She struggled to swallow the strange liquid, then quickly handed the bottle back to Caesar. Her small face was full of forced politeness and unmistakable embarrassment.
"It has a very distinctive taste, but I don't think I'm used to it."
Caesar saw her struggling between wanting to speak her mind and trying to hold back, and couldn't help laughing softly.
He took the bottle without a fuss and tipped it back for a drink, looking as content as if he were savoring the finest wine.
"Looks like it's not to your taste. No matter; everyone has their own preferences. By the way, my name is Caesar Habs. You can just call me Caesar."
"Come along, Miss Granger," he said, returning to his usual composure. "Let me keep my promise and take you home. What's your address?"
"Wendell and Monica Granger's Home, in Hampstead," Hermione answered instinctively, then blinked in surprise.
"Wait! How did you know my last name was Granger? I don't think I told you."
The situation had been too urgent to think about it earlier, but now that she was safe, her sharp mind immediately picked up on the inconsistency.
Caesar's steps faltered almost imperceptibly. Then he turned his head and gave her a faint, meaningful smile.
A ray of sunlight happened to break through a gap in London's ever-present clouds, glinting in his deep-set eyes.
"At the station, your mother called to your father, and I heard the name 'Granger.'
"As for your name, little Hermione... your father shouted it in his distress. I've always had good hearing."
The explanation made perfect sense.
Hermione said, "Oh," and seemed to accept it, but the faintest trace of doubt lingered in her mind.
She quickened her pace to catch up, gazing at the young man's tall, somewhat mysterious figure ahead.
A thought circled in her quick mind:
There seemed to be a veil of mystery surrounding this Caesar Habs.
He was unusually calm, his drink was incredibly strange, and his appearance and timely help had been almost too much of a coincidence.
Even so, he had helped her.
Hermione Granger had always been fair about giving credit where it was due.
"Then, Caesar,"
She jogged a couple of steps to walk beside him, her tone earnest.
"To repay you for helping me—and to apologize for not being able to properly appreciate that drink—maybe I could treat you to a glass of real juice sometime?"
Caesar looked down at her. Sincerity and intelligence shone in the girl's brown eyes, and his smile deepened a little.
"I'd like that," he replied warmly. "I'm looking forward to it."
London was known as the "city of fog," and its weather could change in an instant. Before long, dark clouds filled the sky and thunder rumbled in the distance.
Fortunately, Caesar followed the address in time and brought Hermione to the door of a neat Victorian townhouse in Hampstead.
Before they could ring the bell, they heard anxious voices inside, followed by the sound of a telephone receiver being put down with a thud.
Hermione ran up and knocked. "Mum! Dad! I'm home!"
The door was wrenched open almost at once, and Mrs. Granger pulled her daughter into a tight embrace, her eyes red-rimmed.
"Hermione! Good heavens, where have you been? We were beside ourselves with worry!"
Mr. Granger came right behind her, relief written all over his face. As he patted his wife's back to comfort her, he looked at the young man standing quietly outside.
"This is Mr. Caesar Habs. He helped me."
Hermione lifted her head from her mother's arms and hurried to explain. "With everything so chaotic at the station, he got me out of there safely."
The Grangers' attention immediately turned to Caesar, their gratitude heartfelt.
A uniformed police officer came out of the house as well, notebook in hand. They had clearly been reporting what happened.
"Young man, thank you again!" Mr. Granger stepped forward and gripped Caesar's hand firmly.
"The station was a complete mess. After we got separated, we couldn't find Hermione anywhere, and we were frantic! Thank you for bringing her back safe and sound!"
"It was the least I could do, sir."
Caesar inclined his head slightly, his manner impeccable and his composure beyond his years. "In that situation, anyone would have helped a young girl in need."
His courtesy and calm left the Grangers with an excellent impression of him.
Mrs. Granger wiped away the tears at the corners of her eyes and warmly invited him in. "Please, come inside and sit for a while. Let us thank you properly. We're just about to have dinner, so you must stay!"
Caesar's gaze swept discreetly over the interior: warm, tidy, and full of the comforts of a Muggle middle-class home. Hermione's awards hung on the wall, and the bookshelves were packed with books.
He offered a perfectly measured smile, tinged with apology. "Thank you very much for your kind offer. It's extraordinarily generous of you, but I'm afraid I shouldn't intrude on your family reunion for too long."
"No, no, you're not intruding at all!" Mr. Granger insisted. "You saved our daughter. A home-cooked meal is nowhere near enough to express our gratitude. Please, stay!"
Faced with the Grangers' heartfelt, warm insistence and Hermione's hopeful gaze, Caesar finally "reluctantly" agreed.
Dinner was a very pleasant affair.
At the table, Caesar's manners were impeccable, and his conversation revealed a breadth of knowledge and sharp reasoning.
The Grangers were quietly impressed and grew even more fond of the well-mannered young man.
The Grangers were warm and talkative. They asked Caesar some basic questions, such as where he lived and whether he was studying or already working.
Caesar's answers were cautious and understated. He mentioned only that he had recently come to England from the United States and was currently a historian.
He had come to England partly for his academic research and partly because he had heard about the newly discovered Roman ruins in Exeter.
He would be staying in London for the next few months and traveling to various places to conduct research.
The Grangers believed him without question, since what he said matched recent news reports.
When they learned he had not yet found a permanent place to live, they immediately recommended a cottage next to their own townhouse that was available for rent.
The economy was in a slump and rents in London were steep. Caesar was so young that he probably didn't have much in savings, so they saw this as a way to repay his kindness.
Caesar tried to turn down the offer, but he couldn't refuse. He agreed to take the cottage, though he insisted on paying rent—at a very favorable rate.
Watching Caesar chat so easily with her parents at the dinner table, Hermione found herself revisiting all the doubts she'd had earlier that day.
His extraordinary calm, that strange drink, the way he'd appeared just in time.
But now, in the warm, bright house, seeing how openly her parents admired and liked him, those doubts seemed to fade a little.
He had truly helped her, and now he seemed like a perfect gentleman.
Before you continue