The elevator had always been broken. It was even written on Tom's lease. However, it had never been a real issue for Tom, he didn't mind climbing one story to reach his apartment. But on this night, Tom would have given anything for the elevator to work. He was exhausted and had a severe headache.

As he climbed up the stairs, his grocery bags becoming heavier at each step, he kept insulting his boss in his head, wanker, twat, arsehole, wanker. One story later he let the bags fall onto the floor and looked for his keys in his pocket. His cigarette pack fell on the floor, followed by his car keys. He sighed and finally rose his head towards his door.

Here it was, the fucking pink sticky note.

In order to fully understand what this sticky note means, let's go back four months before.

As Tom left his apartment on this winter morning he noticed movers outside his building. He noticed them because the large truck was parked in front of his car, preventing him from leaving.

This was the first bad impression among a lot to come. Angry, he took out a green sticky note from his bag along with a pen.

As he started walking, instead of driving, to his new job, the green paper stood out stuck onto one of the beige boxes.

- Fuck you, you and your moving truck. Ps : Welcome to the building arsehole. -

But what Tom had not thought about was that the same boxes, sans the green sticky note, were all gathered in front of his neighbour's door, on the first floor, when he came back from work.

"Fuck me." He muttered as he entered his apartment. He threw his keys in the storage pocket by the door and went directly to the fridge to grab a beer. He approached the french door leading to his little balcony, removed his shoes, carefully placed them on the left corner then lit up a cigarette.

The next morning, a pink sticky note was stuck to his front door.

-Hello neighbour, would you mind not smoking, the smoke enters my apartment and bothers me. Thanks a bunch ! 1A-

Tom carefully took the note in his right hand, inspected it, sneered and threw it on the ground.

This note had not stopped him from smoking, it actually did the opposite. Tom was quite enjoying bothering his neighbour. However, when he went outside on this night he saw what seemed like animal faeces. It was indeed animal faeces after further inspection. Tom stood and stared at the shit on his balcony. It was not from a pigeon or any bird. Then, he heard it.The cat. Meowling from the terrace belonging to his neighbour, proud of having tarnished Tom's balcony. That was how Tom started writing his own note, on his green paper.

So every single day, they left each other their complaint. 1A about his smoking habits and him (1B) about the fucking cat.

At first, they were polite and understanding, but as time went by they became ruder and threatening.

So here was Tom, looking at the pink sticky note, his car keys on the floor next to his pack of cigarettes. It simply read :

-Go die alone in a hole you and your fucking cigarettes you wanker. 1A-

Tom laughed, at least they had the same kind of insults. At first, he used to throw them away, but now he kept them, knowing he could use them a leverage one day. He picked up his belongings, opened his door, grabbed a beer from the fridge, went on his balcony and lit up a cigarette. As he put his earbuds on, he noticed that the cat had not shat here today. He checked that the light inside 1A's apartment was turned off and pressed himself to the left side of the balcony. 1A's side of the balcony.

As he blew the smoke he made sure that it went directly into the apartment. Yes, it was petty, but so were the sticky notes.

Tom simply closed his eyes and let himself enjoy the music. Suddenly, his cigarette was no longer his hand but slowly falling down into the street. He turned around.

The first thing he saw was her curly chestnut hair, then her brown eyes, then her pink lips where he could easily read "are you fucking kidding me?". Tom took out his earbuds.

"Do you even know how much a pack cost nowadays ?" He barked.

"Are you fucking serious ?" The girl almost yelled. "You were blowing your smoke inside my apartment."

"You have no proof."

"I just saw you."

"Still no proof."

She froze at that and simply looked at him. The cat was the one to break the silence. Both of their eyes fell on it. The girl put her left foot in front of her pet to stop it from going to Tom's terrace.

"It's going to shit on my balcony !" Tom pointed at the cat. It was the ugliest cat he had ever laid his eyes upon. It was chonky, ginger - closer to red - , cross-eyed and most importantly it looked like the most stupid living being on earth.

