Intertwined

The Teleporting Man

"That's a really pretty name! Heh, uh, my name's Chester."

Hermione let out a little giggle. She'd never met anyone named Chester, and for that reason she had named a spoon back home it. Not many people had the name Hermione either, though, so she had no room to judge.

"I like yours too. I actually have a little deer spoon at home named it." She stood, pressing her journal to her chest and putting a pen behind her ear. It was hard to balance there but she strangely enjoyed it. Chester seemed to take note of it too, since his eyes wouldn't leave her hands, and when they did they darted back to her eyes.

"Do you really?" He let out a half chuckle. Hermione nodded, and they just stared at each other for a good minute, a smile on both.

"Uh, well, I'll see you around then, Chester. Ya know by now I come here every Sunday." She hiccuped and covered her mouth. He nodded, stepping out of the way for her to get past him.

"See ya around!" He gulped and yelled after her when she was about halfway down the stairs. She yelled a 'Bye!' back to him and practically skipped out of the shop and down the street to her flat.

Her skipping ended immediately outside the building.

Peering into the window, as she always did encase something was being thrown across the lobby, she could clearly see the smallest person she could ever had imagined. He was maybe just three, four feet, a toddler compared to her. Neon orange hair spurted from his head in all directions and he was dressed in what seemed like a small, purple tux.

"GET YE STUPID HEAD OUTTA ME WINDOW, LASSY!" He screamed at her, his eyes darting strangely around as someone from the elevator came down. She jumped and cautiously opened the door of the building. Hermione ran in and straight towards the elevator, making it just before the doors closed.

The little man appeared beside her as she thought she was safe from him, having hit the fifth floor button. He piped up on one of the handles on the sides and stared at her until she was forced to look back.

"Hermione Swath?"

She nodded.

"Fifth floor, number fourty-seven?"

She nodded again, her eyebrows beginning to furrow. "How did you--?"

"Old Ceaser told me, from the ground floor. He's quite fond of you. Think it's the skin?" The man let out a hearty laugh, showing extremely gnarled and yellowed teeth.

Hermione nearly let out a hiss, her nose scrunching at the joke. "That's not funny, yknow. Would you like me to go on about your skin being as pale as the ground floor walls?"

This made him stop, his bushy eyebrows furrowing like hers had. The ground floor walls were a nearly blinding white, which was actually just a few shades paler than the small man. Even though he did have a bit of a tan on his arms. Hermione mentally thought about him carrying a pot of gold around and getting it.

"Feisty, eh? Alright. I've just come to tell you you've got to be aware of you speak to."

Without saying anything else, he disappeared before her eyes. She shrugged it off and watched the number tick just once more to her floor. Thankfully no one was waiting outside when she stepped out of the lift, so she hurried out and to her door.

Number fourty-seven was probably the worst apartment to have. The wallpaper peeled easily off, and shards of glass still stuck out of the floorboards and made her unable to walk around barefoot in the living room. Most of the books left behind just collected dust, too.

However, when you stepped into her bedroom it was completely spotless. A bookshelf in the corner was full with recently dusted books and small knick-knacks. Hermione preferred to decorate with plants though, which meant succulents and other potted plants were everywhere. She made sure to keep the cactus' on the window as to not step on them or anything.

She set her bag on a coat rack attached to the back of the door and looked into a full-body mirror of what her appearance had become through the day. Her skin glistened with a small bit of sweat everywhere, most likely from running in and out of the lobby. Her hair was frizzed more than usual too. Usually it was a very bright blonde, but something made her want to dye it it's natural black again. She'd even been drawn back to wearing makeup. Though many makeup company's didn't make anything that matched well with her skin, so she kept to dark eyes and lipsticks and just a little bit of highlighter on her cheekbones.

Hermione ran a hand through her hair and heaved a sigh. Slipping her shoes off finally before the mirror, she turned and face-planted into the bed, letting the weight of the day fall off her shoulders and into the warm sheets.