An: New Story! Yes. Thank you for the people who supported my stories! I hope you like them and I hope you'll come to like this one as well. I'm back with new slash goodness. I'm leaving my ABC's of love for a while. I hope you enjoyed this.
AU. All Human. Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter.
Toffee Luck
The sound of the bell ringing in the quiet and warm shop reached the ears of the early dweller. Her hands cupped the mug lightly, inhaling the soft caramel flavoring that wafted into her nose. She sighed. This was something she could get used to. She closed her eyes, as she took a sip of the sweetened coffee, it did not scar her tongue and it was not that hot—for her it was just right. She hummed into the cup showcasing her delight to the natural flavor it left in its wake. She took another sip, rolled the contents on her tongue, just to taste it once more.
England air was cold; she noted that when she first arrived at the country by plane, though it still made her shiver after moving in two weeks ago. She was stationed here after a few months of accounting work from her company. They complimented her works that they were wonderfully accurate and she might even make a better income when she goes to England, they said. It perked her ears when the thought hit her as they explained it to her. It was a great opportunity, she told herself, to learn British or better yet proper English. She wanted to speak the language better than anyone in her family. It was something she thought that might help her in the future. She smiled at the memories she reminisced.
The woman glanced down at her table, the newspaper lay open before her and news of impending storms and fogs met her gaze. She frowned "Yet another rainy week" she said to herself the accent still thick as the words rolled on her tongue. Even though she knew that England was one of the most humid country she was still not accustomed to it. She had grown up in France for twenty years of her life; she bathed in the sun almost every day, enjoying the sun kisses on her skin. Her unusually light blonde hair was proof of that. She missed France already; she mused but shook the thought away almost immediately. This was an opportunity she, again, told herself.
The bell rung once more, this time it was the bell that catches the attention of the costumers who waited for their orders. The light scuffing of shoes behind the counter was very distinguishable if one listened carefully. It was something that this woman became so accustomed to in the first week she stumbled into this store. Her blue eyes glanced at the coffee tender, watching the white-blouse-and-brown-aproned waitress move fluidly behind the marble-wood counter. Mixing and brewing different blends of coffee.
"Order up!" The lady-brewer called. An old man in his fifties walked towards the counter; obviously it was take out since the girl behind the counter called out.
"Thank you for this" The man held up the brown paper bag of what seems to be his usual waffle and cup of coffee, he then, usually as he does, held out a pound—a tip for the cheery waitress, before heading off to work down the street.
"It's your usual" the girl smiled as she took the tip from the man. "And welcome, come again!" she said. The door bell rang signifying that the costumer had left. The French woman watched the girl retreat back to her counter, usually putting cream on top of pastries freshly made from the kitchen. This was the routine that played before her at seven in the morning. It was comforting that she starts her day watching the interaction of this cheery waitress towards her usual costumers. They were showered with smiles. It made her feel happy when she saw them pasted on the lips of the counter-attendant, it was something that made her day and her usual morning sweeter, she had to admit. She took her cup once more and sips her caramel latte. She then looked at her wrist watch, "quarter to eight" she said to no one but her, and proceeded to fold her early paper and leave her usual tip. She stood up, grabbed her fashioned trench coat, and glided out of her booth. She walked rather closely to the counter, prancing like a ballerina with a waft of confidence and eventually slows down—which was barely noticeable— just to look at the brown eyes of the teenager who was working diligently on her pastries. With a short nod, she turned her head towards the general direction of the door. The bell rang and fell silent.
The girl, suddenly, laid down her piping bag and wiped her fingers on her apron. She walked away from the counter in a hurried pace towards the place the woman sat. The second cubicle by the window, she thought. She let her fingers grab the crisp pound bill, the woman's payment for the latte, and the usual note it was left with.
'It tastes exquisite' it said in its usual elegant cursive writing, the girl sighed as she folded the note and placed it on her apron pocket.
"Have you gotten her name yet, Mione?" The girl called 'Mione' looked at her companion who was serving the others with the shop's usual blend. The girl with reddish hair color just shrugged at Mione's silence as she placed the cup of coffee down the table and smiled at the waiting costumer.
"You know you could ask her for it" the red-head told her. Mione raised a brow, inquisitively looking for some sanity from the red-head before her. She just shook her head and sighed.
"That'd be rude, Ginny" finally she talked.
Ginny chuckled, shaking her head as if her friend was missing something obvious "You could always pretend needing it for her coffee" she pointed.
"She never takes her coffee out" argued Mione. She walked back to her usual place—behind the counter. The ka-ching sounded loudly in the confinements of the shop as she punched in the necessary numbers, took out the change and placed it on her pocket.
