him behind a bar. He liked his job. He liked the people. But he felt like she would look down on this.

"I've been good. Great. I've been busy trying to figure out what to do with my life. How are you?"

[Savannah Lyons]

Cameron didn't know Savannah nearly as well as he thought he did if he believed she would look down on him for working in a bar. Actually, she was just glad to know that he had a job at all. It didn't matter what he was doing. It was his life, after all. And just as she was trying to figure out what to do with her life, she could appreciate that Cameron was trying to do the same with his. It gave them some common ground.

"I'm doing well," she lied. He didn't need to know that she was miserable right now. "I'm trying to figure out the same thing, actually."

Savannah accepted the drink, holding it in her hand for a moment. She sort of liked the warm amber color of the the liquid and the way the ice clinked against the side of the glass. But the smell... well, it was atrocious. Hesitantly, she raised the glass to her lips, forcing herself not to breathe in as she took a big drink from the glass.

And immediately wished she hadn't. The vile beverage was clearly named most accurately, because Savannah felt as though she were on fire. Her lips, her tongue... even her teeth felt like they were being scorched. And the little bit she managed to swallow burned a fiery trail down her throat. She began to cough and choke, immediately spitting out most of the drink.

"Oh, good Godric!" she gasped in between coughs. "That stuff is terrible! It's like swallowing lava, although I'm certain the lava would taste better...."

[Cameron Wilder]

Cameron, still smiling (always smiling), shook his head. "You've still got a year left, I think you'll be okay. What options are you looking at?"

He wanted to say that she'd make a great teacher or a mediwitch, or something involving kids because she was patient and soft enough for that work. But really, he didn't know. He wasn't sure what she would excel at or what she wanted to excel at. He really wanted to know, though, because she was just so quiet about everything.

"That girl over there," Cameron said, nodding to Nathalia. "She was telling me about how she spent a lot of time traveling, and it kind of got me thinking. Not that I'd ever do it, but how rad would it be to live on a boat for a year?" He shrugged, attention fully back on her as he watched her for the drink.

He tried not to laugh, knowing that was going to happen. Without even asking, he pulled the glass back from her. "Now will you trust me and let me make you something? I promise it will have alcohol in it. But you'll like it."

[Savannah Lyons]

"I really don't know yet," Savannah sighed. It was still something of a new concept for her to think of what she might do with her life after school. She had always thought that she would go straight from school to marriage. Now she didn't know what she wanted, only that she didn't want to do that. Not yet, anyway.

She was still thinking along those lines when something popped into her head and she blurted it out without thinking.

"I want to write."

Writing was her secret. No one knew about it, not even Elliot. Oh, they knew about her journals, but they probably assumed that she just wrote boring accounts of her days. She did keep one journal for an actual diary, but she used it to spill out her feelings and emotions. But she kept other "journals"as well, where she wrote stories and poems and whatever else came to her mind. Every time Ryder sent her more money, Savannah used it to buy new journals and new quills, which she went through at an astonishing rate. It might have seemed as though she was doing her homework, but almost any time she was writing, it was in one of her journals.

But then Cameron mentioned something else that caught her interest. The idea of travel was something that had been on her mind for a very long time. Her mother had wanted to travel, and to play her way through all the nightclubs in Paris. Savannah didn't even have that much of an aspiration... she just wanted to get away from here, and go some place where she could be someone else. Where she could be whomever she wanted to be.

"I've never been on a boat before," she admitted. "But travel does sound like fun... I would love to go to France. Or Italy."

She felt a little embarrassed about her reaction to the drink and her resolute insistence on trying it. But now she could cross that off her list. She knew she did not like firewhiskey, and that was all she wanted to know. She wanted to decide these things for herself, with no one else's opinion to sway her.

"Yes... I trust you," she replied. "Take that away."

[Cameron Wilder]

"Writing? Wow. Go for it. Are you thinking like... for the newspaper, or books, or what?" He wanted to keep her talking and in his bar, so she didn't get herself hurt, but he was genuinely interested, too. He wanted to know if there was a story in her head, and what story it was that she wanted to tell.

