… But it flew away from her reach
So she ran away in her sleep
Dreamed of para- para- paradise”
~ Coldplay – Paradise 
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This is the second set in Ash and Imogene’s love story.
I actually have more of a plan for this one, compared to Shia and Noah’s
But then again there’s always a first for everything haha, yet in no way does that mean I hate anything I wrote for Shia and Noah’s story; in fact, I’m a little sad their love story has…well it hasn’t ‘ended’ but I won’t be focusing on it as /much/ as I will this one, and so on and so forth.
I am partnering the flashbacks with ‘present’ sets, and will trying to have the set layouts show accordingly. 
Also…I apologize if their ‘9-years-old’ conversation seems not…mild enough for a nine year old to have lol but this is how it came out. 
--------------------------------
Song for the Set:
Coldplay - Paradise
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=J6ZWlDks0nQ
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Roughly 9 years ago…

Most children have an understanding of magic; it’s not told to them but, it’s the worlds that robs them of their innocence, and steals their hope that things can happen without explanation – that we all can have a happy ending, or at least a happy existence. Muggle children grow up with the knowledge that when they get older, the magic will slowly disappear without heed of warning, and there is little they can do to keep it. They grow up, and the magic dies. The same cannot be said for children from the wizarding world; they are young witches and wizards that muggle children can only dare to dream of. 

The magic they believe in is more than just visible, it lives inside of them; despite the world growing darker or more serious, that magic never fades because its who they are – they live it, they breathe it in and they use it at will. Unicorns and three-headed dogs roam the forests of their schools – one in particular is Scotland, which is of notable recognition – and ghosts inhabit the halls and converse with the students; they’re as normal as the sun setting and rising. Even the adults know that magic exists, because they wield it with an instrument that becomes no less important than one of their arms – their wand. Deaths may be more vicious, but in this other world, there is an exuberance to their lives that is no less natural than how the muggles live their own lives – just a little more…special. 

You could choose any of the children from this world but there is one in particular, a blazing-blue eyed, fiery-haired, porcelain-skinned little girl that was almost nine years old who had an understanding about both worlds – despite her being what her world called ‘pure-blooded’. And she felt bad for those who lived without magic. She believed in the magic that others like her had, but also had a magical-innocence in viewing the world as a whole; she had a hope that was near impossible to even damage, let alone break. Though she was not the only child of her parents, nor was she the only girl, she was the closest to her mother out of her and her siblings; it was her mother and an always ever existent will that began to blossom into the unique woman that she would one day grow into. 

And all of it started with magic, and books, and her natural cleverness…but as she sat in the bookstore, nearly nine years old, she had no precognition that the young boy she would soon be meeting would be so important to her – and that she would call him one of her closest friends. 

This young boy – with a full head of brunette curls currently slicked back, a smirk growing slowly into his usual expression, and full of energy – was mischievous, and just charming enough to always get himself out of the trouble he caused, or was caught up into, and he may have tried to be relatively good most of the time but his energy mixed with his boyish curiosity lead him down a path that sometimes would put him into such situations he would have to try to get out of. Oh this boy was different, greatly, from the little ginger girl; he would rather run around, playing pirates, instead of reading about them in the books that the ginger girl had. Being different didn’t stop him from becoming taken with her though, at least to his understanding – that he’d never forget the ginger girl even at such a young age.

The little ginger girl had decided to accompany her mother and her mother’s friend that day. Her siblings – her two sisters – were still at home with her vampire grandmother, only she had decided to follow her mummy along on all the errands the weapon’s professor had to complete that day, as well as what the future Italian professor had to complete as well – such a long list, but she didn’t complain. Her father Cullen and the husband of the future Italian professor – Theo – were having a boys’ day with their sons – Remy and Damon, the ginger’s rather annoying cousin Dorian, and the little mischievous boy who was the future Italian professor’s nephew that when by Ash. One thing about being a child of the wizarding world, it was sort of lonely; unless there were children in the family of the same age, or your parents – aunties and uncles – were friends with others who had children, those of magical birth had to seclude themselves from muggle children. There was still a taboo about alerting those who were /normal/ as to the existence of magic – and it would be their parents that would receive the blame. So that day was a happy one for the boys; they were meeting, for the first time, others like them that they need not hide from. 

