Books and Brooms
i.
The first time he sees her is a bright, sunny morning in May. He's juggling two coffees, his wand and a notebook in his hands, but despite how he struggles with this, he stops still upon noticing a young woman outside the shop across from him.
For months, he'd had to gaze out at a barren, grey building on the other side of the street. An absence of any life or colour emanating from it while it sat unoccupied. Before that, it had been almost as depressing, when an old cauldron shop fought to get by. Harry hated watching the debt collectors arrive at their door.
He takes a step forward to greet the woman. Her apparent busyness makes him stop short. She's casting charms to move large boxes into the shop from the pavement outside, an easy flick and swish to her movements. There's another young woman beside her, chatting with a calm and relaxed expression on her face.
Harry's attention is drawn to the brunette, who appears to be in charge. She directs the moving helpers with an authoritative command. Her hair is caught up in a brown clip, haphazardly holding onto the erratic curls. She's wearing a light blue dress, with sleeves to her elbows and falling to just above her knees.
There's something about her decisiveness and confident manner he finds alluring. He can't deny how pretty she is either, but cuts that thought short when he notices her looking at him. She tilts her head and says something to her colleague.
Harry begins to panic now because he has not one coherent thought in his head and wishes he had just gone inside to his shop and not dallied outside like some type of lunatic–
"Hi, I'm Hermione Granger," She's in front of him, holding her hand out with an open, friendly expression on her face.
He places one coffee in the crook of his arm for a moment to grasp her hand, hating his brain for pushing words like soft into his mind.
"Harry Potter."
He sees the realisation dawn on her. To her credit, and Harry's immense relief, her gaze does not flicker to his forehead. No, she remains looking at his eyes, and he sees that hers are brown. Quite a nice shade of brown, with some yellow, too, now that he really takes time to observe.
"Are you alright?" Hermione is frowning at him with something akin to concern. When he doesn't respond instantly, she adds on, "Sorry if we're bothering you, we're opening our shop this week so it will be quite busy until everythings perfect."
"Oh, no, not at all," Harry hurries to say, hoping he hasn't given the wrong impression, "I'll be glad to look at something a bit better than the empty building."
She tilts her head, as if wondering whether to be offended, and he recognises how his words may sound. Like he's hitting on her or something - which he isn't, obviously.
"I just mean - it's been a bit depressing.. Watching a business go out of business and get boarded up. Be nice to see some life!"
The words sound forced. Hermione doesn't linger on it. Instead, her eyes trail behind him to his own shop. Her eyes skim over the name before returning to him, amusement beginning to bloom on her face, "'Sports and Stuff '?"
He grins, "What, you haven't heard of us? Famous for sports. And, of course, other stuff."
To his delight, Hermione throws her head back and laughs at this. He's mesmerised and very quickly terrified; this cannot be good news for him.
When she's finished, she asks, "I thought Quidditch was as sporty as it gets?"
"Oh," He says, genuinely surprised now that she hasn't heard of his shop, "My Mum is muggleborn.. So, I, er, try to bring some muggle sports into the wizarding world as much as I can. And, I'll have you know, there are a couple of other sports besides Quidditch."
If he thought her laugh was addictive, it's nothing compared to the sensation he feels when she beams at him. Eyebrows raised and smile wide, she takes a step forward to look at the window of his shop more closely, "Wow, I – I… that is really lovely."
He shrugs, embarrassed and unsure of what he's supposed to say. It's not often he gets a reaction like this. Her parents must be muggleborn, too, he figures.
Hermione abruptly turns on her heel to face him again. They stand in silence for a second, him looking at her expectantly to speak. She chews on her bottom lip, hesitating before vocalising.
"I'm a muggleborn. So. Thank you, this truly feels like a little part of home."
Without warning, she reaches out and squeezes his arm. When he reddens and stutters, she recoils back. "Oh, I'm sorry, I didn't.. That was.. Well, I better get back. Luna will have the place decked in bottlecaps and beads if I spend too long away."
"Luna Lovegood? She's a friend of mine. I would pay good money to see a store decorated by her."
Hermione smiles, "Maybe other people will, too."
She waves and leaves him then. It takes him a minute for movement to kick in and he berates himself. He's exhausted by embarrassing himself in front of a gorgeous, lovely, clever woman. It's not the first time Harry has bungled a meeting.
