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“Argh, bugger!”
Hermione felt like she could cry, it hurt so bad. She held her finger close to her, cursing once more. It wasn’t worse than a papercut, but even so . . . oh, to think that books were now going against her! After twenty years of companionship!
Removing herself from her armchair, Hermione wandered to the bathroom, her bare feet cold against the floor and she tried not to let it deter her. She could snuggle up under the blanket again once she’d acquired a plaster.
Honestly, where were the bloody things?
Her uninjured hand rummaged through her cabinet, unsuccessful in finding anything resembling plasters. All she found was an empty package and she eyed the smiling cartoon in the front with contempt. How dare he smile at her misery?
She tossed the package in the bin and sighed. She supposed she could just tape a piece of paper to her finger and it would have the same effect, but what sort of grown-up would she be then?
It had taken a lot for her to even move out of her home, but even more so to move away from her best friend Harry Potter. And when she said best friend she meant only friend, really. He’d never expressed an interest in going to her University and she couldn’t blame him, it was purely academics, something he’d never shown much interest in. So they’d chosen different paths and Hermione lived alone. Alone and eager to prove to herself that she could do it without him, without her parents. She could take care of herself.
“Right,” said Hermione, deciding. She wrapped a small piece of toilet paper around her finger, put on a jacket and got ready to go outside.
It took her going down all four flights of stairs to realise she’d kept her pajama pants on. But she was already on her way and buying the plasters would only take a second, so she decided to ignore the fluffy bunnies on her blue pants.
The corner shop was— appropriately so— right around the corner, barely more than a hundred steps away from the entrance of her building and she took comfort in it. Her jacket protected her against the cold and the dark protected her from having to look too many strangers in the eye. She would go in and out. That was it.
The all familiar ‘ding-dong’ announced her entering and Hermione looked around. It was empty. They must be fixing things in the back , thought Hermione, probably not many people who come here this late.
She ventured further in, wishing she knew whether or not they even stored plasters in the first place. After all, since moving here six months ago she’d never had a reason to go in. She shopped at the grocery store a few blocks away, as it was cheaper and had more options. But now that she was here, she wondered if perhaps it wasn’t a good idea to go here instead when all she needed was eggs or milk.
“Aha!” There was the annoying smiling cartoon figure, the one promising her plasters adorned with penguins, suns and bears. Feeling triumphant, Hermione reached for a package. Just as she did, however, there was the sound of a heavy box dropping.
“Oh, hello there.”
Hermione startled and turned around. By the counter stood a very tall boy, or man she supposed, looking at her with a most amused smile. His red hair stood up at all ends and she noticed him reaching up a freckled hand to smooth it out. But what stood out most to her was that smile, the one that reached all across his face.
“Are you laughing at me?” Hermione found herself saying. Immediately, she wanted to shut her own mouth and take the words back. What sort of way was that to greet someone?
Thankfully, the man shook his head, still smiling however. “No, I don’t think I’d dare to from the look on you face. Are you all right?” He nodded to her hand which still had some paper wrapped around it.
Hermione blushed. “This is nothing, just a papercut. I was going to get some . . . plasters.”
Taking the cartoon plasters made her feel silly now somehow. She glanced the boring package next to it, the one with simple brown ones. She reached for that one and approached the counter.
“You know, I always hurt myself on accident. Daily. And I think you’d be better of with the other ones,” said the man, scanning the package. “Not to mention, they’re more fun.”
This surprised her. She’d thought he was a year or two older than her and so to think that he also used the same plasters as her was . . . well, comforting. Perhaps even adults could use some silly things.
“I’ll get them next time, then,” said Hermione, not sure what else to say. She tried a small smile which he returned.
She paid him and after a second of silence, she bid him goodbye.
“G’night,” he said and then returned to unpacking the box he’d brought in.
Hermione glanced one last time, smiling at the way he accidentally dropped a small bag of rice on his foot. He really did seem to injure himself a lot.
