Hermione sat at her desk mumbling to herself as she furiously wrote on a piece of parchment, only to scratch out her work and start again. She had been working non stop on the case in front of her until the sound of her stomach growling reminded her that she was well past her lunch hour. Ignoring the growling, she kept working until a knock interrupted her.
"Jane, I told you that I don't want to be bothered right now. If anyone needs me they can leave a message with you," Hermione automatically spoke without even looking up from her work.
"Well considering I'm family, I thought I'd be an exception. That, or because I'm your boss," a voice sounded from the doorway.
Hermione looked up to see a tall red head smiling back at her. "Ah, sorry Bill," she sighed as she scooted her chair back a bit and tipped her head up towards the ceiling while rubbing her eyes. "I'm just so close to closing this case that visits from anyone distract me. And I'm not officially family you know."
"You're as good as," Bill said seriously. "If Ron hadn't been such a coward, he probably would have beat Harry and Gin to the altar."
"Right," Hermione responded weakly, knowing full well her smile didn't quite reach her eyes. Everyone seemed to be under the impression that Ron had strong feelings for her, feelings she seemed to have missed in their school years, and feelings she denied ever existed, for her own sake. An awkward silence filled the room as Bill realized the topic he had brought up had obviously struck a weak point with Hermione.
"I'm sorry Hermione, I didn't mean to-"
"It's fine Bill, it's been five years, and he's not coming back so we just have to deal with it. That's what Harry has been telling me since then and maybe I should start listening to him for once."
"Maybe, but anyway that's not why I came here. Hermione, you haven't left this office since you got here. As your superior and your friend, I think you should take the rest of the afternoon off. I don't want to be the one at fault for having the great Hermione Granger's brain explode," he said with a smile.
"I'm fine Bill," she responded curtly as she began to turn towards her work, only to have her stomach growl once more.
"Seems you're stomach disagrees," Bill said with a small smile. "Take the afternoon off Hermione, I'll work a bit on the case, you go do whatever you girls do for fun. Go get something to eat, go shop, just take a break. I don't want you working to death."
"Yes Bill, you're the boss," she responded, knowing she had no choice.
"I'll see you at the Burrow tonight for dinner, right? Mum's gone barmy trying to prepare the meal."
"I don't know if I should Bill. Isn't this dinner a more personal family night?"
"You are family. Harry's gonna be there, and it wouldn't be the same without you. Say you'll come, Mum will really appreciate it, the last thing she needs is people down on this day."
"I wouldn't miss it," Hermione said with a small smile as she grabbed her jacket and walked out the door.
It seemed that autumn was coming to an end faster this year as a strong, cold wind blew in the air, forcing Hermione to pull her jacket closer around her neck. After feeling her stomach grumble once more, she decided to go to a café in her parents' old neighborhood. A nice soup and sandwich was just what she needed. Even with the small wind chill, she decided that she could use the fresh air and chose to sit at one of the small tables outside the café. While she pulled out one of her beloved books from her purse to read while her food came, she noted a grumpy red head seated at a table across the way, twirling a straw roughly in his cup. She stared at the man for a moment before opening her book and quickly finding her place. She began to read, certain that there was something familiar about him.
***
He stared at his nearly empty cup, swirling his straw around once more before dropping it on the tabletop. He couldn't imagine a worse day than the one he was currently having. Waking up earlier that morning, he'd reached out to the other side of his bed, expecting to feel the warmth of his girlfriend, only to grab at the coolness of untouched sheets. It then came back to him that he'd fought with her the previous night, about the mix up of names which led to her accusing him of never being around and taking her for granted. After trying to explain to her that he had never even met this so called Hermione person, she decided to promptly leave and said that he should call her when the real Ron was back, whatever that meant. To top off his wonderful night, the vase his assistant had given him last Christmas had burst into pieces, a vase that wasn't even within five feet of him. He ignored the incident, thinking that he probably had just slammed the front door to hard. Finding himself alone on a Saturday morning with the clock closing in on noon, he realized that it made no sense to try to call her so soon. Since fretting and fuming was no good on an empty stomach, he'd decided to go a few blocks down to a café recommended by a friend at work.
He'd found the inside of the café buzzing with activity, so he'd decided to sit at one of the outside tables, knowing that the racket inside would only further his constant headaches. He now sat at a table barely big enough for one person, again poking at the ice in his water with his straw, noticing a girl on the other side of the seating area, nose stuck in a book, unaware of her surroundings.
"Guess the library was closed, eh bookworm?" he quietly mumbled. Why someone would want to spend time reading outdoors on such a blustery day was beyond him, but the more he stared, the more he had to admit that the she was quite pretty, and all that crazy brown hair suited her perfectly. Shaking his mind of the thought, he looked at the menu in front of him, realizing that he had enough problems with one girl on his hands to even look at another.
***
After re-reading the same two paragraphs of her novel, Hermione decided that it was useless trying to keep reading as the wind insisted on flipping the pages over, or her hair would fly right into her eyes. Setting the book down beside her, she looked up to see the ginger man staring in her direction with a far off look in his eyes. She quickly did a double take as she realized whom he resembled.
