Dear Stranger

Chapter 9

Hermione made her way home Saturday evening, very pleased to be done with the day and more importantly, the work week. She had had quite the day. Her encounter with Draco Malfoy had been an unexpected hiccup but she had gotten over it. She wasn't quite sure what she was still mad about, he had obviously cleaned up his act and become generally less biting in tone. Harry had told her that they had even agreed to leave the past behind them and become friends. She was a very forgiving person in general, but she and Malfoy had a not-so-pleasant history that involved too many slurs toward her bloodline to count and one too many nasty disputes.

She sighed to herself, making that about the 27th time she had sighed that day. "Maybe buying off these books from him will help improve our relationship." She thought to herself, trying to justify the situation. "I don't want to be mad at him forever, if Harry can forgive him, I surely can." She had decided then that she would be civil as possible towards Malfoy, she expected him to behave the same. Plus, she really wanted the books he was offering. She knew his family had a coveted collection of rare books and nice copies of popular ones. The provider who sent her her stock was pricey, he was efficient and highly recommended, but still pricey. He also had a monopoly on the business, so finding other providers was difficult. But buying these books off Malfoy would bring down the number of books she'd have to buy from her provider this month. Business wasn't bad, but it wasn't great either. A lot of wizarding businesses were in a bit of a slump the last month or so. The summer months had kids of all ages coming into the stores of Diagon Alley, but once term started a lot of incoming business stopped. Malfoy's deal was a good one, and she was willing to accept it.

Hermione pushed any thought of Draco Malfoy out of her head and instead decided to focus on the fact that she was meeting her stranger tomorrow. She had asked Hannah to come over tomorrow morning to help her get ready and also help build up her confidence. She was incredibly nervous, which she found quite off-putting as a Gryffindor, but she had never done anything like this before. What if he was a creep in real life? What if he was handsome and smart and charming and all the things he was in his letters, but there was no physical chemistry? What if he walked in, took one look at her, and left?

Hermione might have been a Gryffindor, but that did not mean that she was not insecure. She was very insecure. She had always been. Insecure about her looks, her social skills, other people's opinions about her, and even in her academic performance. She did marvelously in school, but she pushed herself so hard because she was afraid of what her peers, her teachers, and especially her parents would think of her if she didn't do as well as humanly possible. She had always been insecure when it came to feelings, specifically about boys. She hadn't known what to think of Victor Krum fourth year, she hadn't known what to do when Ron started dating Lavender Brown, and she didn't know what to do now.

She put the kettle onto boil and made her way to her bedroom. She kicked off her shoes and changed into a pair of pajamas. She had had her hair braided back all day and really didn't want to take it out as she was thankful to not have the annoyance of her curls. She slumped into a cross-legged pile against her headboard and flicked on the lamp next to her. She picked up her current read from the bedside table and opened to her bookmarked page. She had been reading The Beautiful and The Damned by F Scott Fitzgerald and she quite liked it, but at this very moment in time she found herself getting lost in the flowery language and unable to get past a paragraph she had been stuck on for about twenty minutes. Her brain was obviously very preoccupied. She tossed her book onto the bedside table and made her way out into the living room. She opened one of the glass-front cupboards flanking her television set and started scanning the many film titles on the shelf. All of them classic films, she never much liked anything else. She landed on Singin' in the Rain as it was cheery and long and she would probably be asleep by the end it, negating any insecurity or nervousness that happened to bubble to the surface. She started the film, crumpled onto the couch, and pulled the nearest blanket over herself.