A/N: I know what you're thinking, that I should be working on "A Certain Romance". As I've explained to majority of the people who sent me PM's, I am working on that story. But this plot bunny just bit me on the brain and kept bothering me. Inspired by my teacher's true story, with an ending in which they actually end up together.

Flowers

He had first entered the small café on rather humid day for early May. He distinctly remembered seeing a weather forecast, stating that the heat wouldn't be coming in until mid-June. Escaping the harsh paparazzi, he fled to the Muggle world, where no one would follow him. He had just graduated from Hogwarts (Graduation was surprisingly scheduled to be earlier). His friends were happy and excited. Some were entering into the Auror program. Some were entering into the Healer school. But he had no idea what to do. He wanted some normalcy in his life. Once he'd defeated Voldemort, the press had never stopped hounding on him. Not even once. And so he'd fled. He grabbed his trunk, his owl, Hedwig, and the rest of his belongings and left. Placing his belongings in a small motel, he changed into his regular clothes, looking for someplace to eat. He'd found a small café nearby. It was rather quiet and a bit empty. There were a few students lounging about with textbooks and laptops. Harry placed his hand into his pants pocket, feeling the few Muggle notes he had converted from his money back at Gringott's.

He pushed the door open and ordered a small snack. He quickly found a cozy corner to enjoy his coffee and Danish in peace. He resisted the urge to heave a gigantic sigh of relief. He glanced around, wishing he had a book to read so he wouldn't have to ponder so much on the spontaneity of his actions. At least nobody's gawking at you, his mind reminded him as he quickly looked around the nearly empty café again. He supposed majority of its customers were students since it was positioned rather near to a university. There were only a handful of people, including himself. And then the small bell hanging about the door jingled softly. A young woman, about his age, entered. Her bushy hair was pulled into a sloppy ponytail, and her blouse looked rather wrinkled. She had a large, beige bang slung across her body. Looks as if she's been having the same day I've been having, Harry thought amusedly as she approached the counter.

"Hermione!" the cashier exclaimed in surprise. "I haven't seen you in ages! How's school?"

Hermione gave her a pointed look. "Six quizzes today. Four of them were surprise quizzes," she complained.

The ginger haired girl laughed. "Well, what can you expect? Besides, I bet you've aced all of them. And you're nearing graduation, already. In fact, it's in two weeks, aye?"

"Yes, unfortunately," the younger girl replied. "The professors are giving us every test they can think up. I can't wait to transfer to the University nearby. I wish graduation wasn't so late."

"Why was it delayed again?"

The brown haired girl tried not to look annoyed as she remembered why. "A few of my classmates mixed up the class fund with their own money. It took quite a while for them to earn back all the money we'd been saving up for the past four years."

"Well, don't worry your pretty, little head. Stay in your usual spot and I'll bring you your favorites, on the house," she said.

Hermione gave her a crooked smile. "Thank you, so much, Helen. It's just what I need."

Helen gave her a wink and said, "I'll even double the revel bars, just for you."

"Thanks again," she replied. She turned around and scouted for her usual spot, which was thankfully empty.

Harry had been watching the entire exchange, his eyes glued to the brunette. She settled on a sofa next to his. He watched her pull out a thick tome, which was probably a textbook, and opened it to a page filled with highlighted sentences. She pulled out a black pencil box and pulled out a blue highlighter. She immediately got set on continuing her studies. A few minutes afterwards, Helen approached her, setting down a steaming cup of what looked to be hot chocolate and two revel bars on a small saucer. "Thanks again, Helen," Hermione said, grinning at her friend.

"It's not a problem. And don't study too hard. That head of yours might just blow up."

Hermione rolled her eyes and continued to scan her book.

And from that day onwards, Harry seemed to be drawn to the intelligent brunette. He came into the café everyday, hoping to see her. In fact, he grew to know Helen, the owner and cashier, rather well. And Hermione was always there, always studying. Sometimes, which was often rare, she came with just a small novel to read. Sometimes, she came with a few friends. She usually came alone, though, with her only companion to be a book. She often came on Mondays, Thursdays, Fridays, Saturdays, and Sundays. Most of the time, she came around three in the afternoon. Sometimes, she even came earlier. But most times, she came on Monday, at five in the afternoon.

