Author's Note: Many thanks to all who've reviewed, followed and favorited this story. It's my little guilty pleasure fic and I hope you all enjoy it, regardless of how sporadically it will be updated.


Mistaken Identity

- Chapter 3 -


Hermione sat stiffly beside Chelsea as her friend drove towards Hermione's house in order to drop her off. As she did, the blonde chatted away about "the cutie" they had just left at the Comedy Club. Hermione should have known better than to take an interest in Morris. Once she'd seen Chelsea slip him the piece of paper that she was certain contained her name and phone number, Hermione had known it was a lost cause for her. Chelsea was such an outgoing woman, and beautiful to boot, so the brown haired witch had no doubt who the charming young comic would choose now that he knew he had an option, despite his flirting with her earlier while having drinks.

As the blonde continued talking, Hermione tuned her out, as her thoughts turned back to the man in question and his eerie similarity to Fred and George. That little fact, which had drawn her attention to Morris in the first place, had her thoughts wandering to something else.

Nearly a year later, and the pain of losing Fred in the midst of the wizarding war was something she knew would never fade. He and his twin had become close friends to her, almost family, and Hermione felt the sorrow of knowing that she would never again have the pleasure of a prank being played on her by the infamous Weasley Twins. She vaguely recalled how devastated George had been. He'd withdrawn emotionally for awhile, but having to deal with the business of tracking down her parents and such, she had sadly been unable to offer any condolences. The last she had seen of George, before leaving for Australia, he had actually been making an effort to come to dinner at the Burrow. A good sign at least.

It was only when her cell phone buzzed in her pocket that Hermione's thoughts turned away from the lonely twin. Withdrawing the small device from her pocket, she slid her finger across the screen to open the main display. One Message read at the top and pressing in the right location, she opened the text to read it.

Knock knock it read.

"Huh?" After checking and not recognizing the number, she turned to Chelsea, who was still chattering on, about what, Hermione wasn't sure. "Look at this." She said, showing her the text. "What do you think, wrong number?"

Chelsea glanced over at what Hermione was showing and at once knew who the message was from. Smiling brightly, she shrugged. "Don't know. But why don't you answer it? You know, for fun." The blonde urged.

Heaving a sigh, Hermione rolled her eyes. Chelsea was always spontaneous and suggesting things like this. It was one of the things Hermione admired about her friend. "Okay, okay." She muttered.

Hitting the reply key, she typed Who's there? and hit send.

She didn't have to wait long before she heard the ping of a response being received.

The one with the memory of a computerized elephant?

Hermione blinked. 'Wait... what?' Looking in disbelief at her phone, Hermione tentatively texted her next reply. Morris?

Again, the reply took only seconds. The one and only. Was the cheeky reply, complete with winky face.

Hermione couldn't help it. She laughed. How did you get my number? She sent back, suddenly feeling a bit more chipper than she had previously been.

Your friend was adamant that I have the means to contact you.

Shocked, Hermione looked up to find Chelsea grinning widely at her. "I thought-" She began, suddenly feeling ashamed of what she'd been thinking of her friend earlier. Chelsea waved her off.

"It's alright, sweets. Just remember, I'll always have your back." She shot the brunette a wink as she pulled into Hermione's driveway. "Well, I'll leave you to your little text-fest, then, shall I?"

Hermione grinned, reaching over and giving her friend a quick hug across the console of the car. "You're the best, Chel." She declared before climbing out of the small compact car. "I'll catch you later." She called out, waiting for Chelsea to begin backing out of the drive before turning back to her phone.

Thinking about her response, she finally settled on honesty. And here I thought she had slipped you her number.

Ping. Nope, it was yours. Are you upset?

Being a bit excited about him actually texting her and not wanting him to think she was mad about the prospect of talking to him more, she typed in Merlin no, I'm not upset at all. By the time she realized the expression she had used, she had already hit Send.


Morris looked down at the napkin in his hand and the number written on it. He had just made it back to his small flat, which wasn't very far from the Comedy Club. It had been only ten minutes tops since the blonde woman had passed Hermione's number to him and he was very grateful she had. In the brief time that he had spent with the brown haired woman after his set had been prematurely ended, he'd found that he actually liked her.

Pressing his lips together in thought, he decided to go for it. Yes, he would contact her, but instead of simply calling her, Morris decided on another course. A way that was sure to get Hermione's attention. Grabbing his phone, Morris opened a New Text screen and typed in the phone number, followed by two simple words.

