SIDE A - TRACK 10

[Hermione Granger x Anthony Goldstein]

Well I was sitting, waiting, wishing
You believed in superstitions
Then maybe you'd see the signs
Lord knows that this world is cruel
And I ain't the Lord no I'm just a fool
And a loving somebody don't make them love you

Sitting, Waiting, Watching / Jack Johnson [2005]

Anthony Goldstein grabbed the proffered styrofoam coffee cup with a jolt as he came back out of his daydream. He was reluctantly impressed that the barista, who had seemed to be paying no attention to his order, had gotten both his name and drink order correct. Maybe that was a positive sign? Perhaps this afternoon would be lucky? It would be best not to overthink it. Walking away from the counter, Anthony jostled the cup as he adjusted his scarf in preparation for once again facing the winter chill.

Turning abruptly he stilled as he collided into someone, someone who must have been stood almost directly behind him. His large hand automatically shot out to steady them, hoping to prevent them from falling to the floor. Anthony swiftly deposited his cup on a nearby flat surface, to make sure he didn't spill any of the burning hot contents on his latest victim. It wasn't an overreaction. He had done exactly that before.

Anthony shut his eyes for a second, and he allowed a moment of internal screaming, his mind was raging at him for being such a blundering idiot. Though his usual four verse scolding unexpectedly ended when he heard, "Anthony?" murmured in a familiar voice, an incredibly familiar voice.

Anthony's eyes snapped open, and he realised two things in quick succession. Firstly, that the reason he hadn't seen the person when he had initially turned was because they were easily over a foot shorter than him, and secondly that the person was... "Hermione?" the name fell from his lips coated heavily in the extreme surprise he felt.

Hermione. Hermione Granger. Anthony could feel heat rising in his cheeks and was mortified that at the age of twenty-five he was still blushing like a child in front of her. Of course, the mortification only made his predicament worse. Pushing against the tidal wave of thoughts that had just crashed against his forehead he forced himself to speak.

"I am so... terribly…. sorry," he managed, and then winced when he noticed he still had her arm in his too firm grip. Anthony released it with a barely audible further apology and took a step back from her for good measure.

"No problem," Hermione said softly, and she smiled, one of her warm, happy, genuine smiles, that made her face look as if it was opening up like the soft petals of a spring flower. "I wasn't watching where I was going either… we must make a right pair huh?" she said with a laugh.

Anthony was struck mute by her casual disregard for his clumsiness, so instead of answering her like a normal human being he just about managed a nod. He just couldn't believe he was stood in front of her, Hermione Granger, in a random Muggle coffee shop of all places. If you had known you would have worn something better, he chastised himself, but he quickly realised with relief that she couldn't see the tatty jumper he favoured for quiet days under his bulky, winter coat.

Hermione looked markedly different from the last time he had seen her, though that had been over two years ago, at one of the larger Hogwarts reunion shindigs. Anthony went every year but Hermione, it seemed, couldn't always make it. He often wondered where she was while he was at those things year after year, reciting the same stories and eating the same, dull, hors d'oeuvres. Of out with some mysterious wizard, someone ridiculously attractive with a dynamic career and opinions on the best wine to have with certain delicacies. A wizard that never wore tatty jumpers or knocked into witches in coffee shops no doubt. For some reason Anthony always imagined her on a yacht during those occasions, sipping champagne and laughing about someone's ill-informed opinions with her talented, beautiful friends.

Her hair was still the same as ever Anthony reflected with some amusement. He wondered if the men in Hermione's life thought it made her unique, captivating, or maybe they believed it hid some of her natural beauty, not taking it away from it as such, but making it harder to find. Of course they did, after all, they would hardly be idiots if she were interested in them.

Hermione still wasn't glamorous, despite the situations he had often imagined her in depicting her thus. Her unruly hair was pulled back into a regulation looking french braid, a lot more successfully than many of the attempts she had made at the same style while they were in classes together. She was wearing Healer robes, they were transfigured into something to suit their more Muggle environment, but she had obviously done so quickly, the colour and emblems were still visible.

"Anthony?" a soft inquiring voice said, and he snapped out of what, he hoped, hadn't been an entirely apparent perusal of her.

"Ah, sorry, did you say something?" he managed in a slightly waving tone. Stupid, stupid, stupid.

Hermione smiled again, one of her little, quirky smiles, the soft ones that barely changed the shape of her face but made her eyes shine with barely suppressed humour.

"I was just asking how you are?" she replied encouragingly, "I didn't expect to see you, in here of all places," she said, waving her arm around their surroundings.

"No, I suppose not" he answered quickly, keen not to be seen gazing off into the middle distance again. "This place is near my parent's house."

She opened her mouth to speak again, but their brief reunion was interrupted by the barista shouting a mangled version of Hermione's name which made the woman in question roll her eyes before she lunged forward to grab her cup. As her hand lifted she quickly glanced at her wrist and the watch exposed there, and when she turned back around he saw her eyes had widened comically.

