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Flat to shop.
Shop to flat.
Ron was trying to think of the last time he did something fun as he made his daily trip to his brother’s shop. He had stopped going to pub nights with his mates. He had definitely not been on a date in quite some time. He rarely socialised outside of his family.
Instead, for the last eight months he’d worked tirelessly to help his brother George rebuild his shop. In the beginning, it hadn’t been easy. When George had first approached him about helping, Ron figured they just needed to dust some shelves off and hire some staff. He hadn’t realised that George’s business was in debt. For that matter, George hadn’t been too aware of it himself. That had been Fred’s realm. At first blush, Ron was surprised they had any debt at all but that had been his first business lesson. Sometimes when you’re doing well you take out more cash than you have so you can make more. They were managing through it, but staying on top of the finances to keep the shop afloat while helping out with the day-to-day work was taking its toll on him.
It wasn’t George’s fault. In fact, George had begged Ron to hire someone to help with all the ‘boring paper stuff’ he had called it. That made the most sense, but that wouldn’t help them save money. Still, that had been a few months ago and they were finally getting some breathing room.
Maybe we can hire someone—part time at least, Ron thought to himself while he looked down at the passing pavement. Anything is better than just this.
Flat to shop.
Shop to flat.
“Oof” A metal clipboard collided with his chest and cut off his mantra. Instinctively, ahold of it and looked up to see where it had come from.
“Oi, watch it—”
“I’m sorry sir,” a woman standing just to the side of him said quickly.
“I just need a few more signatures... and I thought you saw me,” she added motioning between them.
“I’m sorry, miss, but I really have to go,” Ron held out the clipboard for the stranger to take. She reached out tentatively and grabbed a hold of it but didn’t immediately lift it from his hands.
“Please, sir! It will only take a minute,” she looked up at him with wide brown eyes and a pleading half-grin. Ron thought about it for a second and softened a little under a gaze. It won’t take that much time—
His mobile vibrated just then and he released his hands from the clipboard to pull the mobile from his.
George: What time do you think you’ll be in this morning? It’s team meeting day…
Ron let out a small groan. George hated running team meetings.
“I am really sorry, but I really do have to go,” he said to the woman and started to walk off. Just when he thought he was free, he heard the woman’s voice call out to him again.
“Wait, sir!”
She’s persistent. Ron walked a little faster.
Her voice came again, only this time closer. And she’s fast.
Ron stretched his long legs as far as they could go without looking like he was obviously trying to run away. Exactly how long is this bloody street? Ron was fairly certain he was going to break a sweat.
“Wait, sir!” he heard again just before he felt a yank on his arm. Ron jerked to a stop and felt her tug on his sleeve.
“What gives with you?” Ron tugged his arm back and scowled at the woman. She at least had the decency to blush. It made her skin glow.
“Please, sir!” she said in between breathing deeply. She held up her hand that was holding the clipboard to stop him from speaking. Her other hand had something in it as well but it was pressed against her side.
After an irritatingly long few seconds she straightened up and held up her other hand. A small white furry rabbit dangled from a silver chain.
“Mr. Babbity,” Ron immediately cringed at having said that out loud. He’d always felt a bit silly carrying around a stuffed rabbit, but it was from his mum and brought him luck. Ron waited for the woman to tease him.
“I think you dropped this,” she finally said perfectly normally. As if every grown person carries around such a thing.
“Er, thanks...yeah that’s mine.” He reached out to grab it but she pulled her hand away.
“Hold on...,” she broke off. She pulled round her shoulder bag and used a knee to hold it higher for easier access as she began rummaging through it with her free hand. Her rather large and curly hair fell over her face and Ron could see her unsuccessfully try to blow it out of the way.
Ron started to ask what she was doing, but she cut him off.
“Sorry, just let me—” She stopped abruptly and her face tensed in concentration. She blew out a raspberry and the action drew Ron’s attention involuntarily to her lips.