Harry knew he couldn't just keep watching her forever. So he bought a flower. A rose, to be specific. He took twenty minutes picking out the right one. And then he found it. It had fallen out of a fresh bundle as the shopkeeper was placing more flowers into the basket. He picked it up, paid for it, adding an extra coin or two, and left. And now he was there, on a regular Monday at precisely five o'clock, with a rose in his hand. He'd asked Helen to give it to her, requesting her to tell Hermione it was merely from "a young man". The older woman was rather giddy about the ordeal, and gave it just as she was giving Hermione her usual order. (She paid this time, of course.)

"Some young man wanted me to give you this, sweetie," Helen drawled, holding the perfect rose to her.

She took the rose and admired its perfection. She pressed her nose to it, inhaling its beautiful scent. "It's lovely," she said. Harry felt extreme euphoria rise inside of him, feeling thoroughly pleased at his idea. "It's a shame, though. My favorite flowers are lilies."

Harry felt his heart drop at her statement. I'll just buy her lilies next Monday, he thought confidently. He felt his spirits bolster slightly.

And so it continued.

Hermione Granger opened the door to the Bookkeeper's Café and made her way to her usual place. There were only two other people aside from her inside of the quaint café. One was a student from her university, who was also probably attending the optional first years' summer program. The other was a young man who looked about her age. His hair was like a bird's nest and he was reading a small novella. (She could distinctly see the title, "The Old Man And The Sea,") She had been busier than ever. She had started her summer classes a few days ago. Her father had insisted that she take a break year to rest, but she wouldn't hear of it. If I want to be a doctor, I'll have to make some sacrifices, she thought with certainty. She sat on her the rather large settee, setting her bag beside her on the sofa. Just as she was setting her book down on the table, she stopped in midair. Resting on top of the table were four perfect white lilies, tied together by a small silk white ribbon. She lifted them and smiled, as she smelled their scent. Beneath the flowers was a blue sticky note. She pulled at it. The note read:

"It does not matter how slow you go, so long as you do not stop."
- Confucius

Just because you have a dream, it doesn't mean you have to move too fast to make it come true. Slow down a little bit, before you break the speed limit.

On the back of the note, the neat handwriting scrawled,

P.S.
"Slow down" doesn't necessarily mean, "stop". And keep the white ribbon. It might look good in your hair.

The brunette smiled despite herself. Whoever this was, he had a point. She should take a day or few off. She immediately called the head professor, informing her she would be taking the next week off.

A few feet behind her, a young man with bright green eyes hid his smile behind his book.

This continued on for months now. Every Monday at five o'clock in the afternoon, he would enter the coffee shop and leave her a flower or two. Most days, she was always there before him, which led to having Helen bring her the flowers. Harry brought her different flowers everyday, attaching a short note with it. On days when he arrived before she did, Harry left her a small bunch of flowers on her table, usually with a short poem he'd written or a small sketch of random objects. (Harry had found a talent he never knew he had in writing poems and sketching.) Harry had yet to think about what he was to do with his life, but Hermione was driving him mad. He paid close attention to everything of her. They hadn't met yet, and Helen was getting worried that Harry's infatuation with her friend was bordering on obsession. It wasn't, however, as everyday Harry thought up numerous ways to go up to her and finally meet her, but he'd always been too much of a coward when it came to the opposite gender.

One particular day, Harry entered the coffee shop, running a bit late. He'd run into one of his closest friends back in school, Luna Lovegood. She was on her way to the catch a taxi to meet her father in the airport. She'd taken the time to pause, however, and catch up with him. He'd told her a few lies here and there, and he had the feeling she knew that he was lying. The blonde woman didn't seem irritated by it, though, and merely asked for the truth. And so he told her the truth. He told her about Helen, about the Bookkeeper's Café, and then he told her about Hermione. She merely smiled at him, as if the entire thing was horribly amusing to her, which it probably was. She proceeded to give him advice on what to do about it (which was basically, "tell her before somebody nabs her from your fingertips"). Harry chose to follow it.

