hi. me again. making another normal trope into something weird. gosh somebody needs to stop me. legit like, take my phone away from me, this is getting redonk. what even is life? i do not know.
anyway, this plot bunny has been viciously thumping and bouncing up and down and demanding my attention for some time now, and you might have even seen my edit on tumblr. but in saying this, i still don't quite know what this is, so who knows where we're going on this wild ride, it'll be a surprise for all of us!
i hope you enjoy it a little bit, i am getting quite obsessed with this one
"Just... whatever you do. Steer clear of Hogwarts."
She raised an eyebrow at her long-time friend and now roommate skeptically.
"That's... the coffee shop," Hermione stated, feeling though she were missing something.
"Yes. Up the hill, toward the end of Hogsmeade. The little stone building. There's this little tower on the top, and there's a picket fence, and a quaint little garden, and-"
"I know which one it is, Luna."
"Oh, good," she said, relieved. "It'll be easier for you to avoid if you know where it is."
Hermione blinked. "Um... while I can't fault you on your logic, I must ask... what, exactly, is it that's wrong with this coffee shop?"
Luna stepped closer, reaching out and bringing Hermione's hands together, cradling them softly in her own.
"There's been rumours, lately. I can't tell you which are stories and which aren't," Luna cautioned, "but what I can tell you is... there's something funny about that place, and the coffee they make... something in the water. Something that keeps you coming back. Something that makes sure you'll never leave."
Hermione blinked.
A part of her wanted to tell Luna how silly she sounded. A very, very strong part, because honestly, a coffee shop?
But, seeing how desperately Luna spoke and how she really couldn't afford to pay any more than the almost nothing she was paying in rent with her, she smothered it.
"Have... you been to this coffee shop?"
"No!" Luna said at once. "And you mustn't go there either! They say just one drink is all it takes, and you're hooked!"
"Who exactly is 'they?'"
"My father. He's the editor of the-"
"Quibbler, yes," Hermione finished. "I remember. Is... is he the only one?"
"He has sources. Many of them, and they all agree there's something funny about that place," Luna insisted, her hands tightening on Hermione's ever so slightly. "Just, please promise me."
Her pale, silver eyes were pleading.
Hermione sighed.
"Alright," she caved. "I'll... get my fix somewhere else."
Luna looked relieved for a short moment before she frowned. "You shouldn't, you know. My father says caffeine is the devil's drink."
"Well, there he's certainly onto something," Hermione said as she took her hands out of Luna's. "Take it away from me, and you very well might find yourself face to face with the devil."
The tiny, often forgotten town of Hogsmeade was a perfect picture of beauty. It was a big part of the reason Hermione had decided to move there. She needed a fresh start, and what could possibly be more fresh than an isolated little town nestled in a valley with a population less than a thousand, hours out of any major cities?
The narrow streets were cobbled and had wide footpaths, lined with cottages with gardens full of life. The Tudor style buildings were something out of a story book, complimented by the rustic street signs and tall, iron light posts. It was a town with an atmosphere of fantasy, one that instilled calm and restfulness.
But despite its beauty and lack of crowds, the thing Hermione liked beyond all else about Hogsmeade, was the fact that her odds of running into her ex-boyfriend Viktor were very close to none.
Things hadn't ended on the best of terms, to put it mildly. She didn't like thinking about it.
There was only one thing standing between herself and the perfect, new country life she'd dreamed of.
A job.
Desperate to get out of London at any cost, Hermione had leapt at the opportunity to move in with Luna who called the small town home, abandoning her stable government job at the last minute without a thought for her future bank account.
She was enormously grateful. If it hadn't been for Luna's hospitality, it certainly wouldn't have been possible.
She felt horribly guilty about the situation. She knew the extra food, water and electricity would pose quite the burden for her friend who only worked a minimum wage job at the local animal shelter, but Luna had insisted they would manage fine with what she earned and the small amount of savings Hermione had brought with her. Even if they had to live on instant noodles for a short period.
