#usernooreva

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It was decidedly freezing out on this dark Autumn morning, so cold that Hermione’s breath formed little clouds as she hurried down the street. Cursing out quite loudly after stepping in a puddle, sufficiently soaking all the way through her boot that was supposed to be waterproof, she wondered if this day could get any worse.

Her hair, which she had had no time to tame this morning after her alarm failed to go off, now proceeded to be nothing but an annoyance. She decided that after this day was over, if she was still alive after the initial mortification, she would chop it off.

Checking her watch, Hermione groaned, she was officially an hour late to her first day of work. Walking through the building of her-what might be by this point former-workplace, she couldn’t help but think she had set that damn alarm three times and checked it ever more before finally going to bed.

She did not miss the judging look the secretary sent her when she checked in, though he didn’t say a word.

“Floor 7,” he said.

She barely managed to get a thank you out before she was rushing over to the elevators.

Pushing the seventh-floor button, she nearly shrieked when an arm stopped the doors from closing.

“Sorry,” said the woman who was now leaning against the side of the elevator. Her blonde hair was in a strict looking bun and Hermione found herself avoiding the woman’s piercing blue eyes.

Hermione’s never been the best at small talk, finding that it becomes quite awkward quite fast when she runs out of things to say.

“I haven’t seen you around here before,” the woman says.

It takes Hermione a moment to reply, finding herself choking on her own words around her, “I’m new.” Hermione left out the part that she might not be seeing her around here again after today.

“Well, I truly do adore the look you’ve got going today….” She says.

“Hermione,” the frizzy haired girl finishes for her, ignoring the woman’s comment.

“Daphne,” the woman says back, a smirk on her pretty face.

The elevator finally dings. And the door opens.

Hermione finds herself slightly disappointed Daphne hadn’t stepped out with her.

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Hermione survived the day. A feat in of itself. Her boss, after many, many assurances that this would not be a common occurrence, finally let her get to work. Leaving her with the warning he would not be so lenient next time.

Her eyes were blurry and her hand was cramping so badly she would be surprised if she could move it enough tonight to crack open a celebratory glass of wine, but she was happy all the same.

‘To survival,’ she could already see herself toasting. Not alone of course, she had her cat whom she loved dearly.

Packing up the rest of her things, she made her way back to the elevator. The chaos from the morning already seeming so far behind her.

Well, it did feel like that until the elevator doors opened revealing a still perfect looking Daphne.

Hermione let out a sigh stepping in.

“Still alive I see,” Daphne states.

Hermione raises her brows, “Alive indeed.”

“Not to sound forward,” she sounded quite forward, “but would you like to go out for a glass of wine with me.”

Hermione felt a blush creep up on her cheeks.

It didn’t take long for Hermione to say yes, as her other option sounded pitiful, to say the least. Go out with a beautiful woman, to a no doubt classy bar, or stay at home and watch television with a cat that leaves her as soon as it is fed.

“I would like that, yes.”