OKAY GUYS. A NEW FIC. YEAH. (whywhywhywhydidistartthisnow.)
Explanations at the end! YEAH.
(Please bear in mind that I'm only winging everything here, as I'm not a Brit or an American, and I've never been to the US or UK, much less NYU. Please forgive me for any mistakes I might have made in this. Thank you and Enjoy!)
Edited.
Disclaimer: I still don't own Harry Potter.
Harry meets her in the book shop a few blocks away from his dorm. He was already late for his 11AM class, and he was running as fast as he could, glasses askew and clothing rumpled, dodging people left and right. He'd been working late the night before, and went to sleep even later because he'd needed to study for an exam the next day.
He had been apologizing rather hastily to the girl he'd bumped into, still running, when a door to his right opened abruptly. Naturally, he crashed into it spectacularly, the impact jarring his vision, and sprawled awkwardly on the street.
"Ow - Fuck." He swore, clutching his aching nose.
"Oh my god, I'm so sorry! Are you alright?"
It was the accent more than the words that had made him look up, seeing a girl with bushy brown hair staring down at him in concern.
"I - yeah. I'm alright, just a bit winded." He replied, blinking. The pain in his nose was receding, and his glasses didn't seem to be broken, thank god. They were new, just a month old, and he couldn't really afford to buy new ones right now.
"Are you sure? I'll take you to the clinic, if you'd like." The girl offered, helping him to his feet.
"Yeah, I'm sure. Thanks." He assured her, dusting off his pants and fixing his glasses. "It was my fault anyway, running like that."
He gave her a polite smile, which she returned. She was pretty, he thought, in an understated kind of way. Her eyes were a warm honey, and she had a pretty smile, teeth straight and white.
"Well, if you say so."
For the first time, he noticed the pile of books she was carrying. They looked heavy.
"Uh, d'you want help with those?"
She blinked several times, before turning to the aforementioned books.
"Oh, no, no thank you. I'm used to carrying heavy books. I hardly ever feel them, now."
"We - "
There was a sudden ringing, and the girl dug into her bag, pulling out a slim phone. She gave him another smile before turning and answering it, crossing the street when the light went green.
"Yes? Oh! Yes, I'm sorry, Professor! I'll be there in five minutes. Yes, I have them right now. Alright."
'Huh,' Harry thought. It was the first time he'd encountered another Brit since he left England for America a year ago. He felt a tiny pang of nostalgia before he shook it off, running more sedately to class this time.
#
A week later, Harry was exiting his 3PM class when he saw her again, this time inside a nearby classroom and talking to an older man, presumably a professor of hers. She was nodding and scribbling something in her notebook while the man in front of her talked. He watched her for a moment, curious, before remembering about the paper he was supposed to write for his Literature class (he didn't know why he thought it was a good idea to take English Lit at the time, and he'd regretted it ever since. He liked to read, but he didn't like it that much.)
He glanced at the girl one last time before hurrying off, already constructing the introduction in his head.
#
Harry squinted at the words on the screen, skimming them one last time before deeming the paper as a lost cause and printing it. He thought it was good enough, he'd pointed out enough flaws he could possibly see in the book they'd been assigned to review (his professor always did say to not be afraid of criticizing published works, even the good ones), and he just hoped he'd at least get points for effort. He sighed, rubbing his eyes and wiping his glasses. He put them on and watched the printer spit out the pages. He had work tonight, but thankfully it wasn't until 7PM, so he had an hour or two to relax in his dorm before he had to go.
He worked at a bookshop a few blocks away from his dorm. He'd found it a week after he'd arrived in NYU, overwhelmed by the different culture and people, at how far away from England he'd gone. He had been wandering, getting himself used to the neighborhood, and he'd found himself in front of it, attracted to the HELP WANTED sign hanging in front of the glass window. It looked tiny and cramped from the outside, but as soon as he'd stepped inside, he was surprised to see it was actually a lot bigger than he had previously thought. It had a cozy atmosphere, and the smell of paper reminded him of hours spent in the library hiding from his cousin Dudley and his minions. It was a comforting smell, and he decided then that he wouldn't mind working there.
