probably one of my favourite chapters to write so far; tell me what you think!

"Mia! I need help! Mia!" Sophie entered the bookshop in a rush. Hermione had half a mind to ask if Dementors were coming after the woman, but she stopped herself just in time.

Her neighbour, Sophie, was in her fifties but had an extremely active social life. Some days, Hermione thought she was her best friend even though they had a massive age difference.

It had been two days since the twins and Luna had visited her with the latest gossip from the wizarding world, and Hermione couldn't stop thinking about Nott. People don't disappear like that, especially not a pureblood like Nott.

Hermione wished she could help somehow, but she wasn't going to go back to the Wizarding World, not after what happened the last time she went to visit Harry at the Ministry…

Shaking the thoughts from her head, Hermione turned to Sophie, who seemed like she had seen a ghost.

"Sophie? What's wrong?" Hermione rushed to Sophie's side, directing her towards one of the chairs in the cafe area. "You're so pale."

Sophie's breathing was ragged and she seemed to be gathering her thoughts. She always said she was going to start exercising, but Hermione knew she would never do anything about it, and she was paying the price now.

"You remember that man that everyone was talking about? The one who seemed to be so out of place and didn't have a place to stay?" Sophie asked, as soon as she had composed herself enough to speak. Her pale green eyes were sparkling with delight, while she was trying to catch her breath.

Hermione frowned. She had heard people talking about the strange man that seemed to be wandering around their houses, but she hadn't cared much about it. "Yes, I heard about him. Why are you bringing him up?"

"Well…I finally plucked the courage to go and talk to the bloke," Sophie said in a matter-of-fact tone and Hermione pinched the bridge of her nose.

"Sophie." Hermione tried not to lose her temper, but it was becoming very difficult. "Don't tell me that you—"

"You should have seen him, Mia!" Sophie was on a roll now, moving her hands and still panting a little. "Indeed, you are going to see him."

Hermione's brain stopped functioning. She couldn't have heard what she thought she had. No, she was having some brain malfunction right now. Or maybe it was her ears that had stopped working.

"What do you mean? And please, don't increase my blood pressure by what you're about to say." She glared at Sophie, daring her to finish her sentence.

"I don't know why you are looking at me like that, I was just trying to help the poor boy. You should try to help people from time to time, you know? It's good for your heart."

Hermione closed her eyes and took deep breaths; it wouldn't do any good if she blew up at Sophie, who was more like a loving grandma to her than a friend.

"So you spoke to him? That's all you did, right?" Hermione asked, but Sophie wasn't meeting her pointed gaze. "Right?"

"I may have asked him to tea—he was starving, Mia. The poor boy was just skin and bones!" Sophie was a caring person, having taken Hermione under her wing when she had moved to Castle Combe three years ago. Hermione knew how caring she was, but she didn't believe Sophie's 'good intentions' for one second. Sophie was definitely up to something.

"How can you invite someone you don't know to your house? That's how people get killed!" What if it was a Death Eater in disguise that had somehow found her here? Hermione would never forgive herself if Sophie got injured because of her. Just thinking about it made her chest tighten with fear.

Sophie scoffed at that. "He's harmless, won't hurt a fly. I gather that you'll be able to join us for tea? I came here to ask you."

It was Hermione's turn to scoff at her. "I thought you were being haunted by hellhounds the way you barged into the shop."

"I admit I can be a little dramatic on occasion," Sophie said, making Hermione scowl. Hermione remembered the time Sophie almost threw herself in the middle of the road because someone had dared insult her pies. "But I'm here on a mission and I won't accept no for an answer."

Without the opportunity to back out—and even if she thought about doing something, Sophie wouldn't accept defeat anyway—Hermione just closed the shop and followed Sophie home, dragging her feet to show her reluctance.

"For some reason, I have a feeling you two are going to bond. I just know it!" Sophie exclaimed, a huge smile on her aging face as they neared her house.

"I doubt it. How could I bond with someone you found on the streets?" Hermione asked, but she regretted it as soon as she said it. It was unnecessarily mean, and she too had lived on the streets—well, the woods—during the war. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean that."

"Don't worry, I won't tell." Sophie gave her a warm smile. Hermione couldn't help thinking how lucky she got when she met Sophie. Whenever Hermione missed her parents, Sophie was there to listen or just distract her with something crazy like strip bingo or something equally outrageous.

Sophie unlocked the door of her house, her keys jangling cheerily in her hand. Hermione had half a mind to ask her what she would have done if the homeless man had tried to run away with her belongings. Or what if the man was lying in wait with a hidden weapon? Still, Hermione kept mum and followed Sophie inside, willing to trust her friend's judgement.

The older lady gestured at her to go ahead since her guest would be in the kitchen already. Hermione hoped Sophie wasn't trying to play matchmaker again. The last time she had set Hermione up with someone she had met, Hermione had ended up almost entering a ponzi scheme. Or maybe Hermione was about to be murdered first.

Fortunately, she still had her wand on her. Although she was trying to live as a Muggle and hadn't used her wand in a long time, she was prepared for emergencies. And getting attacked by a homeless Muggle man might just be one crisis she'd be prepared for.

"Oh, hello there," a male voice cut through her thoughts, and Hermione stopped dead in her tracks.

Could it be? Hermione thought, staring at the man with widening eyes.

But how? Had her ears really given up on her? Had she fallen asleep on a book and started dreaming of this bizarre interaction? (Not that Hermione would ever do something so sacrilegious).

She rubbed her eyes and blinked blearily, but the scene didn't change.

Sitting in Sophie's kitchen chair was none other than Theodore Nott.