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On any given day Hermione Granger is one of two kinds of people.
The first, is the one everyone else knows her as. Composed and eloquent, filled to the brim with helpful facts and opinions, and working towards something. Sometimes she’s only working towards her next cup of coffee or pay stub but she likes to think that more often than not she’s working towards the betterment of society as a whole. She doesn’t know who she’s fooling there.
The second kind of person is the one she keeps locked away and hidden. It’s the off-her-rocker version that normally appears after a late night of researching into the early morning hours and is a version of herself that’s a bit heavy-handed in her use of sick days. And unfortunately for her, it’s the version that decided to make an appearance today.
“Terribly sorry, I don’t know what’s wrong with me today, late night possibly—no, not one of those— research you see.”
She’s rummaging through her purse, trying to find her wallet buried under all of the printouts, books, and such.
“I was supposed to be looking into some journals on fluid creep but I must have spiraled because I apparently have all these articles on sheep dissections, sorry is that gross? Yes 11 quid I understand, give me a moment, so sorry,” she glances behind her to see the line for the coffee stand has grown quite a bit, “I really don’t know how all these printouts ended up in my wallet, and- ah! There we go!”
The barista is looking part way between stunned and resigned to the fact that this is just what her life is now. The poor girl makes change and passes the cup along to her partner working the espresso machine behind her and throws a tired Have a nice day Hermione’s way before moving on to the next customer.
Hermione clamps down on her next couple of thoughts and apologies and buries them under a healthy pile of uncaffeinated shame and embarrassment before making her way over to the otherside of the counter to wait for her drink.
She glances down at her watch and curses at the time before pulling out her phone so she can fire off a couple of emails only to realize it’s dead.
Just her luck.
First she wakes up late and nearly misses her bus, realizes she forgot one of her bags (just a couple of books for the ride there and back, but still!), and now she can’t seem to manage her way through a simple conversation without sounding like a bumbling lunatic!
You need to calm down. Center yourself or whatever it is Harry does when he feels things spiralling… Right. Five things you can see first.
She breathes out slowly and looks around, taking in her surroundings. The steam curling above a fresh cup of coffee . A group to her left, her age, two boys and a girl. A child past them, running after his mom. One of the boys, the redhead, pushes the other boy and throws an arm around the girl’s shoulders. He looks up at Hermione and they make eye contact, her stomach falling out from under her, he has dark eyes and a nice smile, all made brighter by a dark red sweater.
Four things you can feel. She looks away and focuses on the feeling of her feet in her socks and her boots and the ground under her. There’s the weight of her purse on her shoulder, heavy, laden with books. The feel of her phone in her hand, in her pocket. She can feel the boy’s eyes on her face, sending warmth down her spine and butterflies in her throat.
Three things you can hear, Harry’s voice echoes to her. Someone in the trio makes a joke and she hears his laugh, loud and rising up from under, leading the charge...
“... iced americano with 6 shots of espresso and extra ice!”
She’s headed towards the counter before the barista finishes shouting out her order only to collide with another customer. She sees a flash of red hair before she’s looked down only to realize she’s managed to knock his two drinks from his hand and all over the floor.
She gathers napkins and notes, speaking in a rush, “Shit, fuck, sorry! God I’m so sorry, I’ll pay for that, here, no not that, fucking sheep. Merlin’s beard, I’m going to miss my train, I’m so sorry! I haven’t had my coffee yet, again so sorry, have a nice day!” he looks a little gobsmacked and stunned as she snatches her iced coffee off the counter and all but sprints across the tiled floor.
Embarrassment only starts to color her features and warm her face when she’s halfway to the ticket station and she begins to process the entire spectacle and feels shame curdling in her stomach. Oh well, she thinks to herself, I’ll be on a train soon and far away from this memory.
It’s later, as she’s pulling her luggage towards the waiting train, that she remembers the man she collided with and thinks to herself that he was almost painfully her type and horribly attractive despite the look of shock warping a face that was probably more used to smiling.
Oh well, maybe in another life …
Hermione is just starting to settle into her seat, jacket peeled off and draped on the seat next to her as she cracks open her book and smooths the pages out to pick up where she’d left off when the window to her right shudders violently.
She nearly drops her book when she jumps and looks up, eyes locking with the stranger from the coffee stand.
He makes a wild gesture for her to open the window, the window just barely cracked as she lectures while pulling it down “of all the bloody insane things jumping on a sodding train car- just what do you think you are doing! You could’ve been killed! Or worse, banned from the station! Speaking of-“
“I wanted to see you again”, he shrugs, and her mouth snaps shut, stunned.
