Hermione was calmly sitting in her bookstore. She had a book propped open on her lap, sipping coffee on a cold winter day. As she reached for the mug, she took notice for the millionth time the writing on her wrist. It was the knife's fault. She had pondered over these words her whole life. Every person who was ever born had. Your soulmates first words were inked onto your body from birth, and they could not be removed. Hermione had gone through many scenarios, none of them sounding good with this particular sentence.

As she read, she imagined again what her soulmate would look like. She smiled at the thought. If only she could meet him. Hermione wasn't an exceptionally pretty girl. Her brown hair often went a little crazy, and she didn't bother to wear too much makeup. She never went out anyway. All her afternoons, and evenings, and nights, were spent in her bookstore, either reading or selling books. Needless to say, it's not like she was actively looking for her soulmate. She turned her attention back to her book, just as a boy stumbled into her shop, breathing hard.

The boy had striking black hair and vibrant green eyes, and he glanced at Hermione from behind glasses that framed the his face. He was wearing a red and gold scarf, with a black hoodie and dark jeans. He looked around 21, just a little older than Hermione. He leaned against the door, then brought his arm around his body. His forearm had a deep gash in it and was bleeding profusely. Hermione screamed.

"Don't get blood on the carpet!" She rushed over to the boy and led him across the room to her desk.

"It was the knife's fault." His voice was deep and exasperated, and it shook with pain. Hermione ran around the other side of the desk and fished a First Aid Kit out of the cupboard.

"Here, put your arm up here." The boy rested his bloody arm on the desk, and Hermione did her best to stop the bleeding. "What happened to you?" He looked up at her.

"I was on my way to work, cutting through an alley a few blocks away. The next thing I knew, a guy dressed in all black came out of bloody nowhere, knifed me, and then took off."

It was the knife's fault.

Hemione jerked her arm up. There were the first words this boy had said to her. Right on her arm. She slowly looked back to the boy.

"What's your name?"

"Harry. Harry Potter. Why do you look so..." He trailed off, noticing her arm held aloft. He looked at his bloody arm, and wiped a bit of blood of his wrist. There were the words.

Don't get blood on the carpet!

Harry looked back at Hermione.

"I'm Hermione Granger." She smiled at him and couldn't help but laugh. He laughed too, and then they looked back at each other. "Well, it'd be best to get you to a hospital now.." Harry grinned and stood up.

"You're probably right." Hermione grabbed his good arm and they set down the road toward the hospital.