"No he's not." 1A defended her animal.

"If Satan comes, once more, on my balcony, I swear to god it's going to end up like the cigarette. One story below, dead on the pavement."

"You're a psychopath !"

"You're the mental one with your little sticky notes ! You belong in a fucking mental institution."

"You write them too."

"Just because you started…"

"Actually you did ! On my moving day !"

Tom stopped talking, because she was completely right but he would never admit it.

"Well, you…" Tom started but stopped as he heard a strange noise. Like someone was scratching something. More like something was scratching his bloody shoes. His eyes widened at the realisation and he eagerly turned around.

"Crookshanks." The girl muttered through gritted teeth. "Come back right now."

Tom picked up the cat out at arm's length.

"Don't drop him !"

"I'm not going to drop it." Tom snapped as the cat began to move in his hands.

"You're holding him wrong."

"Just take it !" He shoved the cat into her waiting arms and threw an evil glare at the chubby animal.

Tom picked up his shoes and inspected the mess Satan had just made.

"You owe me new shoes." He told the girl.

She was cuddling her pet, her eyes soft and a mocking smile on her lips. It was like she was congratulating her cat for destroying his new pair of shoes. Tom simply went back inside his apartment, violently closed the french door and exhaled.

"Fuck me. She is hot."

"So how is 1A ?" Abraxas laughed as he joined the lads in the booth.

"She's mental." Tom grumbled.

"So it's a she ?" Dolohov smirked in his thick Russian accent and shared a knowing glance with the six other boys surrounding Tom.

"Is she hot ?" Isodor asked.

"Stop talking about her. I'm trying to enjoy the night."

"So that means yes. You slightly blushed, you're currently playing with your beer tag, you…"

"Oh shut up Thorus." Tom defensively snapped.

"And you're on the defensive. Yes, she is clearly hot." Thorus laughed as he fist bump Milton Mulciber seating in front of him.

Tom simply rolled his eyes and took a sip of his beer. He had told his friends about 1A, the entire story, and they always enjoyed scheming about what Tom could do next. But he just realised that now that they knew she was hot, they would try to get him laid with 1A.

"So, what does she look like ?" Edgard Lestrange asked.

"Well, girl, hair, eyes, legs. You know." Tom shrugged.

"Come on Tom."

"What ? What do you want me to say ? That she's really pretty ? That she has beautiful eyes ? That she has legs for days and that her lips are really kissable ?"

"You sound like a girl mate." Isodor mocked him.

"Oh fuck you then."

On that Tom rose from his seat and went to the bar to order another drink. As he waited for his beer he looked at his friends and saw them chatting altogether, sometimes throwing him a little glance. They were plotting. He knew it. The bartender gave him the glass bottle and Tom nodded as a thank you.

"So, what do I do next ?" He asked the lads as he sat back with them. "Hide something on her balcony ? Like a dead fish or something ?"

The silence that followed his ideas was both embarrassing and heavy.

"What ?" Abraxas finally said. "No, no, you're not going to do any of that. You're going to be charming, buy her flowers, invite her to a nice dinner."

"Why would I even do that ?"

"To get laid mate." Dolohov laughed.

Four beers later, he left his friends at the bar and went back to his place. He had not seen any pinky notes since their altercation two days prior. Tom would not admit that he smiled when he saw it that night, nor that he was waiting for it. But he was definitely relieved. He read it.

-If I find another ash on my balcony, I swear I'm going to end you. 1A-

Tom was about to take the note but noticed that the bottom of the paper was rolled around something. A cigarette. He simply smiled.

Then Tom began his daily routine : He threw his keys in the storage pocket by the door and went directly to the fridge to grab a beer. He approached the french door leading to his little balcony, removed his shoes, carefully placed them on the left corner then lit up a cigarette.

Of course he blew the smoke inside her apartment, and made sure of leaving ashes all over her balcony.