So when he entered the coffee shop, a bunch of periwinkle hyacinths in hand, he froze at the sight. He'd been running more than half an hour late than five o'clock because he's been stringing together something witty and reasonable to say to Hermione. But this time was different. The café was practically empty. Hermione was in her usual seat. This time, however, there was someone else seated beside her. Everything he'd rehearsed suddenly flew from his mind at breakneck speed at the sight of her new friend. Beside her was a brown haired man. He was handsome, no doubt, and the two were studying. They were seated together, of course. But much too closely with one another that it wouldn't be proper if they were just friends. Harry momentarily glanced at Helen, who was watching the couple with obvious distaste. She caught his glance and shrugged, as if to say, "I didn't know anything about him either." His eyes suddenly turned downcast to his shoes, and he suddenly felt ice-cold all over. Deciding to leave before Hermione could see him and embarrass himself any further, he dropped the bunch of flowers on a nearby table and left the café, realizing that was the first time he'd ever wanted to be away from the cozy coffee shop.

Hermione looked at her watch. It was nearing six o'clock. Helen would be closing up shop any time from then. She sighed as she closed her textbooks. Her close friend and cousin, Matthew Crawford, did the same. "I s'pose we should be heading home, right?" He asked, stuffing his things into his book bag.

"I suppose," the brunette murmured absently. For some reason, she felt as if something was missing from that day. Aside from the stunning lack of customers, there was something else. Perhaps one of the customers she'd grown accustomed to seeing all the time. Hermione looked back, and the only one with a memorable face was the rather mysterious bloke who sat nearby her. If she remembered correctly, his hair resembled a bird's nest, and his eyes were a beautiful emerald green. His bangs were constantly covering his forehead, as if he was hiding something. And he usually had a book with him, but sometimes, he'd have a small notepad and a pencil. It shook Hermione a bit, to realize she paid attention so much to him.

"Hermione?" Matthew asked, peering concernedly into her face. "You all right there?"

"Oh, yes," she replied, grinning uneasily at her companion, "quite all right. Well, we should get going."

"I could bring you home if you'd like," he offered.

Hermione shook her head. "No, thank you. I'm going to help Helen close up."

"Well, if you say so. Stay safe. And thanks for keeping me company even if all we did was study," he said, grinning at her.

"Honestly, 'keeping one company' doesn't necessarily require conversations of any sort. In fact—"

"All right, time to hush up," he teased, placing his hand over her mouth. He soon regretted it, however, when she sank her teeth into his palm. "Ow!" He yelped. "Hermione! That was my writing hand!" He glared at her when she grinned back at him. "Unfortunately, Hermione, not all of us can afford to be left-handed like you."

"Whatever," she said offhandedly. "See you, Matthew."

He pecked her cheek in a friendly fashion. "See you. Don't stress yourself too hard. You just might explode. And then, who am I going to ask for help with all this schoolwork?"

"Ha, ha, very funny," she replied, casting him a scathing look. "Get your arse out of here."

"Same time next week?"

"Definitely. Bye, Matthew."

With a quick wave, Matthew left the small shop. Seizing the opportunity, Hermione stretched her arms up. "Need any help closing up, Helen?" she asked the older woman, who was watching Hermione and Matthew with a slight glare.

"Help out if you want to," she replied shortly. The redhead started piling the turning the chairs upside down, placing them on top of the tables. Hermione raised an eyebrow at her friend's questionable behavior, but said nothing. She started with her table. Once she reached the table behind hers, she spotted a bundle of beautiful hyacinths that looked in desperate need of water. Hermione suddenly remembered that the weekly flowers she'd been getting hadn't arrived. Picking up the bundle, there was a note attached to the small ribbon. The note read:

To Hermione,

I wish I had the courage to meet you in person.

Hermione felt a sudden rush of affection towards this mysterious admirer. She felt Helen's gaze on her. "He came in earlier," the older lady said. "He took one look at how cozy you and your boyfriend were and fled, but not before leaving those flowers on that table."

