#hpfemslashnw

Sunshine one minute, pouring rain the next. Great. Just her luck. It wasn’t like it could start ten minutes later when she’d be happily on her couch, no. It had to start right now, right here. A woman walks past and Hermione glances longily at her umbrella, oh how wonderful one would be. She notices a couple kissing under a streetlamp, deep red spreading from where their lips touch. Fabulous, she thinks, by all means, have a rom com -worthy make-out session right there. At least you’re not wearing a backpack filled with expensive books that could be irrevocably ruined any minute now. Does fate really hate her this much?

It feels like a gift from heaven when she notices a cafe, right behind the kissing pair. Now she just needs to walk past them. The girl’s clinging to her boyfriend’s jacket like her life depended on it. If she ever meets her soulmate (it’s statistically very unlikely, you see), she swears she won’t turn into a love-sick, withering fool who can’t make it through her day without her “one true love”. She snorts silently at the mere idea while stepping into the cafe.

The cafe is actually very cozy on the inside, despite the somewhat bland-looking frontage. It seems that she’s not the only one seeking refuge from the storm outside though - the cafe is packed. She orders a latte (the barista has blue marks all over her arms) and sets to find a seat. The only free seat in the whole cafe seems to be next to a redheaded girl, hunched over books and notebooks. When she approaches the girl, it’s easy to see why that particular seat has been left empty; the looks the girl gives to her book (and anyone walking past for that matter) would make even a braver man to continue on his journey. But Hermione is not so easily fazed.

“Excuse me, is this seat taken?” The girl looks up from her notes. Her face is covered in freckles, her eyes the prettiest shade of brown Hermione has ever seen. The girl seems surprised, and for a moment Hermione is sure she's going to yell, but her face breaks into a smile. “No! Please sit down!” Her voice is pretty, Hermione’s stomache feels like it's filled with butterflies (or more like colibris, picking their way out). She tries to ground herself by taking a big gulp from her latte (it's way too hot, she's not gonna taste anything for a week) and sitting down at the same time. The girl returns to her notes, and Hermione caughts a wiff of her perfume, when she throws her hair over her shoulder (she smells like flowers and summer days).

It's awkward, sitting there in silence. The girl's pale arms are covered in freckles. Why can't she be better with humans? Starting a conversation shouldn't be so bloody difficult! She really, really wants to trace the freckels with her fingers. Okay, no, her mind is wandering. She needs to do something, anything. Say something, her brains command. “Doyoucomeoften?” she blurts out. Oh.. oh lord. Did she really say that. Oh god, oh god, what did she just say? The girl looks up to her, looking torn between puzzled and amused. Why can't the earth swallow her as a whole; a well-timed earthquake, perhaps? (You don't live near the edge of any plate, her brain reminds her.) Shut up, brain. “Do I what?” the girl asks, now looking like she's trying hard not to laugh. Okay, good, at least she didn't yell at her. She needs to fix this, fast: "Do you come here often? I mean, this café. Here. Do you visit this place often?" The girl starts laughing, the sound echoing in every part of Hermione's body, leaving her feeling warm and fuzzled. "Ohh, yes, I do actually, the latte here is otherworldly", she points to four empty cups beside her book (a math book, Hermione notices) "makes even math homework tolerable." Hermione feels the corners of her mouth tugging. The girl's funny. And she likes coffee. "Is that why you were looking so murderous earlier?" "That or I might have been planning a revenge on my pig-headed brother", thr girl grins, her eyes twinkling. Hermione can't help but laugh. She already likes this girl.

Talking to the girl (Ginny, she says her name is) feels like the easiest thing Hermione has ever done. In no time she learns that Ginny plays football and wants to be a professional athlete. Her favorite color is gold (like the scarf Hermione is wearing) and she hates it when someone tries to tell her what to do. She laughs when Hermione tells her about her disastrous visit to a hairdresser who had no idea what to do with all the curly hair. (Her laugh is loud and happy and sounds like music. It makes even the stinging memory of lot of destroyed hair to feel good.) They bond over their shared love for cats, and for their shared hate for the local politician, Dolores Umbridge. They talk and talk and talk, get more lattes, (Ginny was right, it is otherworldly. Though not as much as the girl in front of her), then talk some more and get more lattes. Ginny’s schoolbooks lay between them, long forgotten.

And when the clock gets closer and closer to five, Hermione feels an unpleasant tug in her stomach. Why did she promise Harry to visit him at half past? But he would understand, wouldn't he? This girl is just something, something that makes Hermione feel happy. No, she can't do that to Harry. She promised. She's not the type to ditch her friends just because she met some girl in a cafe, that's foolish. ANd she certainly isn't a fool. But she really wants to see the girl again. So when gathers her stuff, she opens her mouth (without actually knowing what’s gonna come out of it): “Umm Ginny, uh, it’d be nice to, maybe, see again or something. Like, umm, you know, the latte's good here and, well, if you like good food I know some places or maybe we could, you know, go to that amusement park we talked ab…” “Hermione Granger”, Ginny interrupts, all serious, but with laughter evident in her eyes “are you asking me out?” Great, now Ginny made her blush again; how does this girl have such an effect on her? “Maybe?” she asks timidly. She has never heard a sound as beautiful as the one that came from Ginny scribbling down her number. Even if she rips the page out of her book.

The kissing pair has disappeared, Hermione notices the minute she steps out of the cafe. She can't help but to grin to herself and look at the piece of paper she’s holding. She may have promised herself to not be foolish, but the happy feeling at the bottom of her stomach makes it hard to care. It's a problem to be dealt with lat-- wait, what's that? Her hand, did she pour something? There, against the dark skin: pink flowers forming, marking the places Ginny’s fingers touched. Okay. Okay, this is.. what is this? Is this what it seems to be? It can't be, can it?. She slowly lifts her head and looks up. It's Ginny. She looks surprised, but she's also smiling. She's close. Very close. The raindrops rolling over the freckles on her cheeks are visible. Freckles like the ones on her arms. (Now covered in pink flowers)