Music Recommendations:
Plastic Bertrand - 'Bambino'
Nina Simone - 'Here Comes the Sun'
Nina Simone - 'Sinnerman - Live in New York - 1965'
Thomas Newman - 'Define Dancing' (WALL-E)
Claire George - Second Guesses

Hiding in Muggle Bookshops

Pounding footsteps took over the cobblestone street he ran down, which nearly twisted an ankle, his half-buttoned oxford shirt and team tie hanging by a barely done knot and his shoes untied, but he persisted. Truly, he wasn't thinking, just reacting, and he knew how to run after far too many drills requiring it.

Not only was he going to piss off his publicist and the coach for being late for a press conference for the new season and his promotion to Head Chaser, but the strict Healer team were going to be absolutely thrilled if he sustained an injury during his wild escape. Before all that though, he was going to get a thorough lecture from his Dad for handling his own wards without Uncle Bill's help because evidently – they were not up to par.

No, Larry the stalker that hadn't been taken seriously by the Legal team despite following him around since he made the reserves, was inside his fucking apartment, information that was given to few people to begin with - but he sure as hell hoped that he managed to pass on the news to said Legal dicks before his mum found out. That would be embarrassing on a professional level, even if James would've eaten up the glorious look of fear on their faces as Ginny The Red Thrasher Weasley unleashed hell on earth for not taking his concerns to heart.

His heart was banging against his ribcage and James Sirius Potter finally realised that maybe he had put enough distance between himself and his now very tainted apartment to slow down. James had been ready to let the place go for a little while but was waiting to get out of his lease. It had been too long since he felt happy there and now this had just solidified his hatred of the place. He would see if someone in the family could assist him in finding a new place. Albus was good at that sort of stuff even if he didn't think himself good at much of anything.

James slowed down to a walk and because he stupidly didn't have his wand with him – he begged to the fates to let it remain in his room untouched – couldn't apparate to the stadium for the interview. James realised he was fucked either way, but hoped the story would suffice to the team for a good laugh for them and a traumatic memory for James as his coach would likely let it fly and keeping it under wraps because that was the last thing James needed – a reason for the papers to write about him that wasn't explicitly quidditch related.

A few muggles gave him some odd looks as he retreated to the nearest underground station, huffing and puffing, hoping to make his way to Diagon Alley from Hackney, pulling some slightly naughty tricks to get through, thanking Teddy for his London Survival trip. Arriving in Langbourn, James began making his way to the Leaky, grateful it was a Thursday because his best mate's mum would be working and she would never fail in a situation requiring immediate stowing away of Potter children.

James arrived on the other side, cooled down and fixing the askew nature of his attire, leaving the station, he took a brisk stroll, heading toward the Leaky Cauldron only to make a sharp stop as a blonde witch in a two-piece suit and curious spectacles stepped out in her too tall heels and had her camera ready.

You dumb motherfucker.

He should have seen this coming. The bane of his existence, Rita Skeeter, had teamed up with his fucking stalker to get him in a position that would force him to his basic senses of fight or flight. She must have followed him and made the guess he would end up there for very obvious travel reasons. He really wished he had his wand on him.

She was looking around the street, almost in hopes of catching him before he would enter the safe space of the Leaky before he would discover it was an ambush, so James slipped down a small café lane a little further back and just decided to call the whole thing off and finally consider the mortifying step of bringing in legal intervention on the witch of his nightmares. He had no muggle money, nor his phone that Lily begged him to have on him at all times which he could already hear her begin to nag him about. Coffee or a scone were out of the realm of his current confinement.

James spotted a bookshop at the end, slightly tucked in but the sign insisted that it was what it was and James knew that patrons were rarely thrown out of bookshops for loitering, which he could guess would be happening for the next hour or so. Rita was an eager little witch. He also figured that he would have the vantage point of seeing her leave the other end should she choose to do so.

He quickly, but calmly so as to not bring any attention to himself, headed for the bookshop and settled himself. He adjusted his attire a little more and entered.

