||Now It's Just Us||

Chapter 8

Hermione had decided to visit the library that evening. It had been a tiring day at work, and she wanted to relax. Not to mention her stress about Ginny's result announcement regarding her trials with the Holyhead Harpies. She wouldn't contact her though. She absolutely wouldn't.

"Where are you going?" Carson asked curiously on seeing Hermione getting all bundled up.

"There's a library a little way down the street," Hermione explained, "thought of going there. Would you care to join me?"

Of course he wouldn't. What was she thinking? As if he'd come with her to a library of all places. Everyone at Hogwarts knew what a bookworm she was, and that she was boring when at the library. Hermione braced herself to listen to his refusal.

"A muggle library?" he asked, unable to keep a hint of distaste from his voice, but he sounded curious nonetheless.

"Obviously," Hermione rolled her eyes, trying to keep her nervousness from showing.

"What kind of books do they have?" Carson asked.

"Normal kind of books," Hermione said unhelpfully.

"Alright, I'll just get my coat," Carson stood from where he was seated in the kitchen and went to his room to retrieve his coat. Hermione was throughly surprised, but she didn't let it show. Thankfully, he didn't opt to dress up all fancy. Hermione glanced down at herself. She was wearing one of the jumpers Mrs. Wesley had knit for her, with faded jeans that were way too baggy. Or perhaps they hadn't been, but they had become due to Hermione's weight loss. She was becoming steadily better now.

"Come on," Carson beckoned her out the door. 

Mrs. Settington greeted them warmly in the lobby.

"Out for a moonlit stroll?" Mrs. Settington asked.

"We're going to the library," Hermione said, as a faint blush creeped up her cheeks. Carson cleared his throat awkwardly.

"Go along then, I'll see you later," Mrs. Settington said cheerily.

Hermione and Carson walked out into the night. There were few more people out, and occasionally a car would rumble past them. The first time it happened, Carson had been a little startled, but he got used to it.

"So how do these things work?" Carson asked in a low voice when another car zoomed past them.

"They work on fuel," Hermione said, "generally they use petrol or diesel, the energy in then is converted to mechanical energy, which turns the wheels and makes the car move. They've started making plans for electric cars, I think."

"Who's they?" Carson asked.

"I'm not really sure," Hermione laughed a little awkwardly, "manufacturers?"

"Where are cars made?" Carson seemed fascinated by the topic.

"In factories," Hermione said, "it's a place where many people work and make large numbers of a kind of product."

Carson nodded in understanding. Hermione admired his desire to learn about things. He was much like herself in that aspect. 

They walked in silence after that. When their hands brushed accidentally, Hermione immediately shoved them into her pockets. Carson pretended to fiddle with his coat. Hermione ignored the strange electric feeling in her fingertips.

It was a lovely night. The sky was nearly cloudless, the moon shone brightly. There was no wind, but it was chilly all the same. The sound of deep bass music floated through the air when a pub door opened, abruptly stopping when the door closed again.