His weekly "date" with Olive Hornby had just finished. Tom put back his clothes on, nodded at the naked girl on the bed and simply left her apartment. He cursed as he saw that it was raining outside. Thankfully she was not living far from his place and he simply had to walk a couple of minutes to join his own apartment complex. As usual, it was there. Tom took it to read it inside, sheltered from the rain. Once he was on his balcony, a cigarette on his lips, he read it. It was simple, witty, funny and threatening. Tom smiled to himself.

"You do like them." He heard from his left. Tom startled a bit and turned his head to see her sitting on a chair, her cat on her lap and her eyes filled with malice.

"Maybe I do." He smiled. She smiled back.

"Would mind smoking on the other side of the balcony ?" She asked him. Tom sighed but obeyed.

There was a reason why he always smoked on the left side, apart from bothering her, the right side was obstructed by several pieces of furniture. Tom tried to get comfortable but failed, so he finally decided on leaning against the guardrail.

"What are you reading ?" He asked. She lifted her head and closed her book.

"In Search of Lost Time."

"Proust ? Really ?"

"What do you have against Proust ?"

"It's boring."

"No it's not. It's beautifully written. Exquisite vocabulary, profound…"

"Profoundly boring." He cut her.

"Yes it is boring." She snorted. "But I promised my best friend I would read it."

"You should change your best friend."

She laughed at that and Tom couldn't help but smile a little at the delightful sound. Tom realised at this moment, as she carefreely laughed, her head slightly falling back, that she was not only hot, but simply beautiful.

"So what's your name ? Or should I keep calling you 1A ?"

"You haven't checked ?" She genuinely asked.

"Check what ?"

"My letterbox."

"Oh…" Tom realised that he could have done that month prior. But he also realised that she had checked. "So you've looked for my name, on the letterbox."

She looked at him. "Yes I did Tom. I couldn't keep calling you wanker."

"Fair enough." Tom laughed. "But I still don't know your name."

1A rose up and approached the guardrail separating their two balconies. He mirrored her and they stood in front of each other. She put out her hand above it.

"Hermione."

He took her hand and smiled.

"Hermione." He repeated.

She was not on the balcony when he went home that night. It had become a little routine. They would meet each night on their respective terrace and talk. She would still ask him to smoke on the right side and he would still complain about the cat. But she would fondly smile at him when he pouted about not being comfortable and he would laugh at her witty remarks. And maybe he had petted her cat once. Maybe.

He exhaled the white smoke and tipped his head towards the night sky. His day had been long, too long. Tom was currently wondering why he was still working there, he couldn't stand his coworkers, his boss was a pain in the arse and the job in itself was not even interesting.

"Have you eaten yet ?" He heard Hermione asked her in a hurry.

He turned his head and saw her, just her head poking out.

"Hello to you too." He snorted.

"Answer me. Have you eaten yet ?" She pressed him.

"No I haven't."

"Good." She went back inside her apartment, leaving a puzzled Tom behind. She came back a couple of seconds later with several containers of Chinese food. She put them on her small table.

"You are quite hungry." Tom snorted.

"Ron was supposed to eat here so I ordered for three, because he eats like two, and he just bailed on me."

Tom didn't know what to answer.

"The one that gave you the book ?" He tried to sound casual.

"No that's Harry."

Tom nodded. Cool cool cool he thought to himself.

"Do you have a chair in your apartment ?" She asked him. Tom was still lost in his thoughts, trying to find out who this Ron could be.

"Sorry ?" He blurted out.

"A chair. To sit on."

"Oh yes, yes."

He went inside to fetch one.

"Do you want a beer ?" He shouted for her to hear.

"Yes please."

He grabbed two and settle in front of her, only the guardrail separating them. She handed him some noodles with chopsticks and they began eating.

"So how did you meet this Ron ?" Tom finally asked, his eyes stuck on his food.

"We've always been together, since pre-school."

Cool, cool, cool.

"We kinda followed each other from pre-school to uni." She continued.

Cool, cool, cool.

"Do you want to try mine ?" She offered. Tom rose his head and saw her casually sitting on her chair, smiling at him.