"I am so sorry, Antony, but I'm in a real rush, I didn't really even have time for this coffee. It's been manic today, a kid ate a whole box full of volcanic ants and he has been throwing up lava for three hours, and then there was a lady with a potions ladle inserted into… and…. well…" she rambled the words tumbling out one after the other as she stepped away from him. "It was great to see you though," she finished before adjusting her jacket and making a beeline for the door.

"Yes," Anthony replied earnestly. "You too Hermione," he called after her just before the door could close behind her.

A week later, Anthony was in the coffee shop again, only this time he had asked to sit in. He made his way to a table in the middle of the cramped chairs and tried to decide whether to be grateful or not that the place was relatively empty.

He sat facing the door and put a book in front of him that he mostly ignored. Instead, he spent his time oscillating between agreeing with the voices in his head, telling him to get back up and stop being so pathetic, and shutting them out so he could watch the door and the street beyond it.

Anthony had reasoned that seeing Hermione at the same time, on the same day the previous week had probably meant that she was there on a break. The fact that she was rushing must have meant it was the end of her allotted time, so today he came an hour before his last visit, despite the slim, slim, chance that she would appear.

Not that he had reflected on it that much, he thought to himself derisively. Anthony sighed. Unfortunately, this behaviour wasn't all that unusual for him, not that he made a habit of stalking women. He had been aware of Hermione Granger since their first year at Hogwarts, and this was certainly not the first time he had deliberately put himself in her path, though admittedly, he did usually pull himself straight back out of it as soon as he saw her.

At the end of their first year, the final grade results had been posted on the bulletin board outside the Great Hall; that's when he had first taken notice. There in the measured, even script of Professor McGonagall was '#1 Hermione Granger', and that wasn't even of Gryffindor that was of the whole year group. His name was listed in the top five, a position it remained in throughout his schooling.

Anthony had always been smart but Hermione was something more than that, her attitude towards study was legendary. She was a Muggleborn determined to prove herself in a new world. As a half blood who shared magical and Jewish blood, Anthony thought he understood more than most some of the factors that made her who she was.

While he may have been aware of her from the off, he had felt he had known her since the third year. Anthony had never been sure how or why but he always seemed to overhear conversations concerning her; people spoke of her often. Hermione wasn't overly popular, not that it appeared to phase her, though he noted the number of people that went to her for advice. Hermione could be cold, hard and stubborn but also warm and caring towards those who needed it. She could be spectacularly closed minded if she believed she was in the right about something, which was often, but she also made herself a further topic of ridicule by publicly and steadfastly supporting causes that were close to her heart.

With that in mind, Anthony had attempted several times to speak to her, sometimes with a feigned academic question, and at times with a real one. Somehow, he thought Hermione might distrust any other approach; she didn't seem any more adept a small talk than he was, and Anthony had ascertained enough about her to know she was unused to people outside her little circle of select friends. No matter what the approach he settled on, the result was always the same; he always chickened out.

Despite his interest, if he could have called it that at that stage, Anthony was shy. Sure he had great friends, got on with most of his house and even managed to attract a bit of female attention, but it took him a little while to warm up to people. All of his plans to gently set up a situation came to nothing, and as no natural chance ever presented itself, Anthony never got close.

He finally worked up the nerve to speak to Hermione in their fifth year, sort of. When himself and his friends in Ravenclaw heard that Hermione was arranging a meeting at the Hog's Head to talk about alternative training for Defence they had been determined to go along. She had stood before them all talking about Umbridge, passion shining on her face despite the apparent hesitation in the crowd. When she suggested they 'take matters into their hands' Anthony had managed a 'here here', and when the words left his lips, she had turned to smile at him, one of her bright, joyful smiles that illuminated her whole face and made her back straighten.

Two small words, and ones he hadn't even said to her, more shouted in her general direction. Anthony had felt ridiculous until he looked at Hermione, and saw how her eyes softened, how they seemed to say thank you in reply, of how relieved she was to have some support. Anthony remembered that non-conversation and cherished it as if it were a memory of an evening spent in each other's arms talking about their dreams.

Anthony had been half in love with Hermione Granger since the sixth year. Seeing her walk into Slughorn's party with Cormac, of all people, had sent him into a tailspin. He had blamed himself later when she was, seemingly unwillingly, kissed under the mistletoe. Maybe if he had expressed his interest she would have gone with him, though Anthony knew he would never know.

Anthony couldn't even fool himself by making the hollow wish of a time-turner, even if he'd had his time again he knew he would never have acted on his impulses where she was concerned. Some might have said he had nothing to lose; his friends certainly saw it that way, he disagreed. Anthony had his hope, and as that was the only thing he was ever likely to have, he wouldn't throw it away on maybe, it was too precious for that. Instead, he drank a lot of Firewhisky that night.

In their final year, Anthony had been so relieved when he saw her, finally, stumbling into the Room of Requirement, looking like absolute hell, that he had frozen. He had spent the whole year, living under the oppressive rule of the Carrows telling himself that if he ever saw Hermione again, he would ask her for a drink, dinner, anything, but as soon as he saw her, Anthony knew that he couldn't. He couldn't shut out the voices that said he was a coward, even as he fought alongside the other child soldiers of his generation. Anthony couldn't shut them out because he agreed.

