It was not a common occasion that the brilliant Hermione Jean Granger would be running late to her job within the Ministry of Magic. She worked in the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures, where she improved the quality of life for the house elves and other disenfranchised creatures. After the war, she had completed her last year of school - for the first time, attending without her two friends beside her. It had been four years since the war ended. It had been only four years since Voldemort was killed.
Hermione had stayed up late the night before going over a skyscraper of paperwork containing information in regards to territory areas for other beings in the Forbidden Forest at Hogwarts.
She was already running behind and a cup of hot caffeine was pulling at her heartstrings like fingers on a cello. Hermione's usual coffee shop was one on the way to the employee entrance to the Ministry. The line was short and she hurried inside. Remembering her face, they began working on her order and had it out to her in record time. She left Muggle currency in the tip jar and turned around to head out the door.
While turning around, Hermione hit something - or someone - that didn't seem to budge at her weight. Her coffee dropped onto the ground and spilled onto her dress pants and the .. gentleman's shoes.
"Damn! I'm terribly sorry! I'm running late as it is and I-"
She was cut off immediately by a deep but soft voice.
"Let me grab some tissues for that," and the figure swiftly moved past her.
She turned and saw a slightly above-average height man with dark, messy hair, dark jeans, and a brown leather jacket which appeared to hug his muscles. He pulled a few napkins from the holder on the counter and journeyed back to her, offering her a handful while cleaning up the spill on the cream-colored tiles.
When he stood up, they locked eyes. Honey-brown, worn. Soft. He had a short goatee and mustache. She couldn't tell if it was just because she found him attractive upon first glance but he did seem slightly intriguing and familiar. She would have stopped to ask if they had met before, but remember, she was late before she spilled her coffee.
"Thank you for your help but I really must go, I am extremely late!"
"Hey, wait!" He called out after her, but she was already out the door.
Hermione didn't think much of the interaction from the morning until the end of her shift rolled around the corner. As she was packing up her briefcase, she noticed a coffee stain on the end of her pant leg.
She sighed to herself, knowing how much she adored that particular pair of pants and how much it would cost at the cleaners to remove the stain. Her mind wondered around the subject, and the honey-colored eyes of the brooding gentleman filled her thoughts.
She replayed the few things he said to her over and over in her head. His voice, to her, began to sound of velvet.
It had been years since any gentleman had her fancy. Her relationship with Ron Weasley was short lived. Hermione didn't know if it was because of the war or their history together that made them go together in the first place, but the fire died out within half a year after the war ended.
Hermione's PTSD followed her for sometime. Attending Hogwarts, without her friends, knowing how many gave their lives right there in the halls of the castle, was the hardest year she had ever had at Hogwarts. Ron and Harry visited her often; Harry more than Ron after the break-up, but it only took a couple of months before the trio was actually a trio again.
Her venture home was more breezy than usual for a July evening. The air reminded her of her parents. As soon as she got in to her condo in the heart of London, she dialed her mother on her cellphone. The line rang a few times and the comforting voice of "mum" was joy to her ears.
"Hermione, dear, I didn't expect to hear from you on a work day. Is everything all right?"
"Yes, mum. I'm fine, everything is fine. I was... just missing you and dad. I'm feeling a bit lonely this evening," she told her mother.
"It will be all right, Hermione. Harry's birthday is coming up any day now, isn't it, Surely you've made plans to visit your friend?" The way her mother asked was almost that of worry, hoping her daughter would tell her yes. Mister and Mrs. Granger had rightfully enough reason to worry for their daughters mental health.
"Him and Ginny have invited me to the Burrow for that weekend but..." she paused.
"What is it, Hermione? Is it Ronald?" Her mother prodded.
"No, no. Ron and I are managing as friends. I just, I feel like I need something new. I want to experience something I haven't yet, something positive."
"Hmm," Mrs. Granger hummed through the line, "perhaps a vacation, then?"
"Maybe," Hermione replied rather unconvincingly.
They spoke for another half hour before saying their goodbyes. Hermione dressed herself in her sleep clothes and prepared for her nightly ritual: finishing a few chapters of her current read, a proper brushing and flossing of her teeth, a glass of water, and one more bathroom trip to relieve her bladder.
The next morning was a Saturday common to any other. Hermione woke up to her 6:30 alarm as usual and draws her bedroom blinds back. She starts a pot of coffee and takes a shower as she waits for it to brew.
The turntable in the living room plays hits by Billie Holiday to welcome her back in to her space of comfort. With some comfy clothes, a cup of coffee, good music, and the light rain racing down the balcony doors gave her a morning of peace.
Hermione didn't have many friends that she saw regularly. Harry and Ron both worked at the Ministry, as well, but after-hours activities were not as common as they used to be. Harry and Ginny were busy enjoying each other's company and building the foundation for their new life together while Ron had taken to enjoying the bachelor lifestyle.
They did, however, ensure to get together on the last Friday of every month. Hermione remained thankful for this as it offered her a sense of stability and security. The three of them had been through an incredible amount of pain, loss, and trauma together.
Her day drug by rather slowly - this she blamed on the weather, as the rain had continued all day. Her productivity was high; she had dusted her entire condo, finished all of her laundry, and managed to create a rather extensive shopping list for her next trip.
It was now mid-afternoon. A whisper of sunshine peaked from the clouds like a child over the counter for a cookie. It was barely misting outside, so she opened just one of the double-doors leading to the balcony. Ivy twisted itself up and down the wrought iron railings and up to the awning where they seemed to disappear from view.