“This would be easier if you could just—here can you hold this?” Ron frowned at her as she handed him her clipboard but kept hold of his rabbit keychain. She returned to her bag now with both hands free to sort through what appeared to be a particularly large bag, but Ron was now starting to think it contained a small flat. He shifted on his feet as a few of the people who passed by gave the pair of them mildly curious glances.
“There it is!” her voice just below a shout. She tugged roughly a couple of times and eventually produced a thick book. “It’s in here.”
Ron tilted his head to get a better view of the cover. “Is that Dvoretsky’s Analytical Manual?”
“Yes, you know it?” she responded, opening the book and pulling out a piece of cloth.
Ron nodded. “You play chess?” he asked, but she didn’t react to his question.
Ron watched as she took the cloth and wiped off a tiny black smudge that he hadn’t even noticed until this moment was on the face of his stuffed rabbit.
“There was a bit of dirt on its nose,” she handed it back to him. “All better now.”
“Thank you,” he said, taking the toy out of her hand palm that had tiny ink stains spread throughout.
“I don’t really play,” she said.
“I’m sorry?” He shook his head in confusion.
“Chess, you asked early if I played. I don’t really. I have a hard time with the strategy.” She patted the cover of her book before putting it back in the bag. “I was hoping this would help, but it’s almost—”
“Too much information, yeah,” Ron finished for her. “Don’t waste your time. Not that it’s not brilliant, but there are better ones.”
“You play then, I take it.”
“A little,” Ron said with a straight face. The woman gave him a skeptical look.
“Actually, a lot,” he chuckled and she returned the laughter.
“Any books you would recommend?” she asked, still smiling at him.
“Yeah, I have a few I like to review every now and then. Do you mind?” Ron gestured toward her clipboard. “I can write them down for you.”
“Of course.” She looked around quickly and motioned him towards a bench a couple of meters away and sat down.
“It’ll be easier to write sitting down,” she added as he hesitated. Ron was a friendly person, but wasn’t sure why he was still talking to this stranger when he’d felt like he was in such a rush just a few minutes earlier.
Then he reasoned that she had saved Mr. Babbity and as a result she had saved him from a lifetime of bad luck. And I can do anything to convince another person of the joys of chess, it’s really my duty isn’t it?
He hesitated one more second before giving a small shrug and sat down. The woman smiled brightly at him flashing a row of nearly perfect teeth. The smile also seemed to light up her brown eyes and the angle of the sunlight was just perfect to create a light golden halo around her otherwise dark brown hair.
She was quite pretty.
He was definitely staring.
She cleared her throat quietly and he saw she was trying to pass him the clipboard and pen. She had already placed a blank page on top for him to use. Ron took the items eagerly as an excuse to look away hastily, hoping that the skin on his neck wasn’t as red as the heat underneath his skin made him suspect it was. A silence fell over them as he began writing. Ron could feel her eyes on him every now and then and not just on what he was writing. It only made the hot feeling from a moment earlier rise to his face.
“You know, I never did hear what your petition is for,” Ron said as casually as he could muster. He looked over at her and saw her lean back from him, not realising how close she had drifted towards him while he wrote until their faces were centimetres apart.
“Do you really want to hear about it?” she finally asked. Her voice was nonchalant but she looked at him with anticipation.
“I wouldn’t ask if I didn’t,” he replied. At the same time, Ron finished writing down his last recommendation and handed the list to her.
She snatched the paper off the clipboard and read over appreciatively. The look on her face reminded Ron of how he felt whenever he saw desserts lined up on his mum’s table.
She folded the paper and placed it in her bag, then tucked one massive curtain of hair behind an ear, but immediately sprang forth again. Ron snorted to himself at the futile exercise.
She gave him a puzzled expression, but he waved it off, “Go on, tell me about your cause.”
