Is This Seat Taken? Ruth Fairchild

𝕺ne of the few things that Ruth struggled with on her ukulele was bar chords.

She just couldn't get used to it. Maybe it was because her hands just weren't big enough. Maybe it was because it ached, having to press all four strings against one finger. It didn't sound good, either, especially if she wasn't clasping hard enough. A strange buzz would ring in the air when strummed, and it would sound strangled--complementary to the words of song that die in her mouth when the chord ruins it.

Funny, wasn't it, how everything could go so well, until something specific sends everything crashing down and gurgling. One never remembers the good parts of an event, especially when something bad takes place. The significance of negativity had always influenced Ruth, messed with her thinking. She couldn't understand why the world worked that way. In efforts to cease this, Ruth had concluded that she would have to work harder to stop those bar chords from getting in the way.

Which was what Ruth had been hoping to do. The second year had slung her ukulele bag against her back, striding towards the school grounds through the courtyard's cloister before it rained, when the reeking smell of smoke stopped her. She waved the air in front of her, nose scrunching up in confusion, before she craned her head past a pillar. Where she was hoping to identify the culprit, Ruth spotted a familiar bundle of red curls.

His back was turned to her, and her breath caught when her eyes were drawn to the wisps of cigarette puffs above him. Instantly, a question swarmed in her head, but the joy of seeing Doctor Dennis again exceeded the urgency to seek answers.

Ruth glanced around casually before silently making her way towards the love guru, former motive to play the ukulele forgotten. "Hey," she tapped his shoulder, then bent over the bench to grin at him, the smile faltering slightly at the burnt filter tip dangling from his lips. It was a little hard to believe the sight. How had he smuggled it in? she thought to herself, before grinning harder. "Is this seat taken?"

Another stone and another wish for things to change. And just like the stone his wish seemed to fall flat. He was about to get up when he felt someone tap his shoulder. When he looked around he saw the grinning face of one Ruth Fairchild, newly minted Hufflepuff second year. She returned her greeting with a polite smile, polite enough but missing that Dennis factor. He took the cigarette, not just a bud, and flung it on the cobblestones. In a practiced motion that seemed like he had done it many times before, Dennis drew his wand and flicked it, muttering, “Incendio.” Dennis gave it enough effort to turn the cigarette remains to ash and the flames died shortly after.

Blowing out the last of the smoke, Dennis said, “Nope. It’s all yours, chef.”

Maybe the stones or whoever were listening to his silent wishes could actually hear him. Ruth was always such a blast…even though she was a thief. Perhaps she would do something other than take his things and run. When she sat beside him, he gave her a warmer smile, a nudge with his shoulder and he leaned back on the bench, eyeing the clouds above. “You play?” He asked lifting a lazy finger to point at her case. “What is it?” He asked.

@Ruth Fairchild

𝔚hile it had been quite a moment since Ruth had last had the opportunity to interact with Dennis alone--aside from the occasional greetings when passing by the hallways--it was easy to tell when the boy wasn't himself. There was an unsettling, lacklustre air to him that Ruth had never felt present before. She watched with stunned silence as he casually flicked the cigarette onto the floor and set it alight, before flitting her eyes back to his. Their green, once sparkling with mischief and subtle maturity, was stripped bare of its brightness, irises fixed on the dying flames. The only light truly dancing.

She rounded the corner and collapsed onto the bench next to him, sighing as she followed the meandering stroll of the darkening clouds in the sky. "Still calling me chef, huh?" she asked, gaze dropping back down to him. Dennis' smile was warmer now, and as he shuffled closer to her to give her a nudge before joining her in cloud-gazing, Ruth smelt the acrid scent clinging to his clothes and hair. She resisted the urge to turn away and instead looked back up into the ever-darkening sky.

"Uke," Ruth replied, drumming her hands on the black case before unzipping it to reveal the red wood headstock, polished silver tuners glinting slightly under shrouded light. "Ukulele. Been playing for a while. Was just about to head to the grounds to play, actually. That is, till I saw your unmistakable hair." She propped her elbow onto the backrest of the bench, resting her head on her palm as she turned to face him. "Hope I'm not bothering."