Knock knock.

He settled back in the comfy armchair and giddily waited for her reply. It took a few moments, but finally, his phone pinged.

Who's there?

"Yes!" He crowed happily, bouncing like a small child in his seat. She was playing along! Calming himself, and with a smug smile, he typed back his reply. The one with the memory of a computerized elephant?

His phone pinged back more quickly this time. Morris?

He grinned widely. The one and only. He paused a moment before adding a winky face for good measure, then hit send. He hoped his added emoticon gave her a good laugh.

How did you get my number? Was the reply he received a few seconds later.

Your friend was adamant that I have the means to contact you. He admitted through his next message. It took a bit longer for her to reply this time. He figured she'd been busy confronting her friend.

And here I thought she had slipped you her number. Oh. Had that been what she thought? Wanting to assure her, he typed Nope, it was yours. Then, a thought occurred to him. Maybe she didn't want her number given out willy nilly to some strange man. He had to be certain, so he added Are you upset? before sending the message.

Merlin no, I'm not upset at all.

Morris did a double take as he read her reply. 'Merlin. Merlin? That's a new one. Never heard that one before.' He thought, amused at the choice of phrase. For some reason, he couldn't help but think it was an appropriate expression.


Hermione stared down at the screen and what she had typed in horror. How could she have been so careless? This would surely make Morris suspicious, or at the very least give him reservations in continuing any further communication with her. She was still standing on her parents' front lawn, frozen in trepidation ever since she'd hit the send button on that blasted text.

Ping.

Swallowing hard, Hermione forced her finger to hit View in order to pull up the telling text reply from Morris.

So... you free next Friday then?

Hermione blinked. Had he not read her last message? How could he have missed her blatant slip up that seriously hinted at her either being off her rocker or at the very least, not being a normal Muggle like himself?

Seriously? She texted back, not believing that he would take her seriously after her last text.

When he replied back with Yes, seriously. Hermione let out a delighted laugh as relief flooded her.

Okay then. Next Friday. She typed. Would you like to meet up somewhere in particular, or...? She left the sentence open ended, giving him the option to set the place and time for their date.

Their date... Hermione felt a bit excited at that thought.

Ping.

How about the Comedy Club, around 8 following my set? We could go for ice cream or something.

Hermione had to bite her lip to keep a face-splitting grin at bay. Sounds good she replied quickly. See you then, Morris.

At his reply of Until then, Hermione the brown haired witch couldn't stop the squeal of delight that erupted from her lips, nor the little bounce of joy she gave, though she felt a bit childish immediately afterward. Looking around to make sure no neighbors were up so late to witness it, she sighed when noting all the lights were doused in the surrounding houses. In fact, her parents' house was the only one with a light on in the front, which was strange because normally her parents would not be up at such a late hour.

Closing out her messenger app - but not before saving Morris' number to her contacts - Hermione placed her phone back in her pocket before walking the rest of the way to the front door of her parents' house. She went to dig her key out of her bag when the front door was swung open by her mother, who met her with a soft, though a bit worry-filled smile.

"Oh, Hermione, I'm so glad you made it back safely." Her mom glanced over her shoulder into the interior of the house.

Noticing this, Hermione frowned at her mom. "Is there something wrong?" she asked apprehensively.

Her mother gave a small sigh as she turned back to her daughter. "It seems you have a visitor, dear."

Hermione glanced over her mother's shoulder with a worried expression. Her mom seemed to be unsettled by the visitor, which meant the visitor was of the magical sort. Hermione could understand her mother's reaction. Ever since she'd returned their memories, even though they had forgiven her completely for performing a spell on them, they were still even now adverse to all things Magical, which was another reason she'd decided to stay with them for a year, sans magic.

"Does the visitor have a name?" Hermione started into the house while questioning her mother.

The first person she thought of was Harry, as he and the Weasleys were the only ones she had Owled to tell them of her whereabouts before leaving the Wizarding World. In anticipation of seeing her best friend and finding out why he had come to visit six months shy of the date she had set to be retrieved, Hermione hastened her pace into the living room, before her mom could reply to her inquiry.

Striding into the room, Hermione came to a sudden halt as the man standing in the middle of the room turned to face her. He was not who she had suspected, in fact, he'd been the last one she would have expected.

"George?"


tbc...