"Sure." Tom was uneasy. His mind kept going back to Ron. What was he like ? What did he look like ? He needed answers. "How is it going then ?"

"It's getting quite long now. But you know I like it, I can really see myself in the future continuing like that."

They're going to get fucking married. Cool, cool, cool. Tom was only nodding, unable to speak more about the subject.

"Tom."

He didn't answer and kept his eyes on his Chinese box.

"Tom. Tom. Tom."

He finally looked at her. Hermione had put both of her chopsticks in her mouth and mimicked a walrus. He burst out laughing. She laughed along. As he looked at her, he realised that he was fucked.

Abraxas Malfoy had insisted on joining Tom grocery shopping with Dolohov. He could hear the Russian doing god knows what behind them as they walked in the alleys. They stopped in front of the wines.

"I'm fucked." Tom told his friend.

"What ?"

"I'm fucked Abraxas. Don't you understand ? She has a boyfriend."

"Oh, you're talking about 1A."

"Of course I am talking about her ! You've put the idea in my head that I could get laid with her, so I thought why not, I got to know her and of course she is not only fit and beautiful but funny, intelligent, witty and has a fucking boyfriend."

Abraxas and Antonin stared, both of them quite taken aback by the little speech their best friend gave them. Tom took the bottle of wine, the fruity pink wine, and put it in his trolley.

"You picked the wrong wine." Antonin Dolohov pointed out.

"No I didn't. It's her favourite."

"Oh man, you're clearly fucked." Abraxas patted his back.

When he went outside that evening, he saw her writing on a pink sticky note. He delicately closed the french door behind him, and leaned against it, watching her writing him a witty note.

"Is that for me ?" He finally asked after thirty seconds.

"Christ." She jumped with surprise and try to hide the note with her hand. "Why are you home this early ?"

"Is that for me ?" He repeated cheekily.

"No it's for 1C, of course it's for you, you twat. There are still ashes on my balcony Tom."

"And Satan is still mistaking my balcony for his litter. So, what does it say ?" He put both of his elbow on the guardrail separating them and tried to catch a glimpse of the note.

"You'll see when you get it…" She started but she began coughing. A lot. She stood up and went to the other side of the balcony. "Have you put lavender on yourself ?"

"What ?"

"Lavender. I'm allergic."

"Hum, yeah my friend sprayed something on me at the pub…"

"Fuck me. I hate this smell, on top of being allergic it always reminds me of Lavender Brown. I hate her. But she's Ron's girlfriend so I'm supposed to like her." She said between coughs.

"Wait what ? What did you say ?"

"I'm allergic to lavender."

"No, no I got that, after. You're not Ron's girlfriend ?"

"What ? God no."

"I've been thinking that for months for fuck sake Hermione !" Tom got a bit mad.

Hermione just looked at him. "Is it about last time ? I was talking about my classes at Uni. I'm tired of them, but I see myself becoming a lawyer in the future." She stopped for a second and a big smile appeared on her lips "That's why." Tom furrowed his brows, encouraging her to keep explaining. "That's why you've never asked me on a date."

Tom stopped moving, he just kept looking at her. His mind was rushing, ask her, I'm going to ask her out, she's single, god she's single.

"Well ?" She said after a little while. "I'm waiting, Tom."

"Yeah, I, well, yes." Tom stuttered. Hermione laughed at his flushed face.

"I would love to go on a date with you Tom." She sneezed. "But take a shower first."

The next morning, Tom felt good. Really good. He closed the door and locked it before noticing the pink sticky note.

-Take a good look at the ashes you spread on my balcony Tom, because it's gonna be you soon once I'm done burning you down.-

Just below this charming note, Tom could see something that she had added in a hurry, written with another pen.

-Thanks again for the date. I really loved it. 1A-

Tom stood there, in the middle of the two doors, smiling to himself. He hastened to take out a green sticky note and a pen.

-Tonight, meet me on your balcony at 8 P.M-

Tom had left early, he had called Milton after leaving the note this morning and had practically begged him to help him cook.