Still, Hermione was determined to pay her back. She had high hopes that it wouldn't take her too long to find a new job somewhere in the town, especially seeing as she wasn't at a point in her life to be picky. She'd work as a waitress if she had to, or as a cleaner, or even as a shop girl.
Surely somewhere would take her.
And so, Hermione found herself wandering the main street that Monday, dressed in her nicest blouse with a bag full of copies of her resume slung over her shoulder. She'd spent all of her morning psyching herself up, telling her reflection as she applied her make-up that she absolutely refused to take no for an answer.
It would work out. It had to.
However, what she hadn't anticipated, was how firmly the townspeople would say the word 'no'.
The few she'd encountered that morning had been brutal in their rejections, refusing to so much as hear Hermione's plea.
Not hiring, not interested, we don't have any openings at the moment.
It was exceedingly disheartening.
By the time she made it to the end of the main street to the top of the hill, she was in a decidedly worse mood than she'd been at the bottom.
She sighed dejectedly as she spun on her heel to look down the street, admiring the vivid green of the plant life in the sun. It really was stunning, even if the people weren't overly polite.
She turned back to scan the businesses nearby, hoping for somewhere else she could hand in a job application, and stopped abruptly as she took in the stone building across the street.
Hermione knew of the café that Luna had warned her about, but this was the closest she'd been to it in the few days she'd been a resident of Hogsmeade.
She stared at it thoughtfully. It seemed innocent enough.
...and she could really use a coffee.
As she stood, internally deliberating, she was reminded of something her father would often say.
Curiosity killed the cat.
It was a saying Hermione had heard many times in her life, one that'd been told to her explicitly on many occasions.
She knew it was a wise saying. She knew she should take heed and keep her nose to herself. But her natural curiosity had always been a stronger force than her common sense, and so the advice usually ended up out the window.
This time was no exception.
She crossed the street and stopped by the fence, as the curiosity once again got the better of her.
The building certainly didn't look sinister. On the contrary, her first impression of the café was that it seemed rather cute.
The small garden behind the fence was just as quaint as Luna described, flowers lining the fence line while deeper down toward the building lied a patch of thick bushes. In the centre was a fountain, one with a creature Hermione couldn't quite identify; it looked as if it might've been an elf, one with very long, folded-over ears. She could see the wide wooden-framed windows from the fence line, and had a clear view inside the café. The windows let in a large amount of sunlight, illuminating the loveseats within the cafe enticingly, while the atmosphere behind them was quite busy.
It was that time of day, she supposed.
As she pondered going inside, she could almost hear Luna's faint voice telling her not to.
There's something in the water. Something that keeps you coming back.
Hermione brushed off the thought as quickly as it had arisen. It was probably just another of Luna's silly stories. Often harping on about vampires, witches, and other obscure creatures that didn't exist, Luna had always been a little off centre, to put it kindly. What was it about this story that was any different?
Daft of her to put any weight on it at all, really. And it wasn't as if Luna had to find out...
She made her decision with a spark of rebelliousness. She gripped the strap of her bag on her shoulder and passed through the gate toward the entrance, her shoes tapping against the slightly overgrown stone pavers with each step.
As she closed in, she noticed a large crow sitting in one of the small trees of the garden.
It tilted its head as it watched her.
Intelligent creatures, crows.
She smiled at it, thinking to herself that if she were a crow, she would scavenge from café leftovers, too.
Appearing quite small from across the street, the café looked anything but from the front step. She admired the stone walls of the old building, taking in the wooden details underneath the porch and the old, iron porch light. Down at knee level on the step was a blackboard by the door. The message was written in a neat cursive;
The perfect brew,
Is waiting for you,
At Hogwarts
She made a sound of mild amusement.
Quickly, after glancing behind her to shake the sudden irrational thought that Luna may have been watching, she entered the shop, a bell at the top of the door ringing loudly and taking her by surprise as she passed.