Because he understood that. He marveled at musicians, and if he could have a sit down with any one of them, his question would also be, why that piece, why that song? To her, it would be, why that story? What drove her to tell it? Of course, maybe she just wanted to write gossip for the Daily prophet, and it wasn't all that exciting or intriguing after all.

"Yeah, I don't know. I want to go everywhere. I just don't want to be tied down," he told her, while getting another glass and making her a muggle Mai Tai. It wasn't too sweet, but masked the taste of the alcohol well enough that he thought she'd like it.

"Let me know what you think."

[Savannah Lyons]

So much of Savannah had been buried deep inside for so long that she felt a burning need to just spill it all out, to change other people's perception of her. She was so used to basing her idea of herself on how other people saw her, and if she could change how someone else saw her, maybe she could break out of that mold that had held her for so long.

Somehow it seemed completely appropriate that it would be Cameron. Her feelings for him were still confusingly mashed up inside her, and she alternately loved him and hated him, but she could not deny that she also trusted him completely. She didn't know how he saw her--was she just the prissy little sister of his best friend? Or did he maybe see something different in her--a soul imprisoned and crying out to be free?

"I've always written," she told him. "Whenever it looked like I was frantically writing my homework at the table, I wasn't. I was writing in my journal. Not just about my day or my feelings... but stories of all the places I wanted to go and the things I wanted to do. I've lived a thousand lives in my journals and had amazing adventures. And maybe... maybe other people might like to read about them. Or not. But I know I just have to write... I need it like I need to breathe."

She didn't look at him as she said this, but when she finished, she looked up, meeting his eyes nervously. She took a breath, then sipped on her drink, smiling slightly when she tasted the sweet fruity drink. It was cool, yet left a warm feeling on her tongue and throat as it went down.

"I like it," she said.

[Cameron Wilder]

I need it like I breathe, she said, and Cameron's smile slipped just a little. He glanced towards Nathalia, towards the limited other patrons to see if he was needed anywhere, because he was uncomfortable suddenly.

No one looked like they needed the attention except Savannah.

What she described was what he was coming to realize he felt about music. He had tried so hard to downplay what it meant to him, but he was begrudgingly accepting that his mother as right- he needed to make music. Enough that it was important to her that he made a career of it, even if there was no money in it.

On top of that, he was wild and agitated and distractable unless there music playing because it was the only way he could really get his thoughts organized.

But the reason for the slip of his smile was that her passion, that thing that drove her, was the area he was lacking in his own music- words. He didn't pay a lot of attention to lyrics, and he felt like if he ever wanted to be taken seriously as a solo artist, he was going to need to start writing words, too.

"Have you ever considered song lyrics?" he finally asked, leaning forward against the bar.

[Savannah Lyons]

For Savannah, her writing had often been an escape from her real life, her thoughts and pain and the sense of feeling uncomfortable in her own skin. With writing she could travel to distant lands, maybe even lands that didn't exist anywhere but in her own imagination. Reality was ugly. In the real world, horrible things happened. People died, people were murdered, leaving behind confused children who had no idea how to process that kind of loss or what it meant for the rest of their lives. It was better to escape into a world that she could control, where the villains were evil and the heroes were brave and strong and kind, and everything had a happy ending. The real world wasn't like that. In the real world, someone who is supposed to love you could treat you like you were worthless. In the real world, families could be torn apart.

But sometimes, her emotions took over and she had to try and channel it into her writing because she simply couldn't express it any other way. Although she should have been able to rely on Elliot, she never could tell him how she still felt worthless inside; how her father's treatment of her still affected her even after all this time. She couldn't tell him how much she missed their mother. They never really talked about their parents' death, and that was the way it always had been. So she would let her emotions pour out onto the page, sometimes in long, tear-soaked journal entries, and sometimes in fragmented, disjointed "poems," without form or rhyme. Those were often raw, and gut-wrenching to read, and she hid them away in the deepest corners of her trunk, certain that they were ugly and sickening and that no one in their right mind would ever want to see them

But the idea of writing song lyrics--or poems that could be set to music--was not something she had ever considered, even though there was a certain musicality to her formless poems. It was an intriguing idea, actually, now that Cameron had mentioned it. Maybe those pieces would't be so ugly if she channeled them into a more specific form, used a little discipline to tame the words into something that others might relate to just as much as she did. It was a scary prospect, to even think of anyone else reading anything she had written other than another term paper for Professor Slughorn about the uses of newt eyes in potions. But if she ever wanted her life to change, maybe it was time to let others see what she had buried inside of her for so many years.