Zipping up the bag yet again, she rested her other hand lightly against the padding. Should she address the elephant trumpeting around both of them? Perhaps...not yet. Ruth wasn't the best at confrontation anyways. It wouldn't help for her to jump off the cliff without a plan. Plan B: Distraction. Keep his mind off whatever it was that caused him to smoke, unless...he was doing it for fun? Her head was beginning to thrum with questions again. "Do you play anything?" She asked instead.

Dennis caught the younger’s displeasure at his new hobby. However, there wasn’t much to do about it. It was how he got his mind of his own problems…at least for now. She still sat with him, though at a measured distance. She mentioned it was something called a…what was it again..You Kill Lately? What an interesting name for an instrument! He scratched his head at her mention of his hair and thought perhaps it was an endearment, or an attempt at one. It had been quite some time since he unexpectedly entertained someone and to be honest, he was as social as he used to be so he was, temporarily at least, out of practice.

“Can you play this You-Kill-Lately for me? So long as it is not too dangerous. I wouldn’t want to put anyone at risk,” the Ravenclaw said, now eyeing the instrument and the bag suspiciously. It didn’t seem harmful but some of the worst things at Hogwarts looked innocent enough. “If it’s safe, I’d love to hear you play,” he added encouragingly, adjusting himself away from Ruth to give her space to stretch out if she needed more room to play, and also at least a head start to run if he needed to!

“As for me, I don’t really play any instrument. Never had the time or motivation to do much other than study,” he said with a shrug. “Is it difficult to play?” He asked motioning to the instrument as if it would explode or…be his undoing…should he look or motion at it wrong.

@Ruth Fairchild

𝕽uth went through several stages of reacting to the phrase You-Kill-Lately. The first stage had been mild confusion as to why Dennis had been pronouncing the instrument’s name in such a way. The Hufflepuff mouthed the words to herself in slight distortion. Ukulele. Had she said it too fast? In the moment Ruth had straightened to correct him, a sudden realisation jolted through her brain. “Not too dangerous”, he had said. Why would it have been dangerous? A smile tickled Ruth’s face, a slight nudge of amusement, before the amusement spilt down her whole body. Tremors shook her shoulders as she barked out a laugh, partly in astonishment at what he had just said.

She couldn’t stop laughing, bursting into even harder laughter at the sight of his narrowed gaze and subtle distancing, until Ruth had doubled over, clutching the case tight across her stomach. She must have looked ridiculous, but it had all just burst, and she couldn’t seem to stop. At least, not until she forced herself upright and sucked in gulps of air. The shudders, however, did not cease as she finally threw him a stifled smile that looked partly like a grimace. “Sorry about that.” Her lips twisted again, and she helplessly clamped them shut, swallowing another chuckle before continuing, “It’s ukulele, Dennis. ‘yoo-kuh-lay-lee’, not–” Ruth exhaled roughly. “Gosh, I have a terrible sense of humour.”

The Hufflepuff proceeded to clear her throat and unzip the bag yet again. “Sure, I can,” She replied gruffly. “Always wanting a listening ear to give me feedback.” Ruth plucked through the strings and tuned them accordingly.

As she swivelled her body to prop one leg on the bench and rest the instrument lightly, a zephyr swept through her hair, spilling more baby strands down her forehead. A heavier gust brought stray leaves tumbling around them. Best hurry. The grumblings from the storm were much more prominent than those she had when she was starving. “Study?” Her gaze flitted to his eyes before dropping back down to rifle through the case for her capo. “Well, I suppose I feel privileged that you took the time and motivation to be a love guru and cook with me. And a bunch of other small thingabobs.” A genuine, appreciative smile took over her face, morphing into triumph as she uncovered the alloy metal and clipped it across the 3rd fret. Even so, there was a twinge of disappointment in her tone. It would have been lovely to play a duet with another person again, her first with the Headmistress of Beauxbatons. While it might not have been a spectacular performance, it was one nevertheless, and she couldn’t stop thinking about how marvellous the interaction had been (albeit awkward).

“It really depends on the song you go for, and the style,” She told him. “Most songs go for the common chords, so once you learn those, you’re all set.” Ruth paused for a moment. “Well, then again, there are strumming patterns, chuckings, plucking or finger picking…” She trailed off. Maybe it wasn’t such a good idea to overwhelm him. “Anyways, I’ve been learning a new song during the holidays. Maybe you could give it a listen.”