The bell rang as the door opened and James saw before him an organised chaos. It certainly wasn't the threatening tumble of books like in Diagon Alley's book shops, but it was certainly packed to the rafters. The books, however, were no dusty second editions of classic literature as he had first presumed it to be. Instead, he found a varying array of art amongst the books, brightly coloured books, provocative titles, muggle books that would make no sense to him as a wizard, a section specifically on the culture of LGBTQIA – lots and lots of sex books, self-help – this store wasn't tailored to any one thing in particular but seemed to carry any title that could also sell to the everyday customer. The outside had been a completely different image for what he was meant to expect, but it seemed the store itself was under some swift changes. He thought for a relieving moment that he might be alone. James was confident with muggles and their customs, his father had grown up with his muggle relatives. While they certainly hadn't been good examples from his mother's clear despise for his Great Aunt and Uncle, Dudley and his kin didn't seem to be the worst. Although if his daughter Dottie hadn't been a witch, James didn't think he might have ever known what positive muggle culture was like at all outside his Aunt Hermione. There was even music playing, which he had only witnessed to be something his Uncle George had done in his shop in Diagon Alley and maybe Florean Fortescue's and Honeyduke's had a similar atmosphere, but their shops seemed themed for the music. This was an artist that was clearly admired by the shop owner as the singer crooned through the speakers attached above the counter.

Right at the back, he could see a young shopkeep on a ladder, her head chopped from his view. She descended, having heard the bell toll and spoke, 'Sorry, I won't be a moment. Please feel free to look around!'

James was going to respond but decided against it. For all his confidence, Hugo had also tricked him into saying something stupid when they ventured in the muggle side of the world not a couple of years back while their families holidayed together and he had a quick break from training. It had scarred him from casual conversations with muggles ever since.

Really, he didn't know what he was doing in here but hoped if he picked up a book, the shopkeep might leave him alone to read something in peace and he would be able to wait it out as he had planned.

The ladder wobbled and squeaked slightly from in the distance of the back and his eyes caught a girl with a platinum blonde hair descending. What made him curious was that she was wearing a rust coloured sundress with tiny white flowers all over that reached past her knee, but chose to wear white sneakers with it. James had never thought that the two could be combined and his more fashionable family members would never have paired such culturally clashing items in their ensembles.

As she started to get closer, she used the same sneaker covered foot, aged with natural dirt to cave in a cardboard box like it gave her a small joy and folded it down to its original state. James picked up the first book he could and opened to a random page, her blonde head bobbing slightly to her good mood.

'Hello,' she greeted politely with a small smile. James turned to look at her and had to double-take. She had a slightly upturned nose and while soft looking, had a sharp set of cheekbones and bright blue eyes. There was something about her face…but he couldn't place it.

'Welcome to Toddy's – it's undergoing some changes since he took over from his Uncle so apologies if you were looking forward to the latest hunting guides. Although if you've chosen that, I don't believe you would be interested.'

James looked down at his book and his cheeks tinged pink as the heat rose in his blood.

Witches, Sluts, Feminists glared back at him with a tantalising smirk and James had never wanted a floor to swallow him up before this moment.

'I hear it's a good read. Toddy gave a copy to my mum since it caught her eye too,' the blonde shop assistant reassured him.

Since he had absolutely nothing to say, possibly a little struck by his immediate attraction to her – which caused him to question whether she was somehow Veela blooded – which was nonsensical since she was clearly a muggle – or whether just having a pretty girl talk to him and not knowing who he was felt gratifying for once – she seemed to catch on that he wasn't much of a talker. Not a choice of his in this circumstance, but regrettably he'd buggered it.

'I'll leave you to read,' she said a lot uncomfortably.

She made her way to the wooden counter and started working on pricing items. She tied her hair up for a moment before she started at the task before her and seemed incredibly focused. James turned back to his chosen, godforsaken book and attempted to read.

He had read the same line about fifteen times before she interrupted him again.

'Also, you did look a little peaky and considering we're in a heatwave - if you need some water I can-'

'Yes, um, yes please, I wouldn't mind a glass.'

She gave him a smile that expressed she found this as odd as he had. The blonde shop assistant left to go behind the door that expressed that it was for staff only. James shut the book he was reading and took a deep breath.

