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Of Coffee, Chats, and Carbs by NevillesSoulmate

Format: One-shot
Chapters: 1
Word Count: 1,706
Status: COMPLETED

Rating: 15+
Warnings: Mild Language, Substance Use or Abuse, Sensitive Topic/Issue/Theme

Genres: Fluff, Humor, Romance
Characters: Ron, Hermione, OC, OtherCanon
Pairings: Other Pairing, Ron/Hermione, Ron/Lavender

First Published: 06/11/2007
Last Chapter: 09/17/2007
Last Updated: 09/17/2007

Summary:
I made up some crap about Healing, and I regurgitated so many old clichés that I lost count. They were all along the lines of ‘We’ve all got to do our part’ and ‘I feel like people should help each other out’. I could have said ‘Make love, not war’ and he’d still believe it all.

Lavender never seems to get the guy, and it's a complete enigma. *Banner by Hermione Fan!*


Chapter 1: Of Coffee, Chats, and Carbs
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Why is it so hard for me to find a guy? I mean, I’m not ugly. In fact, I think I look really good! So why aren’t there guys trailing after me, following me like ants to a picnic basket?


Hermione even managed to get Ron from me, for Merlin’s sake. And who have I got?


Don’t you dare answer.


After I talk to guys for a few minutes, they just get up and leave. It’s happened many times, and it’s always so sudden and strange.


I’ll give you an example.


Last week I was in a coffee house. My boyfriend had just dumped me so I thought I needed a treat. I got a mocha something crap with three shots.


Well, I was treating myself.


His name was Brad. He was oh-so-perfect. He was a dragon tamer so he was tan and muscled. I swear to Merlin he was the perfect example of tall, dark, and handsome. And he was completely rich.


Seriously.


Like multiple-vaults-at-Gringotts-rich. He had the most expensive clothes I’ve ever seen, and that’s coming from a girl who will spend twenty galleons on shoes, sometimes even upwards of thirty. He also had a huge gold watch that didn’t tell time. He said it was a novelty, but in my experience, novelties don’t cost as much as three wands.


How can you argue with money like that?


Exactly.


You can’t.


But he could have at least been a gentleman when he dumped me, but noooooooooooooooo.


He had to tell me I was high-maintenance, cheap, and lacked taste. Whatever. Glitter is not tacky. And Merlin knows he has no fashion sense.


I was feeling pretty low, but I didn’t show it. The server came back with my drink. I took one sniff and I knew that there wasn’t nearly enough alcohol in it. I sent it back.


I noticed the server’s eyes lingered on my lips as he listened to my request for shots in my drink. He turned, and I pulled out my lip gloss and slipped it over my lips quickly to enhance their already perfect bow shape. As he walked away, my attention turned to his backside.


And I have to admit, it was nice, but not as nice as Brad’s. My eyes started to water at the thought.


I tried to hold it back, but I couldn’t help it. Soon my two-sickle mascara was running down my cheeks. Maybe I should have sprung for the water-proof kind, but I was not cheap.


The cute server returned with my coffee, which wasn’t really wasn’t coffee any more; there was too much alcohol in it.


“Here you go,” he said, setting my drink on my table for two. Sadly, it was only occupied by one.


“Thanks,” I hiccupped, my lips trembling.


“You look like you need a bar, not a coffee house,” he said in his deep voice with a kind smile. I detected a bit of an underlying Scottish accent. Merlin, I love Scottish accents.


He slipped into the empty chair across from me. He had the most direct gaze I’ve ever seen. To say the least, I was very pleased, even if I was crying violently. I’m surprised he hadn’t been scared off yet.


“This was the closest place I could find,” I said, wiping my hand under the eyes and trying to remove the black mess that used to be my mascara.


I took a sip of the coffee turned almost straight alcohol, keeping my eyes on him. His lips were perfect, and he was half smiling, like he was trying to keep from laughing at me.


“I’m a mess,” I said, smiling because of his smile. It was contagious.


“You are,” he joked. He studied my face for a moment. “You want to talk?”


“No…” I said, trailing off. I hoped he’d ask me again. I couldn’t make it seem too easy.


“Come on. If you can tell anyone, you can tell me.”


I choked back a laugh. “I just met you, and I don’t even know your name.”


