Hermione walked up to the front desk and gave them her name.
"We are sorry but we don't have your name in our system, Ms. Granger."
"I'm supposed to have a reservation here. Could you please just look again?"
The lady looked at the computer screen again, but when she looked back at Hermione she shook her head.
Her frustration was starting to escalate to a new level. It really wasn't her day. "Fine."
Grabbing her phone, Hermione put in another call to the same number. She got a machine telling her that the woman who could sort out her problem had left for the day and wouldn't be back until Monday morning.
"Bloody Americans." Hermione cursed.
"Excuse me Miss."
Hermione looked at the woman behind the desk. "Never mind."
The street was crowded when Hermione exited the building. She turned to her left and started walking, not knowing what she was going to do. She had very little money on her, just enough to eat on, and she needed a place to stay until she could yell at whoever was responsible for this fiasco.
The sun was setting and Hermione found herself still without a place to rest. But she continued to trudge along, her bags trailing behind her. Luckily, she knew a charm that would stop them from being a nuisance.
The area she was in had a relaxed bohemian style and she would have loved to browse through the shops but all the stores seemed to be shutting down for the night. Storeowners on both sides of the street were locking up and Hermione wanted to cry.
Suddenly, out of the corner of her eye, Hermione spotted a flash of red hair. She wasn't sure why, but instantly she thought of the Weasleys. Turning to look she spotted him. But it couldn't be him. What would he be doing here in New York City? As she continued to stare there was no mistaking him. The frame, the way he held himself respectably at ease. She would be able to spot that man, well men, anywhere, because she couldn't quite tell from this angle which one she was actually looking at.
Fred Weasley had just finished locking up the shop when he felt eyes upon him. He turned to see who it was that was staring at him, but he couldn't seem to find them. But then his eyes focused on a small brunette across the street. Her hair was long and curly, just short of being frizzy. The eyes that continued to look at him were deep brown, intellectual and curious. She was definitely familiar, very familiar. In fact, the woman reminded him of… Shaking his head, Fred dismissed the thought. It couldn't be her. Why would she be here?
When she started to walk across the road and make her way to him there was no way to deny her identity. Granger.
"Hi Fred."