After all of the groceries had been bought, the clothes and the Christmas gifts purchased, then banished back home – both women had agreed to meet up with their husbands at the very bookstore where they sat in the store’s café – sipping their coffee and chatting; the women more civilly than their husbands, who were arguing about Quidditch teams and matches. The four young boys did as you would expect, even if they had been told to keep quite and keep out of trouble; they chased each other around the many shelves, playing hide and seek, hopped up on sugar that both of their aunts and mothers had told both grown men not to feed them. 

Perched on a chair in the children’s section, Imogene Gryffin sat with her china dolly under her arm and a book in her lap, content as she ever could be. She did not wish to chase her brother and cousin around – even if they actually had asked her to play with them; those two little blonds where rather rough around the edges – wrestling all of the time at home and hitting each other over the littlest things. It had nothing to do with being a girl that made Imogene dislike this behavior and keep herself occupied with other things to stay out of their mischief, she simply decided the words on the pages in the books she had around her were worth more of her time; even so young, she was relatively familiar with the concept of time, at least to the point where she would remain occupied. They had passed her several times, nearly tripping over her pile of books as they ran to places they could hide; not just her brother and cousin, but a brown-haired boy and another with dirty-blond hair that she didn’t recognize – but she would meet them, at some point, and probably end up seeing them a while from now when they would start schooling at Hogwarts. They were not of concern right now; the little girl traveling down the yellow-brick road in the book she had a hold of was what she was what had her attention. 

Round and round in circles they went, the four boys did; smacking each others’ arms and heads when they were discovered. They only slowed down whenever they passed by the parents, and the store’s staff, but took up to running around like squirrels on coffee, again. Ash whipped his head back, glancing behind himself to see if Remy, Dorian or Damon was chasing after when one wrong step sent him flying through the air. He would have hit the ground, probably would have chipped a tooth when his face collided with the floor, had a small pair of hands latched onto his jacket and ripped him back to land on the pipe of books he had tripped over in the first place. “Umph!” 

“Your aunt told you not to run around.” Ash’s eyes widened hearing the sweet, proper tone, believing at first that it was one of the store’s staff ready to haul him off to his uncle Theo or worse, his Aunt Trace and get them kicked out of the store if he couldn’t wiggle his way out of the mess he had just crashed into. But the person his eyes found when he looked up from where he landed on the floor, the books uncomfortably sticking into his backside, bewildered him; it was just a girl. She was a girl, but there was a very doll-like quality; it looked as if the sun had never touched her skin with how pale she was, her hair so bright red that it looked to have been coloured by oranges, and rich blue glassy eyes that looked to belong to the doll that now lay next to her on the seat. She was a very pretty little girl – she had been told his before, but unlike with her second-cousin Genevieve, it had never gone to the ginger’s head. “You should watch where you are going.” Her tone was somewhat annoyed, looking down at the books in a pile under him. 

“I was fine!” He mumbled, standing up. “/Your/ books were in /my/ way.”

“No they were not.” Imogene stated. “You need to look where you’re going.” Her hands waved him away, to take a few steps back as she got onto her knees and stacked the books back into the pile in which they had been before. 

“They’re just books.”

“They are not /just/ books, silly boy- -”

“I am not silly!” he snapped, glaring at her now. 

Ash’s glare deepened when she giggled. “Yes you are.”

“I. Am. Not. Silly!” 

When she stood, Ash took another step back; true, he was still taller than her, but this porcelain girl with such a fresh face confused him. She seemed to be something from a Disney movie rather than a real girl; how could she be /so/ pale? And what was it with her eyes; could they actually be glowing? “Yes you are. My big brother and cousin are chasing you around and you think both of them are stupid, and that they will chase you. They stay still and wait for you to run back to them. They do that at home too, with my cousin and my mummy’s friends’ kids.”

“Who are you?” his brows furrowed, incredibly confused. All day he had seen the blond man with the two boys and even his aunt with the lady with curly hair, but not the porcelain ginger girl. 

“Imogene. My name is Imogene.” The ginger girl said proudly with the cutest little smile. “Who are you?” 

“Im...mmm,” It was such a funny name; not terribly difficult to say, but Ash had never heard such a name before. “Im- -”

“You can call me Imie. My sisters and brother do.” She giggled again, which perplexed him. 