The brunette gave him a confused look. "Boyfriend?" And then she realized it. "Oh! Do you mean Matthew? Oh, no, Matthew is my cousin from my mum's side. He moved over the weekend and needed helped settling in."

"Well, your admirer certainly thought wrong of it, then," Helen replied, relief evident in her voice.

"Could you tell me who he is? I'd like to correct the mistake,"

"Of course not. I promised him not to tell a word about his appearance, name, or personality."

Hermione glared slightly at her friend. "You can't even transmit a message for me then?"

"Well, I could. But I won't. Things like this should be done in person."

"Yes, well, I can't talk to him in person, can I? A certain somebody isn't going to tell me who he is."

Helen laughed. "Oh, don't worry, Hermione. If there's anybody who can think up a solution for this without buggering anything up, it's you."

Harry couldn't the last time he'd felt this awful. Perhaps it was when Sirius had died. But this hurt differently than with his godfather. He had a permanent ache in the middle of his chest now, as if he'd been hit over and over there with a Bludger. He heaved out a tired, heavy sigh, and rolled onto his stomach. He was lying on his bed in a small motel. He'd been lying there for nearly two hours, just thinking. It felt like everything inside of him was breaking. He kept picturing that bloke and Hermione together. Him holding her hand. Them kissing. Harry pressed the palms of his hands into his eyes, pushing his tears back. Guys don't cry, Harry. Oliver Wood's voice rang in his head. He remembered when the older boy had told him that. It was after his first fall during his first Quidditch practice. Harry had fractured his wrist and was crying uncontrollably. Oliver, their captain at the time, had taken him to the Hospital Wing. Once they were alone, the older boy wiped away Harry's tears and told him the only piece of advice he's ever listened to. The bespectacled man closed his eyes and removed his glasses, hoping sleep would finally overcome him.

When Harry woke up, he wasn't quite aware of what time it was. He was only aware of how loud the rumbling in his stomach was. He supposed he should at least get up and eat something. Swinging his legs off the bed, he sat up and rubbed his rather swollen eyes. He glanced at his bedside clock. It was nearly one o'clock in the afternoon already. He pulled on a shirt he'd left lying around and tugged on his jeans. Without realizing it until the loud bell jingled above him, Harry had walked to the Bookkeeper's Café. He sighed, and sat in his usual table. At least Hermione isn't here, he thought. But that thought seemed more of a punishment than a reward. Suppressing a sigh, he gave Helen a crooked smile as she approached him, his usual order in tow (a hot cup of coffee with five sugars and a chocolate Danish).

"I was starting to think you wouldn't be coming at all today," she said, obvious relief in her voice. She set the tray of food before him, and sat on the chair across his. It shouldn't look improper, since only two other people were inside of the café. Helen never got too many customers in the early afternoons, especially on Tuesdays.

"I still like this café, Helen. Despite getting the other inconveniences," Harry replied with quiet sincerity. He blew on his coffee and took an experimental sip.

"Oh, so Hermione is an 'inconvenience', now, is she?" his friend retorted.

He fixed her with a slight glare. "No, but her boyfriend is," he snapped, hurt evident in his tone. He knew he had no right to say that. Hermione had the perfect liberty to date other guys. He wasn't her keeper, and they hadn't even met in person. Harry felt a sudden depression slam into him. He may give her flowers every week, and the notes he wrote for her may make her smile, but it wouldn't stop her from getting a new beau. She was a beautiful girl, and she only thought of him as an admirer.

"That wasn't her boyfriend, sweetie," Helen explained. "He was her cousin. Moved in from Wales and needed help settling in. Hermione told me this herself."

"It doesn't matter anyway," the ebony-haired man said listlessly, surprising the older woman. "She can always get another boyfriend. And I'd never get the courage to talk to her. Even if I did, don't you think she'd be rather scared of me?"

Helen looked at him with a bit of concern. "Actually," she started, "Hermione asked about you yesterday. She noticed how she hadn't gotten her usual Monday flower. But, not wanting to sound greedy, she didn't say a word until she found the flower you left behind."