Sighing, he retreats to his shop. The coffees for him and his assistant will probably need a heating charm.
ii.
The shop has a big opening night, with charmed, golden lights outside and madly glittering letters above the entrance. Harry watches as people queue outside, eager and excited for an evening of wine and readings. There's an itinerary he saw in the Leaky Cauldron, showing a series of authors reading snippets of their work and some doing Q&A's. Harry doesn't know how she's so well connected but his impression of her grows in respect.
He sits behind the counter of his own business, looking out the window as the evening unfolds. His store closes at 6pm, but he feigns work by placing receipts and parchment on the surface in front of him. Harry has never been particularly dedicated to subtlety anyway.
Hermione emerges every now and then. She's wearing black trousers and a light pink blouse tucked in, professional but not intimidating. Sometimes, she speaks with those waiting, although Harry can see this part does not come as naturally as the ordering people about. There's a reluctance he can see when she begins to take steps away as the customer is still talking, or how she glances down at her clipboard and taps it with a secret rhythm.
He's noticed her tuck her hair behind her ears, too, even though most of it is tied up.
"Are you going to stare all night? Hannah said there's some stuff we'd be interested in. And everyone will be there."
Harry drops his head to the counter with the realisation that Neville is still here. Slightly muffled, he asks, "You're still here, then? Not a hallucination?"
"'Fraid not. So. Are you coming? Your Mum will probably be there."
"Probably." Harry agrees mildly, unwilling to get into a conversation on it. His Mum started seeing a new bloke recently that Harry is unenthused about meeting. Although he truly wants his Mum to move on - it's been twenty-four years since his Dad passed, after all - there's something off putting about a man who calls him 'sport'.
"So, is that a yes? You're coming?"
Harry groans, "Fine . One free glass of wine and then I'm off home."
Neville claps him on the back, "That's all I ask."
"You're awfully desperate for me to leave the shop. Not planning a robbery, are you?" He goes to respond, but Harry cuts him off, "Just make sure you don't leave a mess. Hate cleaning up smashed glass."
"Anyone ever tell you you're dramatic, Harry?"
They walk over to the new bookshop and he continues to trade barbs with Neville until it dissolves to more civilised topics, like their jobs and dating life. Harry has been best friends with Neville since they were toddlers, but he has now gotten to the point that just the name 'Hannah' raises alarm bells in his mind. He has some gall to call Harry dramatic when they're crying over something every other week.
".. And I told her I'd meet her here, but she just said 'it's fine, I'm meeting Susan' in that kind of annoyed way and walked off. Do you reckon she'll not be speaking to me?"
Hermione is at the till, making pleasant conversation with customers as Luna rings them up. She wraps their books carefully in a colourful sheet of paper before placing them into paper bags. Harry looks at the nearest shelf of books and grabs one.
"Yeah, Neville. That's a good idea."
"A – a good idea? What are you talking about? Where are you going?" Harry holds up his book and gestures to the cash register. Neville appears confused, which Harry has to concede is fair, but doesn't follow him. Presumably, he's going to be occupied for the evening with finding Hannah. That isn't Harry's idea of fun, though he likes Hannah fine.
It's his lucky night when the person in front of him in the queue steps aside, eyes caught on another tome nearby. Harry stretches a smile and places his book on the counter.
Cheerfully, he greets her, "Hi, Hermione."
"Oh, hello, Harry. Good to see you here! This is Luna, although I understand you two know each other."
Luna nods, "Harry is a very good person and friend. He stopped people calling me Loony, you know."
Hermione's eyes harden, but she says, "That's very nice of you." The steely look on her face disappears when her eyes flicker down to his book. He sees her choke back a laugh and immediately puts his hand down on his purchase and pulls it towards him.
Twelve Fail-Safe Ways to Charm Witches
His face is aflame, Harry is sure. Suddenly warm all over, Harry pulls at his jumper, hoping to air himself out, and tries to justify himself, "I–I.. that's not.. It's a present." He finally finishes weakly.
A distant memory bursts to the front of his mind: Ron Weasley in their dorm, endorsing the powers of a book that Harry guffawed at. It worked on Lavender, in fairness.
Maybe he did need it.
Hermione touches his hand, brief but electric, "We don't judge people for their purchases."
He raises an eyebrow, "Oh, that was just a spontaneous giggle a minute ago, then?"
"I did not giggle, I–I was thinking of something funny.. From earlier.."
