When Sarah woke up that morning, she hadn't envisioned being 'married' by the end of the day.

It hadn't started off great, first of all. She'd slept through her alarm and although she adrenaline-rushed through her morning routine at a record-breaking speed, she still missed her bus by five minutes. It was sheer luck that a coworker had spotted her sprinting through the morning throng in her heels and had been kind enough to pull up beside her and offer a ride.

Her relief didn't last long, however. Sarah's supervisor—a greasy old man with a comb-over and the demeanor of a geriatric elephant seal on steroids—had immediately taken to using the young woman as his verbal punching bag the second she'd entered the office. This was a daily occurrence and Sarah had already memorized his temper tantrums down to a tee.

He would begin with a series of minor inconveniences, all of them random and all of them completely unconnected to Sarah's general state of existence. Next, he would somehow convince himself of her involvement in each and everyone of them. The broken copy machine was her, the cancelled meeting was her, and the sudden downpour he'd gotten caught in definitely had her name written all over it. Finally, he would end it by asking her, verbatim, 'And just where the hell is my coffee, Miss Williams?'

Which how she inevitably found herself at the Latte Labyrinth, a coffee shop right across the street from her office building. It was pretty average in terms of actually coffee but she thought the atmosphere was almost…magical, if she had to put it into words. There was no actual maze—thank God!—but the wallpaper showcased a repeating impossible staircase motif that made her dizzy if she stared at it too long.

What really made the place great though were the workers. Hoggle, the no-nonsense manager; Ludo, the friendly barista; Didymus, the ditsy gentleman who manned the register; and Ambrosius, a quiet barista who was constantly cleaning up after the other two. Sarah was ninety-nine percent sure those weren't their real names—God help them if they were—but when she asked Hoggle, he had shrugged. She suspected it had something to do with the theme of the shop but didn't ask any further questions.

Since Sarah became a semi-reluctant regular, the little group of employees had made her feel welcome at the Labyrinth. Whenever she came in pissed off or tired because of work, they made it their mission to cheer her up with silly jokes (Didymus), over-enthusiastic hugs (Ludo and Ambrosius), and sage advice (Hoggle).

Sarah sighed. The trio wasn't there that day, but Hoggle was. He manned the register with a determination and zeal that Sarah found kind of ridiculous but in an endearing way.

She stood in line behind her fellow morning-goers, tapping her foot impatiently until she finally made it to the register.

Hoggle looked up from the counter, a scowl marring his wrinkled old face before morphing into a smile. "Sarah, how're you doing this morning?"

"Horrible," Sarah said with a sardonic grin. "As per usual. The boss wants his usual pick-me-up. You know the drill."

Hoggle shook his head and punched in the order. Like her, he too had it branded onto his brain. After taking her payment, he sighed. "You should find yourself a good job, miss. This one doesn't seem right for you."

She followed Hoggle's path back to the blenders as he left the register to someone else and watched him make her drinks.

"What? The corporate machine? Hoggle, you flatter me!" Sarah laughed. There was little humor in it, but it was that or bursting into tears. She leaned in, as if to whisper a forbidden secret. "You know, I wanted to be an actress when I was younger."

Hoggle raised a brow, "Really? What changed?"

"Nothing," Sarah said. "I just didn't have what it takes."

"I don't believe that."

Sarah, unsure how to respond to that vote of confidence, gave him the ghost of a smile and went to sit down at a table to wait.

On her way to her seat, a head of messy blonde hair caught her eye. A man sat at a table by the window, scrolling idly through his phone. Sarah tried not to stare, though her efforts were in vain. The guy was gorgeous but that wasn't what initially stood out to her.

It was the way he sat, almost regal and with a practiced elegance. He was confident in the space he took up, as if he believed air itself should be honored that he dared breath it. And, okay, he was really, really hot—if you liked the 70s rockstar theatre student wearing tight pants and platform shoes (?) look, which she did. She had unique taste, sue her.

In a bit of a daze, Sarah sat down at the table behind him and covertly side-eyed the back of his head. His hair was interesting, to say the least. Sticking up in a fair halo around his head and cascading in a golden waterfall down his back, Sarah was envious of how well he pulled off such an outrageous hairstyle. She watched, entranced, as the mystery man shrugged off his jacket and placed it on the back of his chair.

"Higgle!"

Sarah flinched when the man suddenly turned his head and barked sharply.

"It's Hoggle," a familiar voice muttered, resigned.

"Right," the man waved a hand dismissively. "I've been here for five minutes too long, Hogwart. Surely, mixing hot water and beans doesn't take that long."

Hoggle peered over the counter, looking more exasperated than Sarah could ever remember him being. "Sir, you—you already got your drink. It's sitting right in front of you."

Sarah and Hoggle watched in disbelief as the man glanced down at his table and picked up his empty cup, turning it around in his hands.

"Oh," he hummed. "Well, then. Carry on."

Visibly deflating, Sarah frowned at the back of the man's head. Figures, she thought. Guess being attractive and an absolute tool is a package deal.

"Sarah!"

The woman's thoughts flew straight out her head and she stumbled ungracefully out of her seat.

"Huh?"

Hoggle tossed her a fond look and placed her order on the counter. "Your coffee?"

Sarah smiled sheepishly. "Oh, yeah. Thank you!"

She grabbed the little cardboard carrier and turned around to leave, only to find herself giving in to one last urge to glance at the mystery man. He was still scrolling through his phone and somehow looking like royalty whilst doing it. It was then she noticed, his sparkly jacket had fallen from the back of his chair and onto the floor.

Cursing her traitorous limbs, Sarah watched as her own legs grew minds of their own and walked her right behind the mystery man. Then her mutinous arms, reach down and picked up the forgotten garment.

Sarah felt her sudden burst of courage draining out of her and quickly pasted a smile onto her face before tapping on the man's shoulder. A startled gasp escaped her when two mismatched eyes met hers and a harsh brow arched up at her stunned silence.

"Uh," Sarah held up the coat. "You dropped your coat. Here." She held it out stiffly to him and watched as he slowly reached up and took it from her. Maybe it was her imagination, but he almost looked…afraid. Or maybe shocked? Weird.

Sarah swiftly took her leave after that. She was almost running out of the cafe in her haste to run away from her own awkwardness. This was one of those little embarrassing moments that kept her awake at 3 a.m. even after years had passed but for now she was going to forget about it for as long as possible. She'd never been so grateful to have a busy job.

Unfortunately, the next day didn't let her forget.

She'd been typing away at her desk, organizing a spreadsheet, when the secretary in the foyer had called her informing her she had a visitor.

Strange, she thought. Her dad and stepmom hadn't said they were coming down this week at all and her brother was still stuck in his 'too cool' stage to even think about going out of his way to visit her at work.

So who—?

She got her answer when she took the elevator downstairs.

The second those dual doors opened Sarah was greeted by two mismatched eyes and a handsome smirk.

Oh. My. God.

She hadn't even opened her mouth for two seconds to—well, scream bloody-murder probably or maybe shout a few unforgivable curse words—when the mystery man was on one knee in front of her and pulling out a sparkly, expensive looking…

"Is—is that an engagement ring?!"

"Well, obviously. We should get married by human customs as well, my dear Sarah."

"…What?"