Harry was quiet, sternly squashing the hope in his mind. He kept his mouth from saying anything stupid by taking a bite out of his warm Danish, averting his eyes from Helen's.

"She wants to meet you, Harry,"

His eyes snapped up to meet hers, and she saw utter truth and concern in them. "W-what?" he stuttered uncharacteristically.

"It's true. She wants to meet you. I wouldn't tell her what you looked like, of course. She was in a right state about that, but she understood why. In fact, I bet she's worrying her little head in trying to think of a way to talk to you."

"Should I give her a flower today?" Harry asked quietly, unsurely.

Helen smiled at him. "No. I think Hermione's probably thought of what to do by now."

Hermione entered the coffee shop, feeling rather silly. It was Tuesday, but thanks to a national holiday, she had no class. She was dressed in her usual outfits and not the uniform. She tied her hair up loosely with the white ribbon and had a sling bag around her body with a beautiful white orchid poking out of it. She sat down in her usual spot and smiled weakly as Helen came over to her.

"You've figured everything out, I presume?" Helen asked, taking a seat across her.

"Yes," Hermione replied smugly. "See, you promised him you couldn't talk to me about him in any way at all. You never promised you couldn't show me who he was."

The older woman gave her a confused look. "Expound more, please."

"You never said you couldn't show me who he was. Obviously, you wouldn't show me who he was out of pure will. So, I'm going to get you to show him to me, without actually doing so," she explained. She pulled out the white orchid, which had a small note attached to it, and laid it on the table. "I'm going to ask you to give him this flower. And you can't say no, especially not for twenty pounds." She pulled the note out and slapped it on the table, smirking evilly. "I'll make it higher if you want more."

Helen grinned. If anybody could find a loophole out of this, it was Hermione. And she could barely wrap her mind around the fact that Hermione did find out what to do. "I'll do it for free," she said teasingly. "It's the least I could do for a friend."

The younger girl was about to reply, insisting that she wanted to pay, but immediately shut her mouth. She swiftly turned her head in the direction behind her. The man with messy black hair was back. She'd felt his gaze on her, and only needed proof that he was, indeed, looking at her. They locked eyes for a split second before he broke it and hurriedly returned to his book. Hermione turned back to Helen, who was grinning at her. "Are you sure you don't want the money?" she asked timidly, eyeing the twenty pound bill on the table.

"I don't want it," Helen replied firmly. "In fact, I've somewhere I should be right now." She gave Hermione a sly wink and said, "I'll be right back." She stood up and walked behind Hermione, who was watching her every move with subtlety. She didn't have to walk far, as Hermione had suspected. She approached the emerald-eyed man and laid the flower down before him.

Harry tried not to smirk as Helen approached him, a wide grin all over her face. She placed the flower on the table, slightly above his coffee cup. "That young lady over there wanted to give this to you," she drawled, giving him a wink. He could immediately feel Hermione's gaze upon him. So, that's what her plan was, Harry thought, the pieces fitting together. He shouldn't have underestimated Hermione's intelligence.

"Thanks," he whispered, picking up the white orchid. He wondered how she knew that orchids were his favorite flowers. He picked it up and fingered its soft petals. And then he saw the note. It was short, and only composed of two words and small drawing underneath them. It read:

Found you.

And below it was a sketch of his copy of the book, The Old Man And The Sea, by Ernest Hemingway. Harry smiled. It was one of his favorite books, and he'd been reading and rereading it every once in a while. And then he felt Hermione's gaze on him again. He looked up and found her soft, chocolate brown eyes looking back at him confidently. He couldn't keep her stare and looked away, suddenly feeling very embarrassed about his actions towards her. He heard her chair scrape backwards and then heard the chair across him get pulled back.

He looked up again. Hermione had (clearly) transferred to his table. "So it is you," she said, smiling at him. His heart started to clatter at the fact that she was actually talking to him. Her hands were on the table, and Harry couldn't help but realize how small they were.

"Er—yeah," he replied inanely. "You were guessing?"

She shrugged nonchalantly. "I suspected it might be you."