“Ben,” he said, his elbows propped up on the table. Ben seemed to suit him perfectly. Short and sweet.


"Lavender."


He studied my face. "That seems right." And then flashed me another mega-watt grin.


All it took was that cute smile and his reassuring voice, and I spilled, “My boyfriend just dumped me.” I exhaled loudly. “Because I’m ugly.”


Alright. I might have been fishing for compliments, but like I said, I was feeling pretty low.


“Well, this is the first a time I’ve seen you, and despite the tears, I find you far from ugly.”


There it was, that adorable smile. It made me want to swoon. You know, like those damsels in distress.


I couldn’t get enough of that smile. I was staring at it and didn’t even realize he had said something else to me.


“Uh… Lavender?” he asked kindly.


“Er-- sorry,” I said sheepishly. “What did you say?” I still hadn’t managed to tear my eyes away.


“What do you do for a living?” Ben seemed genuinely interested. I can’t see for the life of me why.


“Oh, you know,” I shrugged, desperately searching for a good lie. I didn’t want to disappoint him since he thought I was interesting, because the truth is, working at Madam Malkin’s is the dullest job in the history of wizard kind.


“I-- er-- work as a healer?”


He actually bought it. That’s when I knew that this guy had the quality every woman should look for in a man:


He was completely, ridiculously, and utterly gullible.


“That’s so great! You’re out saving people each day, and all I do is serve coffee and pastries.” He looked at me in awe.


And, damn, it was nice.


I made up some crap about healing, and I regurgitated so many old clichés that I lost count. They were all along the lines of ‘We’ve all got to do our part’ and ‘I feel like people should help each other out’. I could have said ‘Make love, not war’ and he’d still believe it all. He must have thought I was a saint.


We-- well-- I talked a bit more about my favorite magazines and trends. I just kept going; no guy had ever been that interested in me before. I was so caught up in it, that I couldn’t stop.


And besides, I’m sure he was enjoying it.


Soon after I told him about this amazing deal I got on this no-chip, raspberry-colored nail polish, I thought I’d be considerate and ask him something about himself.


I’m just nice that way.


“What would you rather be doing?”


“What do you mean? Instead of being here with you?” He looked confused, and it was so adorable.


“No,” I said. Of course he’d rather be with me than whatever else he does.


“You said all you did was serve pastries. What would you rather do?” I surprised myself. I actually wanted to know.


Okay, maybe I just wanted to make him stay with me longer. I pretended to care; that’s got to count for something.


“My dad’s a muggle lawyer. He’s wants me to ‘follow in the old man’s footsteps’,” he said, imitating his father’s voice and smacking the table for emphasis. He broke out into another grin, making light of the fact.


I shook my head. “I asked what you wanted to do.”


He studied my face, with a curious expression. “You really want to know?”


I nodded my head. Hopefully he bought my enthusiastic act.


“Nah. You’ll laugh.” Damn, he wasn’t buying it.


“Promise,” I said sliding my chair closer to his and reaching over to grab one of his hands.


Merlin, that smile. I swear it would make your face melt right off if you had a fragment of a heart.


“Instead of serving pastries, I’d rather make them. I want to open a bakery. That’s why I work here. Hopefully, it will help me get started.” He looked at me with his adorable eyes, waiting for my approval.


“That’s nice,” I said vacantly, slurping up the last of my drink and instantly losing interest in him. Again, Ben had no idea that I could care less.


He went into this long rant about how he thought that his new recipe involving coconut-- or passion fruit, I forgot, maybe mango?-- could be really innovative.


I tried hard to keep my act up, but Merlin, was it boring. I didn’t care about pastries.


“Would you stop by if I ever opened up my own bakery?” He looked so hopeful and excited.


“I don’t eat carbs.” I shrugged and went back to slurping up the rest of my drink.


He stood up, cleared his throat, and pointed to my empty cup. “I’ll take that if you’re done with it.”


I was so confused, and he took my cup without even waiting for my answer.


See what I mean? We were getting along so well, and then-- poof! He’s gone. It’s always like this, and…


I. Just. Don’t. Get. It.


Why don’t I get the nice guys with nice behinds? Why?


A/N: I love poking fun at Lavender, and I hope you enjoyed reading it! I wonder why she doesn’t get the guys… It’s an enigma, that’s for sure. ; )

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