A/N: I blame my desire to return to the late 90's/early 2000's for this fic. As well as the titles of cheesy romance novels... So, here's this Muggle AU that I have been DYING to write ever since the thought popped into my head. Hope you love. Would love to know what your thoughts are in a review!
"Harry James Potter, don't you dare take another step forward!"
With a mischievous smile, Harry maneuvered his fighter to jump forward. In the same motion, he jammed a complicated move into the controller. Only a moment later, 'TKO' flashed on the screen and he relaxed back into the couch with a self-satisfied grin. "You've lost your touch, Hermione."
"Not everyone has the luxury of sitting at home playing video games all day," his friend spat, tossing her controller to the side.
All important arguments were settled with Mortal Kombat. It was the first rule of the apartment. Silly, of course, but somehow still important for keeping the dynamic of their relationship. "And here you thought I was just wasting my days on unemployment," Harry teased while reaching over to pinch Hermione's side. In the bare minimum of a response, Hermione squirmed just a bit. Her eyes were glued to the floor and, knowing her so well, the premonition of a coming argument was hiding just behind her too-big front teeth. "I won fair and square…."
"But it's still a great opportunity, Harry," Hermione whispered, like she was afraid of the words coming out of her mouth.
"For you," he muttered and almost violently pushed up off the couch. Harry occupied himself with turning off the gaming console, ensuring he was facing pointedly away. The frown set into his brow would definitely give her the wrong impression. It would convey weakness in his sure decision. "But I'm not interested in administrative government work…. Even if it meant working side-by-side with my best mate."
He could practically hear the question coming a mile away. Hermione had asked it of him at least a hundred times since their venture into adulthood had taken off. "What are you interested in, then?" In her usually valued, but not exactly welcome, opinion, he had no drive or ambition for his life. He'd never exactly been able to answer the school-time question of 'What do you want to be when you grow up?'
Hermione, on the other hand, had a solid and immovable plan for her life and her future before they were even out of nappies. She never once wavered from it – top of their class all throughout school, internships with the right people at the right places, full immersion into adulthood just after graduation (skipping university - don't get her started on that waste of time). The culmination was something big, but she was going to allow time to work out the specifics on that one.
And, of course, Harry was factored into every single one of her plans. He didn't have any of his own, hence the current stretch of unacceptable unemployment after a string of short-lived lame career ventures. Most recently, he had attempted the life of a barista…and quickly found he certainly wasn't cut out for the drama of it.
A well-timed knock at the door saved Harry the embarrassment of digging for an answer. Not that he was sure Hermione was expecting one. She knew better. "At least consider it a bit longer," she mumbled and practically stormed off to answer it.
"I won the game, so you know I won't," he said and flopped back onto the couch.
"Won't what?"
"It's nothing. Harry's just being a bit stubborn…."
"Oh. But that's normal, yeah?"
Rolling his eyes, Harry waved half-heartedly towards the door. "Always a pleasure having you around, Ronald."
At first, Hermione's life plans didn't include a boyfriend. Or a husband. No romantic attachments of any kind. She had actually written it out in bubble letters across a dream board in year seven. And…then she grew up and the hormones kicked in. Even so, only with Harry did she ever allow herself to be anything akin to 'boy crazy'. Especially after he came out and most especially after their first screening of Titanic.
The life plan was officially amended the day Ronald Weasley literally crashed into their life. Ron lived up just one floor above them – literally right above. And he was loud. His footsteps were heavy, his television was always five notches too high, and when they first met him he had a girlfriend who could scream down a house. Three points Hermione wasted no time in yelling in his face after she banged down his door a mere week after they'd moved in. By that point, the girlfriend had finally screamed herself into being an ex and a just a few, short months later, she and Ronald had their first date.
In Harry's opinion, the two were an odd couple. Every time he saw them together, he couldn't help but to wonder what their future children might turn out to be. It was what put him off their relationship the most, if he was honest. Hermione was all teeth and big hair. Ron was lanky and tall with a shaggy mop of violent red atop his head. He certainly was no Leonardo DiCaprio. Perhaps he was biased…but he just couldn't understand what his friend saw in the guy.
It was all likely just jealousy. Ron was an okay bloke. He had a sense of humor and excellent taste in takeaway. And he did definitely have the ambition Harry lacked – he coached a decently successful child's football team. Harry had come to realize his resentment in the man lay solely in his own loneliness. Hermione, who hadn't really wanted love, had stumbled upon hers by pure accident. Harry had been fumbling for his since she was old enough to realize he might not fancy girls like he 'should'.