"Yeah?" Harry asked, trying to feel more at ease with her. It was hard to, when her hand was so close to his, and when she was smiling at him that way. "How'd you get to that suspicion?" He'd been expecting a long discussion on scientific method and messy planning, and so on, but she surprised him.

"Just a gut feeling, really," she said. "And the process of elimination. There are only a few people who come in everyday. And you just happened to be here every Monday at five o'clock. Nobody else really comes in then, which is why I come here on that day and time."

"Oh, well, I—"

And then Hermione surprised him again, by softly pressing her lips to his. It lasted only a second or two, but Harry felt as if he was in heaven. This is my first kiss, he thought fuzzily as she pulled back, blushing a bright red and very thankful it was only she and he in the café. (Helen was there, of course, but she didn't exactly count as a customer.) Harry blinked at her before making his own bold move. He cupped the back of her neck and pulled her to him. They met halfway to the kiss, their lips melding together. Hermione wrapped her arms around his neck, scooting her chair closer to his. Harry tried not to tug her close to him as hard as he could not to pull her to him so closely. They remained that way for a rather long while before Harry pulled back, both of them breathless. He looked into her soft eyes dazedly before pressing a quick kiss to her lips, making it last a second or three.

"I—I know it's a bit late, but I—I'm Harry. Harry Potter," he said, blushing.

"I'm Hermione Granger, but I suppose you knew that already," she said dryly, her fingers toying with the hairs hanging just above his nape. Harry tried not to shiver at the action.

"Not the Granger part," he admitted, grinning cheekily.

She laughed and he could feel her breath on his face. "It's nice to finally meet you, Harry Potter."

"The pleasure is all mine, Miss Hermione Granger," he replied in mock formality. She laughed and Harry suddenly felt like the luckiest person in earth, to be able to make her laugh like that.

Hermione eventually unwound her arms from his neck, but he wrapped his hands around hers instantly. And then they talked about anything and everything. Their conversation lasted all throughout the afternoon, with small kisses in between everything, and all the way until closing time.

And so on it went, until months became years, and years became centuries, and that eventually became forever.

Pointless Facts About The Story:

1.) Hermione is left-handed. I hope you don't mind the fact I made her so. I didn't want to make her usual, which, in this case, is right-handed people.

2.)I made Harry's favorite flower a white orchid, since it wasn't too girly. The orchid is beautiful in its simplicity and color. I also made it white, to match with Hermione's favorite flower, white lilies.

3.) Harry made friends in Hogwarts, but none that he kept for a long time. I made his relationship with his schoolmates seem rather unimportant, for key reasons. His number one reason for leaving for the Muggle world was so that he could have a bit of normalcy and avoid the press. A usual excuse, but reasonable enough to be in a plot.

4.) Hermione was originally going to become a teacher, but I don't think a person like Hermione would limit her abilities to merely teaching students. She's still amazingly (yet unfairly so) smart. Perhaps if I had positioned her in the magical world,

5.) I also maintained the trademark Hermione, with her responsible personality and bookish looks. I don't think I could quite picture an irresponsible, totally gorgeous Hermione. I wanted to keep her looks simple, which was one of the reasons she'd caught Harry's eye when he'd first seen her.

6.) I fashioned Harry in this story only slightly after Daniel Radcliffe. I've heard from my pen pal, who is an extreme fan of his, that he likes the book, "The Old Man And The Sea," as he stated in the Harry Potter and The Half-Blood Prince dvd bonus, "What's On Your Mind?", hosted by Tom Felton. (You can find this on youtube.) I decided to use this here. The book also makes Harry seem like a rather deep, and mellow sort of person, which is what I was aiming for.

7.) I was originally going to make another chapter, as a sort of "epilogue", but I didn't think it necessary. The epilogue was supposed to either be how Harry revealed to Hermione the magical world or their future life together.

8.) And lastly, Harry and Hermione obviously get married. (And have three Gryffindor children scrambling about in their cozy, Unplottable home in the outskirts in of the wizarding world.)

A/N: And please tell me if you liked it or not in a short (or long!) review! You should know how much I value them. :)