"It can't be," Hermione whispered, pulling up her menu to cover her face and covertly peering over the top of it. The fellow truly did look something like him, but what were the chances that he would just waltz right into a café, smack in the middle of Muggle London? Top Aurors had told her that every inch of London had been searched and no sign of him had been found. So how could it really be him, then? "Bill's right, you've been stuck in that office for way too long," she murmured.
Feeling embarrassed for staring at someone who was more than likely just a stranger with red hair, she couldn't help but feel an odd pull towards him. She watched as a waiter approached his table, which definitely spooked the redhead out of his reverie. The ginger jumped in his seat and bumped into the waiter, who then spilled a cup of hot coffee on the man's denims.
"Bloody hell! Why did you have to creep up on a bloke like that? Are you mental?"
Hermione watched as the ginger shoved his chair back, jumping up and brushing at his soaked denims with his napkin, shooting daggers to the hapless waiter all the while. Not only did the man resemble him, he talked like him as well. But it was impossible that it could actually be someone she knew to be dead. Deciding she'd had enough, she chose that minute to get up and leave, only to see that the redhead had noticed her hasty retreat, staring at her with an odd expression on his face. Rounding the corner of the cafe, she decided that home was the best place for her to be right now, away from any redheads, especially those that resembled Ron. She ducked down the nearest alleyway that would seclude her from any Muggles and allow her to Apparate home.
***
After swearing even worse in his head then he did out loud from the coffee being spilt on him, he seemed to have caused enough commotion to get the girl from the other table to look at him. He always thought it was corny when books said that a bloke and a bird would lock eyes and an epiphany would come about, and clearly said bloke generally didn't have hot coffee seeping through to his pants. But he couldn't deny that her face was at once so very familiar, one that maybe he'd seen in a dream. He watched as she disappeared around the corner of the building, her expression most resembling panic. He knew it was almost stalkerish to want to follow after her, but curiosity got the better of him and he felt compelled to do just that. He grabbed the napkin, dried off his denims as best he could, and dropped some Muggle currency on the table. Brushing past the befuddled waiter, he ran after her, down an alley he'd never seen before.
***
"Miss, wait up!"
Real panic sank into Hermione's bones as she recognized that voice. As his loud steps echoed in the alley, quickly catching up to her, she wrapped her fingers around her wand that was resting tightly in her jacket. She knew that she would be breaking major rules if she used magic in a Muggle area, but her safety was more important.
"Erm, this is going to sound weird," She turned around just as he caught up to her. "Do I know you from somewhere?" Hermione stared, feeling her face go slack. "Oh, hey, I'm sorry. Didn't mean to frighten you," he said, smiling crookedly and offering her his hand. "I'm Ron, by the way, Ron Weasley," It took a moment before she could find the words to speak.
"Look, if this is some sort of trick, it's not working," She'd hoped to sound calm and in control, but she wasn't sure if she'd succeeded. "You think that after chasing dark wizards for so many years, I can't tell when someone is using a glamour?" She knew that she was jumping to conclusions, but it was the only logical explanation for what was standing before her. It had to be magic of some sort.
"Wizards? Glamour? Lady are you right?" he replied, clearly puzzled. "I just wanted...you look so familiar...and I thought, well, I dunno what I thought." Hermione stared a moment longer, backing up a step before whirling around and moving quickly down the alley.
"Wait! Don't go, please!" She felt a big hand close around her left arm, gently but firmly pulling her to a stop. "I just want to talk to you, okay?" Hermione wrenched herself from his grasp, drawing her wand and pointing it directly at the man's chest.
"Don't touch me," she spat, her voice shaking with a mixture of anger and fear. "Get the hell away from me, because I assure you I haven't lost my abilities with a wand."
He looked at the wand, clearly bemused. "You're threatening me with a stick?" he asked, trying unsuccessfully to contain his laughter.
Confusion seeped into her brain then, as it made no sense that a wizard could be so relaxed at being held at wand point. There were too many variables, too many possibilities, but one thing she was certain of. When in doubt, and even with the slightest hint of risk, the best thing to do was to err on the side of safety. So she did the only sensible thing.
"Stupefy," The ginger had just enough time to look surprised before he fell stunned to the damp cobblestones.
Now that any immediate danger had been averted, she knew that she'd definitely need help. She stared at the stranger's motionless body for a moment, her mind aswirl. He looked so much like Ron, spoke the same way and had his same mannerisms. She watched a bit longer, considering the possibility that maybe this could be him after all. Regardless, she knew she needed help, and if what this stranger said was true, there was one other person who would truly know.
"Harry, could you please come get me?" she cried into her cell phone, one of the few Muggle devices she and Harry owned. "It's important."
The phone line immediately died, and with a loud crack the familiar face of a raven-haired boy with green eyes appeared before her, worried to hear her call of distress, and unprepared to see the man lying before him.