"Neither of you are very good at this," Luna comments, unnecessarily.
Harry clears his throat and drops a couple of coins on to the table. He's sure it will cover the amount, but he could be paying triple the price, he doesn't know. He does not intend on sticking around long enough to find out.
"Er, thanks anyway. Great shop. See you again!"
Luna starts to say something about change, and Hermione tries to thank him, but Harry waves it all off and exits as fast as he can. He keeps his head down - the last thing he needs is to run into his Mum. Part of him is annoyed at himself, because there does seem to be a lot going on, and it does seem like something he'd enjoy parts of, but there has been enough embarrassment for one night.
With his pride only mildly wounded, Harry apparates home once he gets outside.
iii.
It's an uncommonly cold day in June when he runs out of his shop to help her with an umbrella she struggles with. Wind whips around them, causing her umbrella to misbehave and their clothes to billow around them. Harry shouts over the noise, asks her how she is, but Hermione repeats her inability to hear him. An awkward exchange occurs where they interrupt each other and shout, only to have the sound carried away.
After several minutes of this uncomfortable conversation, if it can even be called that, Harry shrugs at her. Hermione laughs a little and returns the shrug.
They give each other a small wave as they retreat to their respective shops. Harry lingers a little too long watching her go.
Iv.
He's always busiest in the Summer, when kids are out of Hogwarts and looking for new hobbies and games to play with their abundance of time. They'll usually hire an extra person or two to help out. Most products take a great deal of explanation and demonstration, which understandably can be time consuming. Harry has put up coloured wizarding photos of some of the sports along the back wall this year. It should satisfy some people's curiosity.
Before they open this morning, he places some protection and cushioning charms around the shop. For the cash register, he renews a sticking charm and then reinforces the glass windows. In the early years, he had too many smashed windows to count. While magic does a good job at cleaning it up, he always finds pieces of glass in other areas eventually.
The bell chime over the door rings out, causing Harry to frown. They're not open yet and the door should be locked. His colleague today is a newbie, so Harry lets it slide but rolls his eyes at the slip up.
"Sorry, we're not open yet. Come back in fifteen!" He shouts out, occupied by the mess of jerseys piled into a ball in one of their baskets. They should be hanging on the left wall, who left them crumpled in a ball? Ron would be catatonic at the sight of a raggedy cannons jersey -
"Hi, Harry, sorry to barge in unannounced," Hermione is at his side, smiling. His heart flutters before deciding to thud very loudly in his chest.
Harry presses a hand to it, as if he can block the sound out.
"Oh, morning, Hermione. I didn't see you come in, sorry.. We're a bit busy at the moment–"
"Yes, yes, I've seen. It's great, helps us out, too, with people wandering over. Honestly, I never thought I'd feel joy seeing someone carry a football, but here we are!" She smiles, leaning close to him. He gets the impression this is her idea of sharing a secret.
"Not into sport, then?" He asks, distracting himself with the pile of clothing. Harry begins using his wand to put them back on the hangers they're supposed to be on. He hears her shuffle beside him, looking at his face as he works. Harry thinks maybe this is worse, feeling the burn of her stare as he tries to clean.
She sighs, "I wish I could tell you I have an interest, but I find it rather boring. I'd much prefer to read."
"I suppose we're both in the right businesses, so," He shoots her a grin, seeking to reassure her that there's no hard feelings.
Hermione is looking down at her hands and he notices for the first time that she's carrying two coffees. There's something nervous about her when she looks back up at him, eyebrows crinkled and lips twisting to the side.
"Er, well, I thought you might like a coffee, I put a splash of milk in as I wasn't sure what you liked. I wanted to say sorry about laughing at your book, and thank you for coming to the opening."
"Hermione, that was a month ago.."
"Yes. Well, it's been rather busy… do you want it?" She holds out the cup, irritation ghosting across her face, but it doesn't faze him. Harry accepts the coffee with a grin, hoping to be as charming as possible.
"Thank you. Seriously, I didn't have time this morning to pick one up and I was going to have to run out at some point." He holds it up in a gesture of cheers, "Thank you."
They sip at their drinks, eyes meeting over the top of the cups, small smiles budding in replacement of the cup when they're finished for now. There's a sense of amusement between them, but Harry can't quite pinpoint why. Maybe it's just enjoyment.
He knows so little about her, how can he feel so drawn by nothing ?