The young Davis boy’s face pinched. “I don’t like Imie.” To him, the nickname was just as annoying sounding like when his cousin Damon would use his first name, or calling him ‘Benny’. A little smirk pulled at his lips; he had a name for this strange girl that he thought would suit her. “Genie. I’ll call you Genie.” Even at such a young age, it was evident that he would grow up to be such a heartbreaker.

Imogene considered his for a second, figuring out whether or not ‘Genie’ was annoying to her; her twin sister hated when people used her full name, and her second-cousin hated to be called anything except Gen. A smiled spread across her face, “Genie is okay.” Ash smirked a little more; of course no one said /no/ to /him/. “Who are /you/?” She asked again.

“Ash.” The ginger girl’s brows furrowed. “What?”

“Are you mister Nott’s son?” Ash’s brows furrowed and he quickly shook his head; like hearing your parents being called by the first name, it was weird for him to hear someone call his uncle Theo ‘mister Nott’. 

“No. He’s my uncle. Is the guy with my uncle your dad?” 

“Yes.” Imogene gave a sharp nod. “And my mummy is the lady with miss Nott- -I mean, your aunt.” Funny, on first glance, he wouldn’t have guessed as such. He hadn’t gotten a really good look at the curly-haired lady, but would have assumed she was Imogene’s aunt before the curly-haired lady’s daughter. By the look on his face, Imogene more-or-less assumed what he was thinking. “I look a lot like my grandpa.”

“Oh…” Giving another sharp nod, she sat back down on the little seat and took up her china dolly. Upon seeing the doll, Ash gave a short laugh.

“What?” her blazing blue eyes narrowed. “I can have a doll.”

“My sisters stopped playing with dolls a long time ago.” His smirk returned full-force to his face; he wasn’t the silly one, she was the silly one. 

“I am not your sisters, and my grandmother gave me this doll. It reminds me of her so it goes where I go.”

Though he still found the fact that she had a doll rather amusing, he was barely able not to mock her about it. “What’s you doll’s name?”

Eyes still narrowed, she squeezed the doll closer to her body. “Her name is Victoria, just like my grandmother. She is just a doll. I think you have toys of your own, do you not?” 

“I do, but not a /doll/.” He snickered. 

“You have your toys, and I have mine. I did not say you had a doll, but you must have something like a doll. You must have a toy that you like more than the others.” The ginger hair on her head slid back off her shoulder when she tilted her head. 

Ash was about to speak, to tell her that he still had the singing blanket his mother had given him when he was much smaller that sang a little tune that would stop his restlessness and send him off to sleep night after night – that he would be upset if he ever lost it or if ever it had gotten destroyed; but he stopped, his sister Adele made fun of him enough for cherishing it so much, what was some girl he just met going to do? So he held his tongue. The young Davis boy shrugged. “Not really.”

“Oh…well, that is okay.” Imogene set the doll next to her again, taking up the purse that was strung around her body and placed it on her lap – opening the clasp to fish around and take out a small box. “Do you want a piece of chocolate, Ash?” 

Ash nodded eagerly. “Yes.” Upon seeing her open the box, he reached out to pluck one out if it, but the ginger pulled the box out of reach.

“Please.”

“What?” the boy was incredibly confused.

“You have to say /please/. It is polite.”

An annoyed sound came out of his mouth, but she held his gaze. Rolling his eyes, he narrowed them. “/Please/ can I have one?” 

For a third time, she giggled. “Yes you can.” She held the box out to him, and he carefully took one – wrapper and all – from the box, choosing to sit on the ground in front of her instead of continuing to stand. Unwrapping it, he shoved the tin-foil into his pocket and immediately inhaled the piece in whole. “Are you going to go to Hogwarts, when you are older?”

It was a seemingly random question, but for as long as she had her eyes on him, she wondered about whether or not this boy would be another schoolmate of hers for the future. “Yes. My papà and zia and zio says I will. Are...are you going to Hogwarts?”

“Of course. My mummy is a teacher there with your aunt. So is my dad and my aunt. My brother is going there next year when he turns eleven.”

“Which one is he?” he tried to remember what the two boys who were still probably running around with Damon looked like, but looked so close together – both blond and pale, but not nearly as pale as the ginger girl – that he didn’t really care to separate them, as today had been the first time he had met them. 