"Did she tip you?" Ginny asked, setting down the coffee pitcher on its place right on top of the counter. She took a sit in one of the bar stools and propped her head with her elbows, leaning closely as Mione began to work.
"Yes, she did. She usually pays extensively rather than leaving the exact amount. Seriously, who would leave five-pounds for a two-pound coffee?" Her hands glided towards the piping bag and she started piping white whipped cream on top of the waffles. She grabbed two bottles, one of blueberry and chocolate and dumped them on the sides and top of the awaiting dessert.
"Wow, a three-pound tip. We usually just get one-pound at most, she's rich" Ginny took a swipe of whipped cream from the dessert only to be swatted by the hands of her friend. "Hermione!" she clutched her hand cradling it as if it was hurt badly. "That hurt!"
"Well, you should've thought about it before you did it! Now, look at it" Hermione scolded, shaking her head as she pointed at the ruined dessert. She grabbed the brown syrup and dumped them carefully once more, obviously fixing the micro-damage received. Ginny chuckled while rolling her eyes at her friend's complex behavior of being a perfectionist. She could not blame the girl—really, since she already knew everything about her every bit of her at one point, so, she just laughs at what seemed to be her friend's unusual antics—that being obsessively compulsive. Hermione would often argue that she was just an artist and everything has to be artistically perfect though in the normal eyes, she was just, plainly at it is a perfectionist and they would laugh about it until Hermione walks out embarrassed. But, today, it was unusually different and Ginny knew so she did not press any further.
"It was just a pinch, jeez, you take work really seriously" replied the girl named Ginny—accompanied by a sigh at that very moment.
Hermione did not listen—shrugging Ginny's lame apology and went about her work. Satisfied, she got hold of the plate and moved it to the awaiting display cage. She then took another one and repeated the process except with Ginny's hand trying to take a taste. There was silence for those few moments.
"You're lucky Ron's your brother or I'll do more than just swat it away" she mumbled but clear enough for Ginny to hear. The red-head's eyes widened at the revelation that came from her best friend's mouth. She could not believe it, or rather, not chose to believe it.
"You're still dating him? I thought you caught him cheating with a girl named Penelope" Ginny who was obviously shocked shrieked.
"Yes, we are. Why are you even against your brother?"
"Why shouldn't I? I caught him red-handed as he snog that woman and grope her arse. You're still my best friend, mind you. I'd rather choose you than tolerate my brother's actions. 'Sides you're better off with someone else" Hermione could not help noticing the emphasis on the word 'someone' when Ginny told her. She rolled her eyes and turned to get the other waiting pastries.
"You're brother is not that bad, he actually went to my apartment to make-up" defended Hermione.
"You mean to have make-up sex" This made Hermione blush. Ginny smirked. "I can't believe you. You're dating him because of that?"
"Shhh! You know that's private!" the coffee-tender shushed. She frantically gazed around the shop hoping that no one heard Ginny's embarrassing statement. After a few minutes of glancing back and forth, she took a deep breath and sighed. She turned her attention back to Ginny, her face in a frown.
"Well, we vowed no secrets" she shrugged.
"Yes, we did. But that doesn't mean we talk about it openly" she reminded the red-head. "What would you feel— if I talk about yours and Harry's behind-closed-door adventures?"
"Oh, don't start with me" she chuckled. "I'll even tell you the sweet details in it" Hermione sighed again. She still could not believe Ginny's boldness about this topic and it only made her wonder how they became friends instantly. Surely, this was common between best friends who treat each other like sisters, but private things should be kept private. She was no kiss and tell, she told herself that, but there was still this tempting thing to tell on Ginny. Sure, doing it with Ron was fun but she didn't know what did keep her doing it with him despite having major conflicts— pertaining to loyalty. Hermione pursed her lips, thinking deeply about those moments she had caught Ronald doing activities behind her back. There was enough evidence to break-up with the arse who called himself a boyfriend, but she could not do it, she didn't know how or was it because she was afraid? Ron was her first in everything— well not everything. He was her best friend ever since middle school. He was her shoulder when all the shitty things happened to her and became her comforter. How could she throw those away? Hermione only shook her head, erasing all the doubts in her mind. She looked at Ginny, and then shook her head, obviously contemplating what to say next. She released a deep breath.
"Really—Ginny? Don't you ever wonder about the word privacy? What would Harry think about you spilling all your sexual endeavors to me?"
