hope your life leads you back to my door » l.s.

one: let's stay young

Harry wasn't quite sure what he really expected when he returned home to Knutsford for the summer holiday after finishing his first year at Oxford University. Maybe a bit of rest after all the all-nighters he pulled to revise for chemistry and biology finals, but also maybe something new and exciting. However, living in Knutsford all his life, he knew there wasn't much new or exciting about this town. Though it was less than an hour away from the bustling city of Manchester, Knutsford was quiet and boring. Everyone stuck to their routine and nothing really happened around here. Harry was okay with that. He was comfortable, but after having gone away to Uni, he found himself liking a bit of change. It wasn't ever something he sought; however, it was nice to have after living the same routine for so long.

What Harry didn't set out to do was follow his mum around Sainsbury's the weekend he got back, pushing around their loaded trolley full of food and household items. He wasn't even sure why he agreed to come out, because he really did need to revise for the upcoming semester, but if Victoria Styles was one thing, it was insistent. She wanted Harry's help and also wanted him to get out of the house for a bit as he'd been holed up in there since he got back. So Harry agreed, but not without his neurology textbook in hand, which kept slipping every time he had to maneuver the trolley in a different direction.

After grabbing yogurt and milk from the dairy aisle, Victoria got tangled up in a crowd of people going into the dry pasta aisle. "Meet me at the registers," she called with a wave to him.

Harry sighed, grumbling as he slowly pushed the trolley toward the queues for the registers. They weren't too long, thank God, but he was rather annoyed about the whole situation. As he made his way to one of the shorter queues, he overheard someone shouting from the queue next to his.

"These prices are insane!"

Harry's brows furrowed and he slowly looked over. The voice sounded rather familiar, but he couldn't place it.

"Forty pounds for three bags of crisps, chocolate bars, and soda? That's ridiculous!"

Zoya Arora, Harry recalled, as he got a good look at the girl. They had gone to secondary school together and, while they weren't necessarily mates, Zoya had always said hi to Harry and even gave him a hug goodbye on the day of graduation. And though it had been a year since then, she hadn't changed a bit. Her hair was still short and choppy, and she had on ripped jean shorts with an equally torn tank top that was about two sizes too big. The only new thing about her was her nose ring, but it went well with her look.

Then again, Harry was one to talk. He'd gotten a bit taller since sixth form, but he still couldn't tame his wild and unruly brown curls. Currently, he was wearing jeans that were at least three years old and an Oxford University t-shirt they gave him during orientation at the beginning of last year. Truthfully, he hadn't changed at all either. It was a bit embarrassing.

"The prices for the items are written on them...," the cashier responded. He looked to be about fourteen, fifteen, or somewhere around that age, and terrified out of his mind.

"The font is clearly not large enough," Zoya argued, not backing down. "I've been coming to this shop since before you were born and it wasn't always this expensive!"

"I can call the manager if you'd like?"

Zoya seemed to soften. "Don't bother. Not your fault, is it?"

The boy widened his eyes in surprise but didn't bother arguing any further. Zoya began taking out her wallet but was still frowning as she pulled out the bills. The whole exchange was rather amusing and entertaining, which shouldn't come as a surprise since Zoya was always rather loud and expressive. Once Zoya paid the cashier, she glanced around the shop and her eyes landed on Harry.