JKR owns.
My Countenance
Chapter Two
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It was pitch black out, not a drop of rain falling from the sky. Strange, compared to how earlier that night it had been raining a fifth ocean.
My heart was still racing as I skipped up the steps to my apartment and started digging around for my keys. All I wanted was to lock myself in my room and scream myself to sleep.
"Hermione, dear?"
But as usual, I didn't get my way. "Yes Mrs. Hardwicke?" I asked wearily, looking up to the old woman standing on the porch next to me.
"Some young man was knocking on your door earlier tonight. He seemed quite frantic."
I frowned, "A young man?"
"Yes, well his hood was up, but I could tell it was a boy. First, I noticed him pacing around the sidewalk across the street rather nervously and then suddenly, he marched across the road and knocked right on your door," I noticed the tone of excitement she spoke with. It seemed staring out of her window for countless hours every single day, looking for any signs of trouble or abnormalities, was starting to pay off for her.
"That's odd," I finally answered. She seemed disappointed with my bleak reply, so I continued, "You said you didn't get to see his face?"
"No. I couldn't get a good look at anything in the dark. All I could tell was that he was about six foot tall…" she reached back into her door and pulled out a little notepad. I tried not to laugh.
"His hooded jacket looked to be maroon."
Ron is a little over six foot, but there's no way he could have beaten me home from the party, "Did he knock long?"
"Only once. He waited at your door for, oh," she scrunched up her face and stared up into the sky, "I'd say about thirty seconds before he ran off down that alley, the same one you walk down every morning."
Mrs. Hardwicke pointed towards the alley I just disapparated from and a shiver ran up my spine. Could this bloke have been using the alley for the same reason I used it every day? Or was it someone a little more dangerous than an apparating stranger?
I looked back from the alley with a pondering expression. I didn't notice Mrs. Hardwicke, leaning over from her side of the rail to give me an overly disturbed look, "You make sure you lock all your doors tonight, dear. And keep your phone nearby too."
I swallowed imploringly. I couldn't really be in danger could I? This person just probably had the wrong address…
But even I couldn't convince myself of those slim odds. I nodded in understanding at my elderly neighbor, and then stuck my key into the keyhole.
"Goodnight Mrs. Hardwicke."
"Good night dear."
…
I awoke early that next morning, even though I managed to only fall asleep around 3 a.m. Sleeping was considered a waste of time to me- there is much more important things I should be doing. Going on nine months now, my body was trained to sustain itself on only a few hours of rest.
A series of longing meows, coming from the end of my bed was what finally roused me. Crookshanks, my loyal orange fur ball, was giving me a half-glaring, half-pleading look. I groaned, remembering that I had forgot to pick up some cat food at the corner store last night.
I sighed and threw my sheets off me, "Alright, alright I'm going."
Not caring what I left the house looking like, I put on the wrinkled clothes lying at the top of my overflowing hamper. Laundry; another useless necessity I needed to find time to do. Great.
As I walked down my front steps, I found that it was even more bone-chillingly cold than last night. Just cold air- no snow, rain, or sleet to prove it's brutality. It was an invisible monster. I snorted, unamused. The weather would always be out of my control, and never the way I wanted it to be. Similar to a lot of things in my life…
Already trembling, I hooked a right and walked as fast as I could towards the small muggle market to purchase Crookshanks' long awaited breakfast.
…
After saying a quiet thank you, I grabbed my brown paper bag full of gourmet cat food, and headed out of the door, back into the blistering cold. I never much liked coming to the market, and only ever did because it meant the shortest time away from home. The husband and wife who owned the place always gave me pitying looks and often offered free groceries or discounts, as if I was living off my last few pounds. I hated their scrutiny, and their outlandish kindness was too much to handle. Just two more people to add to the list who all thought I was crazy…
I was getting closer to my flat and was about to reach into my coat pocket for my keys when an image made me freeze.
The image was that of a bloke. He was about six foot tall and wearing a maroon hoodie with a black beanie clamped over his head. He was standing on my porch. Knocking.