No - it's not nothing, he reminds himself. He likes how smart she seems to be, and kind, how she doesn't seem flustered by his name or fame. A down to earth, lovely type of person. Harry likes how she looks, too, though he tries not to think about that.
"You don't like books then?" Hermione asks, cutting into the silence. Her voice sounds light but he knows it's probably been eating at her for some time.
"I don't dislike books, but I can't say I read a lot. I'd like to say I'm not an idiot, but I mostly read books to do with sports. The occasional defence against dark arts."
Her eyes spark with curiosity at this, but they're interrupted by his new worker. A young man with electric blue hair shouts from the till, "Oi, boss, we're opening now," He holds out his watch and taps at it, as if telling Harry to hurry up. He's lucky Harry has a soft spot for cheeky troublemakers.
"Sorry," He says, holding his hand out in the direction of the cash register. "Duty calls. Thanks for stopping by."
Her cheeks redden and she ducks her head. With her free hand, she tucks hair behind her left ear and says, "Oh, no, it was nothing, I was on my way to work anyway.. So, yes. Well, I hope you both have a nice day. Bye!"
She races out of the shop, not unlike how Harry left hers that one evening. He stays standing for a few more moments, disarmed by how awkward and nervous parts of their conversation were. Harry wants to believe she blushed before she left, but he must not allow himself to get carried away.
It would appear that she at least has a passing interest in him as a person. A resolve cements in his mind - he needs to ask her on a date.
V.
In July, he brings her coffee. She's with a customer so he leaves it with a note saying 'Enjoy!' and runs back across the street. Harry spends the rest of the morning hoping she knows it's him, and is finally relieved of his worries when she walks to her window, holds up the cup and mouths 'thanks'.
Teddy, his unruly godson and new sales assistant, mocks him for the entire day about how red his face went.
Vi.
For his birthday, he invites Luna to his party and says she can bring a friend. His voice is as casual as he can make it, which is not at all.
Ginny gets annoyed with him after an hour because he isn't paying any attention to her story. He knows by how she's angling herself on the couch next to him that she's open to a reconciliation, but Harry was certain last time. They're over for good.
He doesn't allow himself to be brought down by her irritation. Harry spends most of the night looking out for Hermione's arrival. When she doesn't come, he assures himself his disappointment is not paramount. Better to focus on the abundance of people that are here.
Vii.
"I'm so sorry I couldn't come to your birthday," She's breathless, inhaling gulps of air loudly from beside him. Harry renews his focus on opening his shop door.
He waves her off, "Don't be silly, I only said Luna was welcome to bring anyone she wanted."
Hermione blinks, taken aback, "Oh. Luna gave the impression I was invited."
He shuts his eyes tight, cursing himself. The last thing he wants to do is hurt her feelings, but he had assumed the easiest way to smooth everything over was to dismiss it.
"Sorry, no, that's not what I meant - of course you're invited, you're –"
"No, no," She corrects, distracted, but her face is bright pink and she doesn't meet his eyes. Harry has a sinking feeling in his chest. Hermione clears her throat, "I was mixed up. Anyway, I bought you this to make it up, and, well. It's something small."
Harry takes the gift from her hands, unaware of the curious stares from people walking by. Her hands twist in front of her, fidgeting, and he has the strongest urge to assuage her anxiety. On impulse, Harry reaches out with a free hand and clasps one of hers.
"Thank you. This means a lot."
And it does. Hermione may not know about the years he and his Mum moved from place to place, never making friends or mixing with locals, but he grew up with small, thoughtful presents from his mother and nothing else. Boys were never great at giving gifts, though Neville and Ron did try over the years. Harry has always been grateful to his Mum for making him feel special on his birthday, but for reasons he can't name, this feels more momentous.
Something in his chest swoops and he feels the familiar sensation of heat flooding across his face and neck.
Luckily, Hermione is too self-conscious herself to pay him any heed. She begins to walk back to her shop, taking large steps backwards, "It's nothing. Honestly."
When he opens it later, he has a quiet laugh to himself. The reusable cup, the ones muggles are so eager about, catches his attention first. It's crimson red, with the words 'Sports and Stuff' in a dark gold glittering across. A snitch flies around the cup, moving with the same jerky movements as the real thing. He grins widely and watches it.
