Caramel Frappuccino?

Author's Note: Here's the next chapter of CF. Sorry it took kind of long, school's back already *sheepish smile*. I humbly ask for your reviews, mates. Pretty please? Enjoy reading!

Disclaimer: The Queen owns everything. Sadly. However, we rejoice for she has shared it with us.


Chapter 3: And You Are?

Hermione woke up in alarm to the sounds of explosions and shots being fired. She rubbed the sleep out of her eyes and winced as she realized she had fallen asleep with the television still on. The gunshots that woke her up were coming from the show that was currently on. Muttering to herself, she fumbled around her bed to find the remote control. Once she was able to turn it off, she looked at her bedside clock and saw that it was already 2 in the morning. Yawning, she fell back onto her pillow but sleep didn't seem to want to come to her anymore. She lay there for a few moments, trying all means to get back to sleep. She tried counting sheep, closing her eyes, tossed and turned, and even tried to sing herself to sleep (softly, of course, she didn't really want to wake the whole household with her untimely singing).

She groaned, and looked at the clock again. She had already spent 45 minutes trying to get back to sleep to no avail. She sighed and decided to get up and find something to do. Up until she gets sleepy again, at least. So Hermione got up and started rummaging through her cabinets and drawers, looking for more clues as to who she really is. She looked for anything, anythingthat might give her even just a hint. Throughout her search, the incident at the coffee shop resonated in her thoughts.

Hermione never thought a caffeinated drink would ever bother her thoughts, but then again, she doesn't remember anything she's thought of before "the accident". She doesn't remember anything, for that matter. Except maybe that her name is Hermione Granger, her parents are both dentists, she has a vast number of friends namely Harry and Ron, she had frizzy hair she couldn't manage in the morning, her favorite color is red and she had a cat named Crookshanks who was apparently intelligent for a cat. And maybe, just maybe, her favorite caffeinated drink would be caramel frappuccino.

There were other things, which weren't really memories. More like things she's found out about herself and her family and friends in the processes of observing and now, digging through things. For one, she's supposedly wicked smart. Hermione found a bunch of medals, ribbons and certificates hung up on a wall in her room. "Now, if I was only smart enough to remember things." She mused, quite surprised at herself. However she noticed they reached about a certain point in her life only. If Hermione's calculations were correct she was only sent to the school called Saint Beatrice's up until she was about ten or eleven. No amount of searching could tell her where she attended school after that time. Looking around her now cluttered room, Hermione frowned and tried to figure out why there weren't any signs of her studying anywhere else. To think that it was supposedly years ago, so obviously she must have studied somewhere.

Hermione didn't want to think that her parents and even friends were keeping secrets from her. After all, why would you keep secrets from an amnesiac? Unless you didn't want them to remember something, which Hermione didn't think they intended. Or did they?

She continued to sift through her things, mostly awards and recognition certificates from various activities. It was already thirty minutes past 3. Feeling sleepy again, Hermione decided to shove the things back in their respective places. Still with questions unanswered, Hermione shook her head and decided to just sleep the idea off. Tomorrow, she'll go back to the coffee shop. It's about the only place where she seemed to be getting some answers.


"I'd like to have a…" Hermione's brow furrowed. She was debating against herself whether or not to get a caramel frappuccino. The same waitress from the previous day was at her table again, patient as ever. Then again, she wouldn't be very waitress-y if she wasn't waiting, would she? "A caramel cappuccino please."

The waitress nodded brightly and wrote it down on her pad. "Perhaps today I could interest you with a pastry?" she asked, clearly remembering yesterday's incident.

Hermione smiled and politely refused. As the waitress walked off, she felt a pang of guilt. It wasn't because she refused to order anything more than a cup of coffee and Hermione had this nagging thought at the back of her head that it was her choice of beverage that caused it. But after all, she wasn't supposed to assume immediately that her regular order would be a caramel frappuccino because of her positive reaction to it. It was the first she's tried, and she shouldn't decide that quickly.