As the heavy glass door of the coffee shop clanged open Anthony looked up from the muffin he had shredded into a hundred pieces to see Hermione walking in shaking off an umbrella, just like that.

She spotted him as she walked in, and her beautiful, expressive eyes lingered on wholly unremarkable him. When recognition shone in her face, she gave him a little wave and one of her surprised smiles, one of the ones that looked as if it found its way onto her face before she had realised, and made her way to the counter.

Anthony looked back down and weighed his options; he could leave quickly, and if he ever saw her again he could say he had gotten an emergency call or something, would that work? He supposed it didn't matter. She might not even notice. Or he thought... he could…

"Can I sit down?"

Anthony jumped at the intrusion into his thoughts and looked up to find Hermione holding a teacup, made of china, not styrofoam, and her face neutral waiting for a response.

"Sure, sure," he said quickly, and he hoped casually, before reaching forward to hurriedly wipe the disintegrated muffin out of the way only to knock half of it on the floor. He was about to start apologising for his clumsiness again, but Hermione didn't seem to have noticed.

"Sorry for running off the other day," she said brightly, setting herself into the chair next to him. "I was late back from lunch break, and we were short staffed because of this…" she stopped herself and looked up a little sheepishly. "Sorry, sorry, boring I know."

Anthony wanted to tell her that he wasn't sure she could ever say anything boring but kept his mouth firmly shut still slightly awed that she was there let alone that she had opted to sit next to him.

"So what is it that you do?" Hermione murmured, reaching forward to rip into her pre-packed sandwich and looking at him expectantly. "I don't think we've ever chatted at one of those god awful reunion things."

Anthony's throat dried. "Well, I work for Gringotts. I use advanced Arithmancy equations to help predict the Muggle stock exchange and advise them on their investments," he said, using the simplest explanation that he had honed over the years.

"Wow, what a cool job."

Anthony felt his heart stop, and his cheeks pink for a moment, but when he forced himself to look up, he realised, unbelievably, that Hermione wasn't being sarcastic.

"What's it like working with the Goblins? I thought about working for them myself, once upon a time. Though," she dropped her voice into a theatrical whisper, "they don't like me very much on account of me setting free one of their dragons."

Hermione gave him one of her secret smiles, one where her teeth bit into one side of her bottom lip as if fighting away the smirk that was starting on the other side, and despite his nerves, Anthony found himself smiling in return.

"Your picture is still behind the tills, you know on the 'watch carefully' list," he answered conspiratorially, daring to dip his head forward just a fraction as she had done. Hermione boomed out a long laugh, and he felt his fingers come to rest on his mug rather than dancing along the porcelain surface.

She asked him question after question about his job, and she spoke at length about what she had been up to since Hogwarts. Anthony even managed a few questions himself until he looked over and spied the time.

"Hermione," he said pointing to the clock, hating himself for being the one to remind her.

"Crap," she murmured. "Where does the time go? Thank you for letting me sit with you," and began layering herself back up.

Now or never, he thought to himself.

"Erm… Hermione," he all but whispered as his fingers gripped the now cold cup in front of him tightly as if he could use it as an anchor. After all how bad could it be?

"Would you… err… would you go to dinner… with me?" he forced out, looking at her as much as he was able.

Hermione stopped to look at him, and her usually emotion filled expression was blank.

He supposed he could always move to Ecuador; it looked beautiful, and the Goblins could probably transfer him.

Her perfect smile stretched across her face. It was the one that made her look so radiantly beautiful that it made the hairs on the back of his neck stand up. "I would love that," she said brightly, leaning forward to write a note on the scrap of her till receipt that was on the table. "That's my floo and my mobile number, a mobile is a… oh, I probably don't have to explain that do it?"

Anthony smiled back at her, the first genuine one he had ever managed so close to her before, and shook his head. It hadn't sunk in yet, the nerves of what he had set in motion would come, but for now, he was riding high on a wave of previously undiscovered adrenaline, and he couldn't hold back. He released his grip on the cup to pick up the piece of paper she proffered, and he wondered if it would be too much to get it framed.

"Hermione, can I ask a quick question?" he asked, surprising himself.

She paused in her speedy actions to look back at him, mumbling her assent.

"What do you do, when you don't go the reunions?"

Her face broke into a flush that had almost total coverage on her cheeks, and he immediately regretted asking, this is what you get for pushing, clearly something a lot more exciting than he had ever experienced. Anthony felt sick as she leant over whispering, "You won't tell anyone?"

Once he had given her assurances he didn't feel he could back away.

"I stay at home with my cat," she said self-consciously but with a familiar bite of defiance. "I hate those things, all the faff and the dressing up to exchange the same old stories, I suppose I'm just a bit boring like that."

Hermione smiled at him, one of her self-conscious smiles that betrayed she was nervous about his response to her admission, nervous of what he thought of her, and just like that; the hope was back.