The old door creaked as it closed, and it was only once it was fully shut that she could appreciate how warm it was in the café. The lit fireplace toward the back of the shop did an impossibly good job of keeping the stone building toasty.
The main room was dimly lit with candles, most of the light coming from either the windows and the fireplace. The yellow-tinged ambiance along with the warmth made the space quite... cosy.
Definitely not at all sinister.
She soon noticed the sizable line up for making orders. Keeping her bag strap gripped tightly in her fist, she took a place at the end. As she waited, Hermione took the opportunity to watch the other patrons.
They all seemed happy enough. She even noticed a couple on their way out. They didn't seem to have any trouble leaving.
Further evidence to suggest it was just another of Luna's fantasies.
She was soon distracted from watching for anything suspicious, realising that not only was the line itself inconveniently long, it seemed to be taking a long time for each customer to place their order. In the five minutes she'd been in line, only two orders had been taken.
Two!
Eyebrows drawing together, Hermione poked her head around the line to see what was going on at the counter...
And almost immediately choked on nothing seeing the man at the counter, earning her a strange look from the frumpy woman in line before her.
But Hermione paid her no mind, for now she understood. Almost at once, all the pieces came together, and it all began to make so much sense. She suddenly felt terribly foolish for paying Luna's warning any mind at all, for how she'd assumed the worst, for how she'd crept into the shop like a frightened child.
Because it wasn't the water that kept the patrons coming back.
Not at all. It was much, much simpler than that.
It surely - must've been - the barista.
She struggled to take her eyes off him. Had she been able to, she would have noticed that she wasn't the only in the cafe having a hard time. But she didn't, and instead, she stood as her head slowly tilted absentmindedly while she watched him serve, transfixed, as he chatted up a storm with the woman currently at the counter.
She could have described him in many ways. She might have mentioned his thick, dark hair, which begged to be tousled. She could've commented on his jawline; sturdy, angular, covered tightly by pale, clear skin. She might've even gone as far to compliment his height - surely over six foot - and broad shoulders, held back in a posture that screamed confidence.
But no, none of that was enough. None of that encompassed him sufficiently, none of that came close...
For he was, simply, beautiful.
She knew it wasn't the traditional way one thought of a man, beautiful, but in his case, it was the only way.
He wasn't beautiful in a traditional sense of the word, not in the way one would describe a field of blooming flowers and certainly not in the way one would describe a model or a princess adorning the finest silk.
No, his beauty was otherworldly, almost like... for lack thereof a better term... magic.
It surrounded him. It was in his aura, it was in the air.
She wasn't usually one to gawk, but she found herself completely unable to look away. But how could she? She hadn't known people like that actually existed. People like that were fantasy, characters written into stories, heavily edited celebrities featured in movies.
Definitely not people in the real world.
She struggled for her entire wait in line and before she knew it, her view of him was unobstructed and his chocolate, coffee coloured eyes were entirely focused upon her, waiting expectantly.
His attention on threatened to rob her of the air in her lungs.
"What may I get for you?" His voice, smooth as the finest single malt because of course it was, finally jolted her out of her reverie.
"Erm," she said blinking blankly before she fumbled with her bag, fingers struggling to find her leather purse amongst all her other clutter, "just a long black, thank you."
"Size?"
She stared blankly for a second as she tried to comprehend what he was asking and tried to remember how one puts a sentence together. "Oh, um, regular, please."
He nodded and tapped her order down on the screen in front of him with a long finger, the beginning of a smile tugging at his lips.
"Anything else?" He asked.
She opened her mouth to refuse, but very quickly froze as he leaned forward onto the counter with one arm while his lips turned upward, almost seductively, as if he were about to tell her a secret...
She felt the damp sensation of sweat beading on her forehead.
"The raspberry muffins are to die for."
She blinked.