Harry thinks about where she must have bought this before realising she would have had to charm this herself. Impressed and touched, Harry places a finger gently on the snitch. Its wings retract inwards, and when he removes his hand, it falls to the bottom the cup. After another moment, it renews its flight, starting the game again.
He blows out a breath. This is a fantastic present.
His eyes look back down at the book she also gave him. This time he lets out a loud snort and places his hand over his face.
From Harry's first guess, the book is a sequel, by the same author as his last purchase in her shop.
Twelve Fail Safe Ways to Keep the Witch You've Charmed
It takes Harry far too long to think about the implications of this.
Viii.
He doesn't speak much to Hermione in August. It certainly tests the idea that absence makes the heart grow fonder. (It's true)
Teddy spends his last few weeks in the store constantly pushing Harry to ask her out, but every time he tries, something interrupts him and he concludes that it's not meant to be. Teddy calls him a prat and stops pestering.
ix.
Harry is counting cash in the till when he hears a nearby tapping. Glancing up, he sees Luna at the shop window, knocking her wand against the window to draw his notice. He raises his eyebrows at her and gestures for her to come in.
Luna shakes her head, eyes flickering over to their bookshop before looking back to him. She swishes her wand around and, briefly, the words 'HG Birthday' imprint on the glass before melting away.
"HG?" He asks aloud.
Finally exasperated, Luna visibly sighs and walks around to enter his shop. She glances over her shoulder, back towards the other store, before coming to stand in front of him.
"It's Hermione's birthday this weekend."
"Oh. G?"
"Granger. She's not doing anything, but I think it would be lovely if you did something with her. She did get you a nice present."
Harry runs a hand through his hair.
"I – I'm not.. Wouldn't she prefer to do something with her friends? You?"
"I don't think so," Luna says simply, watching him with wide, blue eyes. "I've been friends with Hermione a long time. We became penpals while I was at Hogwarts and she was at Beauxbatons. Both of us were rather friendless, I'm afraid."
"I was your friend," Harry objects, frowning.
She gives him a patient smile, the kind you direct at a child, "Yes, you were, but you were a year older and so a lot of my time was spent with people I was not friends with. You were also quite busy."
Harry nods at that, thinking on her words. Luna runs her finger along the counter beside the till, apparently having dropped her concern of Hermione seeing her over here. She rubs her fingers together afterwards and comments to him.
"I think you need to dust in here, Harry."
"Thanks, Luna," He replies dryly.
She claps her hands together, startling him, "I suppose that's all arranged now. I expect to see you call over any day!"
"I'm not asking her out, Luna," He calls out after her, but she doesn't turn around, "We're just becoming friends!"
"Any day now." Luna responds, leaving his shop. Panic begins to set in for Harry, imbued with the knowledge he needs to get her a gift that equals his own. Presents have never been his strong suit, Harry will admit that without preamble. When they dated briefly in Hogwarts, Ginny used to send him a list of items to avoid the otherwise inevitable disappointment.
It's a slow day. Harry takes out a piece of parchment and begins to jot down ideas. He does this all through the morning, thinking through options even as he serves customers, restocks shelves and goes for lunch with Ron.
Ron walks back with him, hoping to get the new Cannons jersey for their upcoming match. Harry will never understand his obsession with the terrible team. Supporting the Chudley Cannons means leaving stadiums disappointed and dejected time after time.
Hermione passes them by and nods to him, "Hi, Harry," She smiles.
They both keep moving, but Harry inclines his head and returns her smile, "Hermione."
As soon as they're out of earshot, Ron whistles, "Nice! Who's she?"
"Oh, she's just the owner of the shop across the road," Harry responds, his brain scrambling to derail Ron from this topic. He cannot talk about this with Ron, not in a million years, and he certainly doesn't want to pique his friends interest in Hermione.
"The bookshop?" Ron wrinkles his nose, "Probably boring then. Is she?"
"No, she isn't boring," Harry snaps, flicking his wand to bring down the jersey they need, "She's nice."
"She's fit," Ron adds, eyes directed back over to her shop even though they know Hermione isn't there. The silence is heavy as Harry puts through Ron's purchase, cursing his luck that Hermione would happen to pass them by today. He hasn't seen her all week but of course when Ron is beside him–
"Do you reckon she'd go on a date with me?"
Harry's jaw feels tight, tense, as he responds, "I don't bloody know, Ron. I'm not her best friend."