She can feel a warmth blaze up her left forearm and just as quickly fade away. Those are her words. The words that have been printed on the inside of her left forearm since birth. The words that she has spent countless nights tracing the shape of, the sharp edges and soft curves of the vowels. These are the words that when her first boyfriend broke her heart at 17 and then again at 20, these are the words that comforted her and were her companion through late nights after Harry had left and her voice had left her. Her soulmark. Her soulmate.
He leans forward, arms folding over the open window and his smile grows. “Figured this was the only way to do it before you left the country or something like that. You know how these things go. By any count you could be headed towards Austria and I’d have lost you by then.”
“France”, she hears herself faintly correct him, the last hour or so finally compiling into some kind of sense. “I’m headed towards France, Lyon to be exact. Work you see.”
He nods, sagely, mouth pinching into a smothered grin, “Of course, of course. Nothing like a good work visit to really draw out these soulmate moment things. Really adds a bit of spice to the story, don’t you think?”
She rolls her eyes at him, coming back into herself and glancing down at her watch, heart falling into her stomach. She looks up at him, stress touching at her voice, “I don’t suppose you have a mobile? Or a ticket? Or maybe a plan?”
His grin flashes teeth this time and she realizes he has dimples. “What do you mean by that?”
“I mean”, she stresses empathically, anxiety rising high in her throat, “the train is set to leave in five minutes, four now, and I’m headed towards France and you’re here.”
His eyes widen and an arm disappears from the window sill to pat down his pockets, cursing all the while and muttering about poor timing and vengeful brothers. He looks up at her and down to the line of cars. “Just be a moment princess, I’ll be right back” and there’s a wink and he’s gone.
She takes a second to process his words before she’s leapt from her seat and poked her head out the window but he’s nowhere in sight. She scans up and down the platform looking for a flash of red hair, her heart in her throat, and her search coming up empty. She falls back into her seat and a woman across the aisle smiles, “Boyfriend?”
She shakes her head, “Something like that”.
A little over a minute until the train pulls out.
There’s no hope now. Her mobile’s dead, she has no spare change, and this appointment is the determining factor for the rest of her life. She’s stuck.
This is really not her day. She manages to collide with her soulmate but is so caught up she doesn’t even realize it. And now she’s going to lose him forever.
The train jerks to a start and begins to pull out of the station, leaving her heart and soulmate behind her. She refuses to cry. Not in public, not like this. She’ll figure it out when she gets back, she tells herself. Even if she has to hunt through the facebook account of every redheaded 20-something in London.
Of all the fucking days to be late...
Someone falls into the seat next to her, breathing heavily. Her eyes are glassy when she glances up quickly to provide a companionable nod only to notice first the familiar sweater and second the shining eyes.
She nearly throws herself out of her seat to embrace him before she reels herself back and reminds herself that they don’t even know each other. Soulmate, a quieter part of her brain provides.
“What- I- How did you manage to get on? Boarding’s closed and you certainly don’t have a ticket... do you?”
He slings an arm behind her seat and she notices it doesn’t set off her internal alarm bells.
“With a soulmark like that, I did a lot of hanging around train stations.” He hums and gives it a thoughtful nod “This one in particular, close to home. Guess it finally paid off that I became mates with a couple of the conductors and crews here. ‘Though I am a bit surprised at where we met, honestly figured it’d be on the platform, not some bit away fighting for a coffee.”
Warmth spreads up her neck as she avoids making eye contact. “Sorry again, about the coffee. I’ve been scrambled all morning and I took you down with me.”
He laughs and the sound is just as rich as last time. “It’s okay, really. If you hadn’t we probably wouldn’t have met, despite Lee’s bullying.”
At her curious look he reddens a bit and tugs some hair loose from behind his ear before pushing it back. “Shit. You didn’t hear that? Thought you did…” Hermione smiles at him and he rambles on, “Lee wouldn’t shut up and Ange wasn’t helping, useless friends if you ask me, and you were just there, and yeah. And it just occurred to me I don’t know your name.”
She laughs and shakes his offered hand, “Hermione. Hermione Granger. Maybe you should’ve learned that before hopping on a five hour train ride, hm?”
He grins, open, kind, and a touch of mischief, “Fred Weasley, pleasure to make your acquaintance. And honestly, love, what’s five hours to the rest of our lives?”
They share a smile and Hermione settles herself more comfortably into her seat, closing her book and setting it in her purse for later. The car rocks back and forth and lulls their conversation into an easy rhythm. He's right, she thinks to herself. They have the next five hours, and then after that, the rest of their lives.