"Oh," she sounded at his sideways smile, giving him what must have surely been a perfect impression of an utter moron. "Oh, no, I just-" she went to refuse, but after hearing him suggest the muffin, from his full pink lips turned in amusement - amusement at her - she found herself very sorely tempted. "Oh, alright then. A raspberry muffin."
Though she had thought he was beautiful before, it was nothing compared to how he looked properly smiling.
"One raspberry muffin and a long black, coming up," he repeated as he straightened, offering her a hand to take her change.
She was sure not to touch his skin as she handed it over.
"Could I have your name for the order?"
"H-Hermione."
He blinked, fingers hovering over the screen. "Daughter of Helen."
"Um... yeah. Yes," she stammered. "You know your mythology."
"And my Shakespeare."
A high pitched, gurgle came from her throat, taking both of them by surprise.
She might've passed out, then and there.
At this point, passing out would have been preferable to continuing to interact with this angel, with this god, with this-
"Um," she started awkwardly, clearing her throat as the urge to panic built, "I, uh, think you might even know more Hermione's than my mother!" She laughed nervously, higher than usual. "Um. Yeah, I'll just-"
She gestured over toward a patch of the café where an empty table was situated. He looked very much like he wanted to laugh but was restraining himself on her behalf.
"Don't forget your number," he said, holding out a short stand with a seemingly handwritten thirty-seven on it.
"Oh. Right. Thank you." She gave him a tight smile as she took the number and scurried away to find the most hidden table possible.
She quickly sat at a table hidden around the corner, pulling her bag into her lap.
Her cheeks were fire. She breathed in heavily as she tried to recover, attempting to work out what on earth had come over her and what exactly had just happened. Other than humiliating herself beyond belief, that was.
She rested her face in her hands. Never before in her life had she reacted to a person in such a way. Never before had she been driven to such hysterics, to such a state of incoherency as she had just done.
She strongly considered leaving. She very nearly did, inching out of the chair before she remembered the muffin he'd talked her into buying.
God, he could've talked her into buying anything and she'd have welcomed it!
She told herself to calm down. She was being ridiculous. It wasn't that bad.
Yes, it was embarrassing. Yes, she would have preferred if she'd kept her head. But it was too late to change anything now, and there was no point in wasting a perfectly good coffee just because she was embarrassed.
God knew, she'd humiliated herself before. She'd made it through those, and she would make it through this one, too. She'd made it through high school, for heaven's sake. That had been much worse.
But then she caught a movement in her peripheral vision, and she straightened out of reflex.
Oh god.
Oh god, oh god, oh god.
"One long black," the barista murmured, carefully placing the cup and saucer in front of her, "and one raspberry muffin."
She hoped her cheeks had returned to their usual colour as she somehow managed to give him a small, composed smile. "Thank you."
"That's quite alright." He shifted to tuck his hand into the pocket of his dark brown apron. "Here," he said, offering her a small, brown card. "I meant to give it to you earlier..."
Hesitantly, she took it, once again careful not to touch him.
"Get your fifth coffee free," he explained as she examined the loyalty card.
She meant to thank him - she really did - but then he gave her another of his smiles, and her heart leapt.
It didn't stop until he was gone.
She was enormously thankful she'd found a table around the corner. It was only once he was out of eyesight that the magic dissipated, and she could breathe again.
She eyed the small card in her hand. She knew it wouldn't do for Luna to find it, but she tucked it away safely into her purse all the same. She needed all the discounts she could get, now that she was unemployed.
Her attention shifted to her coffee. Steam rose from the rich brown liquid, twirling and dancing up into the air alluringly.
It looked like a perfectly mundane cup of coffee.
She glanced behind her, making sure that she wasn't being watched, before she laced her finger through the handle and lifted the cup.
She took a sip.
It tasted... like coffee. A delicious coffee, at that. It didn't taste like it'd been spiked... not that it would, she supposed.
She let the small mouthful of coffee sit in her stomach for a few minutes and waited.