The words feel bitter on his tongue. He realises his mouth is downturned, his eyebrows are furrowed, and tries to release that tension. It works, a little.
He hands Ron his bag with the jersey in it. Ron claps him on the shoulder, "Cheers, mate. Don't know what's up your arse today but maybe you should avoid customers." He looks back over, seeing Hermione return to the shop with a coffee and paper bag presumably of lunch, "I think I'll go see if they have that book I've been meaning to buy."
And with a heavy, melting feeling in his chest, Harry watches him go and introduce himself.
(She doesn't beam at him and grasp his arm, or fidget with her hair.)
x.
"Harry, are you listening to me?" Lily stands with her hands on her hips, frowning at Harry. He knows this look too well; an odd mixture of disapproval and concern. He had seen it a lot in the war against Voldemort.
Harry pulls his gaze from the window over to her, "Sorry. What did you say?"
"Every time I come in here, you're so distracted," She tuts and looks out the window, searching for an answer to Harry's preoccupation. He blushes and mumbles something about sales.
Hermione is sitting behind the cash register across the street, scribbling her thoughts into a spiral notebook on the counter. It springs a feeling of happiness in Harry, a feeling so instinctively accompanied by a smile that he forgets his Mum. Hermione catches his gaze and brightens, holding it up with an excited look. She clutches it to her chest then and reiterates 'thank you' for the millionth time.
He nods in response, happy to see the gift is still well-received. Harry had given it to her for her birthday in a stumbling ramble about returning the favour and leaving before she could open it in front of him.
It's a muggle notepad and pen, charmed to never run out of ink or paper. He also added some minor conveniences, like a search function on the first page. It had taken him hours upon hours, but the unfiltered shock and elation she expressed afterwards made it worth it.
He has seen her writing in it several times since.
"Ah," His mother says, moving to block his view, "It's a woman."
"No." Harry's answer is immediate and firm.
Lily bends low to meet his eyes, places her hand on his shoulder, "It's ok to fancy someone, Harry." He makes a gagging gesture at this, unenthusiastic about having this conversation with his Mother. She laughs and adds, "Maybe you should ask her on a date."
His displeasure is so overwhelming that he blurts out, "Ron asked her out already. So. That's that."
She seems unconvinced, looking over at Hermione with a pensive expression, "Did she say yes? She doesn't seem to be Ron's type."
Harry grumbles, "Don't you have a school to get back to?"
"Alright, alright," Lily grins, "I'll drop it. Will you come by for dinner this evening? We can eat in my quarters."
Relieved with the topic change, Harry nods and says nothing further. He begins straightening out the merchandise at the till, willing to let the silence stretch out indefinitely between him and his Mum. Harry can feel her staring and knows that she's debating what to say, but he would rather they forget the whole conversation and pretend it never happened.
Lily moves around to stand beside him. Her red hair fans out on the counter when she leans her head on her hand, making them the same height. Harry shifts on the stool.
"Mum, please –"
"Everyone deserves to be happy, Harry," She wraps her arms around him and engulfs Harry in a hug, despite his mild protests, "Please don't let your defence mechanisms stop you from being happy. I loved your Dad, but there will be plenty of people to love throughout our lives."
He says nothing, and he feels her rub his back. Even though there's a flicker of annoyance at this, more than anything he feels comforted by his Mum's reassurance.
She continues.
"Not everyone leaves us, Harry. We've seen so much loss but we need to move on from it, heal ourselves mentally. Let yourself be happy, okay?"
He nods against her shoulder, a little speechless by the turn of conversation. His Mum is verbose and chatty, but they rarely talk about the swathes of deaths and tragedies they had seen over the war. Foolishly, part of him hadn't realised it's still impacting him.
Lily reclines back, studies him for a minute. He tries to remain impassive.
"I'll see you at dinner."
xi.
In an effort to endear himself to Hermione, Ron begins inviting Luna 'and her friend' to their friends gatherings. Luna is well known amongst their group, though perhaps not exactly friends with everyone. She fits in rather well even with her peculiarities.
Hermione is more abrasive, clashing often with some of their friends, but on the whole she begins to form relationships with everyone. Ginny loves her fierceness when it comes to debates, finds kindredship in her lack of ability in the traditionally feminine pursuits such as make-up and fashion.
Which, ironically, is exactly why Hannah likes her. She enjoys putting a brush of colour on her eyelids and pink to her cheeks, praising her own work and Hermione's face afterwards.