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Hermione wasn’t sure whether or not to get excited when she ran out of milk two days later. Sure, she’d been exhausted beyond comprehension after her study session at the library and looked forward to enjoying a simple bowl of milk and cereal . . . but there was a part of her that saw an opportunity in this. Smiling to herself, she decided that a trip to the store might not be the worst idea.
She was on her merry way when she spotted her own reflection in the hallway mirror. She bit her lip, contemplating the messy hair and the simple jeans and t-shirt look she sported. Perhaps a little mascara wouldn’t hurt.
“I am being so utterly silly,” she muttered to herself as she stood in the bathroom, applying makeup. It wasn’t as if she knew that the man would be there again, there was no guarantee he even remembered her! He probably had customers coming in all the time, how presumptuous of her to even think she stood out enough—
That’s when Hermione remembered the pajamas and how she’d been wearing them last time she’d seen him. Yes, she decided, she would have stood out; and no, a little mascara definitely wouldn’t hurt. Changing into a nicer shirt and tying her hair into a neat bun, Hermione muttered yet again to herself: “What an empowered feminist you are, miss Granger.”
She shook her head. Silly. She was just excited to even realise she could be this way. Ever since Viktor . . . well, she’d thought there was something wrong with her. Her ex-boyfriend had been practically perfect and adored her and yet Hermione had never felt the need to do anything like this for him. Even when he’d been her date to the prom she’d dressed up mostly for her own sake. To feel pretty, just that one time.
And she did feel pretty now. She didn’t feel like she’d be walking into the store a mess, what with her pajamas and bleeding finger. It was the first time since moving here that she’d taken care to make an effort and it felt rather good. Even if he wasn’t there, it would still count as a successful outing in Hermione’s eyes.
Oh, but she was relieved to find that he was indeed there.
The store was small and she could spot him immediately, leaning against the counter reading a book. The sight excited her.
Not wanting to appear over-eager, Hermione immediately darted for the dairy section before he could spot her. Two other people came in after her— a mother and her son— and she could hear them debate loudly about whether or not the son should get candy on a school night. They (meaning, the mother) decided that he shouldn’t and got what they came for originally. They quickly proceeded to pay for their things as he conversed with them, making them laugh as they bid him good evening.
Then there were two.
Hermione lingered by the milk, wondering how she was going to act. Would she act nonchalant? Thank him for the advice about the plasters the other day? Ask him about his book?
“I’m afraid we don’t have much more to choose from.”
Hermione startled and almost dropped the two cartons of milk she’d been eyeing. She turned around.
The man grinned at her. His face as warm and playful as she’d remembered. “Looking for any more recommendations? If so, I’d take the one on the right.”
“W-why?” Really? That’s all she could bring herself to say?
The man smiled, not answering.
Hermione realised he wanted her to answer. She glanced down at her hands. “Oh, because this one has their cartoon cow mascot?”
He nodded approvingly. “It’s just so much more pleasant to wake up to a smiling face like that, wouldn’t you agree?”
I can imagine.
Hermione cleared her throat. “I suppose so.”
He waited for her to put away the other package of milk. “So no colorful pajamas today, then?”
Hermione couldn’t help it, she blushed. “Sorry to disappoint you.”
He shrugged. “Wouldn’t say I’m disappointed.”
If possible, Hermione grew even more red. She became very aware suddenly of how bizarre this situation was: here they were, two people who had only seen each twice now and they were flirting . Or perhaps this was just what normal people did. She honestly didn’t know.
She cleared her throat again. “Well, I should . . .”
“Right, of course. This way.”
He went behind the counter and Hermione followed him lamely, feeling stupider by the minute. She spotted the book again.
“You’re reading . . . analytic geometry?” She gaped. “That’s really advanced.”
He chuckled, “Yes, I’ve noticed.”
