RP: Laundry Day
Date: January 14, 2005
Character(s): Cedric, Crookshanks, Hermione
Location: The bookshop
Status: Private
Summary: Cedric has a mountain of laundry, and makes a discovery. Hermione is sleeping in her office.
Completion: Complete
It was a beautiful winter day, and Cedric couldn't help but be pleased that his day off had coincided with good weather. It semed only fair that he'd catch a break sometime. The sun was shining and it was warm enough that he could go out without a cloak or jacket, just a sweatshirt.
--which was a good thing, as most of his clothes were dirty, which meant it was laundry day. Hermione and shown him the Muggle-style washer and dryer in the shop that he (and Roger) could use. It was far better than spending time after work in an Exeter laundromat. Shoving his clothes into the dirty bag and snagging his detergent, he headed up to the shop-cum-house.
He'd just finished loading the whites and was picking up the book he'd brought to read in the sunshine while waiting when he heard an odd mewl from the utility room door and glanced around.
A puffy-furred pug-faced ginger cat sat there, blinking at him as if to say, 'What are you doing here?' -- rather the same thing Cedric was wondering. Was this ... Crookshanks? But Hermione had said he was old and wouldn't leave their house, leaving Zen the run of the forest and yard. A stray then? Yet the cat seemed too relaxed to be a stray, as if it belonged here and he, Cedric, didn't. But when he moved forward, it rose and back up some steps. "Huh," he said and squatted down by the washing machine, holding out a hand. "Ststst," he called, tongue behind teeth, "come say hello."
The cat did nothing, just settled down by the door on its haunches to watch. There was something about its face that made him think it had some kneazle blood, and hadn't Hermione mentioned that Crookshanks did? He was content to wait and watch. Cats (and kneazles) required patience. It watched him and he watched it, blinking slowly to relax it: cat language for 'I'm not a threat.' After a few minutes, it's own gold eyes grew less wide and it blinked slowly back, settling down more securely on its haunches and tucking paws.
He held out his hand and tried again, "Come say hello. You are Crookshanks aren't you?"
The cat considered, then finally deigned to stand and shuffle over, sniffing his fingers before allowing him to scratch under its -- his -- chin and around the ears. "What are you doing over here anyway?" Cedric asked him, but the cat's only reply was a low purr. "Where's your mistress? Or should I say your personal servant?" He grinned.
Rising to his feet, he wandered into the shop. "Hermione?" There was no answer. Crookshanks didn't follow, just blinked after. "Hermione?"
Nobody appeared to be around. The shelves were there, but not set up with books. The whole place looked much better than even when he'd seen it. It looked like a shop now. Curious, he headed upstairs to see what she'd accomplished there, and it appeared in much the same shape as the downstairs, well on the way towards shop-ness. "Hermione?"
He poked his head in her office, which was open. There was her desk, the computer, some shelves with books -- but no Hermione.
There was also a bag of clothes and some blankets on the floor. He scratched his head and went over to look in the bag. They appeared to be women's clothes and ... and that was a bra. Pale blue cotton. His fingers trailed over it and then he rolled his eyes at himself. It wasn't as if he hadn't seen a woman's bra or knickers before -- hadn't washed them, himself in the laundry. But it was a bit different coming on them unexpectedly, and those of a woman he found attractive. He could feel the blood pool in his groin and pulled his hand back.
Frowning, he studied the blankets. They appeared to have been slept in.
And Hermione's clothes were here.
And Ron had said they'd had a fight.
Had she moved out? And if so, was it just for a few days or more permanently? But she couldn't live here, could she? And would she really want to live apart from Ron and Harry? Turning, still frowning, he headed back downstairs.
Character(s): Cedric, Crookshanks, Hermione
Location: The bookshop
Status: Private
Summary: Cedric has a mountain of laundry, and makes a discovery. Hermione is sleeping in her office.
Completion: Complete
It was a beautiful winter day, and Cedric couldn't help but be pleased that his day off had coincided with good weather. It semed only fair that he'd catch a break sometime. The sun was shining and it was warm enough that he could go out without a cloak or jacket, just a sweatshirt.
--which was a good thing, as most of his clothes were dirty, which meant it was laundry day. Hermione and shown him the Muggle-style washer and dryer in the shop that he (and Roger) could use. It was far better than spending time after work in an Exeter laundromat. Shoving his clothes into the dirty bag and snagging his detergent, he headed up to the shop-cum-house.
He'd just finished loading the whites and was picking up the book he'd brought to read in the sunshine while waiting when he heard an odd mewl from the utility room door and glanced around.
A puffy-furred pug-faced ginger cat sat there, blinking at him as if to say, 'What are you doing here?' -- rather the same thing Cedric was wondering. Was this ... Crookshanks? But Hermione had said he was old and wouldn't leave their house, leaving Zen the run of the forest and yard. A stray then? Yet the cat seemed too relaxed to be a stray, as if it belonged here and he, Cedric, didn't. But when he moved forward, it rose and back up some steps. "Huh," he said and squatted down by the washing machine, holding out a hand. "Ststst," he called, tongue behind teeth, "come say hello."
The cat did nothing, just settled down by the door on its haunches to watch. There was something about its face that made him think it had some kneazle blood, and hadn't Hermione mentioned that Crookshanks did? He was content to wait and watch. Cats (and kneazles) required patience. It watched him and he watched it, blinking slowly to relax it: cat language for 'I'm not a threat.' After a few minutes, it's own gold eyes grew less wide and it blinked slowly back, settling down more securely on its haunches and tucking paws.
He held out his hand and tried again, "Come say hello. You are Crookshanks aren't you?"
The cat considered, then finally deigned to stand and shuffle over, sniffing his fingers before allowing him to scratch under its -- his -- chin and around the ears. "What are you doing over here anyway?" Cedric asked him, but the cat's only reply was a low purr. "Where's your mistress? Or should I say your personal servant?" He grinned.
Rising to his feet, he wandered into the shop. "Hermione?" There was no answer. Crookshanks didn't follow, just blinked after. "Hermione?"
Nobody appeared to be around. The shelves were there, but not set up with books. The whole place looked much better than even when he'd seen it. It looked like a shop now. Curious, he headed upstairs to see what she'd accomplished there, and it appeared in much the same shape as the downstairs, well on the way towards shop-ness. "Hermione?"
He poked his head in her office, which was open. There was her desk, the computer, some shelves with books -- but no Hermione.
There was also a bag of clothes and some blankets on the floor. He scratched his head and went over to look in the bag. They appeared to be women's clothes and ... and that was a bra. Pale blue cotton. His fingers trailed over it and then he rolled his eyes at himself. It wasn't as if he hadn't seen a woman's bra or knickers before -- hadn't washed them, himself in the laundry. But it was a bit different coming on them unexpectedly, and those of a woman he found attractive. He could feel the blood pool in his groin and pulled his hand back.
Frowning, he studied the blankets. They appeared to have been slept in.
And Hermione's clothes were here.
And Ron had said they'd had a fight.
Had she moved out? And if so, was it just for a few days or more permanently? But she couldn't live here, could she? And would she really want to live apart from Ron and Harry? Turning, still frowning, he headed back downstairs.