"I... I hadn't thought of it," she said, her voice a little uncertain. "It's an interesting idea. I probably could do it. I'm just not sure anyone would really want to hear what I have to say."

[Cameron Wilder]

"People have always listened to what I've had to say with my music. The think about music that I've noticed, Savannah, is that people need to hear what you want to say. Not the other way around." He seemed to have turned awfully sentimental since graduation, and he laughed lightly, shaking his head.

"Ah, ignore me. I don't know what I'm talking about."

Music was the same... His just didn't have words. But wouldn't it be funny if she had the words his music was always missing? He hadn't gotten the spot with the Wrackspurts, but he hadn't been expecting to, either. He has no experience, and he wasn't the only one who could play. But it gave him a look into a place where he really wanted to be. It gave him drive and determination, and it was all he could think about now.

"If you had something or wanted to write something... A poem or anything with a rhythm, I could put music to it for you. See how you like it. You never know, you might have a real talent for it." He shrugged, letting her know that it was a casual offer. He wasn't going to be heartbroken if she declined. Honestly, he was just glad that she was doing what made her happy- the thing, apparently, that she lived for.

[Savannah Lyons]

He might have thought he was just being sentimental or that he didn't know what he was talking about, by to Savannah, there was something very appealing and hopeful in his words. The way she had been raised--to believe that, as a girl, she had nothing to offer except as a potential wife and mother--she had always felt as though her voice was being silenced, and her opinions didn't matter. That no one would want to hear what she thought or felt about anything. This was why, even now, she didn't know how to talk to her own twin brother and why her older brother was a complete stranger to her. It was also why should couldn't tell Cameron how she really felt about him.

She had always poured her feelings out into her journal because she didn't feel that she could dare speak them aloud, and if she did, no one would care to hear them. But maybe if they were songs, people would listen. She thought of a singer she had heard, a woman named Carole King, and wondered if she could somehow be like her.

She smiled almost shyly, tucking a stray hair behind her ear as she looked up at Cameron. "I'd like that. I'll see if any of my poems would be good.. or I'll write some more. I write a lot of poems...."

She wasn't yet thinking of how, in a strange way, they might complete each other--rather she was thinking how it would be scary and yet strangely exciting to show her words to someone else after so many years of keeping them to herself. Would he like what she had to say? Would he care about it? Would he think differently of her?

[Cameron Wilder]

Cameron was probably more excited by the idea of having something in his hands to put music to than he should have been. It was because it was her, though. If it was anyone else, he'd still do it and joy from making music, but the thought of putting music to her thoughts was thrilling to him. He could feel the music, and he'd be complimenting her feelings and emotions with his own.

Sure, a lot of artists did that. But it felt deeper with her. It felt more organic than forced, like many artists were.

He cracked a smile. "Who knows, maybe we'll get signed and get paid to travel, performing your words everywhere."

[Savannah Lyons]

Savannah liked this idea more than she probably should have. She could still remember so vividly the fantasies her mother had told her long ago of running away and taking all the kids with them to Paris, where she would sing in smoky nightclubs and they would eat baguettes and crepes and croissants. Her mother had described the scenes so well that Savannah could still see them when she closed her eyes, could almost hear her mother's sweet voice carrying through the smoke and dim lights, could almost taste the buttery croissants.

Neither of them had ever shared those dreams with her brothers; it had always just been between them. It had become their little secret backup plan, and in some strange way, Savannah secretly imagined carrying on with that fantasy in her mother's honor. And somehow it seemed so right that it should be with Cameron.

She smiled shyly, taking another sip from her drink for courage. "Maybe we could," she said. "Maybe we should meet and have a song writing session sometime."

Her heart skipped a beat at the prospect, even as she highly doubted that her poetry would be worth anything, or that her singing voice was really good enough to impress anyone. But at least for her, the chance to have that creative outlet was enough of a start.

"Maybe I should practice my singing, though... should I get up there and sing something?" she asked, gesturing up at the makeshift stage.

