The Heart Wants What It Wants

8

As they made their way through the thick crowd of people standing around near the large bar area, her attention wasn't on the crowd of people around her.  It was on the way his back and shoulders strained against his thin olive-coloured t-shirt, and how goddamned tall he was.  

When he stopped at a round high table near the wall she was relieved to see that his friends looked just as warm and welcoming as he had.

"I'm James, and this is my buddy John and his girlfriend Rachel."

"Hermione," she shouted over the table at the two of them.

They each waved and began chatting among themselves again as she took a seat on the available tall chair next to James.

"They were about to head out and then you can sit on that side if you prefer."

She nodded.

"You hungry? I was about to order some food once they left."

"Starving," she admitted with a faint smile.

"I'll grab another pint and some menus.  My friend bartends this place so we won't have to wait long.  What do you drink?"

"Whatever you're having's fine," she shook her head, not caring at the moment what it tasted like.  

She just wanted something to numb herself with for a while.

He looked at her as though her response had been unusual but headed towards the bar without comment, leaving her to wonder if she should just leave while he was gone, just slip out and go home. 

Have I lost my mind?

His friend said something about it being nice to meet her over the crowd noise as they left the table and headed towards the bar as well.  She looked over her shoulder, watching as the two men said goodnight before parting ways.

Turning back around, she stared at the brick wall in front of her, contemplating her argument with Draco.  When James returned, she forced a smile of gratitude as he set a large mug of dark beer in front of her.  

He sat down beside her instead of across the table, explaining that he'd have to yell at her to be heard otherwise.   

She looked over the menu briefly and decided on something, and he returned to the bar to put their order in.  When he returned, they began making small talk while they waited.

He was easy to talk to and she seemed to have found the distraction she'd been needing as he told her about his job.  

She was interested to hear that he was a tattoo artist, half-owner of a nearby shop with his friend she'd just met, John.  Glancing down at his arm, she could see a well-done job on one arm, something she hadn't taken notice of when he'd first said hello.

She felt as though she'd bored him about her job, as he seemed to be passionate about his.  His was also a lot more interesting work than hers.  She explained that she'd been considering a new line of work and moving somewhere else recently but had been unable to make up her mind what she wanted.

He seemed surprised to hear it and leaned forward a bit to hear her better as he asked her about it.

"Do you have family somewhere else or something?  I love living here so I'm curious why you'd want to leave."

"My parents died and I'm an only child.  I have no family left."

"Oh Jesus, I'm sorry.  I didn't know."

She waved her hand dismissively and took a drink, not wanting to talk about that, of all things.

"It's alright," she set her glass down, happy to change the subject.  "What about you?  Do you have family here?"