A Witch Out of Time

「 chapter two 」

The abrupt interjection provoked a rapid flinch from Hermione. She, similar to fellow before her, glared over her shoulder. Hostility roused due to another factor panicking her. Perceiving it was just a boy, she sighed. A kind simper emerged across coral lips and the girl remained courteously silent. Brown eyes returned to the desk, but not before they discreetly inspected the damp individual: umber strands strayed from his flattened hair and moisture somewhat glistened across his freckled features.

"Do you even own enough pocket money for that, squirt?" The other male gnarled. Dismissively looking back into his newspapers, he clearly showed the two that they were unwelcome.

Edmund balled his fists.

"I certainly do," The teen clenched his jaw. Now that he had started, he couldn't stop himself anymore. Fishing a note out of his pocket, he slapped it on the table's surface, "Also, can't you tell she's not from here? How dare you ignore her if she's clearly looking for a place to stay!"

"I own a bookstore not a tourist information guide! Thanks for your business, kid, but you can get the hell out'a here!"

Hermione shied from the heat of the confrontation, teeth sinking into her inner cheeks, and the boy furiously egressed.

Edmund refused to put up with such an unenlightened being, but then he recalled the mysterious female; he cursed under his breath. At least the sky's clearing up, the king thought to himself, as a bead of rain dripped from his lashes. A few moments later Hermione followed. He deserved, at the least, recognition for defending her — plus the wizard was well aware she had outstayed her welcome. She staggered outside and tenderly smiled.

"Thank you — for that. It was incredibly selfless," She asserted. She was surprised he was still about.

The male somewhat reminded her of Ron, although he wouldn't be caught dead in a bookstore; and Harry, even if he wouldn't raise his tone like this boy had.

"You wouldn't happen to be more help than that gentleman, would you? Do you know of anywhere I could stay?"

His head tilted forth in a brief nod. He could easily be more helpful than the bloke inside the bookstore.

"I can be a lot more help, actually. There's a cheap hostel not too far from the station. I can take you there if you'd like?" Sir Arthur was slipped into the brown satchel over the boy's shoulder and he smiled, "Oh, and, I'm Edmund."

          "Like the poet?" Hermione quickly referred to that of Edmund Spenser, a muggle poet — to anyone's knowledge — who she had once discovered when researching the royal family. He was the first person she had met with the distinct name, and probably wasn't aware of Spenser considering the internet hadn't been invented yet, "— Um, never mind."

He'd most likely heard Susan talk about his more or less famous name bearer but right now, Edmund didn't have the slightest idea as to who Hermione was talking about. He probably should've payed more attention to Susan's boring literature lectures back in Professor Kirke's manor. This girl was intelligent, probably a fan of literature, too (there actually existed people besides his sister!).

          "I'm Hermione, and I'd like to take you up on that offer, Edmund," Her hand politely outstretched and met he his palm in an apt and feeble shake. His hand was cold — like the brunette expected hers to be. A coy smiled danced on her lips. A cheap hostel suited, but it wasn't cheap enough for her. Then again she wouldn't be leaving 1947 anytime soon.