Hermione pushed the guilty feeling away and let her eyes take in the surroundings instead. She was just about to finish complimenting the café's interior design in her mind when her order arrived. She took a sip and immediately regretted her decision. It was utterly bitter compared to the caramel frappuccino. It just tasted so wrong. Maybe there was a reason why the English preferred tea over coffee unlike the Americans.

Hermione swallowed and continued to force down the rest of the very bitter concoction. She knew that this wasn't her taste. And wondered how something disconcerting like this couldn't have stayed in her mind.

"Taste not to your liking?" a voice suddenly asked. Hermione jumped in her seat and looked up to meet a blonde with mercurial grey eyes. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have approached you so suddenly." He said apologetically. He seemed young, but Hermione couldn't tell with the way he looked.

"I… no, it's fine. I was just surprised." Hermione smiled, motioning the stranger to sit down on the seat opposite hers. He did, and looked curiously at Hermione. "And yes, you're sort of accurate with what you said. The cappuccino is kind of strong for my taste. How did you know?"

He gave her a small smile which hinted amusement. "Your face said it all."

Hermione chuckled.

"What, you think it's funny?" he asked, still amused.

"I just never thought that I'd talk with a stranger about coffee before …" she trailed off. She cleared her throat. "Hermione." She offered her hand. Then she laughed again. "I totally have no idea why I'm doing this."

The stranger smiled at her. "You can call me Corvus."

Hermione raised her brow at that. "What a curious name. Crow… or raven, am I right?"

He nodded. "Our family's got a knack for naming the spawns after constellations." He explained, shrugging.

"Interesting."

"Well, I have an aunt named Delphinus Aquila Phoenix. I don't know how she managed that." He snorted.

Hermione choked back a laugh for politeness's sake. Corvus stared at her and stated, "You could laugh, you know. I know I do."

And she did. "Sorry, I don't know why I found that funny."

"Well, I don't as well." He smiled and offered his macchiato for a toast. Hermione obliged.

"So, what brings you here, Corvus?" Hermione asked, sipping her almost-cool still bitter drink.

"At this coffee shop?" he asked.

She nodded.

"It… holds a lot of memories." He offered, not really answering the question.

"Memories." Hermione mused, looking out of the window. "I could use some of those."

Corvus looked at her inquiringly. "Seems to me someone like you has enough of those. Good ones, even."

"I have retrograde amnesia." Hermione stated bluntly.

"You have absolutely no memories of whatever happened after whatever incident caused the amnesia." He replied promptly.

"Indeed. And how do you know that?"

He looked out of the window as well. "Someone I know has it as well."

"Oh. Brilliant, and here I thought I could scare you away with the idea." Hermione chuckled.

"Too bad for you then." Corvus said, smirking.

"Well, at least I won't have to worry about you acting all around me."

"Sounds to me you expect my friendship."

"I don't remember much of mine."

"I don't really have any. Cheers to that."

"No really. Someone as good-looking as you?" She teased, grinning.

"Oh c'mon M-. 'Mione. Uh, Hermione."

Hermione shook her head. "I won't mind if you find yourself an easier way to call me. I know my name's kind of a mouthful anyway."

"Ah, so you really expect we're going to be mates. You're already thinking there will be several occasions where I will have to call you, cheeky bint."

"Do you now regret that you approached me?" Hermione asked, smiling.

"Had I known you'd want to be mates with a bloke who talked with you over their morning coffee..." Corvus stated, obviously just saying it to irk Hermione.

"Put a sock in it." She playfully punched his arm.

"Aren't you friendly?"

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Yes, well, I must be going now. Cheerio."

"Yes, well, don't look forward to seeing me again, mate."

Nevertheless, when Hermione Granger came to that coffee shop for the following days, Corvus was always there, giving her a smirk when she arrived, motioning over to the seat across his. And she always took it and they'd talk about things, anything that wasn't touchy with her amnesia, anything that doesn't touch the subject of their personal lives. Strangely, Hermione felt completely relaxed when she was with Corvus, like she was with family.


Author's Note: What did you guys think? Was it too fast? Was it okay? Let me know, thanks!