"Well… I bet those two have already talked about it, you know—since my brother and him are the best-of-friends" Ginny's eyes rolled at the thought of the two male creatures gossiping about every climax they had reached. Ginny shrugged, terribly disgusted at it. "You're right, I don't want those two gossiping about how we do while doing that"
Hermione grimaced, "Seriously? Those two—should be dubbed as gossip queens" Ginny gave a hearty laugh. Hermione just smirked at the new-found insult. If the two, indeed, were telling on each other she could only wonder how many times, she'd put out a fit towards Harry and Ronald. "Those two should know better"
"You're right, Mione. I can picture how my darling's face looks when you tell him that you know. It'd be deathly pale and cute" Hermione waved the motion away. The brunette walked to the coffee machine and brewed her wonderful blend of chocolate truffle coffee when she saw a familiar man walk in the shop.
"Now, shoo. If you don't want Dr. Albus to know more about what we're talking about and joke about it"
"You know he is not half-bad at those jokes. He's a master of it" Ginny smiled knowingly at Dr. Albus, who in turn smiled warmly at her as he sat down at the bar stool next to her.
"How are you Ginny, dear?" the man asked. Albus removed his hat and placed it neatly beside him. He brushed his mid length beard and went to adjusting his cuffs as he saw Hermione put out his favorite waffles in front of him.
"Quiet well, Professor. How's the college?" Hermione's eyes looked up from the cup she was blending when she heard the word escape Ginny's lips.
"The students as usual... are what you can say—rowdy. Ah, but all is well" He replied with a court nod before turning back to his meal. Ginny took it as a sign to leave the man be to enjoy his usual morning meal. Ginny turned to Hermione and mouthed what seemed to be 'We'll talk later' and winked. The barista chuckled and shook her head at Ginny's persistent questioning and gossiping. She continued her work, stirring the coffee in a counter-clockwise motion to a clockwise motion. She placed the cream on top with the usual leafy image before serving it to the doctor-professor. The man only smiled at her and proceeded eating his meal. Hermione glanced at the shop clock and it read eight-thirty. She removed her apron and secured the remaining pastries she was working on in the display cage.
"Morning-shift over?" Ginny asked as she removed herself from her stool.
"Yea, classes today starts and ten. I still need to visit the library for the extra papers I'm working on" the girl explained. She folded her apron neatly and placed them under the cupboard. But before she left them, she took out the paper from her apron's pocket and placed it neatly on her wallet and then stuffed it back into its hiding place. She gave Ginny a short hug.
"Bloody girl, you really don't know how to rest don't you?" Ginny clasped Hermione at the back. Hermione could only smile.
"I'll be back by lunch" Hermione called out, and the door bell rang and fell silent the fourth time that morning.
The afternoon was worse, the rain hadn't stop when she walked— more likely ran, under the roof of a shop two blocks away from her work. It was that day that she decided to forget about her umbrella at the shop. Hermione rubbed her arms as she shivered, her skin deathly pale from the sudden outburst of the sky. She looked at her clothes at a shop window, she was drenched from head to toe, save for her knapsack which she desperately tried to protect. Her bushy brown hair was terribly wet and tangled and sticking hideously on her face. She brushed them away, combing her hair in the process. She sighed, her breath visible in the cold air of England.
She looked at the darkened sky, silently hoping that the strong rain and wind stopped for just a few minutes so that she could arrive at her work. With no such luck, she grunted.
"Well it's now or be late" she breathed in deep and left her spot in a sprint. Her bag jingled as her chime wove with the wind and fell on the cold wet pavement.
The fire-red umbrella was fairly visible in the dull grey color of the streets two blocks down her usual coffee shop. It was the afternoon break; rather, it was her end shift. She had been accounting the nearby jewelry shop's financials when the rain poured down heavily. She sighed, making a note to bring a pair of extra shoes the next time this happened. She did not bother getting her car because she was only in town. Her boss did not even mind that she went there from her home rather to go to their office just to check in and go back to her town. As she was packing her papers in her suitcase and as she placed her coat over her shivering shoulders she noticed a familiar figure glancing at the shops mirrored glass. The figure was checking her clothes for the damage— surely by the rain due to their wet look. She smiled as she deciphered who this image was. It was the barista from Charles's Coffee shop down the street. Now, the accountant wondered why the girl was drenched, oh, that was fairly obvious now— she left her umbrella. She thought. That girl would catch her death if she keeps that up. She shook her head apparently disappointed by the lack of self-care.
She watched the girl as she sprinted away from under the shop's roof. The observer sighed.
"Are we good today, Ms. Delacour?" asked the shop owner.
She turned to the voice. In her front was a man in his late forties, dressed in the usual polo and tie—cuffs folded neatly by his elbows. "Yes, we are Mr. Digory. I'll be filing them tomorrow for you" the French woman smiled.