She didn’t know what to say to that, so she let him scan the milk. When he told her the price, she handed him the money and tried to make a joke about how she’d barely known how to calculate the change she was owed for it. It was worth the small chuckle he gave.
“I suppose none of the books you lug around all day are about advanced calculus, then?”
Hermione blinked. “What?”
He looked like he could slap himself, like he wished to take back what he said. He nervously rubbed the back of his neck. “I . . . I’ve just seen you around, carrying those big heaps of books of yours and er, well, that’s why . . .”
“Oh.”
“Yeah.”
The silence that followed confused her. She wasn’t sure why, but he seemed embarrassed and so she felt embarrassed too. Partly because she apparently was still such a bookworm that even the local convenience store clerk knew about it and partly because his sudden shyness affected her too now.
They stood there until the ‘ding-dong’ of the door sounded, announcing another customer, and Hermione made her escape.
“Bye,” she said and didn’t wait for his response.
She felt stupid and she didn’t know why. As she glanced back she saw the man palm his face before greeting his new customer.
It made her feel a little bit better.
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“So, is he like . . .fit?”
Hermione snorted into her coffee. “Ah! What?”
Lavender Brown rolled her eyes while Parvati Patil giggled and continued disassembling her croissant.
Lavender sighed, “You have always struck me as sort of weird, Granger. No offense.”
“Thanks?”
“You’re welcome. Anyway,” continued Lavender, “Weird as you are, you are still not that bad and ending up in a study group together has not been the hell we’ve anticipated.”
“We?” interrupted Parvati, flinging a small piece of her croissant at Lavender.
“Fine. Me.” Lavender brushed off the crumb and sipped her chai latte and looked around the café they’d decided to meet in. It was essential to have coffee nearby when studying, she’d insisted, and Hermione had been too scared to disagree. Not even when Lavender divulged that she didn’t even drink coffee. Lavender continued, “In this whole place, there are at least five people I could see myself going home with. Now, that’s just me, but when it comes to you, I’ve never even heard as much as a mention of dates or anything at all.”
“Well, that’s because I don’t date.”
“Curiouser and curiouser,” said Parvati, mimicking Lavender and sipping her hot cocoa.
“Indeed,” agreed Lavender. “So the fact that you have mentioned a boy that isn’t already dead historical figure or a mention in one of our textbooks caught our attention.”
Hermione blushed.
Parvati giggled once more. “Oh, she is so smitten. Do you fancy him?”
Hermione shook her head. “I don’t know, I’ve only spoken to him twice.”
“Oh, for goodness’ sakes, that doesn’t matter!” exclaimed Lavender. “And going back to my original question, for the love of god, is he fit ?”
Hermione said nothing and apparently her silence said everything, because Lavender and Parvati emitted equally loud squeals. Someone at the table on their right shushed at them, but Lavender told them to shut it.
“Wow, so he’s nice and good looking and he’s noticed you before you even came around the shop?” Parvati sighed. “I’m so not jealous.”
“Yeah, me neither,” said Lavender, sipping at her cup. “Especially not if he has a brother.”
Hermione frowned and stared at her coffee. “Things got sort of strange last time we spoke though. He seemed awfully embarrassed about something and I don’t know why or what I did to make him do that.”
“Maybe he was just nervous?” supplied Parvati.
“Which means he likes you too,” said Lavender. “And like you said, he mentioned having looked at you before you even came into the store, and that can only be a good sign! Unless he’s a stalker.”
“Oh, I didn’t think of that!” said Parvati.
“Okay!” interrupted Hermione. “I don’t think he is a stalker.”
Lavender laughed. “Cheers to that!”
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At least Hermione really hoped he wasn’t a stalker. Nowadays, however, it felt like she might have turned into one.