She sat out there on the cream-colored outdoor couch with a book and glass of water. Occasionally a barking dog or motorcycle would meander by and she would lift her head from her book. She truly was beginning to miss genuine interactions with others outside the workplace. She missed soft and tight embraces, she missed stomach-aching laughter, but most of all she missed love.
Maybe a vacation isn't an outrageous idea, she thought to herself while examining a couple laughing together on the sidewalk below. Sitting at home and being alone in her head couldn't possibly be doing her mental health any favors.
It was too bad Crookshanks had vanished from her parents sometime during their stay in Australia. Hermione was flooded with guilt, assuming he had attempted to find his way back to her. She had been thinking lately that having him with her would make all the difference in the world - but it did not do well to dwell on dreams and forget to live.
The weekend was a blur and the work week was filled horrible but nothing stuck out of the ordinary. It was a hot Friday afternoon. One more week and she would be at the Burrow with her friends, enjoying the entire weekend in nostalgic bliss.
Her biweekly visit into Diagon Alley was a weekend behind. The rain did not fair well for her hair and a woman of her reputation these days would not be caught in Diagon Alley during the rainy weather.
All the familiar sounds and smells rushed to her and filled her with calamity. One trip to Gringotts later and she was inside Flourish & Blotts, a stack of books and parchments in-arms. On her way out, she heard a familiar voice.
"Hey, stop! That's not cool, we got kids to feed, ya bum!" She turned to the area where all the stalls united in the street and caught a glimpse of dark, wavy hair and Muggle-styled facial hair. He looked to have just chased someone but without any luck, as he was rubbing his temple and kicking a few rocks on his walk back.
Hermione eyed his stall as she approached, ensuring not to make eye contact with him and bring attention to herself just yet.
"I'd like a few of your carrots and onions, please," she spoke to his back quietly.
When he turned around, his eyes seemed to smile but the rest of his face gave the impression he was still plagued by anger and worry.
"Hi," he said, a tad unamused, "did you come to spill something else on me?"
Hermione attempted to hold back a smile. "Interesting surprise to find you here. And I am truly very sorry about that. That's why I came over here. I'd like to purchase your produce as a token of apology." She said to him matter-of-factly and sounding of business.
"I'm just picking on you. It's quite all right, really." Now, he was smiling. A bit of the worry seemed to be washed from his face. He wiped his hand on his black plants and extended it out to her. "Benjamin Hendrix, at your service."
She looked at the tan, rugged hand. A few nails were chipped and some had some fresh dirt packed underneath. She took it in hers and felt the strength of his arm behind his handshake. His hand was calloused and worn but they were smooth.
"I'm Hermione Granger," she replied back to him, offering him a smile back.
He grabbed a handful of carrots and placed them in the brown sack the two onions were just placed in and said, "I know who you are. I was a year ahead of you at Hogwarts. You wouldn't have paid me any mind, though; I was in Slytherin."
She scoffed as he offered her the sack and the smile she offered was not one of a friendly nature but one that was taken aback.
"That's an awfully daft theory - to assume I would judge a book simply by its cover. I will forever be more interested by what's written inside. Anyone who believes they know me would very well know that!" She took the brown bag from him with a hint of aggression. She had come over in good conscience to apologize and this man was already making it entirely too difficult for her to have the desire to remain pleasant.
Benjamin came out from behind his medium sized produce-and-supply stall (one that Hermione now recognized from passing many times before) with his arms crossed, causing the sleeves of his dirty, white t-shirt to ride up a bit on his upper-arms. This caused the bottom of a tattoo to peak out from his right outer arm, just below his shoulder.
"Then I guess that's my own bloody apology for assuming. It's four Sickles and twenty-eight Knuts for the vegetables, by the way." He held out an empty, open hand.
"I heard you yelling at someone before I came over. I can only assume you were robbed but, honestly, is that really reason to treat an apologizing customer this way?" Hermione replied to him, annoyed, as she fiddled in her purse for her coins.
She placed five Sickles in his open hand, and he placed them in a leather pouch attached to his belt loop.
"Thank you; and no, I don't treat all customers this way - just the ones I think I may need a laugh. I'll assume, again, that it was a poor execution. My apologies."
"I assure you, Mr. Hendrix, it was most definitely your trivial execution," Hermione countered.
He clicked his tongue and performed a motion of defeat with his arm. "Hell, that's rotten luck, I'd say, Ms. Granger. I'd have offered to cut those up for you," he motioned towards her bag of produce, "but now I imagine you'd find something the matter with the way I cut 'em."
Hermione's jaw dropped slightly. She was entirely taken aback with this sort of behavior. It took her a moment to find the words she wanted to say.
"Honestly, if you'd have led off with that, I may have said yes. You can kiss that chance goodbye." And with that, she strutted down to the exit of Diagon Alley.
When she arrived back to her open condo, she dropped the bag of vegetables onto the white marbles counter. The items rolled around as she unpacked the items in her Extension Charmed grocery bag.
"It really wouldn't have been a bother if he was Slytherin or not," she thought aloud as she places the items in their designated places in the kitchen cabinets.
When she finally got to the vegetables all over the counter, she paused. Hermione was torn between throwing them away or keeping them. After some due consideration and her "non-wasteful nature" (as she told herself), she decided to use them for her meal that night as opposed to saving for another day and having a spontaneous feeling of aggravation.
The basic stew she crafted, unfortunately for her pride, would have been a lost cause without the richness of the fresh vegetables. She couldn't find that quality in the Muggle markets where she would normally shop for such food items. She knew, some day soon, she would be back for more.