What in the utter fuck is wrong with you? You're James Sirius Potter. You were named Bachelor of the Year not last year and now you're stuttering over a fucking glass of water!

The wizard had to put it down to his experience not thirty minutes prior that set him off wrong for the whole day. James usually had his approach be smooth. It was easy when he wasn't planning on committing thanks to feeling incompetent from his last relationship. And he didn't even feel inadequate in the family department like Al had from his youth. James got into Puddlemere on his own merit, disguised and under a different name.

But there was something also holding him back. The nagging sense that he knew her – or someone who looked like her anyway.

No. She was clearly a muggle and his dick had been doing too much thinking, leaving him with little cognitive awareness.

She returned with a full paper cup. There were ice cubes juggling within the cup and some of the water slightly splashed over the side onto the dark wood floor, which made her look annoyed with just herself, which James had to bite his lip to hide his smile, because why was that so fucking endearing to him - as she muttered to herself and when she pulled up to him again she seemed to smile far more comfortably than before.

'Here. No offence, but you sweat like you ran a marathon.'

James' eyes widened at this and he groaned. 'I technically have?'

'Run a marathon?' she asked disbelievingly.

'No,' James clarified, 'I mean, I just sprinted from Hackney to Finsbury and caught the tube from Liverpool Street.'

As James took a sip from the cup the young lady before him looked horrified.

'It's 35 degrees out today, are you insane?' she asked as she walked behind the counter and immediately started fiddling with a remote.

James wasn't sure what she was doing, but he rather thought the distance would be more impressive than it would be concerning. 'Ran into someone I really didn't want to see and they were persistent.'

'Oh,' she said carefully. She was still fiddling with the remote before a machine nearby him turned on. 'Stay there. My boss had it installed the other day. We don't use it often but you're a guest in the shop – or a customer, I can't quite tell yet.'

James was grateful as the cool air hit him immediately, a constant breeze raining down on him. He spun his body slowly. He began to relax underneath it.

'You look less like you're about to jump and run again,' she said politely.

'I feel much better, thank you. I would have thought this was a hospital, the way I'm being treated.'

'We don't often get people running from exe's in the shop, but I think we can make an exception,' she said from behind the counter.

Before James could correct her, he figured an ex cornering him would have been probably the best way to explain away having sprinted from Hackney to Finsbury. The truth would have had him seeing the end of a stern-looking Muggle policeman. Sirius' portrait said they weren't worth the time.

James reopened the book, deciding that missing the press conference wasn't the worst thing in the world.

As he meandered through the shop with his interesting new read, feeling much better, and occasionally eyeing her over the shelves, noticing she had a stick-on tag on her chest, James was almost keen to purchase the damn thing. It was too bad he didn't have any actual money on him, or the credit card that the muggle bank Gringotts aligned within an effort to make the transition far less jarring between the two worlds was still in his wallet in the apartment. The assistant had filled up a new cup and suggested that if he actually sprinted from Hackney to Finsbury that he ought to take in the hydration offered.

James dumbly nodded and practically fought with himself at how stupid he felt.

The stick-on tag he'd spotted had the word Vela written on it. James had never heard of such a name, but it almost bore some fruit to his original crackpot theory that this obvious muggle had Veela roots.

Suddenly though, there were some more pressing issues as Rita Skeeter seemed to be looking into the shop window and James ducked so quickly that he nearly spilled the second cup of water all over himself.

The music changed to pick up with intensity and James swore to himself. Even the muggle shop could tell he was fucked.

He heard the shop assistant move from the stool set by the counter for slow days, and she stepped through the aisles. When she came across him hiding, she had to admit it wasn't the first thing she had thought he would be doing by the look on her face.

'Okay, something is up with you,' she said as she crossed her arms.

James winced and sighed, his head hitting the shelf behind him, full of cooking books. 'The woman I'm avoiding is looking in the window.'

She looked up and out where he had pointed, and at the bewildered look on her face, James was worried that said woman was about to come in. As her mouth opened and closed, there seemed to be cogs whirring in her brain. But then she said something that made it worse like she had made a finite judgment on him.

'Oh dear, you've got yourself involved with a cougar who can't let go. You've certainly put yourself in a predicament. She doesn't look the type to let you slip from her grasp easily.'