“He is the tall one named Remy. The other boy with the big mouth is my cousin Dorian.” And yet again, she giggled, pulling the wrapper off of a chocolate for herself before taking a bite. At the current time, Ash didn’t really care all that much what those two boys’ names were, or if he was going to school with them, all he could wonder is why the little pale-skinned girl in front of him had such red hair. Everyone in his family had rather dark hair, both of his sisters and his mother had blond, but here she was – this girl he had never met before, sitting in front of him as normal as could be, yet so out of the ordinary. Why was her hair /so/ red? “After he becomes a second year, I...you and I will go there. My sister too.” 

“Does your sister look like you? Does she have red hair like yours?”

Imogene shook her head rather quickly. “She looks like my mummy and my grandmere. No one believes she is my twin because we do not look alike, but we are twins. Nymie has dark curly hair like them. My little sister is blond like my dad, and my brother. We have all sorts of colors for our hair.” The ginger girl gave Ash a proud smile that he couldn’t help but return back. “Do you have any sisters or brothers?”

He nodded. “I have two – both of them are blond.”

“Do they have curly hair like you do?” the slightly curled locks shifted again when she tilted her head. “Did your mummy put gel in your hair? You should not put gel in your hair – that is what grandmere says. Curls are ‘to be set free’.” And for what seemed like the dozenth time, she giggled in quoting her grandmere. 

Their little conversation would have probably kept going for mintues, maybe an hour more until it was said time for Trace and Amelia to part ways – their husbands as well, and their children and their nephews to separate – but , but the little troll that was Imogene’s cousin Dorian had other plans. Speeding past her, he almost threw her aside as he snatched up her china doll from out of her hands, snickering at his momentary triumph. He ran down the isle, carrying the doll made of china with no more care than a boy would have with a rugby ball, but oh, he wouldn’t make it very far. Right on his heel was the little ginger girl, leaping up from her seat in front of Ash and she flung herself at him, slamming the boy to the ground. There was a sharp crash, the sound of shattering glass, and a loud ‘umph’ out of the blond boy’s mouth. 

Seeing all of this, in a mere matter of seconds, Ash couldn’t contain himself and burst out laughing so hard he nearly fell over onto his side. The young boy’s laughter and the brewing fight between the ginger and the blond alerted Amelia and Trace to the chaos that was starting to spew all over isle not more than a few yards from them. Both women leaped up, but the curly-haired one of the two of them looked deeply embarrassed.

“I don’t suppose /that/ is Pogue’s son?” Trace put a hand over her mouth to try to keep the laugh from bursting out of her mouth as Imogene continued to pull on the blond boy’s hair, using her free hand to smack his arms so he’d free the now broken china doll from his grasp.

Amelia let out an exasperated sigh. “Yep…” In hearing her mother’s voice, Imogene stopped deathly still, locking eyes with her – the same color of blue reflecting in each other’s; she definitely had her mother’s eyes. 

Dorian wheezed, unsure of whether or not it was safe to open his eyes, but he clung tighter to the doll as it was the only thing between him and his obviously furious cousin. “Get off! Auntie told you not to hit me!” 

“And I told /you/ not to take her doll again.” The Weapon’s teacher muttered French obscenities under her breath, which made the little ginger girl giggle as Amelia pulled her off Dorian and onto her feet. Latching onto the future Hufflepuff boy, she yanked him up and in one swift motion ripped the doll with the broken face from his arms. “We’re in public,” she chided. “I told you to /behave/. Stealing your cousin’s doll isn’t behaving.”

He scowled at her and her eyes narrowed as she pursed her lips. “She started it- -”

"You stupid boy! You broke my doll!" Ash's eyes widened at the little ginger girl's words, happy for a brief second that she had only called /him/ silly.

Amelia sighed, glancing back at Imogene who immediately calmed down, as she kneeled down infront of him. “She most certainly did not. Otherwise she wouldn’t have the need to tackle you.”

