Cored

Chapter 4: Prefer the Dark

Katherine looked at herself in the mirror. She had already taken off and reapplied her makeup, though it looked nearly identical. She brushed her hair again, settling on pulling the top up to at least keep it from her face. She changed into a black skirt and a grey long-sleeved shirt, though she didn't know why—the woman had already seen her in jeans and a t-shirt. But it felt wrong to meet her for dinner like that.

She looked at her phone—5:54. Too soon? she thought. Then again, I don't want her to be waiting for me. What if she leaves? Katherine tried to shove her overthinking aside, picking up her backpack and walking downstairs.

Mark was sitting in his booth as usual, only one friend with him this time. He looked Katherine up and down. "Oi, American. Trying to impress someone?" He laughed, jabbing his elbow into his buddy to get him to laugh along. Katherine just rolled her eyes, smoothing down her skirt.

She sat at a table close to the front, trying to distance herself from Mark. But, it felt weird to not be at the bar. Trying to distract herself, she pulled out her phone, which read 5:56. She looked around anxiously.

Suddenly, she was overcome with questions, and began chewing on her cheek and twisting her ring. What if the woman stood her up? What if she knew nothing? What if she was angry and was going to tell her to stay away from the red headed hill family? What if she was going to con her in some way? There were suddenly too many possibilities, and Katherine longed for the steady solitude of her flat clearing in the hills. She needed it, every thought racing through her head.

Barely recognizing what she was doing, hoping only to be able to hold herself together until she made it to the hills, she gathered up her bag and raced out the door. She pulled the bag over her shoulders, put her head down, and started up the road at a faster clip than normal. She wished she wasn't in this stupid skirt, but she plowed ahead anyways. So determined, she didn't see the pair walking towards her, so engrossed in their bickering that they didn't see the bundle of nerves tumbling their direction.

That is, until that little bundle plowed right into the man.

Katherine looked up, ready to apologize quickly and continue on her path, but she found herself staring into the face she recognized from staring at it for six months. Of course, this version was much taller, towering over her. His face wasn't smiling now as it was in the picture and seemed older. The hair was longer and pulled over one side more than the other, but unmistakably the same color. The eyes didn't have the same twinkle and care, now only deep confusion and . . . maybe a hint of recognition?

"Hermione, what's going on here?" he asked, turning to the curly haired woman to his left.

"Katherine," she said softly, "would you show him the photograph?"

Katherine stumbled to open her bag, pulling out the notebook and pulling free the old polaroid. She looked at it again, confirming that her memory wasn't betraying her, before handing it to the man. He took the photograph gingerly, looking down at it with surprise.

"George . . ." Hermione said, "I think you two have some things to discuss." And, without another word, she turned on her heel and walked back up the road and over the hill.

Katherine looked up, starting to piece somethings together though not saying them out loud. George looked back at her, seeming to do the same thing. He quietly handed the photo back to her, and she put it back in the notebook.

"Well," George said after a moment, "Hermione said something about dinner?"

Katherine looked up at him, surprised that in the mass of questions she was asking herself and assumed he was as well, he chose to ask about dinner. Rather than respond, she simply turned and walked towards the pub, pausing for only a moment before realizing that he was following her.