While his friend was finishing cooking the chicken, Tom took care of readying the balcony. He had the idea of putting a wooden board on the guardrail, he then covered it with a white cloth.

Tom went back inside and heard his neighbour entering her apartment.

"Milton, fuck off." Tom hurried his friend.

"What ? But the chicken is not done yet."

"I'll take care of that. Thanks mate."

Tom hurried back outside and saw her, grinning. She was wearing a red summer dress.

"Hi."

"Hi."

They both sat down. They laughed, Tom couldn't remember the last time he had laughed that much.

Her laugh was warm and contagious. It reminded him of the first summer nights, when the cold gives way to the warmth, when the nights are not so dark anymore.

And her smell, god her smell. The citrus scent of happiness and youth. The smell Tom wouldn't mind falling asleep to for the rest of his life.

Her eyes, glittering with malice and fondness when she looked at him.

The way she talked as much with her body as with her mouth. The way she leaned towards him unconsciously as if she needed to always be closer. The way he needed her to be always closer.

Her, simply her, in all of her glory. The allegory of beauty.

"Tom ?"

Tom lightly shook his head to tear himself from his thoughts.

"What ? Sorry."

She laughed. She always laughed.

"I was wondering when you'll ask me to come over." She smiled.

"Would you like to come over, Hermione ?"

"I might."

A door violently closing woke him up. He put his hand on the other side of the bed, trying to find her, but she wasn't there. The bed was still warm though, the sheets still messy from their night. He sat up and slowly opened his eyes. The room was basked in the early light of the sun. 7:00 AM. Tom went to put his hand through his hair when he felt it, stuck to his forehead. A pink sticky note.

-I had a lovely evening. Next time, I cook and you come over. I'll call you during the day. PS : I'm already late for work, I have to take my car. Thanks a bunch wanker. Don't you dare steal my parking spot. Hermione -

Tom fell back asleep to the scent of citrus.

Two weeks. He hadn't seen her, or heard from her in two weeks. He had waited that day, she hadn't called. So he had waited for her on his balcony, she hadn't come. He had heard the cat, meowling but she never went outside. She never went outside anymore.

At first, he wondered what he had done wrong. He recalled every single thing they did together to find out when he messed up.

Then, he became angry. He could hear the doors, steps, someone living in this apartment. Yet, she never went outside anymore.

He left her sticky notes. She didn't anymore.

He was outside, smoking. Tom told himself that he was not waiting for her anymore, yet every night he stood on his balcony, stealing glances at hers.

"Hi." A small voice said. Tom turned his head.

"Hi." He answered then put out his cigarette and was ready to get back inside.

"Wait. I'm sorry."

"You're sorry ? Ok. And what am I supposed to do with that ?"

"Don't be like that Tom. It has nothing to do with you."

She was as pretty as she was two weeks prior. Her eyes were still sparkling and she was wearing the same dress she wore the last time he saw her, as if she was taunting him.

"Nothing to do with me ?" Tom repeated, anger slowly rising in his guts. "Why didn't you call then ? Why did you leave ? Two weeks. I haven't seen you in two weeks. You've been avoiding me for two fucking weeks Hermione. Or should I call you 1A ? It's not like we mean something to each other, right ?"

"You're acting like a child..."

"Like a child ? You've been ghosting me for two weeks, and I am the child ?"

They both stopped talking, lost in their thoughts.

"Why are you here ?" Tom finally asked.

"I'm here for you."

"For me ?" He lit up another cigarette. "I don't need you. You can leave. You have my blessing." Tom spat. "You can fuck whoever you want. Yes, I've heard the voices. The male voices inside your apartment. I was just another notch on your belt."

"Tom…"

"Tell me I'm wrong."

She just looked at him.

He came back home after work with a precise idea in his head. He went directly for the balcony and saw her already there, waiting for him.

"Let's start over." He started. "You're 1A, I'm 1B. Tom, Hermione. I smoke, you don't like that. You have a cat, I don't like it. That's from where we start again. How about that ?"