Dorian opened his mouth to say something else, but Amelia’s brow rose letting him know that he was in deeper trouble than he thought he could get out of. It was not an unusal scene for Ash to observe; many a times he himself had been caught up into such situations and easily escaped without much more than a warning, but remainded quite to keep from getting caught up in the blond boy’s mess. “When we get home, you’re going to march up to your mother,” as she spoke, she retrieved a rather large hankercheif from her coat’s pocket and her wand from tucked inside her knee-high boots and began waving her wand around without so much as uttering a spell; the little broken pieces from the doll’s face began to float in the air and settle on the cloth, and although Ash had seen his parents and his aunt and uncle use magic, he found the magic she was doing now to be somewhat cool. “and you will tell her what a nasty little troll you’ve been.”

“Do I have to?” his voice was so heavy with a whine that it irritated Trace’s ears. 

“Yes, you have to. No video games, or tv, or anything you like. If you’re going to act like you have no maners, you will be treated like you have no maners.” She stuffed the hankercheif in her pocket in standing back up, then glancing to Ash with a slightly lighter expression. “Now, you march to your uncle- -” Placing a finger under his chin, Amelia made Dorian look her in the eye. “and you stay there with him, like the behaved little boy you /should/ be. Got it?”

“Got it...” Dorian grumbled.

“Now, march.” The young blond boy let out a heavy sigh as he did as his auntie had ordered him to, trudging down the isle and around the corner. The Weapon’s teacher turned around to the ginger girl who held the doll in her arms, close to her chest, her eyes focused on the hole in the doll’s head that look to have destroyed almost half of it’s face. “I’ll take her Imogene. If I can’t fix her when we get home in a bit, I’ll have Victoria take care of her...alright?” 

Her mother offered out her hand to Imogene. “Okay...” After a few moments, she reluctantly reliquished possesion to her mother and sat back in the chair, somewhat sulking and angry. Amelia sighed, walking back to Trace. 

“She still plays with dolls? I thought she’d be a little old by now.”

“She doesn’t so much play with her as she does just holds onto her...” their voices became lost in some of the comotion of the other shoppers shuffling around, the noise from all of the shoppers outside, and the music overhead.

Imogene’s face was in her hands, incredibly peeved. Ash glanced from his aunt disappearing back to the ginger girl, an annoyed expression growing onto his face. “He’s very stupid, isn’t he?”

Her blue eyes turned to him, lightling her mood. “Very stupid. He steals things from my sister, and then he yells to my mummy and my auntie that she hit him. Dorian has a very thick head.”

That genuine Ash Davis smirk came to his mouth as he walked a little closer to her. “If you keep hitting him, he’ll get stupider.”

“I don’t care. He was never really smart. He never wants to read or /anything/. All he does is watch cartoons and run around.”

“I like cartoons...” Ash scoweled.

Imogene rolled her eyes. “Cartoons are okay, but I like to read. Not /all/ books are boring, Ash. You just have to find the right one.” Ash examined her for a few moments as she pulled a book from out of her bag, stood and walks over to him, getting closer, making him take a step back. “Like this one.” His eyes turned down to see the teal bookseleve that was so vibrant in color that it offeset the somewhat gloomy surroundings of the bookstore; it stood out very much like she did. “Go on, you can have it. I have already read it a few times, and I already know how the story ends.” 

‘A strange book from a strange girl’, he thought. Possibly, she’d rip it away and tease him, but as she stood there, strangely patient for a girl his age, he took the book from her and she let go without any hesitation. Ash read the cover, refraining from actually saying the title outloud. ‘The Wonderful Wizard of Oz’. He had to admit, the title sounded rather interesting. “I think you will like it.” Her voice was but a chime. “It has witches – but not like your auntie and my mummy, flying monkeys, lions, tin-men and silver slippers.”

The boy made a disgusted sound. “You gave me a book about shoes?”

“No, silly. It is not about the shoes. It is about the yellow brick road, and the witch that wants to take over Oz. She is rather evil...but, a house /did/ fall on her sister.” And there it was, his smirk came back. “You will like it, I am very sure.”

“I guess I’ll read it, but if I don’t like it, you won’t give me /more/ books, will you?”

With a small smile of her own, Imogene held out her hand. “Deal.” Ash was reluctant to touch her; though they were old enough to more or less begin moving pass the ‘cooties’ phase of childishness, he had seen the same hand smack her blond cousin across the face and was slightly weary. Imogene stood there though, patiently until a minute or two later, Ash held out his own hand and shook the the ginger girl’s. In a split second, he ripped his hand back, feeling the heat from her skin and again, she giggled.
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