Anytime she walked past the windows of the shop she’d stare into it, hoping to catch a glimpse of red hair. And everytime she did she felt her heart skip a beat. It was ridiculous, she knew, to form a crush practically based on nothing, and yet she couldn’t help but feel that he was what she needed right now. Someone with a kind smile. But for all the kind smiles in the world, she couldn’t seem to muster up the courage to go inside.
Thankfully, one fateful morning, he ventured outside.
It had been raining that entire night, so the ground was still filled with small puddles here and there. But as the ground carried evidence of the prior hours, the sky was growing warmer with sunlight. Orange beams stretched slowly through the clouds and Hermione would guess by lunch time there’d be nothing but sun and a clear blue sky.
At least, that’s what she’d guessed when she left her apartment that morning.
She was carrying her books in her arms and had just rounded the corner of the street, when from out of nowhere a loud boom echoed above her, and her entire being was soaked with water.
“Wha— Oh no!”
She clutched the books to her chest, cursing her jean jacket for not being a raincoat and was just about to run back to her apartment, when— all of a sudden— it stopped raining.
“Looks like I got to you just in time.”
Hermione stiffened. That voice . . .
She turned around, and sure enough, there he was, smiling and getting completely soaked in rain as he held up an umbrella to cover her. Hermione didn’t know what to say.
“I . . .this . . .” she stammered. Never had anyone done something like this for her. “Thank you.”
He waved her off. “Oh, please, I was in the neighbourhood.”
Hermione observed his working uniform, a blue shirt and black pants, and then narrowed her eyes at his cheeks. They looked a bit red.
He cleared his throat. “And besides, couldn’t let two perfectly good old books get ruined. What are those anyways? They’re impressive.”
She looked down and supposed they were. They were almost the same thickness each as her two arms were combined. “I take history. Right now we’re studying the history of fashion and its impact on modern day society. It’s a bit broad but I am learning a lot. It’s part of the overall history course I’m taking, I find it fascinating. I was actually on my way to meet my friends, we were going to study before today’s lecture.”
She said all of this very fast and it came as no surprise when he just blinked slowly at what she’d said when she was done. Then, a grin formed.
“Sounds wicked,” he said.
“It is,” said Hermione, smiling. She suspected he liked her enthusiasm and she liked that he liked it.
The rain stopped.
“Well, I’d better go,” said Hermione then. “And you should get changed, or you’ll catch a cold.”
He was about to wave her off again, when he gave a sudden sneeze.
They both laughed at that.
His laugh softened into a chuckle and he withdrew his umbrella. “See you around then . . .?”
“Hermione,” she answered, still smiling.
“Hermione. See you around.”
She smiled again. “You too.”
They parted ways and it wasn’t until she was already on the bus that she realised she’d forgotten to ask for his name.
Oh well, next time then , thought Hermione. Her chest grew warm just picturing it.
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Things escalated after that.
Hermione would go out of her way the next week to pass by the shop. Any glimpse of him would send her smiling the entire day after and she even contemplated going inside every day just to buy something small. But she had to stop herself because there was no reason she needed to get a new carton of milk every single day. And she couldn’t buy sweets either, her parents were dentists and the horror stories she’d grown up listening to . . . suffice to say, she would not buy Mars bars as an excuse to talk to him.
When she finally ran out of milk one day, however, she was elated. It had been an appropriate amount of time for her to go back and buy a new one and she didn’t feel anything but excitement as she got herself nicely dressed to go outside.
It was the weekend, a Saturday, and as she had no classes or social obligations (except a study session much later in the day), she couldn’t see why she would have to wait until the evening. If he wasn’t there for a shift, she’d simply . . . come back again later.
Hermione smiled into her reflection and nodded decidedly. Perhaps she’d even ask him out on a date today.
She walked into the shop with a few more butterflies than she would have liked but they were welcome nonetheless. She hadn’t felt like this before and she now understood why Lavender and Parvati giggled so much. She felt like giggling too.
“Oy!”
She startled at the voice, now realising it must be his as she was seeing the top of his red hair making his way through the aisle next to hers.