She didn't feel any different. She still felt perfectly able to leave, if she wished it. And so, she took another sip.
Once she was sure of its lack of poison, Hermione made short work of the coffee before she shifted her sights to the muffin. Looking at it, seeing its fluffy looking top and red bursts of raspberry, she felt enormously thankful he'd talked her into it.
She made short work of that, too.
It might've just been the best muffin she'd ever had.
"Any luck?" Luna queried brightly that evening.
"Erm..." Hermione sounded from her spot on the sofa, stirring her cheese into her pasta vigorously. "Not really. I tried a few little shops up on the hill – you know the book store and the clothing store, Gladrags? After they let me down, I tried at the library. They're not looking either."
"I'm sorry," Luna said, though her tone didn't sound overly apologetic. "My mum always said sometimes things don't work out so that something better can take its place."
Hermione smiled. "It wasn't all that bad though. I met a nice man at the chemist. He said he'd see what he could do and to go back in a few days."
"Was that Horace Slughorn?"
"Yeah. That's the one. How did you know?"
"It's a small town," Luna stated. "Everyone knows everyone here."
Hermione stopped her stirring, her thoughts returning to the beautiful barista at Hogwarts and the knee-weakening smile he'd given her as she'd left.
Did Luna know him, too?
After her muffin, Hermione hadn't had any trouble leaving the café. She simply upped and left, proving to herself beyond a doubt that Luna's warnings were unwarranted. But, having not gotten the name of the barista and not being nearly brave enough to confess to going against Luna's advice on her third day, she decided it might've been for the best to not mention him.
"What about you?" Hermione asked instead. "How was the shelter?"
"It was alright. A new cat came in in the morning. He just wandered in, off the street... I think he knew we wanted to help him."
"Huh," Hermione sounded. "Smart cat."
"Oh yes, he was very bright. We haven't thought up a name yet... he didn't seem to like any of the names we suggested."
Choosing not to comment on the fact that she was sure the cat would be fine with any name they gave it, Hermione hummed thoughtfully. "How about... Oliver?" she suggested, thinking back to the book she'd just finished. "Or Charles? Dickens?"
Luna frowned. "I'm not sure if he'll like those."
"What about... Crookshanks?"
She still didn't look convinced. "I'll have to ask him what he thinks tomorrow."
Hermione popped another piece of pasta into her mouth. "I suppose that would be the polite thing to do."
Luna left shortly after that, singing to herself as she headed for the shower.
Hermione relaxed back into the couch once she'd finished her pasta, thoughts drifting back to the man at the coffee shop as the news played on the TV, unnoticed.
She wondered what his name was. She wondered where in town he lived. Perhaps it was close. She wondered how old he was, and how he spent his free time. She wondered what his coffee order was. Did he like coffee? Surely he must. She wondered what he was doing working as a barista, in such a small town, no less. How had he ended up here?
She fantasised that he was like her, running away from heartbreak, leaving an old life behind.
Maybe he needed help, someone to talk to. Maybe they could comfort each other. Maybe she should speak with him.
Maybe she should go back.
Harry wasn't sure where he was. Having lost signal on his phone a half hour ago, he'd stopped keeping track of where they would be on the map. There was only one road, anyway. It wasn't as if they could get lost.
Instead, he watched out the window, his eyes darting as he watched the trees lit up by the car's headlights as they passed.
They were all a blur.
"Thanks for doing this," he eventually muttered, keeping his focus out the window.
The driver let out a slow sigh, his eyes not wavering from the road. "Yeah."
"The offer still stands, you know," said Harry, finally looking toward his godfather. "I'm more than happy to pay you."
"I don't want your money, kid," Sirius refused for what wasn't the first time.
Harry paused, the music from the CD Sirius had put on thumping quietly in the background. "You know I wouldn't have asked if I wasn't desperate."
Sirius' hands tightened around the wheel.
"What makes you think something's going on?"