James blanched at hearing this. In a way, she wasn't wrong.

But oh no.

No.

She thought he was a boy toy.

That he wanted to shag Skeeter – that absolute maniac obsessed with getting the gossip on any Potter she could her hands - over someone his own age who had zero aspirations to follow in Rita Skeeter's footsteps.

Before he could refute such claims, the shop assistant named Vela, although he daren't pronounce it, if it was some muggle name that was incredibly common and he somehow buggered that too, stepped forward confidently to the front of the shop and James watched from around the corner of the shelf – immediately concerned for his own welfare.

He swallowed thickly as she swung the door open, the bell ringing as she caught Skeeter's attention, who was currently fanning herself as she looked around desperately.

'Can I help you? You look a little lost?'

Skeeter seemed affronted by the question but adjusted her spectacles as she looked to speak to Vela as though she were a mere speck of dust.

'Not at all. Just thought someone significant might've popped down this way.'

'What did they look like? I've been sitting here most of the day,' she pointed to the counter by the front of the shop. Skeeter's lips curled as she transformed into a far more charming person and extended far more politeness as she described him from head to toe.

'Should be in his early to mid-twenties, dear,' she finished.

The shop assistant smiled politely and said, 'Men! Even when they're your grandchildren, can't seem to pin them down.'

Skeeter's smile didn't drop but her nostrils did flare, and her eyes looked murderous. James had to suck in his face to stop from revealing himself by laughing at the fact that someone had dared called Rita Skeeter, one of the vainest beings he'd ever had the misfortune to meet, old to her face. Vela the shop assistant who James was certain he was beginning to fall in love with based on this interaction alone, didn't look swayed by her comment or the subtle hint of Skeeter's offence at such a remark.

'I think I saw him, he was practically sprinting, but he had chanced a stop here before taking off again. Probably about five minutes ago from what I recall?'

Rita still looked strained, but she simply said, 'Thank you, dear.'

Turning on her heel, she left in the direction suggested to her, and the click-clack of her heels could be heard a little while longer. Vela closed the door and turned to him.

'I think I've run off your cougar. You should probably jump while you still can,' Vela admitted with a sympathetic smile.

James stood up and knew she was right but wasn't sure if he actually wanted to leave yet. He had actually been enjoying himself enough in this shop and with her company, albeit short.

He held up the book to her and said, 'I don't have any money on me, but I would like to purchase this book sometime in future.'

She smiled politely again, James feeling as though he'd lost that familiarity with her and his heart sunk a little. 'I can keep it on hold for you to pay and pick up another day, if you'd like?'

James held his hope in his chest. 'I'd very much like that.'

'Great! What name should I put it under?'

James bit his lip as he realised that this may be the only time, he could say his name, but this close to Diagon Alley and with such a provocatively titled book…

'James Evans,' he said confidently as she wrote it down in elegant cursive.

'Alright, I'll put it on hold for 48 hours, and after that, I'm afraid it's back on that shelf Mr Evans,' she pointed to where he had picked it up.

'I'll be back tomorrow…I am so sorry, but I do not know how to say your name-'

'You wouldn't be the first,' she chuckled easily, a sound that was pleasant to him. 'My parents are very big into constellations. It's Ve-la, not Vee-la. New one I've been getting lately.'

James could tell that being near Diagon Alley, it was most likely their mispronunciation issue.

'Okay, Vela, I'll be back tomorrow.'

James quickly gave one last glance as he stepped out the shop and saw her send a gentle wave his way.

'You fell in love with someone in fifteen minutes?'

'I was attracted to someone within fifteen minutes. I never said anything about love.'

His best friend and occasional plus one to parties, weddings and the odd dreadful ball that Wizarding society insisted was still in vogue, Alice Longbottom sat on the couch with him and poured him some more wine. The two were mourning broken hearts months prior and had really come to see drinking wine as a lovely pass time, and Alice had uncorked a very special bottle in honour of him fleeing his apartment and needing to stay with her until more suitable, safe accommodation was organised for him. James had just reached the part where he had described that he had one of the most lovely interactions with the muggle shop assistant when Alice had added more wine to his glass in pure intrigue.