"I don't know how I'll manage without you, dear. You're so much better than that bloody bastard who called himself an accountant" he said shaking her hand. Ms. Delacour just smiled and patted him gently on his old wrinkly palms. She turned and grabbed her case; she glided towards the door as if she danced on her way out. Upon setting foot behind the closed doors, she opened her umbrella, taking in the rainy scenery just outside the jeweler's. The sky to her seemed really angry and sorrowful like something terrible happened or will happen. Nodding to herself, she inhaled the rainy scent of the England streets and stepped forward, completely leaving the shop's premises. But when she took a step, something crushed beneath her. The French raised her brow and stepped back. She was staring at what seemed to be a disproportioned wooden cat. It looked hideous if one took a quick glance at it but when she examined it more closely, it looked really cute and unique. Satisfied with her observation, she bent and picked up the forgotten trinket. She then wrapped it on her handkerchief and pocketed it. With an assuring nod, she headed on her way, her red umbrella weaving into the crowded street of Charles's Coffee Place.
The bell sounded with a hurried bang causing the costumers to look. A drench girl with bushy brown hair was standing there, her hair dripping rain water on the shop's welcome rug—shivering.
"Blimey, what happened to you?" Hermione looked up to Ginny who rushed over her with worry pasted on her face. Hermione wondered why the girl was fretting. She just got wet from the rain and the shop was warm so what was the big deal? Hermione's brows rose. She was fine, definitely fine— aside from on fact that she stuttered as a shiver went down her spine.
"W-what are you fretting about?" she stuttered her lips and jaws betraying her as it shook due to the cold the just went up her spine.
Ginny gave her friend an annoyed pointed look. It was so obvious and her friend—Hermione just denied them, face front. "You're deathly pale, Mione. You're lips are shading as well" she stated the fact, her eyes moving up then down whilst checking her friends outfit which was ruined. Ginny's head moved sideways, and started to remove her apron.
"W-what ar-re you d-doing?" her teeth chattered. She was startled by a cloth that covered her head. She glared at Ginny for the sudden action. Ginny shrugged her shoulders and motioned her finger to the employees lounging area. Hermione's eyes looked up questioningly and was about to ask when Ginny stomped her feet and pointed angrily at the door which read Employees Only. Hermione grumbled and started to walk behind the counter leaving wakes of mud and rain on the white tiles. Ginny could only shake her head.
"You know I only mopped" she eyed her friend. Hermione only shrugged at the gesture and continued heading to their lockers. She heard Ginny sigh heavily and what seemed to be a sloshing sound from the mop. Hermione rolled her eyes.
"I'll clean that later" called Hermione, reassuring her friend of less work load, as she disappeared to the employees' longue.
"Come out when you're done" Ginny replied. Hermione took one last look at her friend and the shop before she went into the white doors of the employee longue. She frowned when she saw the familiar face in the crowded shop with a revolting red color at its wake. Hermione's feet shuffled hurriedly and dressed away. She could not believe the nerve of that person. Why was he there after she clearly told him not to show his face for at least a couple of days? She shook her head, in frustration. She let her locker bang loudly at the quiet lounge and left.
A scowl was very visible in her features when she met the person face-to-face. Her feet tapped irritatingly at the floor as she waited for the other person to speak up. Nothing. She waited for a few more seconds and still there was nothing coming out from the boy's face, aside from the syrup that dripped on the corner of his mouth. So, Hermione decided to break the silence.
"What do you want?" her voice sliced the tensed air.
"I'm a customer here," he pointed to the half eaten pastry and gulped the food he was munching "it's not like I violated what we talked about" the boy looked up, grinning like an idiot as if he had won the lottery. Hermione's scowl deepened. Obviously, she was terribly irritated at his sudden appearance. Why was she irritated? Oh, yes, it was because that this douche decided to jump on a decision involving her. When she went back to her apartment earlier that day, there was Ronald, inside her home and was eating snacks from her fully stocked refrigerator while only wearing boxers—childishly enough it had batman's symbols all over it— as if he lived there. That shocked Hermione, really surprised her that the only thing she could do was glower at guy's foolishness and stupidity and screamed at him to get out and not show his face to her while getting her things and slamming the door shut right in front of his face.
"This is clearly a violation of what I told you not to do, Ronald" she said, emphasizing every word as if it meant everything, well it did mean everything. Ronald only gave her a blank questioned look as if this was not a big deal.
"What? You avoided my question on moving in together, I need an answer you know. My mom already kicked me out since I told her I'd be living with you and I need a place to stay. So I thought why not live together? So that we'd be free to have sex, you know win-win" he shrugged. He took another bite at his waiting waffles, wolfing them down as if there was no tomorrow. Hermione felt her cheeks twitch at the etiquette-lessness of her boyfriend.