The woman excitedly launched into her speech, but spoke so fast that Ron could barely keep up. He understood things here and there but didn’t want to come off as a complete git so he kept his questions to himself. Besides, he was far more entertained watching her than anything else. Not that this woman had seemed meek before, but she was so animated he suspected at one point that she might poke his eye out. Luckily, he’d caught her wrist mid-swing and saved himself from the potential injury.
Ron felt his mobile buzzing in his trouser pocket and didn’t need to look at it to know that it was George. He knew there was no real urgency to get going. George could handle the team meeting just fine if he had to, but Ron still hated to miss the time together with all of the staff. Yet, in the span of what was probably only 20 minutes, he knew he wanted to talk to the person sitting next to him more. Something about her intrigued him.
Ask for her name—ask for her number , Ron steeled himself.
Ron looked over at her once more and contemplated the chances she was thinking the same thing. He knew it wouldn’t hurt to ask, beside he only wanted to talk to her more. He couldn’t tell what the connection he felt was but he knew it was something.
Wait, what if she thinks that’s weird, he immediately deflated. She’s just looking for signatures to help people, not picking up tall, lanky blokes.
At that last thought, the woman finished talking and looked at him expectantly.
He thought, I’m going to ask her.
As he stood, he said, “Well, I should really be off.”
The smile on the woman’s face flickered for a second.
“I think what you’re doing sounds great. This, er, spew —”
“It’s S.P.E.W.,” she corrected him quickly.
“Yes, that. I think I’d like to support it,” he reached down and picked up the clipboard one last time. Glancing at her first, Ron filled out the information swiftly, and handed it back to her. He watched her as she set it back down on the bench, a little disappointed that she hadn’t looked at what he wrote.
“It was nice to meet you,” he said at last.
She nodded at him in agreement.
“Maybe I’ll see you again,” he said.
“I’m here all the time,” she replied. “My flat is fairly close by so this is one of my regular campaigning locations.”
“Funny, I’ve never seen you before...” he said and she leaned back a little and frowned, “but I definitely would have noticed you.”
She tilted her head and a small smile returned to her lips, “I’m not surprised you haven’t noticed me. You’re always looking down when you walk by.”
Ron blinked away the surprise that she had noticed him before. He wanted to say something in response.
But what? his mind asked. He couldn’t tell if her words were just a casual statement of fact, or if she was flirting with him. He felt the urge to flee before he made a fool of himself. A fear of rejection overwhelmed him and almost without thinking he waved one last goodbye to the woman and started to back on his way to work. He glanced over his shoulder and saw that she was still seated on the bench, her eyebrows furrowed at him.
By the time Ron almost reached the shop, he’d had a chance to turn the encounter over in his mind at least twenty times, and now felt like a giant prat. I should have asked for her name.
He wanted to go back, but he felt like he was well past the point of not looking like a fool. Especially after he wrote “call me” on her petition form, but was too nervous to ask for her name.
What if I go back home midday? Yeah, she might be there still, and it won’t seem like anything out the ordinary—
Ron’s mobile buzzed. He fished it out of his pocket, ready to tell George to sod off and that he’d be there in one minute, when he saw that it was most definitely not his brother.
(Unknown Sender): I hope we will see each other again, Mr. Weasley.
Ron smiled triumphantly and started to punch the air until he noticed that a small elderly couple was eying him suspiciously. He nodded at them and sped up until he was at the shop’s front door.
Buzz.
(Unknown Sender): I’m the woman who accidentally hit you with a clipboard a little bit ago. In case you were wondering who this is…
Buzz.
(Unknown Sender): You indicated I could call you, I hope text is okay...
Buzz.
(Unknown Sender): This is awkward isn’t it. By the way, you can call me Hermione.
Buzz.
(Unknown Sender): And please do be more careful with Mr. Babbity.
Ron stood in front of his brother’s shop as the messages came. He contemplated waiting to send her a message back, but for some reason something told him it was now or never.
Ron Weasley: Nice to meet you Hermione. Would you like to meet up for a drink sometime?
The End