The owner, a middle aged lady named Sherry, looked hesitant about hiring him at first, looking at him from head to toe, probably seeing how skinny he was and thinking he wouldn't be able to lift a pile of books without breaking something. But he could see the pity in her eyes, and knew that he'd get the job. Sometimes, Harry thought, it pays to be scrawny.
He had been working there for a little more than a year now, and he could honestly say he was happy there, as much as he could be while juggling it with his school work. It was busy, seeing as it was in a college neighborhood where students constantly looked for books they needed for a class, but it wasn't too busy that he couldn't study when it was a slow day. Plus, Sherry liked to give him the breads and brownies she made every week, which meant he at least ate something healthy once a week, two if she was feeling fond of him.
He took the small pile of papers from the printer and read them over again, nodding in satisfaction when he saw no typos. He stuffed them in his backpack, trying to remember if he had anything left to do before he went back to his dorm. When he couldn't recall anything, he closed the computer he used, slung his backpack on his shoulder, and walked towards the exit.
Harry paused when he caught a glimpse of familiar bushy hair bent over a book.
"Is that...?"
The girl straightened and rolled her shoulders. She was mid-yawn when she noticed him looking at her. Her cheeks flushed, and she waved at him, smiling. He waved back, looking at his watch before deciding he could stay for a few minutes. He was curious about her, seeing as she was the first Brit he'd met in his year at NYU, and it couldn't hurt to be friendly with someone right? He never really had friends growing up, most of them scared away by Dudley and his friends and the rest turned off by his...weirdness. He couldn't fault them, he'd be ignoring himself too, if he could.
Harry supposed Clara counted as a friend, but they only ever really hung out at the shop when they were both working because she was always busy with her school work, and her other friends. So they didn't get to talk as much as much friends usually would, and since he didn't really talk to anybody else, he was always alone. He didn't mind, he was used to it anyway.
He felt a bit apprehensive and shy, hoping he wouldn't come off as weird and awkward to her. He'd never done this before, not really, but she looked nice enough that he hoped she wouldn't find his awkwardness off putting.
"Uh, hi." He greeted her, torn between sitting down and just standing.
"Hi." She seemed a bit shy, too, looking up at him through her lashes. He was fascinated by how long they were.
Harry said fuck it in his head and just sat down in the chair in front of her, putting his backpack down on the floor. He cleared his throat.
"So, where are you from? You are from England, right?" He asked, hastily adding the last question.
Her smile widened and she nodded.
"Yeah, I am. I'm from London, you?"
"Surrey."
"We're a bit far from home, aren't we?" She replied.
He shrugged, feeling the awkwardness gradually recede as he slowly relaxed. He could do this, he could.
"I'm sorry, but I don't think I caught your name?" She asked politely, curious eyes on his.
"Oh, oh yeah. Um, it's Harry. Harry Potter." He answered, a little embarrassed. He could feel the back of his neck heating up. He should probably stop stuttering, god. 'Pull yourself together, Potter!,' he thought.
She put her hand in front of him.
"Nice to meet you, Harry. I'm Hermione Granger."
Okay, so. I whipped this up today (no joke) after I read a few Harmony fics. And in one of those fics, it had a line that basically said, even if Harmony were muggles, they'd still find each other, and I just.
I've been thinking of making this fic for a few years, I just didn't because of reasons. But I was struck by inspiration and I just, I couldn't not write it, you know?
Anyways, as I've said at the beginning, I'm just winging and making things up as I go. Please don't take anything or any place I write in this canon, because they're not.
Also, I DON'T KNOW WHAT AM I DOING OMG.
Can you guys suggest as to what classes Harry&Hermione might take in NYU? And also their eventual careers? Can you include your explanations as to why you think so? THANKS GUYS.
(Seriously though, what am I doing writing an AU fic? Post-War era fics are so much easier to write, omg.)
THANKS FOR READING GUYS! Please review, if you'd be so kind.