Neville is delighted to have someone with any knowledge and interest in herbology, even if it's not as passionate as his.
Harry finds his own friendship with Hermione growing, and decides that this is likely what they're meant to be. There's an increasingly different bond between them than his other friends. Harry can often anticipate her arguments, countering or agreeing in different ways. She hugs him every time they meet. When they're all seated, invariably Hermione and Harry end up next to each other.
When something funny or absurd occurs, his eyes meet hers in shared amusement before laughing. Harry finds himself always gauging her reaction.
She isn't funny like Ron or Luna, but when Hermione engages, she can spin a wonderfully hilarious story that is dry and sarcastic and everything that Harry pretends he's not.
But they're friends. And he enjoys that - is grateful for it, even.
In the one or two times he's seen her drunk, she speaks irately in French at Ron, with words no one understands but everyone gets the gist of. Harry has to stop listening to her when she does that because the accent charges something in him he doesn't want to admit to.
One of the most entertaining and enjoyable aspects of her inclusion to their group is the tumultuous relationship between Hermione and Ron. It seems to dip in and out of annoyance, amusement and ire with the blink of an eye. It emerges that Ron did ask her out that day he introduced himself, but she said no.
There's chemistry, but it's not of the romantic sort.
With this, Harry doesn't lie to himself: he's glad.
They'd be disastrous together.
Hermione says this to Ron one evening in January, over a butterbeer and stew in the Leaky Cauldron.
"You're mental, you can't bring that French liberation rubbish here and tell me what elves should or shouldn't do,"
Hermione swallows some of her food before responding, "Lovely. How did you ever think it would be a good idea to date?"
"Search me," Ron shoots back, but there's no malice to it.
Harry grins, "To think, it could have been the divorce of the century."
At this, Ron puffs his chest out and says with a proud look, "I'm a bit famous, you know,"
Hermione rolls her eyes and then looks at Harry, tilting her head towards Ron. It's her signal for 'Can you believe him?' which he's well versed in now. Harry shrugs, because the truth is yes , he can believe it.
To his surprise, Luna answers.
"For your bravery, Ron. Or am I mistaken?"
"Er, yeah," He says, going red, "Bravery and some other cool stuff."
There's context he's missing here, he feels. Luna is watching Ron calmly, her face blank. On the other side, Ron is rapidly turning a deeper shade of red and buries his attention in finishing his butterbeer.
Hermione raises an eyebrow, "What–"
"Other cool stuff? I'll have to add that to my own epitpah. 'Harry Potter - known for doing some cool stuff.'"
He feels a kick under the table and yelps at it.
"Don't be talking about your own death, it's grim."
Harry rolls his eyes at Hermione, "I've enough experience with grim. If talking about my death could do me in, I'd be long dead, trust me."
She grumbles at this, disgruntled with his response. Harry feels a little guilty, but it's the truth. He doesn't shy away from conversations of his own demise, and honestly, it's easier to make light of it than dwell on the depressing facts of his life.
"So are you going to ask me out, Ronald?"
Ron chokes on his food, spraying potato across the table. Hermione screeches at this, whipping out her wand quickly to clean it up. Harry is busy staring at Luna in astonishment, who still looks as though they're talking about the weather. He claps Ron on the back, who is sputtering. Harry feels the need to defend his friend and decides to answer for him.
"Luna, why don't you ask him out?"
She smiles, "Okay, then. Would you like to go on a date with me this weekend?"
Ron visibly sags in his chair, energy sapped from the excitement, and nods at her. Despite his apparent exhaustion, Ron's ears are tinged red and he smiles. Harry wants to ask a million questions, mainly how this happened without his knowledge, but decides to save it for another time. He's worried any further embarrassment will plunge Ron into a heart attack.
Hermione reaches over to touch his arm once, drawing his attention. Ron and Luna begin to converse in low tones, presumably about their date.
"I'm sorry, I just hate to think about you dying. You.. you're one of my best friends, I think."
And even though Harry grins and makes a joke about only being 'one of' her best friends, the words send a queasy feeling through him. His chest clenches and he wants to run out the front door.
Because Harry doesn't want to just be her best friend. That's the truth of it.
He doesn't only want the occasional lunch, a dinner with friends, a quick coffee or movie.
