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Forty Minutes by ariellem
Chapter 1 : Time Starts Now
Rating: MatureChapter Reviews: 9

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Sorry if I butchered the French language, for the record. Here are the translations.

Ma, mon, mes (feminine, before vowel, plural, all meaning my)

Sa, Son, Ses (feminine, before vowel, plural all meaning his, her it's)

Votre and Vos both mean your.




Minute One.

I stared blankly at the book that was propped up against the small pitcher of milk. Even though I had a test tomorrow on that book, I couldn’t concentrate.

It also didn’t help that the book was titled French Verbs, and anyone that knows me knows I hate French.

“Can I get you something?” asked the waiter. He sounded really tried.

“Just coffee thanks,” I answered, turning back to my book. I was determined to get through the first page.

I know, I have insane goals.

Minute Four.

“Please don’t do what you normally do,” I said pushing the door open.

“What’s that?” asked Sheldon, who was both my best mate and chaser for Puddlemere United.

I gave him the don’t-bullshit-me look. “You know what I mean, you go find some pretty girl and sit with her, leaving me with the bill.”

Sheldon raised his hands in an act of surrender. “Fine, whatever Wood.”

Minute Ten.

Ma, Mon, Tes.

Sa, Son, Ses

Something, something, Vos.

I have no clue what the next line is. And I’m still on the first paragraph, this is so humiliating, If my fellow ‘Claws saw me they’d laugh.

I looked up from my not-so-deep concentration and noticed that two guys had taken a seat a couple tables behind me.

Two cute guys.


One of them looked up and caught my eye, he smiled and I squeaked and busied myself by trying to pour milk in my coffee.

Instead I poured it on my skirt.

Damn it.

Minute Thirteen.

I had been surveying the place when I had noticed the girl sitting a couple tables behind us, I had smiled at her, but apparently she had thought I was creepy and averted her eyes.

Way to go, Wood.

Thankfully Sheldon hadn’t noticed because he had been too busy checking to see if there were any girls that he could chat up.

“Can I get you guys anything?” asked the waiter. He sounded tired.

“Coffee, thanks,” I said.

“Nothing for me,” said Sheldon, standing up. “I’m going.” He was focused on one blond sitting at the bar. Poor thing, in about five minutes she was going to have to deal with his pick-up line.

I would have said something but it was really no use. At least he didn’t leave me with the bill this time.

Minute Twenty.

Ma…what comes after ma? Cripes, now I can’t even remember the first verb in the book.

Why can’t universities offer classes like ‘Lord of the Rings 101’ or ‘The Basics in Understanding Boys’? Now those are classes I would totally take, and enjoy.

And I would also ace the Lord of the Rings class.

I put another little carton of milk in my already white coffee, and took my reading glasses off so I could look around.

As I looked up I noticed the guy that had caught me staring was looking at me, I stared back like a rat caught in the path of a subway.

He looked back down immediately; I placed back on my glasses and went back to studying.

Good going Clearwater, he probably thinks you’re a freak now.

Minute Twenty-four.

She’s got glasses, they’re this horn rimmed things. That might mean that because she wasn’t wearing them, she didn’t actually see me looking at her.

Yeah, and the Cannons will win a game.

I finally got my coffee, and drank it down. It was cold.

I looked over and saw that Sheldon was getting hit by some woman’s purse, the woman that was hitting him with it looked quite ticked off.

I laughed silently to myself.

Then before I could catch myself, I looked at her. After putting way too much milk in her coffee, she looked up as well.

She probably thinks I’m stalking her or something.

Minute Twenty-six.

I think that somewhere on the first page there was a Los, but I’m not even sure that’s French let alone what it means.

I looked over at the bar and saw some guy getting hit over the head with a woman’s purse, he looked quite put out, and I laughed quietly at him.

Another man’s pain is a woman’s comedy show, just ask anyone.

