Hello stranger,

My dad decided to turn off the internet because there's a storm... So without mindless facebook and msn, I've got time to write

hurrah!

Looking for home. I can't find it

"Hello?" He sounds tired, and you can almost see him pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose and yawning. You bite your lip and regret hiking a mile outside the town to find a muggle pay phone and dialing his number. Only the stars knew why he owned a phone in the first place.

"Hello...?" You see him glaring into space and waiting a few more seconds before starting to put the phone down. "Okay, listen whoever you are I've had a long day and I need some sleep-"

"Harry." You see him widening his eyes in shock and gasping at the phone as if it had jumped out of his hand and started tap dancing. You know him too well.

"Hermione? Hermione? Where are you? We've been searching for you for ages! Everybody's worried sick about you!"

"I'm fine. And I'm safe."

"Well, where the hell are you?"

You don't answer him, even though the answer is on the tip of your tongue. Honestly I have no bloody clue, but I like not knowing. It makes it easier to say goodbye, you think.

"Hermione. Come back." It comes out more as a plea than a command.

"Come back where?" You sigh back because where would you go back to? Home? You don't know where home is- and it certainly isn't with Ron or Harry. And why would you go back? You don't have a reason to and neither does anybody else.

"Come back to us. Come back home."

You sigh once again and you know that he's gritting his teeth and silently begging in his mind pleasecomeback pleasecomeback.

"I'm looking for home Harry, and I don't know where it is." You hang up and even though you aren't the one cradling the receiver to your ear, you can still hear the dial tone ringing in your ears and you breathe in deeply before screaming loudly.

When you're done with your screaming you don't feel any better because nobody heard your cry for help, only the stars, and everybody knows they keep your secrets with them until they burn out.

*

You're back in the coffee shop, slumped down in the same cozy chair. Why am I always going back to where I started? You think. Why why why why why why me?

The teenage boy is also in the coffee shop, once again scribbling in his notebook. Every so often, he looks up and glances around with his scared brown eyes. His pen will run out of ink, you think. And then who will he confess his heart to? Then who will try and take the fear out of his eyes and soothe him? No one would, because they're too caught up in their own problems and own fears to worry about someone else, you think. No one cares anymore.

"Honey, you want something else?" The coffee shop owner asks. She is a big bustling woman with a kind voice and ready smile. She makes you think of your grandmother who you would bake cookies with and laugh all day with. She grins at the teenage boy who gives her a look that makes you think of a deer caught in the headlights.

He's counting his money. You can tell by the way his fingers sneak into his empty pockets and then his mouth tugs down a little more and you wonder what it's like to have your frown win more than your smile; because your smile always wins- even when you don't want it to. He shakes his head and rubs his stomach absentmindedly.

"Yes he will." You call out, and then you buy him what he wants (he mutters it shyly blushing the colour of Gryffindor) and a little extra because he needs it. When he's done he looks up and catches your eye and you think there are tears in his eyes but he gives you a small smile before going back to scribbling in his notebook.

It's only then that you notice that the strapping young gentlemen with the hair the colour of sunlight is sitting and watching you with dull eyes as if saying "Will you be that nice to me?"

You're looking for home, and sitting in this coffee shop with all these lost souls make you think that you've found it. And then you're glad that the only people who heard you think that were you and the stars. And they never tell.

*

The next morning you find a piece of paper torn from a dirty notebook slid under your door.

Thank you. I'll pay you back someday. The money as well.

And that's the first genuine smile you've had in... forever.

_

AND SCENE!

"Everyone's a let down, it just depends on how far down they can go."

Like... no Dramione action... but I'm building it up aight? And I want some Hermione/Random teenage boy action because well, random teenage boy is pretty rad in my eyes. This is strictly a Dramione story- please, Hermione will NOT have a relationship with random teenage boy. Hmmm, I probably should name him.

Feedback?

xx Queenie