"We can't and you know it." She answered.

"No, I don't. Explain it. You're the one who started flirting with me. You're the one who wanted to come over. You're the one who started this entire thing with your sticky notes."

"Actually you did ! On my moving day !" She retorted in the firmest voice he had heard for days.

Tom was taken aback.

"I feel like we keep having the same conversations." He realised.

"Because you do."

Olive Hornby was currently sleeping in his bed. He couldn't stand the idea of laying next to her. It didn't feel right. So he went outside, to clear his head and smoke a cigarette.

"Had a fun night ?"

He snorted at her comment.

"So you avoided me for two weeks and now I can't even have a moment alone without you. Leave already."

"Do you really want that ?"

He turned his head and noticed that her skin looked paler under the moonlight. She didn't have the same sparkle in her eyes as she used to. She seemed tired.

"I had a fun night actually." Tom spoke up.

"You're lying to yourself." She snorted. "You'd be with her if it were the case. Seems like you can't forget me." She answered in a soft voice.

"You can't say things like that." He snapped.

"It's just the truth Tom. And you know it"

"Stop playing with me !" He took a step back and faced her. "Why do you keep coming to the balcony ?"

She stayed silent.

"Why do you keep coming to the balcony if you don't want to be with me anymore ?" He repeated, a little louder this time.

She just kept looking at him.

"Say something !" He barked.

"I should leave."

She turned around.

"Don't ! I-"

But she already left.

Tom was sat against the wall, the guardrail on his left.

"I'm crazy. I think I'm going crazy." Tom stated.

"Seems like I'm not the only one who belongs in a mental institution." Hermione snorted in a small voice.

He looked at her. She seemed so far away. She was tired, her eyes were dull, her lips were not a pink as he remembered. And she never laughed anymore.

"Why don't you laugh anymore ?" He asked her. "You used to laugh so much. That's what made me fall in love with you. You were so full of life. Always laughing, always had something to say. Now it just feels like I'm the only one talking. Like I'm talking to myself."

A silence settled between them.

"Am I crazy ?" He whispered.

"Why do you say that ?"

"Because I'm still talking to you."

"You can always talk to me."

"No. Not like that."

He sadly smiled at her.

"If I could go back in time, to that night, I would do so much more. First, we wouldn't have stayed in. I would have shown you my favourite part of the city, you would have shown me yours. We would have gone to a library, because you're a dork. Then we would have gone to my favourite bar and I would have offered you a glass of your favourite fruity wine. Hell the bottle if you wanted it ! Then you would have met my friends, and they would have loved you. Because, what's not to love ? Finally we would have come back to your place. You leave earlier for work, it seems logical. Because you wouldn't have been late then, you would have walked to work like you usually did instead of taking the car. And I would have spent the night basking in the smell of citrus."

His eyes filled with tears.

"I miss it." He repeated several times. "I miss you. But I think we should go our separate ways."

"Do you want that ?"

Tom looked at her one last time. She wasn't even looking like herself anymore, he couldn't even really remember what she looked like anymore.

"How do people who've seen ghost really know they're seeing ghosts ? Maybe they're just all crazy." He sighed taking a drag on his cigarette, Hermione leaning closer, a worried expression on her face.

"I used to want to see a ghost. Then, I thought I did, but maybe… Maybe I just went crazy instead."

"Why do you say that ? Why you would want to see a ghost ?" She asked.

"I guess I've always hoped I could see someone who had died. Someone I cared about." He said glumly.

"Like me ?" She murmured.

He looked at her balcony. He looked at the wilted flowers that used to be full of life, because she took care of them. He looked at the windows, that hadn't been open for weeks now, since Ron and Harry came to move out her furniture. He then looked at the floor, the one she used to clean every single day because he had the habit of spreading his cigarette's ashes on it. Now it had not been cleaned for a month.

Finally, he looked at where she was a couple of minutes before. She wasn't there anymore.

"Yeah, like you."