Story Title: Café De Lys
School: Durmstrang
Prompts: Green (main), pairing chosen by a teammate (Bill x Fleur), and watching from afar.
Year: Filling in for 7th year
Word count: 1,995
=={*}==
A key was inserted into the lock on the glass door and turned to the left, a scarred and worn hand grasped the handle and pulled it open. Head tilted up in thought, taking in the pink Jasmine and red honeysuckle vines clinging to the area above the door, glowing in the light of the early sunrise.
"Hmm, going to have to trim those soon," came a distracted mumble from the figure in the doorway. They shook their head free from unnecessary thoughts and walked into the bright, warm building, shutting the door behind them, being careful not to get any of the delicate flowers trapped between the door and the frame. They weaved their way between tables and various planter boxes on their way to the backroom, taking note of which boxes looked to need the most care on their way. Once in the back, they flicked on the lights, chasing away the shadows that had obscured them previously, revealing black-as-sin hair, impossibly green eyes, well fitted dark clothes that looked like a uniform, and a tall, lean, masculine body with a number of scars both visible and partially so dotting their exposed skin. The young man, a twenty-four year old British born noble called Harry Potter, took a deep breath, smiled, and got to work. He had a coffee shop to open.
For months, Gabriella had listened to her roommates go on and on about this amazing coffee shop they'd found by chance while exploring the town one Saturday. She was away from home attending University at Beauxbaton, the same school her elder sister had attended before going into accounting, and her schedule had been rather busy until now, so she'd decided to finally see what the hype was all about. She could use a proper iced latte, anyway.
The first thing she saw of the building was a veritable waterfall of beautifully kept honeysuckle and pink jasmine vines all along the exposed front wall, carefully cut back from the doorway and the numerous large windows. Through the windows, she could see small hedges of holly and yew in front of a number of tall tables with couples and small groups sitting and talking animatedly. The inside, what she could see at least, looked to be lit by a number of skylights. And the smells, oh the smells! Aside from the heavenly scent of professionally brewed coffee and freshly baked dark chocolate brownies, the pleasant aroma of freshly watered plants and sweet smelling flowers filled the air, relaxing her in a way she hadn't been in a while. It reminded her of home in a way.
Gabriella shook herself from her thoughts and walked through the open door. Everywhere she looked, she saw planters or hanging baskets containing various flowering plants. The harmony between the brown walls and the different green leaves with a spattering of blue, purple, red, and orange, all lit by natural light instead of harsh fluorescent gave everything an almost magical glow. Her mother was a prize winning florist, she'd been around flowers all her life, but never had she seen such healthy, such happy flowers in her life.
How? How is this even possible? What's their secret? Who is their gardener?!
"You like our flowers?" A voice asked from in front of her. Gabriella turned from her inspection of a Lily of the Valley plant — perfectly drained, no excess water or fertilizer, beautifully green leaves and stalks, carefully nurtured to show off as many flowers as possible — and realized the barista, a young lady perhaps a few years her senior, with hair so pale it was almost white, wide, pale blue eyes that seemed to look permanently surprised, and a soft, knowing smile, had been speaking to her.
Gabriella decided this was just the opportunity she needed. "Yes, they're simply magnificent, could you tell me what your gardener uses to achieve such splendid results?"
The woman's smile dimmed, as though the answer saddened her greatly. "Harry's poured his all into these flowers; his happiness, his sadness, his anger, his pain — I don't think it's something just anyone could pull off, though. Harry's had a hard life and sometimes, I get the feeling his flowers are his only reason for getting up in the morning. This may be his shop, but he only keeps it running for his flowers. They like the attention the customers give them, apparently."
"Oh," Gabriella whispered, looking around in realization. These flowers, with their verdant green leaves and vibrantly hued petals, they bloomed with the emotions their caretaker — not gardener, not with these flowers — poured into caring for them. Just looking at them had her heart aching from the realization that what she'd first seen as impossibilities were in fact miracles of hours spent tending to each plant individually, taking time to learn the little nuances of the plants and their specific needs. She'd bet away her entire bank account and her education that this Harry would know with a single glance if a single blossom was missing or a leaf out of place with how much time he spent working with and caring for these flowers. It was beautiful and it was humbling and she felt her heart aching for this man she'd never met but felt she knew better than anyone she'd ever known until now.
"I apologize for the depressing thoughts, Harry is like an older brother to me. Anyway, what can I get for you?"
Gabriella was drawn from her thoughts by the question, her eyes focusing back onto her fellow blonde. "Right, yes. I'll take an iced latte to go."