Hermione closed her eyes and rubbed at her temples angrily soothing the crease that was beginning to form. "You do understand that you'd just be living under my roof? And for free"
"Yea, what's wrong with that? I practically live there already, got tons of my things there, you know" He chewed on his Belgian Waffle and took a sip of his cold coffee blend. Hermione just watched, her eyes twitching at the very fact that the boy before her had been or is currently dense to the ordeal. She was not ready to live with a guy even if that guy was her boyfriend and best friend. She did not even have the time to consult her parents on this decision. How would they react if they saw Ronald there in one of their surprise visit? Hermione knew her parents didn't pay for her apartment just to have a free-loading border living there, and a male creature for one fact. It was already difficult to not spill she was not a virgin anymore. Hermione felt horrible. She felt horrible lying face front to her parents.
"Everything. Just everything." The barista, exasperated, said with a fling of her hands sideward. "Why don't you go live with Harry?"
"No can do, his house if full pack with his college mates. Come one, babe. Don't you see the picture of us in one roof? It'd be tons of fun" the boy clutched her by the waist, apparently charming Hermione to say yes as he wiggled his eyebrows at her. Hermione sighed, how she could resist the person who is in need, even if the person was such a douche. The thought of having fun crept into her as well and maybe she could keep that as a secret as well from her parents. She could pull this off, she told herself. So, the barista nodded slightly.
"Alright" With that, Ronald stood up and leaned giving her a wet peck on her lips and left the shop, a few cents short on his bill. The door quietly banged shut. Hermione looked up to the closed doors still a bright red color weaving behind them, she waited for the person— whom she thought was Ron to leave, but soon the doors opened, and in went the lady with blonde hair, closing her red umbrella and securely placing it at the rack by the door.
Hermione felt her breath hitched at the sight of the lady, she couldn't help noticing the reddish tint that crossed the woman's cheeks to her nose then back to her other cheek. She looked down at the table, quickly deriving her attention away. She felt her hand tremble, nervous? She did not know. When Hermione was contemplating on the feeling she had experienced she did not see the shadow looming behind her. She only noticed it when a cough reverberated in the shop, her head flicked in an upwards motion and did not expect to be faced with what she was avoiding. Piercing blue eyes met her warm brown ones. The first thing she had noted was the light make up enveloping the eyes of the French, elegantly placing a mature yet alluring look on the woman's face. The reddish tint she saw earlier was still there on the pale cheeks—which were obviously from the cold weather, Hermione concluded. She—Hermione also noticed the elongated eye lashes, that touched ever so slowly to its counterpart, both barely visible because of its golden nature. And lastly, she watched the slightly puffed lips, colored in a soft pink lipstick which she thought smelled faintly of cherry—move.
"Bonjour? Is this seat taken?" the French accent wafted into her ears. And Hermione was mesmerized by both beauty and smoothness of the voice. "'ello?" she asked again. Hermione felt a tap on her shoulders and felt a shivering tingle when it landed softly on her uniform. She could not respond. She didn't know why it was possible. But she just stood there, clenching the already forgotten payment.
Ginny noticed this and hurriedly went over to the baffled barista and nudged her lightly before addressing the costumer. "It's free. Would you like your usual, ma'am?" Ginny asked. The French only shook her head
"I'll have today's special blend, no?" Ginny smiled.
"I'd be served in a few minutes" The lady only nodded and waited for the two attendants to move away from the booth. The lady slipped elegantly in the booth and placed her coat beside her; she then took out her laptop and began shuffling paper works on her table. She looked up once more, a crease in between her brows emerged.
"Is something wrong?" her thick French accented her English. The blonde gave another gesture, this time it was her brown raised in a questioningly manner, her eyes switching from Ginny to Hermione's figure. Ginny took note of it and grabbed her companion by the arm and led her away. When they had steered clear from the vision and back to the shop, Ginny pushed Hermione a little bit harder just to get the woman's attention, but with no such like she resorted to waving a hand frantically in front of her friend—who only was dazed.
"Hermione?" Ginny called out. "Hermiooonee?" she waved a hand in front of her friend again. She sighed at the lost cause. Hermione slowly turned to Ginny only to feel the inevitable blush running across her face. Now, she felt dumbfounded by this new discovery. She did not know how it was possible but the closeness she experienced at that very moment started to make something move and unknowingly changed everything she knew all too well. Hermione for the first time was speechless. So speechless that she even forgot the house's original blend that day.