Harry followed Sirius' gaze, watching as they continued down the straight dark road toward the pitch black past the range of the headlights. "She wouldn't just up and disappear. It's not like her."
Sirius glanced over, his eyes tired. "How well do you know her?"
"Pretty well," Harry said, nodding slightly. "She... she's my best mate's sister. Ron agrees with me. It's not like her."
He didn't like speaking about Ginny. It brought all the memories back, memories he'd worked for months to repress. His tone, tight and reserved left the unspoken, I thought we were something more, hanging uncomfortably in the silence between them.
"Something going on with her?" Sirius questioned, his voice noticeably softer than it had been earlier. "Or something going on in the town?"
"I..." Harry brought one of his arms up to rest being his head. "I'm not sure."
"But you think it's the town," Sirius surmised. "That's why you asked me instead of Remus?"
Harry looked back out the window, focusing back on the patterns of the trees in the headlights.
"Yeah. You know he wouldn't believe me."
Sirius nodded slowly, his lips tightening thoughtfully.
"Well... you needn't worry kid," Sirius gruffed. "If there is something - anything at all – you can be sure we'll find out."
Harry relaxed into his seat, leaning the weight of his head against his headrest as he told himself that Sirius was probably right.
There wasn't a case his godfather couldn't crack.
The trees off the road had grown thicker now, the headlights barely penetrating the first row of plant life. They must have been getting close. If they'd hit the forest, Hogsmeade would only be a few hours away.
A few hours more, and they would reach Ginny.
A few hours more, and Harry would have his answers.
He hoped they weren't too late.
The very next day, Hermione went back to the shop.
She was almost buzzing with excitement.
While she'd been wary when she was under the impression the shop was drugging its patrons through the coffee, she had absolutely no qualms about going back now that she knew better. Especially since it came with the opportunity to stare at such a beautiful man. Even though it came with the heavy risk of embarrassing herself further, she figured she'd done such a thorough job of it the day before, that it hardly mattered what he thought of her now.
Not that he'd think of her at all.
She was just another patron.
He wouldn't even remember her anyway.
The shop was a stark contrast to how it'd been the previous day, though being a Tuesday, she wasn't overly surprised. Caffeine was always far more precious on a Monday.
Entering the cafe, her eyes were drawn to him at once, attracted like magnets.
He was leaning on his elbows on the counter, bent over at the hip, his expression rather bored seeing as he had no customers to serve. As the bell of the door gave away her presence, his eyes snapped up to meet hers.
His mouth grew into a slow smile as he eyed her lingering in the doorway.
She had half a mind to turn and flee. One look, and the need for air overcame her. The stone flooring beneath her feet seemed to shift, rendering her stance uneasy.
Magic, indeed.
"A regular long black," he drawled, the words carrying across the café and definitely not posed as a question. He slowly rose to stand straight, tapping the order into the screen.
Her approach was slow.
"You remembered." Her blood fought against the pull of gravity, victoriously flushing into her neck and cheeks.
He smiled sideways.
"It isn't everyday I have the privilege to meet a Hermione."
Her stomach twisted. How many people must he speak to in a day? How many names must he take?
Out of all of them, he remembered hers.
Gods, and he didn't just remember it, he spoke it.
She'd never been overly fond of her parents' choice, but hearing it coming from his lips could've changed her opinion.
"No, I-I can't imagine there'd be many of us," she said, her tone coming out more dazed than she'd intended. "Especially in a town small as this one."
"It is rather minuscule." She noticed his eyes drifting as he spoke, across her face as though he were studying her features. "Was that all?"
She swallowed, her mouth dry. "Could you... would you mind adding a raspberry muffin?"
His smile was wide, something playful in his eyes.
"Coming right up."
Had Hermione been able to pry her eyes away from him to look out the front window, she might've noticed a crow perched in the lowest branch of the largest tree, beady eyes angled in her direction.
But she didn't.
All she noticed was him.