She settled her fingers lightly across the strings, swallowing. It was a bittersweet song that Ruth had fallen in love with upon first discovery. There was something about it, the slight muffledness of the singer’s voice, and the repetition of the song’s melody through the verses and chorus. A tranquillity that made her heart oddly ache. Ruth took a breath, then began to play.

Dennis watched as Ruth’s body contorted as if writhing in pain. Did she need to go to the hospital wing? How was he going to carry her? He was weak and she was…well…not someone he would be able to carry long distances. What was he going to do? Exploding from a build up of pressure came not the screams of agony he expected but laughter so full that it had her doubled over. Dennis gave an awkward chuckle along with her outburst trying to totally be in on the joke. Meanwhile, he still looked nervously at the case she now clutched. What if this thing exploded and ended both of them. Surely it was no laughing matter!

Her following explanation didn’t clarify it much. He heard absolutely no difference between how he said it and what she was saying. He nodded though, pretending to understand. It just seemed more like she was threatening him with the over pronunciation than clarifying anything. Ruth was sometimes very particular about small details but the emphasizing the “lately” in “you-kill-lately” seemed more like she was hinting what she might do to him.

She did the unspeakable…she unzipped it! Was she a mad lass? She was going to whip it out right here in public? Dennis looked of the nearest escape route and clutched the bench. Then, as if it weren’t a bomb, she casually pulled out a small…guitar? How could something so dangerous come in such a cute package? Forgetting himself, the Ravenclaw cleaned forward curiously to get a better look. It didn’t look like it could kill him at all! But then again, this was Hogwarts, stepping on the wrong tile could be your undoing. He visibly relaxed though at the presentation of the instrument.

Ruth moved on like it wasn’t anything important and so Dennis quickly forgot, for the moment, the deadly weapon in her hands. At the mention of the studying bit he grinned at her mischievously. “Well, if it’s you, I don’t mind bending my rules,” he winked. They had gotten up to so much in such a short time it was hard to keep track of it all sometimes. Just chuck her trying to kill him on the pile of hijinks!

She then proceeded to give some pretty succinct instructions on how to play the ukulele that just made Dennis more confused. Upchucking and splunking. What did vomit and cave diving had to do with this instrument? He was either an idiot or this was the most magical item in the history of magic and he never knew about it!

Either way he motioned for her to demonstrate and he was caught both by the music and the melody. Her voice was warm and inviting and for just a moment there was clarity. What was he doing puffing on cigarettes and what did it matter that his heart was mending. The past was in the past. He should live in the present and…kiss eye lids? He tried more to focus on the feelings of peace he got from the moment and not whether or not Ruth was asking for a kiss and…sleep in his car?

When she finished, Dennis gave a hearty clap and an expression of pure appreciation. The feelings he tried to hold onto fleeing with each clap. “Well done as always, chef! Very good!” Dennis said in his overly exuberant way of complimenting people. And just like that. The boy was back to himself. It was a wonder what music and Ruth could do to a person! “How long have you been able to do that with the You-kill….Ukulele?”

@Ruth Fairchild

𝓛ost in music.

If books could transport one to another world, then music would do the same. Closing her eyes, Ruth was washed by a kaleidoscope of misty rose, pale cerulean, olive and gold colours rather than the bleak slate grey of the dreary sky. For a moment, she almost forgot about Dennis’s presence, all sense of touch honing into the tips of her fingertips pressing against the strings and tenderness of a sting. Removing her hands from the neck of the ukulele later revealed stripes on her flesh that would eventually disappear as time went by.
Despite the conclusion of the song, the melody continued to hum in the Hufflepuff’s veins, sparking a bubbling urge to go for an encore. As her eyes fluttered open, Ruth cringed slightly at the light and dipped her head into the darkness of her robes to let her eyes adjust.

Ruth eventually lifted her eyes towards Dennis, who was clapping in utter delight. Whatever remorse or dullness that had once painted over Dennis had been replaced by his usual countenance, a sight that was far more familiar towards the Fairchild than…whatever he had been before. Ruth beamed at the sight. Music surely could cure all. “Maybe you can call me Musician now, yeah?” She teased. “Promote my ranks.”

“And ‘Ukulele’, yes,” Ruth added, nodding in approval. “And do what, exactly? You mean, play it?” She couldn’t help but feel her lips twitch upwards. “Well, I…” she laughed. “It hasn’t been a while at all, really. A year or two, maybe?” Her gaze was drawn back to the raw, subtle scratches on the redwood. All that damage may have marked her as someone with years of experience to others, but to her, it was regret strewn across the body of her ukulele. Blast, she shouldn’t have used a pick in such a reckless manner.