I was too far away to get a proper, evaluating, look of him, but I noticed that there was something about the way he held himself… something about it seemed all too familiar…
My heart jumped up into my throat and I struggled for air. Could it…?
The person stopped knocking and shoved his hands into his pockets, now staring down at his shoes. The visual made my stomach jolt. A second passed before he jerked his head up to my door again. I frowned- what happened?
In another heart pounding instant, he began stumbling backwards down the stairs. He looked like he was preparing to sprint away before he froze and turned to look directly at me. We both stood there, close enough to tell that we were both gazing right at each other, but too far away for me to tell what color his eyes were. I prayed for the emerald shade I had dreamt about ever since last Christmas.
Mere seconds passed where we stared uninterrupted at each other. But with another second, it was all over. Without warning, he turned and ran. I choked on my own breath, staring after his retreating back.
No, this couldn't be happening. I wouldn't let this happen. Not if there was a slight possibility it was who I wished for…
"No." The world left me in a whisper before I dropped my bag of cat food and sprinted after him.
"Stop!" He turned down the alley where I usually apparated. I could feel my thrilling anticipation slipping away, replaced with recognizable anguish. I wouldn't catch him in time. He was going to disappear…
"Please," I panted, turning wildly into the thin alley. Tears started to prickle at the back of my eyes as I took the empty bareness of the stone pathway. The man I had hoped for, or whoever the bloke was, was gone.
…
I turned back to the sidewalk with one of my hands rubbing my eyes. I hadn't let tears fall in a long time. There had been a lot of false leads, false hopes- but I still never cried over them. That'd be weak. I couldn't afford to be weak. He didn't deserve that. And today was no exception. Suck it up, Granger.
I dropped my hand from my face just in time to see Ron's head, poking out of my door and looking in the opposite direction of me. I frowned, not having the energy to glower.
"Ron?"
His head swiveled around, "Hermione!"
"Ron, what are you doing here?" I guess I still wasn't caring about being rude to him. Maybe I'd feel guilty about it later.
"Oh, hi. I flooed over from the Burrow a few minutes ago… did you just knock on your own door?" Ron asked briskly. I raised an eyebrow. He seemed a little tipsy. What the hell was he doing here? I couldn't fight the wave of anger bucking up in me. He must have been the reason that the man ran off. Damn Ron.
"No." I said, unclenching my teeth to speak.
"Oh, did you catch who was out here then?" he still asked with a smile like nothing was wrong.
"No."
"Oh. So where've you been? Did you- did you not sleep here last night?" Finally Ron's face became a little disgruntled, but so did mine. What was he on about? I noticed his finger slightly pointed at my chest and looked down.
Oh. The clothes I threw on this morning was the same outfit I wore last night.
I frowned. If he was assuming anything, he was wrong, and it wasn't his business. Therefore, I ignore his question, "Why are you here?"
Ron took a deep breath and started reciting, "Dad got stuck with jury duty at the last minute. He wanted me to ask you if you could take over his meeting with the magical police until he gets there."
"Why doesn't he just ask Peter to do it?" I questioned. Peter was vice under Mr. Weasley. It made more sense for him to be there; not the head's secretary.
"I dunno," Ron shrugged, really having no idea, "My dad just wanted me to ask you. You gonna do it?"
I briefly thought it over. Go to a boring meeting where the misuse of muggle artifacts department would be fighting the police for stricter laws against magical pranks on muggles, or stay home and wait for my stranger to come back.
The answer was obvious, "Actually, I-"
"If you don't want to go, do you want to hang out today?" Ron asked, cutting me off. I gave him a struck look, it being the only type I could think to express at his sudden proposal. "We could go to lunch and maybe see a moofie?"
I felt my shoulders slump, "I must be your dad's only other option. I have to go, I guess."
I couldn't stand to look at the disappointment on his face. The guilt derived from my behavior was starting to weigh in, and instead of facing him like a proper friend, I turned to go pick up my abandoned cat food.
Crookshanks must be starving.
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