Back home, his selections had been limited. The only other boys 'like him' in his year had paired off early. So when they moved to London, Harry felt he was ill-prepared. He'd never even had a boyfriend, let alone done all the things men his age wanted from him. He didn't know how to date…so he made quite a few vividly permanent mistakes.
But he was past that. He was twenty-years-old and lonely and… sort of content with it.
Except when he saw how sweetly Ron held Hermione and felt a fire rising in his belly. Trying to only peek at them from the barest corner of his eye, Harry pushed up off the couch and headed for the kitchen, as well. Hermione was busy laying out the boxes of Indian food Ron had brought with him. His hands were on her hips, fingers just barely caressing the skin beneath her shirt hem. The movement was mesmerizing and the relaxed smile afixed to her lips was entrancing. She truly looked happy. And if Harry had to admit it, the two of them did remind him a bit of his own parents.
Two totally different people somehow finding one another and falling madly in love. In other words, a fucking fairytale come true.
"You know, Harry," Ron approached, his tone cautious, "that bloke a couple doors down from me asked about you again…."
He must have noticed Harry staring. Honestly, Ron was a bit more aware of his surroundings than Harry had initially given him credit for. From the outside, he appeared to be all muscle and little brain. A typical clueless guy. But he saw more than people probably realized and he had more heart than he might wish to let on, as he most often masked his genuine feelings with a joke or a jab. "Thanks," Harry muttered in reply, feeling the back of his neck heat up in an obvious show of embarrassment. "But I'm not really interested right now."
"He's an alright guy," Ron pressed.
"For a middle-aged man who still lives with his mum."
Frowning, Ron scooped up his dinner while pointedly avoiding Harry's gaze. "You could at least give it a go, you know? You're not exactly going places, yourself."
A less-than-kind remark about Ron's level of interest in the guy very nearly flew past Harry's lips. Right before he opened his mouth, though, Hermione placed a hand on both their arms and said gently, "This man's not worth fighting over, boys. Harry's already said he's not interested. Let's leave it at that."
As he had a thousand times before, Harry once again thought about how lost he would be if he'd never met Hermione Granger. She was the most stable and reasonable thing in his life.
"Besides, Harry's waiting on the personals column to find the love of his life for him."
And he could always trust her to be unguardedly real with him.
In a too-fast motion that almost culminated in his food all over the floor, Harry snatched up his plate and practically stormed to the dining table. He felt…betrayed. Hermione had always kept his secrets. Now here she was, including this new fixture in her life in on the most personal parts of his. He desperately wanted to shout something in response. He wanted to get angry. But he couldn't with her. Never with her. So he bottled his outrage and made a show of turning his back towards the pair.
Harry could practically hear the grin in Ron's voice when he pressed for further information. "I didn't think anyone read the lonely hearts any longer. Who're you looking to connect with?"
"No one," Harry ground out between his teeth. "I just like to read them…."
Harry Potter was, deep down at his very core, a sappy romantic who most definitely believed in love at first sight. He'd learned at a young age only to trust certain people with that information. It wasn't a conventionally 'manly' trait. Not that his parents had ever bothered with trying to raise him conventional in any sense. Even still, his gravitation to fairy tales and love stories didn't exactly make him a popular boy in school – from the years of cootie fears all the way through to when he came out and quickly learned that gay men weren't exactly known for long stints of monogamy.
As an adult, Harry definitely still enjoyed the Disney movies of his childhood and definitely rented the crap out of Pretty Woman and Sleepless in Seattle. He had definitely dragged Hermione to see Notting Hill in the theater. (There was definitely something special about Hugh Grant….) He was an absolute sucker for romance, especially considering his own stale love life. And the day he had discovered the personals section of the newspaper, he was instantly addicted. They were like the beginnings of paperback romance novels come to real and brilliant life. It was refreshing to ruminate over them and imagine where these people's lives ended up.
"Aren't they just full of bloody old spinsters looking for an easy shag?"
It was a fascination obviously not shared by many people. Especially not by many men, he was sure, if Ron's comment was any indication. "Not always," Harry muttered, unfolding that day's newspaper. He felt incredibly vulnerable putting this interest out so vividly on display for someone he hardly knew, but also felt the pull to justify it. "Like, here…this one – 'Short, Tanned, & Handsome - 41, not picture perfect but definitely a looker, seeking beautiful soulmate with sense of humor, must love dogs and be open to-'…. Okay, never mind that one…. That's not a good example."