'What did she look like?' Alice asked curiously.

'Leggy, platinum blonde, cute little nose, very muggle attire –'

'You had me at leggy blonde,' Alice interrupted. 'But what do you mean by muggle attire?'

'She wore sneakers – with a sundress.'

'That's confusing,' Alice's eyes narrowed. 'But that also sounds like some very forward muggle thing. You ought to ask Lily, she's very on to all this stuff.'

'And tell her there is a leggy blonde involved? I'd never hear the end of it!' James exclaimed, 'No, I only tell you this stuff because you can appreciate on even the most base level like me.'

'Me being gay does not make me as much of a dog as you are James,' Alice argued lightly, taking a large gulp of her wine, before grimacing with pleasure at the acidity it brought her. 'But I really do like leggy blondes, like really and oh my god, the way you two spoke to each other, it's practically accurate lesbian meet cute writing,' she ground out with a harsh tone.

'You still haven't had sex, have you?' James accused.

'And get entangled in even more bullshit? There's like three out witches near my age in the community. Besides, it will only make me think of Francesca and I don't know if I could put myself through that.'

'Leggy blondes,' James clinked with her mournfully.

'Leggy blondes,' she echoed.

It was quiet for a peaceful moment. James had often felt the need to fill the space with something but he had never felt like that with Alice. She just forced him to sit through it if he tried and he'd learned that sometimes, a void of noise was expending unnecessary energy. Then again, it also allowed her to think before talking with some sense of fulfilment.

'You're not just a looks man though,' Alice recalled over their many years of friendship, 'Don't get me wrong, you are absolutely base, but only with people you get to know. What was so special about this leggy blonde?' she concluded.

James sighed as he recollected it. 'The looks grabbed my attention. It was the way she ran off Skeeter from finding me that hooked me.'

'She ran off Skeeter?'

'She thought Skeeter was my cougar girlfriend.'

The noise that came from Alice was feral, but James had predicted it. She had snorted violently before she outright cackled her usual maniacal cackle – the one that would eventually make James do an equally dirty laugh, even at his own expense. The very thought made the two continue to laugh for five minutes straight.

'Skeeter would be the top – no doubt. Even if you were in the equation.'

'I don't doubt that,' James wheezed.

The two seemed to be slapping as tears arose to their eyes, wheezing as he continued to explain what she then said. Alice was scoffing and had ended up on the floor as she imitated a very immature set of words that Skeeter might say as a cougar fucking him and he was reacting loudly.

Yes, it was always worth telling Alice these things first.

London was suffering from an unpredictable end of summer and James arrived at the book shop more appropriately dressed for the piss poor weather as it bucketed down. He had several methods of payment handy as he entered the shop. Instead of who he was hoping to see, a gentleman was sorting through some books, with a white shirt snugly tucked into his grey slacks, showing off a relatively trim figure, with a pair of white sneakers – what was with muggles and wearing white sneakers with everything?

He turned to him and greeted him. James saw the tag and realised that this must have been Vela's boss.

Toddy, or more so, Todd, looked him up and down for a brief moment after he announced his name was James Evans and he was here to pick up the book he'd put on hold.

Todd put his purchase through, ringing him up and James seemed to be itching to ask a question, but knew he would come off as bad as his stalker Larry.

'That'll be 15 quid.'

James handed over the black credit card and Todd swiped it through with ease, occasionally eyeing James with interest, while James pretended not to care that she was clearly not there working that day.

'Will that be all Mr Evans?'

It took him a minute to realise that Todd was speaking to him. James opened and closed his mouth a couple of times before coming to a very unfortunate conclusion.

If she wasn't here today, he couldn't ask for her and he couldn't come through the next day without coming off as a massive creep. He'd have to wait for a couple of weeks at most, and he was going to be quite preoccupied considering his Godbrother Teddy and his cousin Victoire were getting married. That was enough of a distraction without trying to convince himself that one interaction he had with a pretty muggle girl was enough to invest in trying to get her contact details – phone number you idiot – and still come off as the suave quidditch player he was in the wizarding world when he clearly was nowhere near that as a normal person in the muggle world.

'No, thank you.'

R&R please