“Don’t think I didn’t see that, miss!”
Oh dear, it appeared someone was shoplifting. Perhaps she’d come back some other time.
She watched him walk to the end of his aisle, which made them both semi-visible to her, stopping to talk to a woman. The woman was beautiful, with dark dreadlocks framing her pretty face. Hermione worried about what might transpire then, worried they didn’t know she was there, but what confused her was that the woman was laughing at him.
He scowled. “And now you dare laugh in my face. I don’t think you grasp the seriousness of the situation.”
The woman rolled her eyes. “I don’t think you grasp how lucky you are that I still find you funny.”
He relaxed his stern face and to Hermione’s surprise, he smiled. “Oh, you do, do you?”
“Against my will, I do.”
He chuckled and that’s when Hermione felt cold in her stomach. He wasn’t about to . . . Was he?
“People are looking,” said the woman.
“Let them.”
And then, her worst fear was realised as he leaned his face in closer to the woman and kissed her.
Hermione didn’t know what else to do but to run away.
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“What a prick, what an absolute tosser!”
Lavender was pacing back and forth, soon making a hole in Hermione’s bedroom floor. Not that she cared.
Parvati stroked her back, trying to console her. But it was no use.
“I swear, all men should be put to death! Scum, the lot of them!”
“Lav, a tad extreme, is it not?”
“Parvati! Look at her! He did this to her! Bastard!”
Hermione dug her face deeper into her tear soaked pillow. If her friends hadn’t been worried when she didn’t show for tonight’s study group then she would have been alone and crying. She was thankful they were here. She didn’t want to be alone.
Hermione let out a small wail.
Parvati shot a look to Lavender. “Keep it down, will you? This isn’t helping.”
Lavender stopped, looking a bit guilty. “Well, what would help? Hermione, what would help?”
Hermione shook her head. Nothing, nothing would help. “I . . . I know it was only a boy I fancied, but I thought he, well, might like me back . . . I’m so stupid.”
“No, don’t you dare,” said Parvati. “He knew what he was doing, leading you on. It’s one thing to flirt with you casually, but when he gets you an umbrella, that’s too far.”
Hermione sniffed. “It is, isn’t it?”
“Yeah, absolutely,” said Lavender. “I’ve had a flirt here and there, but they never came close to what you’ve told us.”
Hermione closed her eyes, trying to gather her thoughts from the jumbled mess they’d become. Yes, why had he done all he did for her, making it seem like he was genuinely interested in her as a person as opposed to an occasional flirt?
“Ugh,” she said, wiping her eyes, “what an idiot. Him, that is.”
“Now, that’s more like it,” said Lavender.
“And to think he did it all in his store, in broad daylight. He must be severely mentally damaged.”
“Absolutely gone in the head,” confirmed Parvati.
Yeah, Hermione thought. Who did that unless they were stupid? He hadn’t even tried to be clever about it either. “Do you think the woman he kissed was his girlfriend?”
Parvati frowned. “I dunno, why?”
“Well, doesn’t she deserve to know?”
Lavender and Parvati exchanged looks.
“I’m serious! Shouldn’t she know?”
“Hermione, these things are delicate,” said Parvati. “I think it’d be best to leave it.”
“Yeah,” agreed Lavender. “And it’s not like you two even kissed or anything. It was just flirting.”
“Just flirting?” Hermione couldn’t believe what she was hearing. “So, you’re saying you’d want your boyfriends to the same thing?”
Parvati shook her head, while Lavender hurried to defend herself. “That’s not what we said!”
“Don’t do anything rash you’d regret, Hermione,” said Parvati. “For all you know, this might just be a huge misunderstanding.”
But Hermione wasn’t listening. She felt too wronged, too hurt. She might have agreed to let things be on the outside, but on the inside she was fuming.