Harry wants her mornings; he wants that beaming smile hardly anyone ever sees, and wants it for him ; he wants to be the one she turns to anytime she has an idea, wants to be the person in her bed, her house, her thoughts.
If Luna can risk her pride in front of a group of people, simply and without fanfare, Harry can, too. He can do this.
Maybe not today, though.
xii.
Harry decides to start planning an elaborate, flashy occasion to ask out Hermione. He'll ride in on a broom and spell it out, or fill her shop with flowers until they all explode into a single question. Maybe he could just write 'date me' in the windows of his own shop until she gets the message.
He wishes either of them were more like Luna. And maybe that is the right approach, an abrupt and direct question, but he doesn't have the backbone for that venture and would prefer if he could ask her from a distance. Harry isn't keen to see her immediate reaction.
Ron sparks the idea of using one of the twins' products. Not the love potion-esque, creepy ones, of course, but the ones that burst into fireworks or sing a sweet song. Harry ponders this throughout the day, wary of the weight that comes with Valentine's Day. He has never been particularly concerned with this holiday, and usually ignores it entirely, but this year he thinks maybe he should act on the spirit of it.
It's a muggle holiday, too, so perhaps Hermione would appreciate it.
While he's still debating the best course of action, using the last hour of business to brainstorm, Hermione breezes into his shop. She's jittery, he can see that even though she's bundled up in a blue scarf and heavy jacket. Her face is red, likely from the cold, but he can't be sure.
Harry has the passing worry that maybe she has a date.
"Hi." She says simply, wringing her hands.
He grins, "Um, hi."
Hermione nods and her eyes scan the nearby area. She looks like she's searching for something and then her eyes widen, having found the object. Hermione takes several steps to grab his reusable cup from a nearby shelf where he had left it earlier today, half-drunk, to deal with a customer.
She shakes it lightly and tuts, "Leaving half a coffee - for shame, Harry,"
"It was a dire, grave situation with a customer."
"Broom collision?"
He laughs, but part of him is eager to get through the small talk. Harry wants to know what she's doing here. His own nerves are bubbling now, buzzing through him with each inhale and exhale.
Hermione looks intently at his cup and taps it a couple of times. She lets out a long breath and hands it to him, chewing her bottom lip and clenching her hands.
He raises his eyebrows at her in question, but she only gestures to the cup with her fists.
In place of ' Sports and Stuff' it reads ' Would you like to go on a date?'
Harry read that too quickly though - surely, there's a mistake. His eyes skim over the words again. And again. Hermione shuffles from foot to foot, watching his face.
She's asking him out.
Some bright and dithyrambic feeling springs in his chest, like a wave rising and rising with no crash, flowing outward with warmth and vibrancy.
"Valentine's Day seemed the right time to.. I mean, if not on Valentine's Day, when, you know? I don't presume to know how you feel, and while I love our friendship, I – I would love something more. I know you like me as a friend, but fancy is a whole other–"
Harry grabs her hand, unfurling the fist, "Hermione, I fancy you."
She blinks, "You do?"
"Since I met you," He says, only a little self-conscious.
A laugh bubbles out of her, "Why didn't you ask me out, you prat," Her free hand hits him with no force.
He doesn't know how to answer that, can't begin to put words to it fully. Harry supposes the uncharacteristic and rather uncourageous truth is blatant.
"I was afraid. You're smart, gorgeous, successful.. A great friend.."
Hermione's smile is soft, but earnest, "You're all those things, too."
"I suppose we're a good match, then." Harry takes a step closer, raising a hand to touch her curls. He's wanted to do that for the longest time, watching her lively hair spring free from the grip of clips so often.
He looks into her eyes then and she whispers.
"You have lovely eyes."
"Thanks. Er, Hermione, can I kiss you?"
"Please."
Harry finally fulfills his most ardent wish the past several months and kisses Hermione.
The next day, the Daily Prophet runs with the headline: The Bookworm and the Jock with a picture of them holding hands in the street in between their shops.
A/N: In response to a prompt by Anonymous in the HMS_Harmony_Valentine_Day_Fest_2022 collection.
Prompt:
This Valentine's Day, Harry will finally ask out the bookstore owner across the street.
A/N: Thank you for reading! I hope you enjoyed this. I really liked writing AU. Hopefully you find them still in character.. I tried to keep aspects of their canon lives so that they could still behave like canon. Another long one - I think I need to try a multichapter again!