Hermione Granger slipped the elegant silver rimmed glasses off her
nose. She was beginning to get a migraine and she wanted desperately to go
to sleep. But she couldn't. She HAD to finish this analysis for her boss
by tomorrow. She had put it off far too long. Rubbing her temples, she
closed her eyes and leaned back against the overstuffed maroon couch and
tried to relax. She began to think back to her childhood in school, at
Hogwarts. She thought of the halls and the stairs and the classes and most
importantly, her best friend. What had he done to make her fall in love
with him so deeply? She smiled to herself and thought back to their first
kiss and their first date and began to feel herself relax, if only
slightly.
Suddenly, she was taken from her reverie by the phone ringing. Padding her barefeet over to the inn table she answered it. "Hello?"
"Sorry to call you so late honey."
"Oh, no, it's okay. I was up working anyway. What's up?"
"Nothing much. I just needed to hear your voice." She could feel herself blushing slightly at this. "I guess the real reason I called is to check and see if you are doing okay. I haven't heard from you in a couple of days and I was beginning to get a little concerned."
She smiled to herself. "I'm fine. Work has just been rough lately. That's all." She said propping herself up on the table and running her free hand through her bushy brown hair.
"Well I won't stand for you working so hard. What do you say I take you out for a night on the town. Just the two of us?"
"Sure." She said her eyes perking up just a bit. "When?"
"Saturday?"
"Saturday's good. Pick me up at 7?"
"See ya then."
She hung up the phone and smiled. Looking at the pile of papers sitting on her living room table, she turned off the light and headed upstairs to bed.
Harry Potter hung up the phone he felt a sense of foreboding. Something didn't feel right about this whole thing. He almost wished he could go back in time and stop himself from making that phone call. But of course, such things were impossible. He walked across the smooth, waxed hardwood floor of his bachelor apartment into the kitchen. He opened the fridge and took out a half gallon of milk and drank straight from the carton. Replacing it, he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and headed off towards his study. He wasn't ready to sleep yet. Once in the comfy confines of his spacious study, Harry sat down in a large plush armchair in front of his fireplace. He sat there staring into the orange glow of the fire, thinking. He had done all right for himself, once he got away from the Dursley's anyway. He had gotten his own place, gotten a job, and managed to land himself the perfect girlfriend. Things were going pretty good for him. Then why did he feel so alone?
Suddenly, she was taken from her reverie by the phone ringing. Padding her barefeet over to the inn table she answered it. "Hello?"
"Sorry to call you so late honey."
"Oh, no, it's okay. I was up working anyway. What's up?"
"Nothing much. I just needed to hear your voice." She could feel herself blushing slightly at this. "I guess the real reason I called is to check and see if you are doing okay. I haven't heard from you in a couple of days and I was beginning to get a little concerned."
She smiled to herself. "I'm fine. Work has just been rough lately. That's all." She said propping herself up on the table and running her free hand through her bushy brown hair.
"Well I won't stand for you working so hard. What do you say I take you out for a night on the town. Just the two of us?"
"Sure." She said her eyes perking up just a bit. "When?"
"Saturday?"
"Saturday's good. Pick me up at 7?"
"See ya then."
She hung up the phone and smiled. Looking at the pile of papers sitting on her living room table, she turned off the light and headed upstairs to bed.
Harry Potter hung up the phone he felt a sense of foreboding. Something didn't feel right about this whole thing. He almost wished he could go back in time and stop himself from making that phone call. But of course, such things were impossible. He walked across the smooth, waxed hardwood floor of his bachelor apartment into the kitchen. He opened the fridge and took out a half gallon of milk and drank straight from the carton. Replacing it, he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and headed off towards his study. He wasn't ready to sleep yet. Once in the comfy confines of his spacious study, Harry sat down in a large plush armchair in front of his fireplace. He sat there staring into the orange glow of the fire, thinking. He had done all right for himself, once he got away from the Dursley's anyway. He had gotten his own place, gotten a job, and managed to land himself the perfect girlfriend. Things were going pretty good for him. Then why did he feel so alone?