The woman's smile wasn't as bright or as knowing, but it was happy and it was honest, and for that, Gabriella was glad.
She received her iced latte, thanked the woman, and left, her thoughts still on the impossibly brilliant flowers of the coffee shop and the man who took care of them. She barely even remembered the latte in her hands.
=={*}==
A week later, Gabriella was at her parents house for the rare family dinner with everyone there, including Fleur's husband, William "Call me Bill" Weasley, a British born man of humble beginnings but with a rather stunning life story. Bill was the team lead of a large archaeological dig site in Egypt sponsored by Gringotts National Bank for six years running. He and Fleur had met nine years prior, right after she'd started interning at Gringotts while he was home for some family problems. The two married two years later, right before the resurgence of a dormant terrorist cell based in London. The newlyweds had spent what should have been their honeymoon fighting on the front lines, where Bill was brutally attacked by a man that was more a feral animal than human anymore. A year later, the leader of the terrorist cell was dead, the members arrested, and Bill and Fleur finally managed to take their honeymoon before Bill returned to Egypt with his wife in tow. Bill quickly rose up in the ranks, finally becoming the team lead of the dig site, while Fleur had joined the embassy as an envoy for Gringotts National Bank.
But Gabriella wasn't thinking about any of that, her mind was on the subject of the mysterious Harry, owner of that coffee shop and caretaker of the many gorgeous plants and flowers both inside and outside the shop. She'd visited the shop twice more, half hoping to see Harry, to confront him about the range of emotions she'd felt from his flowers every time she went, but he never showed. She was beginning to believe what the barista, Luna, said, that he really did only have the coffee shop for the sake of his flowers and nothing else. It was sad and frustrating, and she wasn't sure she could take it much longer.
"...-briella, Gabriella? Are you well, dear?"
Gabriella looked up from her plate to find the family looking at her in concern.
"Err, I'm fine, Mama, no worries," she replied, shaking herself from her thoughts and returning to the meal.
Her Papa and Mama shared a glance, and Bill and her sister shared one, too, before her Papa asked gently, "Is it something going on at school? Is the course work too hard, your roommates too noisy?"
"No, Papa, nothing like that," she soothed. "There's this… Boy, I suppose. I've never met him in person, but there's this coffee shop about fifteen minutes from the school owned by him that I've started going to… It's one of those botanical garden coffee shop hybrids, but this one's different from the rest. It's… Homey, peaceful, calming, and yet, at the same time, there's this sense of pain and sadness masked by the airs of happiness emanating from the flowers. It pains me how people can just ignore the feelings he's poured into the care of the very same flowers they praise, but I've yet to be able to talk to him, to tell him not everyone is like that, and it's eating away at me. He feels so lonely every time I see his flowers, but I can't do anything!" She punctuated the last word by slamming a closed fist onto the table, jarring the dishes and startling the others. "Sorry," she muttered, carefully removing her hands from the table.
"It's alright, dear, just don't do it again, please. Now, this boy, do you at least have a name?" Her Mama asked kindly.
Gabriella shook her head. "Just his first, Harry."
Fleur let out a strangled gasp while Bill looked resigned.
"I guess now we know where he and Luna disappeared to," he said, glancing meaningfully to his beautiful wife. Fleur looked close to tears.
"What?" Gabriella asked in confusion. "Who are you talking about?"
"Harry Potter, The Slayer of Voldemort," Fleur whispered thickly.
=={*}==
It was the seventh time she'd returned after that initial first visit. She was as stunningly beautiful as the first time he'd seen her, this time wearing a pale green sleeveless summer dress with one of those floppy summer hats in white. Her long blonde hair was braided out of her face and down her back, and she had a white purse hanging from her shoulder with a green and gold flower design on the front. He desperately wanted to go up to her, to tell her she looked amazing, to complement her an ask her on a date, but… He'd been burned too many times by pretty girls who only saw him for his fame, for his fortune, for his titles and prestige, but never for himself, the lonely orphan warrior who just wanted a family of his own, who couldn't care less about his fame and his fortune and his titles and prestige. He wanted trust and devotion, love and a spark of something deep and true. He wanted true love and a true family, not facsimiles of such. And no matter how much he loved Wesley's, they'd never been his family, not really.
As he was watching her order her usual iced latte, she suddenly turned and looked directly at him. Their eyes met, her blue and his green, and Harry felt that spark. She smiled at him, softly and full of emotions he'd never been on the receiving end of, and he knew she wouldn't be like the other pretty girls he'd tried dating. Her beauty was like that of a lily, pure and whole, and more than just skin deep.