[Cameron Wilder]

Unnoticeable, but still there, Cameron paused in his step. It seemed like a big step for Savannah to suggest that, a song writing session, and he felt somehow honored that she trusted him with that. But it also meant that she might get to see him in a very vulnerable position. He was different went he was writing music, like an entirely new person. Savannah had seen glimpses of it already, though.

"Well, if you're serious about that, you know where to find me," he said, gesturing around the bar. "Though I'm out of money so my piano and I are back with my mom for the time being."

It was temporary. He swore it to both his mother and himself, but she continued to encourage the music, so he didn't feel the stress to find a button-down job to get him out of her place. But the music was all he had- it was who he was, and he had no back up plan. He'd keep working until it worked out. He didn't have another choice.

Leaning forward on the bar, he gestured towards the little stage. "Go for it. I dare you."

[Savannah Lyons]

Savannah understood more about Cameron’s passion for music than he realized. If he was worried about feeling vulnerable in her presence, he needn’t have worried. She felt much the same way when talking about her writing, and even with her singing. In her regular life, she still felt like she had to hold so much back that it was easier to express herself in other ways. She poured everything she had into her writing, as well as her singing. If anything, they could both be vulnerable together.

“I may just take you up on that,” she said. “I’m feeling a bit frustrated with school these days… sometimes I really just need to get away. And… I wouldn’t mind seeing your mother again. I really like her, even though I’m sure she thought I was very strange… never having pizza or… what were they called again? Those little chocolate cookies with the creamy centers? I’ve been craving them ever since.”

She glanced at the stage, a little spark in her eye. She was a little nervous, since no one but Cameron had ever heard her sing before. But the place wasn’t exactly busy, and she didn’t really care if she impressed anyone here besides him and maybe the blond barmaid. It was more the idea of standing on a stage to sing that was intimidating.

“You think I won’t take a dare, don’t you? Well, you should know me better than that…”

She gulped down a little more of her drink—liquid courage, didn’t they call it—and marched up toward the stage.

She recalled a muggle song she had heard a couple of years ago by a singer named Carole King, and she had always thought it very pretty. As if by magic, the song began to play—just a soft piano part—and after the intro passed, she began to sing in a soft, clear voice that grew stronger as she went:

“When you're down and troubled,
And you need some love and care,
And nothing, nothing is going right
Close your eyes and think of me,
And soon I will be there
To brighten up even your darkest night.

You just call out my name
And you know wherever I am
I'll come running to see you again
Winter, spring, summer or fall
All you have to do is call
And I'll be there
You've got a friend

If the sky above you grows dark and full of clouds
And that old north wind begins to blow
Keep your head together and call my name out loud
Soon you'll hear me knocking at your door

You just call out my name
And you know wherever I am
I'll come running, running, yeah, yeah, to see you again
Winter, spring, summer or fall
All you have to do is call
And I'll be there
And I'll be there, yes I will.

Now, ain't it good to know that you've got a friend
When people can be so cold?
They'll hurt you, yes, and desert you
And take your soul if you let them,
Oh, but don't you let them

You just call out my name
And you know wherever I am
I'll come running, running, yeah, yeah, yeah, to see you again.
Winter, spring, summer or fall
All you have to do is call
And I'll be there, yes I will.
You've got a friend

You've got a friend
Ain't it good to know, you've got a friend?
Ain't it good to know?
Ain't it good to know?
Ain't it good to know, you've got a friend?

Oh yeah, now
Oh, you've got a friend
Yeah, baby
You've got a friend
Oh yeah...
You've got a friend…”

[Cameron Wilder]

"Oreos," Cameron supplied the word for her. "Mom always has them stocked. And she didn't think you were weird, I promise you. She might be a muggle, but she understands the wizarding world. She liked you."

It didn't take much encouragement at all to get her up on stage, thought it really did shock Cameron. He hadn't expected her to do it, and maybe it was because she knew almost no one in the bar. But he was glad for it.

Until she got on stage and started singing. A word for his emotions other than 'glad' came to mind, and he found himself standing up straighter, transfixed. He could see her voice in his mind and it sparked blues and greens and golds and it was... quite possibly what he wanted the next sixty years of his life to look like.