A/N: Hey y'all! This was written for Hogwarts.
Word Count: 1156
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter. Those rights go to JK Rowling.
This is a Muggle!au
Thanks to Grace for beta'ing!
Enjoy!
The sun was shining brightly through the train window, blinding Anthony. His dark eyes squinted against the light until he gave up and turned his head the other way. He tried not to appear as though he was staring at the woman beside him, but feared that he was failing.
Anthony sighed heavily and ran a hand through his black hair. Anxious for something to do, he took his journal out of the side pocket of his suitcase and began writing nonsense down—to-do lists that would never be completed, the names of everyone he knew, objects he saw around him… anything to make him look busy.
He glanced to his right after a few minutes and noticed that the blonde-haired woman beside him was writing furiously in a notebook of her own. By the look of the pages, she was doing something a bit more important than listing the number of windows she could see.
Suddenly, the train lurched to a halt, startling both Anthony and the woman. Their notebooks fell from their laps, and both leaned over quickly to retrieve the books from the floor as the aisle filled with people.
Their fingers brushed awkwardly together, and the woman ripped her hand away. "Oh, sorry," she murmured. "Sorry—this is my stop." She hurried off before Anthony could even respond to the small smile she sent his way, and he watched the back of her head until she disappeared.
He shook his head at himself and settled back in his seat for the remainder of his journey. When it was his stop, he grabbed his luggage and hurried through the station, hoping that Michael had been considerate enough to send a car over; it was too hot to search for transportation.
As it turned out, his friend hadn't been. With a sigh and an eye roll, Anthony managed to find a cab, and after he rattled off the address of his friend's home, he leaned back in the seat and closed his eyes.
"Anthony, I can't believe you," Michael crowed. "You grabbed the poor girl's diary?"
His face hot, Anthony spluttered. "Well, technically she grabbed mine first—"
Michael took a bite of the biscuit he was holding, a grin on his face. "Bad luck, mate. What are you going to do about it?"
Anthony shrugged helplessly and grabbed a biscuit for himself from the plate on the table. "Can I do anything? I don't even know her name."
Michael's green eyes were sparkling with mischief. "Her name's probably inside, you know. You could look."
Anthony scowled. "Isn't that… wrong?"
"Isn't what wrong?"
Both men looked over to see Padma Patil letting herself into the room. Michael's face lit up when he saw her. "Anthony took some poor woman's diary by mistake. She took his journal."
Padma paused, her long black hair in a plait down her back. "That's unfortunate, but I don't see why it's wrong."
Anthony cleared his throat. "Michael thinks I should look inside to see who it belongs to."
Padma's mouth formed a little "o" of understanding. "Well, I can see why you'd be uncomfortable, Anthony, but I really think that it'd make you more uncomfortable to keep it—"
"Besides, you could be missing your chance at romance," Michael quipped, lacing his fingers through his girlfriend's. "You return her diary, she falls madly in love with you—"
Anthony groaned and glared at his friend. "Someone shut him up, please," he grumbled, looking imploringly at Padma. But she just shrugged.
"He's being difficult, but I do think you should try to find the girl. Do you remember what stop she got off at?"
Anthony thought for a moment. "I think the one right before mine."
Padma smiled. "Look for a name in the book. Then you can start searching."
Anthony bit his lip and opened the book. There, right on the first page in elegant handwriting read, Hannah Abbott. Underneath was an address.
Padma grinned. "I think it's fairly clear where you should start."
Anthony made it all the way to her front door before he lost his nerve.
What if this was an old address? What if the diary had first belonged to a relative, one long dead? There were too many factors here—too many things that could go wrong. He shouldn't risk it.
Just as he was about to turn away, a familiar voice spoke from behind him.
"Oh! Hello. Can I help you—oh! You have it. Wow."
Her blue eyes were glued on the diary, and Anthony grinned sheepishly and rubbed the back of his neck. "Yeah. We have the same one, it seems—you grabbed mine on the train by mistake." He faltered slightly. "You're Hannah Abbott?"
She nodded. "And you're…?"
He cleared his throat. "Anthony Goldstein. Nice to meet you."
She smiled, and Anthony's heart beat a little quicker. "And you. Sorry about that, by the way. I was in such a rush to get everything ready for tonight—a few friends of mine are coming from out of town," she explained.
Anthony nodded and handed her the notebook. Hannah smiled briefly at him, then tilted her head to the side. "Care to come in? I promise I don't bite," she teased, her pretty blue eyes watching carefully as he flushed dark red.
Anthony cleared his throat. "That would be great, thanks."
She gracefully maneuvered herself past him and unlocked the door. He followed her inside.
The first thing he noticed when he walked in was the wine red the walls of the sitting room were painted. It was an interesting color choice, he thought. Hannah saw him looking.
She laughed, embarrassed. "It's one of my favorite colors, and since no one else lives with me, there was no one to stop me…"
"I like it," he said honestly. Then he cleared his throat and held out the diary. "Here you are."
She beamed, her golden hair falling into her face a little. "Thank you! Goodness knows what I'd do without it." Her expression softened. "Thank you for bringing it back."
Anthony smiled. "It was no trouble. I, er… I shouldn't stay long, if you have friends coming over…"
He didn't want to say goodbye; he was disappointed that he had to leave. He'd already seen a little bit into this woman's life, and he realized that he wanted to see more—he could see a telescope pointed towards the window on the stairwell. A telescope. She was quirky, and he loved it.
Hannah bit her lip. "Yes, you're right. But—" She looked around and then grabbed a pen from nearby. She held it in her teeth while she ripped a page out of her diary. She then scribbled something down and held it out to Anthony. "In case I ever lose something again."
Anthony accepted it and left, only reading the paper when he was outside. A phone number.
He grinned. Maybe Michael hadn't been too far off in his assumptions.