I heard someone else laugh, and looked to see that it was the guy that had caught me staring earlier. Once again, he caught my eye. Thankfully he didn’t look annoyed or anything--in fact he smiled at me.

I smiled back and mouthed a swift ‘hello.’

Minute Twenty-Eight.

She actually said hello.

I quickly mouthed a hello back, and she grinned at me. She had a nice grin, rather crooked, the left side went up much higher than the right, showing me some teeth.

It was quite nice.

My name’s Oliver,’ I mouthed quickly. I didn’t want her to lose interest.

She looked confused, and cocked her head to one side. What?’ she mouthed.

I held up a hand, trying to tell her to give me a minute. I signaled to the waiter who looked as though he had fallen asleep standing up.

“Yes.” asked the waiter. He really didn’t look happy.

“Can you take a note to that girl over there?” I asked, quickly scribbling something on the napkin.

“No,” said the waiter, annoyed. “I serve food, not love notes. This isn’t the third grade you know.”

I didn’t know what the third grade was, but I don’t think he was complimenting me on my choice of communication.

“I’ll pay you?” I said.

“How much?”

“Two pounds.”

“No way,” said the waiter. Make it five and we have a deal.”

“Fine, five, but you also have to give me her response.”

“Fair enough.”

Minute Thirty.

I was a bit confused when I saw him talking to waiter, he indicated to me and I was worried that he had been creeped out by my very cool way of saying ‘hi’ and was asking the waiter to eject me.

The waiter looked rather pissed off as he walked to me, and I was a bit apprehensive.

“Here,” he said, giving me a napkin. “This is from the dork three tables ahead of you that seems to think this is the third grade, hence the note.”

I opened up the napkin, it read.

I’m Oliver, what’s your name?

I smiled up at Oliver before writing my response. “Do you have a pen?” I asked the waiter.

He handed me one and turned back to Oliver, “this is going to cost you an extra two quid!”

I wrote quickly so the waiter- who I just noticed had very risqué pants- wouldn’t charge Oliver anymore.

I’m Pen, that’s short for Penelope. It’s nice to meet you.

Minute Thirty-four.

That waiter is ripping me off; he has to carry a pen everywhere why can’t he just give it to her free of charge?

I opened the napkin back up and read the contents. Her name was Pen, that’s rather cute. I quickly wrote back.

Pen? Like the writing tool? Do you write?

The waiter sighed like a two year old when he saw me writing again. “Why can’t you just go over there?” He whined.

“You’re getting paid for it,” I hissed, handing him the napkin.

I waited for a while as she read the note, I tailed up the cost of the notes and was happy I hadn’t ordered anything but coffee. So far I owed the waiter fourteen quid, plus tip.

The waiter returned. His annoyance was obvious, but I ignored it.

Yeah, I do, actually. I study at the university. You’re Oliver Wood, right? I’ve seen you in the Prophet.

“What’s the prophet?” Asked the waiter, reading over my shoulder.

I folded up the letter, “not for your eyes.”

Minute Thirty-Eight.

I knew I had recognized him from somewhere. We used to have potions together. It was rather funny that out of all the muggle restaurants in London both Oliver and I were in the same one.

I could see the waiter trying to read over Oliver’s shoulder and I held the urge to laugh when Oliver folded up the napkin while glaring at the waiter.

“What’s the prophet?” asked the waiter.

“Nothing,” I said, shrugging as I opened the napkin up.

The waiter looked over my shoulder, and shielded the napkin so he couldn’t see. The note had only two sentences.

Can I join you? Or are you too busy studying?

I looked over at him and nodded, indicating with my hand to join me. The waiter looked rather put out.

“That’s it?” he asked.

“No, can I get another coffee actually?” I asked.

The waiter grumbled something about ungrateful people and left.

“Hi,” said Oliver standing by my table, I looked up at him and smiled. “I’m Oliver.”

Minute Forty.

“I’m Pen, short for Penelope,” she answered, giving me another lopsided grin. “Have a seat.”


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