Hermione, smiling softly, sat beside him and slid the paper into her view "-and be open to dieting if over ten stone'," she completed before snorting a laugh. "See, Harry thinks they're romantic. And, sometimes, I will agree there can be a couple. But mostly…I think you've really got to be at your end to submit an ad."
Feeling judged and quite put out, Harry snatched back the paper and tossed it out of Ron and Hermione's reach. Of course they wouldn't understand. Hermione looked at love as logical and reasonable, even despite her current situation. And Ron…well, Ron he didn't know well enough to make assumptions. But he was sure he may just be a bit too thick to understand such things.
Ron cleared his throat, apparently not knowing when to leave well enough alone. "So…do blokes like you write in a lot?"
Even after nearly a year, Ron still had yet to master the art of referring to Harry's sexuality without sounding completely nervous. He acted like if he were to say the word 'gay', the world might just burst into flames around him. Harry had actually yet to hear him use that particular word, thus far. Which meant Harry just had to try and use it as often as he possibly could. "Gay men? Do you mean to ask if the gays write lonely hearts ads? Yeah, mate. Yeah, we do. We're normal and human just like you straight guys. We get lonely just like you. Shocker, yeah?"
"That's not what I meant," Ron mumbled, almost tucking himself down into his dinner as he shoveled it into his mouth. The tips of his ears were bright red; Harry had surely embarrassed him. It was just too easy and too satisfying. "Just forget it…."
"You know what?" Harry snapped back, the victory feeling bittersweet with Hermione's sour look accompanying it. "I think I'll have the rest of dinner in my room. I'm clearly in the wrong state to be socializing." He snatched up his plate and the paper in a rush, balancing them precariously as he leant down to press his lips to the top of Hermione's mess of carefully crimped locks. "Let me know if you want to watch a program before bed, alright?"
It was selfish, his attitude. His best friend – so happy and content with her life – didn't deserve his jealousy. But the more the days and months ticked by…the more his anger and frustration manifested.
Although he tried to pretend that his directionless life didn't faze him, Harry was actually starting to get a bit frustrated with himself. It was half of why he kept quitting jobs. Nothing felt…right. Just as leaving the apartment and actually going to a gay club didn't really feel right. That's where men met each other. It wasn't something he was delusional about. He knew his loneliness was entirely his own fault. He wasn't trying. And he probably wasn't trying hard enough at these jobs, either. He hadn't exactly stayed on long enough at any of them to really know if he liked them or not.
Harry was lost.
He wasn't exactly sure when it had happened, but somewhere along the way he started to need a map to life. Unfortunately he realized this much too late to have tried to find one. It felt like he was behind. Especially with Hermione being so ahead of things all the damn time.
With all those self-deprecating thoughts coursing through his mind, Harry flopped back on his bed. His dinner was abandoned on the nightstand and the newspaper was open and hanging above his face. He was drowning himself in the idea of love, once again. Drowning out his own loneliness with fantasies of someone else's. Again. It felt comforting to curl up under a blanket that smelt like home and pretend like other people had things worse than he currently did. It felt nice to be pretend for just a moment that he might be in his own romantic comedy – he was just still at the beginning of the movie. He was that hopeless girl in the beginning who had nothing in her life figured out. But the instant the man of her dreams walked in…. Everything would change.
Everything would change for Harry. Soon. He had to believe it would.
Fairytales and love stories go hand-in-hand with divine coincidence. Fate always plays a very particular part in things like love at first sight and star-crossed lovers. And, looking back from the far future, Harry had to believe it was fate who intervened in his life right then.
There was a particularly different sort of personal ad in that day's paper. Most who submitted an ad were looking for love, in some respect. They were looking for companionship on an intimate level – friendship or romance or perhaps just an ear for the afternoon. They were looking to be seen and to be heard. No ad that Harry had ever seen was quite like this one. That definitely intrigued him. And once he allowed himself to think it may be interesting to reply, the thought would not leave his head.
Not Looking For Love – Seeking a severely average man, call for appointment, willing to pay good money for a short-term fake relationship, must have open schedule, gay men only
The telephone was in Harry's hand before he'd really even thought about it. He'd already typed in the digits listed at the end of the ad. All he needed now was to press 'call'. All he needed was to think past the rapid beating of his heart long enough to have a conversation with the person on the other end.
All he needed was this. He needed a distraction. He needed…a taste of purpose, even if it was fake. And he needed the money. More than anything, he needed the money. And, so far, this was the only thing he'd found that could tick all those boxes.
It was a path paved exclusively for Harry Bloody Potter.