She slipped her ukulele back into its designated bag. “Funny story. My parents got me a ukulele because my hands were too small to play a guitar,” She flexed her fingers, trying to stretch them as wide as she possibly could. “So what better way to play an instrument than to go for the one everyone called ‘small guitar’?”

Dennis thought about the promotion for a long moment. He seemed to take his nicknames seriously as he tossed around ‘musician’ in his mind. It was much longer then her name which was…chef? Ruth. Right. Both one syllable. “More like you are a savant,” Dennis said thoughtfully, “you can really do anything, can’t you?”

While he continued to meditate on a “change of rank,” Ruth went on talking about her experience. “One or two years seems like a lot!” Dennis was suitably impressed, but at this point no one who knew him was impressed that he was impressed, it was painfully easy to do sometimes. “I don’t think I have the focus or attention to learn how to play music but I definitely like it when you play it!” He didn’t really know what to do with his hands so he folded them into his pockets as they sat there.

She put the ukulele away but not before giving it what looked to him to be a consternated look and there was, of course, only one thing that gave that expression. She should probably take care of that!

She talked about her hands being small and, without much thinking, Dennis reached out and held her hands against his. They were quite small but he was also a boy - he rationalized. He lingered for a second too long. My, he really was starved for connection and contact. He shook himself out of whatever trance Ruth unintentionally had on him and got to his feet. “I think if you really wanted to play guitar you should do it!” He said, his hand shuffling something in his pocket. What he wouldn’t give to hear her play one last time so he could let go of what he had. However, it would be awkward asking her to get it out again and let him relax a little longer.

He continued to sit there trying to find the right words to express himself. "You really help me forget my problems. I don't really have another friend like you."

@Ruth Fairchild

𝓐nything? “Do you mean ‘multitalented’, rather than ‘savant’?” She let out a soft chuckle in embarrassment, scratching the back of her neck. “Savant means being good at one specific thing only.”

Ruth fidgeted with the ukulele strap, avoiding his gaze. Did Dennis truly believe her to be someone who could do anything? She didn’t have the heart to protest, momentarily allowing herself to believe it. “...Thanks,” she mumbled instead. “I try.”

The Hufflepuff lifted her gaze once his first wave of compliments was over. Despite it not being new, she could hardly get used to the praise, feeling as though it was some. She was vaguely reminded of the time when they had been in the Room of Requirement, and he had mentioned how if he didn’t mean it, he wouldn’t say it. The only thing stopping her from accepting was her self-depracation. Wasn’t it?

Wasn’t it?

“You never know till you try,” Ruth teased, inching her seal ukulele case towards the Ravenclaw. “I could teach you a chord or two, if you’d like. Trust me,” she patted her chest. “I’m a good teacher.” At least, that’s what her siblings insist is the truth. However, she wasn’t going to impose. Instruments weren’t always one’s cup of tea. Even so, Ruth wouldn’t allow short attention spans and impatience to get in the way of the path towards prodigy, albeit far-fetched.

Small hands, on the other hand, did get in the way. Or so she was thinking, until the warm hands of Dennis grasped hers. Ruth flinched from the sudden contact, surprised as she gazed down to notice his weren’t that much bigger. Then he pulled away, shoving his hands deep into his pockets. The Hufflepuff blinked at him as he stood, confused by such spontaneity. “Uh–thanks…for the encouragement.” Was he leaving? Ruth shot down the twang of disappointment. Of course, he would have other places to be. Looking up, the sky wasn’t looking to have improved at all either.

But then he sat again, and she stilled as the second wave of praise washed over her. “Really?” Ruth breathed before letting out a laugh. She seemed to do that a lot after receiving a compliment. “I find that hard to believe…” Dennis must have loads of friends. He was sociable, sweet, funny and kind. The more friends one had, the more to help comfort you. Still, the thought that he had no other friends like her made her swell with pride.

Her temporary relief that she was of some help was put on hold when she dwelled on the word ‘problems’, to which she echoed, because she was intrigued, one after all. “What kind of problems?” Ruth couldn’t help it. While bringing up the topic would potentially erase all the work she had just done to cheer him up, her curiosity got the better of her.