Disclaimer: I DO NOT OWN THE CHARACTORS OR THE STORY! Here's Chappy 6…

That night Hermione worked the dinner shift at CeCe's. "Getting better," Paulo commented at the end of the night. He shot her a tight, quick smile, which was the most warmth that she'd ever seen from him. Hermione was assuming that he was referring to the fact that she hadn't dumped a meal on anyone's head that night and had only totally botched one order.

She actually thought it was pretty amazing that she'd done so well during dinner. She was still unstrung by the blender accident. Added to that, she was trying to adjust to her contact lenses. During the smoothie explosion she'd forgotten about her glasses and left them behind at the cart. Before going to her place she headed up to Luna's apartment to see if daisy had found her glasses.

It was eleven o'clock, but music was still blasting from the apartment down the hall. When she knocked on Luna's door, Mr. Smedlinsky stuck his bald head out the door. "You learn dance with Mr. Smedlinsky?"

"Uh… no, but thank you, Mr. Smedlisky," she said trying to decline as polite as possible. "I just finished working and my feet are really throbbing. I've been on them all-"

Before she could finish her sentence, Mr. Smedlinsky leaped into the hall and extended his hand gallantly. Unable to decline with his sparkly blue eyes, she took it. Instantly she was swept down the hall, dancing a wild polka.

She'd learned to polka in gym class, but she couldn't keep up with the spry old man. They danced down the hall and then backup again.

They were by Luna's door again when Mr. Smedlinsky finished his dance by spinning Hermione out of his arms. She was still spinning when Daisy opened the door, allowing Hermione to right into the apartment.

"Now that's what I call an entrance!" Luna remarked. She shut the door, and seconds later Mr. Smedelinsky's business card came sliding under it.

Hermione picked it up. The words "I teach" were underlined. "Thanks for the dance Mr. Smedlinsky," Hermione called through the wall. She wasn't sure if he could hear her over the music still blasting on his boom box.

"He's always doing that to me, too," Luna said, laughing. "It's usually kind of fun, but a bit alarming if your not expecting him."

"I came to apologize about today," Hermione said once Luna and she had finished laughing.

"Oh, yeah," Luna cried, and began laughing again. "What a mess-up! The poor fella was even more covered in smoothie than you were. But good lord wasn't he gorgeous? Did you snog him?"

"What?" Hermione cried. She had no idea what Luna meant, but it sounded dirty.

"Snog! Snog!" Luna said excitedly.

"What are you talking about?" Hermione asked.

"What are you, daft or something?" she asked. "I'm talking about kissing!"

"Ooooooh!" Hermione cried, finally understanding. "Is that what you say in England?"

"Yeah, among other things," Luna confirmed. "I thought maybe you got the chance to lick some of the smoothie from Mr. Gorgeous' lips."

"I would have loved to!" Hermione admitted, "That's why I had taken off my glasses, although that didn't turn out the way I'd planned!"

Luna screamed with laughter. "I don't blame you for being gaga she gasped. "You cheeky little devil! But you're not alone. All the girls are mad about him."

"He is straight, then?" Hermione asked.

"Are you joking? He's like the straight sex god of Ocean Drive. He sings at one of the restaurants, and I hear the place is packed with girls every night."

"Oh," Hermione said, disappointed. What chance did she have with the sex god of Ocean Drive?

"Don't look so glum," Luna said. "I don't think that he has a steady girl friend or anything like that. You have as good a shot at him as anyone else."

In theory, that might be true, Hermione thought, but it wasn't every girl who had blasted him with rapid fire-blasts of smoothie mix. Most likely that put her pretty far back in the race for his affections. "You didn't find my glasses, did you?" Hermione asked, wanting to change the subject.

Luna shook her head. "Forget about the glasses. You look so much better without them." She walked behind Hermione. "Yes there it is. I thought so," she said. "You have a gorgeous J.Lo butt."

Suddenly self-conscious, Hermione clapped her hands on her behind. She'd always thought that it was a little too large. She'd never considered it an asset.

Ron knocked on the door and Luna let him in. "The guys I and I are going to watch an old Hitchcock flick- The Birds," he told them. "We could hear you talking from next door and thought you'd might want to watch it with us?"

Luna shivered. "Ooooh, I just adore The Birds. It's so horrifically creepy!"

Hermione and Luna joined Marc, Jon, and Ethan next door. Hermione thought that each of them seemed interesting in his own way.

"Ron says that you're a poet," Ethan said as he pulled a chair up to the TV for Hermione.

"I've only had things published in little journals and in the school literary magazine," she replied.

"She's awesome," Ron jumped in. "She's going to the University of Miami on a writing scholarship."

"Nice!" said Jon. "I can show you around in the fall. I'm in my last year there."

"Jon's a psych major. He can analyze you too," Luna said, curling up at the end of the couch. "He says I have issues with men because my father was emotionally distant."

"My father is very warm but totally unreliable," Hermione revealed.

"That will give you issue," Jon said as he took the bag of popcorn from the microwave. "Different ones from Luna's but issue just the same."

"Hermione avoids getting romantically involved," Ron pointed out. Hermione shot him a glare.

"Well you do," he insisted.

"That could defiantly be a result of having an unreliable father," Jon confirmed.

"Leave the poor girl alone and watch the movie," Marc told them. The old Hitchcock film had begun. The beautiful, blonde actress Tippi Hedren was putting a cage with two lovebirds in the car. "Look at that outfit she's wearing they really knew how to dress in 1963," he remarked.

"I never really understand what's going on in this movie," Hermione admitted. "I know the birds attack, but why?"

"It's more of a psychological study," Ethan suggested.

"Absolutely," Jon agreed. "The birds reflect the psychological chaos going on inside Tippi Hedren's character."

They watch the Hitchcock thriller, and Hermione had never seen it before in quite the same way. Ethan who was writing his own screenplay, kept pointing out the clues and hidden meanings in the story. Marc was enthralled by the costumes and knew so much about clothing. And Jon gave his insights into the psychology of the characters. It was after two in the morning before Hermione and Ron returned to their apartment. "I told you they were good guys," Ron said as he pulled out the couch. "Luna's cool too."

Hermione remembered that she hadn't had a chance to tell Ron about her total humiliation at the beach. But she was exhausted and really didn't want to relive it, any way. "I'll take the couch tonight," she offered.

"Nope," he declined, kicking off his shoes. "I told you, you could have the room. I really don't mind."

"Thanks," she said, yawning. She went into her room and changed into her nightshirt. Crawling into bed, she tossed and turned and couldn't see to settle down to sleep.

She kept thinking about the guy at the beach. She didn't even know his name- but somehow she felt connected to him. She'd felt it that first day in the store.

So many thoughts and feelings raced trough her. Even though she had absolutely no chance with mystery hottie, she couldn't stop thinking about him. There would be no way for her to fall asleep before writing some of her feelings down as a poem. Pulling her small notebooks and a pen from the top drawer of the rattan nightstand, she began to write.

Electric Storm

By: Hermione Granger

Zap. Flash.

Quicksilver electric connection.

I have never seen

Anything like you.

Heart smash. Mind crash.

Flowing in your direction.

I have never felt

Anything like you.

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