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The next day, Hermione planned her big confrontation. She realised that it might be foolish, that she might spoil any chance of her being a regular at the shop, but she didn’t care. It wasn’t right what he’d done.
She got up, ate breakfast and as it got close to lunch, she got dressed. Things would get ugly, but she was prepared and for good measure she’d decided to make an extra effort to dress nicely. Make him regret his actions.
She was so perfectly sure of what to do, what she’d say, what she’d accuse him of and how to do it gracefully, that when she got to the shop and saw what she saw, she stopped right in her tracks, gaping like a fish.
Because what she saw made her feel like a complete idiot.
“Oh, hello!” The man she was sure she’d seen all these times was smiling at her, warm and kind and genuinely excited to see her. He was standing behind the counter, having just chatted with his co-worker.
A co-worker that looked exactly like him.
Twins.
Twins?
Bloody twins?!
Hermione blinked, her heart not knowing what to do with all the adrenaline from before. It felt like it wanted burst out of her chest. Wanted to escape and run away from this whole situation.
“Who’s this then?” asked the twin, smirking at his brother.
“Hermione,” said the man, ignoring the comment and speaking to her directly. “What can we do for you?”
“Erm . . .” Her brain worked. “Could I . . . could I speak with you for a moment?”
He watched as she gestured to outside the shop and nodded. “You got it covered, George?”
The twin held a hand up and waved his brother off. “‘Course, no problem!”
So then there they were, standing outside the shop, out of view from George, the twin that looked and almost exactly sounded like the man in front of her, whose existence made her feel so incredibly stupid. But as much as Hermione hated to admit it, her feeling of stupidity was welcome. Because this meant that he wasn’t involved with someone else. This meant that she had just had a shoddy view of his brother and mistaken it for him. This meant . . . there was still a chance!
She just had to take it.
He smiled at her, waiting for her to start and it made her blush, having him look at her like that. But she liked it.
She cleared her throat. “So, that was your brother?”
“Yeah, that was George. He only works here whenever someone’s sick, thanks to his girlfriend. She got him something in an office.” He seemed amused by this. “Never thought I’d see the day, to be honest.”
Hermione nodded, not really interested to learn about George, but instead taking in the information that George had a girlfriend. And it seemed he didn’t.
“And you . . .?” Hermione began. “Do you . . .? I mean, do you have a . . . girlfriend?”
Her face was so warm you could probably fry an egg on it and she could tell he was enjoying that fact.
“Nope,” he answered happily, grinning and looking pleased about what she was asking. Like he was pleased about the fact that she cared about whether or not he had a girlfriend.
And the truth was, she cared. A lot. So it was hard to hide how happy she was and keep a neutral face. “I see. Then in that case, would you perhaps one day like to get a cup of coffee?”
“A cup of coffee?”
“Or tea or dinner or anything like that,” Hermione hurried. Of course, she thought, not everyone liked coffee.
He grinned. “That sounds lovely. How about a coffee right now? I was about to have my lunch break anyway and there’s a good place nearby.”
“Well, that sounds good,” said Hermione, shocked at how easy that had been. “And nearby? That’s convenient.”
He laughed and gave her a wink. “Well, I’m all about convenience. I work in a corner shop, after all.”
She smiled.
He gestured behind him. “So, I’ll just pop inside and tell George!”
“Yes! I’ll wait here for you . . . erm . . . sorry,” said Hermione, remembering, “I forgot to ask you for your name?”
He laughed again, “My fault, I suppose, we don’t wear name tags to confuse people, me and George. It’s Fred, by the way.”
“Fred,” Hermione tried. It felt good to say. It was a simple name— in a good way. Uncomplicated and straightforward. Fred. “Nice to meet you, Fred.”
Fred beamed. “And you, Hermione.”
He went inside and Hermione moved to get a look and managed to spot George give Fred a high-five.
She met Fred’s eyes through the window and as they smiled, she couldn’t help but think that you never knew what was right around the corner, did you?