Title: Treasures of Old

By: Adarial Ciao

Summary: The War ended 7 years ago, and since then, Harry has exiled himself from the Wizarding world. He lives alone in a small flat in muggle London, and slowly, loneliness starts to overcome him. But when someone from his past comes back into the picture, his life takes a turn....for the better? Let's hope so!

Disclaimer: Not mine. Jk's. Plot (ha! plot, thats funny) mine.

A/N: this is actually chapter one, the previous chapter I decided fit better as a prologue, because it gave you a good look at where Harry is in his life.

Chapter One

"You're late boy! That'll be docked from your pay, you know!" Said Mrs.Marlow angrily as Harry stumbled into the store, out of breath in his feeble hurry to get to work on time. It didn't matter to her whether he was two hours late or two minutes. All she cared was that he was late, plain and simple.

"I can't have my employees running a muck, going about on their own time. Marlow's Treasures of Old is a highly respected establishment! I can't have you young hooligans doing whatever you well like! And good God boy! You look like you just crawled out the dumpster out back! How do you think that reflects on me? Huh? You don't think, do you? Well, don't just stand there doing nothing! Go and shelf some books. We just got in a new shipment. I'll be in the back if you need me, which you better not!" And with that final, endearing note, Mrs. Marlow waddled on back to the store room to see to the paperwork, muttering as she went about young people these days.

During her tirade Harry had simply stood there, pretending to pay attention. He was well aqquainted with her dissaproval for tardiness, being late quite often. For some reason though, she never did fire him. He supposed that perhaps the lonely old woman held a softspot for him. After all, he had been the only one to visit her in the hospital a couple of months back when she had broken her hip. He always felt sorry for the woman, as mean as she was. She had no one. No friends or children. Her husband, the Marlow whose namesake the bookstore held, had passed a few years ago, right around when Harry had started working at the small store. From what he remembered, he was a nice old man. Always willing to lend anyone a helping hand, and always up for a joke, good or bad. After he passed, Mrs. Marlow had become very bitter and lonely, and managing the store all by herself wore her down significantly. However, she simply refused to sell it or hire a manager, having a feeling of obligation to keep her husbands dream alive.

Rousing from thoughts of pity for the old woman, Harry set to shelving the new, rather the old, books on all the various shelves that covered the small store from floor to ceiling. It was a quaint old place, if not a bit dusty. Books were everywhere, lining everyshelf to the brim. There were small nooks and crannies throughout the store, holding even more books. When you first entered the store, it was a bit overwhelming. There seemed to be no order whatsoever, but at a closer glance, you realised that there wasn't a book out of place, thanks in large part to Harry himself.

As tedious as this part of the job was, he always did enjoy seeing what new titles the store had aqquired. Reading was his saviour. It was what let him escape his lonely reality. He could go anywhere or be anyone, and he never ceased to enjoy reading what the great minds of the classic age had magicked up. Sometimes though, when the stories got banal, and the characters all seemed the same, he would try his hand at writing pieces of his own creation. He never thought they were very good, and would very quickly dispose of them. Still though, writing seemed to help him almost more than reading, and lately he had found himself with his pen in hand and journal splayed open in his lap more and more.

Once he was finished with his task, he grabbed one of the books that had caught his eye, went behind the counter at the front of the store, and set to reading his new found treasure.

*

Several hours and a handful of customers later, Harry found himself enthralled in his latest find. He was in the middle of a steamy romance seen between the two male protangonists (for some reason gay literature had always interested him greatly), when his wristwatch started beeping, surprising him so much that he nearly fell of his stool. Laughing at his own stupidity, he realised that it was just the alarm he had set to make sure he wasn't late for his lunch with Hermione.

Storing his book for later, he cautiously made his way to the backroom. He peered in the door, and noticed Mrs. Marlow gazing sadly at the portrait of the late Mr.Marlow hanging above the fireplace.

"Ahem..." He coughed lightly, cathing her attention. "Mrs. Marlow?" He inquired nervously.

"Yes boy?", she snapped tartly."What do you want?"

"Well, ma'am, I was just heading out to meet a friend for lunch. She wants to talk to me about something, so I'll be needing a longer lunch hour. Only if that's alright, of course", he finished politely, silently praying that she would consent.

"Well, I suppose you can have an extra 45 minutes, seeing as how you did get those books shelved pretty quickly. But don't be late! Or else-"

"Or else it'll be docked from my paycheck. Yes ma'am, I know. And thank you very much. Trust me, I won't be late", he assured her.

"Alright. Be off with you now. Have fu- I mean...Don't be late!" She quickly tried to cover up the slight slip in her facade. /Wouldn't want to be a happy and agreeable now, would she?/ Harry thought as he exited the store, and started the short walk to the sandwhich shop where he had agreed to meet Hermione.

As he walked down the busy sidewalk, he observed the people around him. This was a habit of his that he had aqquired at Hogwarts during the War. Back then, he had to be wary of his enviroment, so he began studying people, trying to decipher what the smallest movement of the hand or shake of the head meant. Now though, with no need to be so paranoid of those around him, he simply made up stories about people saw on the streets. The woman walking beside him, the one wearing far too much makeup with the bad dye job, he decided was going through a midlife crisis, only she didn't know this. He imagined her trying to be posh and trendy, shopping in all the young stores with the sickly supermodels with only enough muscle in their arms to lift a credit card. He saw her trying to fit into supertight clothes, while being laughed at by said models. He imagined she looked quite the fool, and he couldn't help but smile to himself.

His smile dropped, however, when he saw a couple walking hand in hand in front of him. They were older, probably in their seventies. /They look so happy/ he thought. /They must really love each other. They've probably been together since they were young. I bet it was love at first sight/. He sighed, wishing he had somebody to hold hands with. Harry was quite the hopeless romantic. Many of the books he read contained elaborate plots which always ended with two lovers living happily ever after. Though, as idealistic as his views were on love, he was beginning to doubt if he would ever find it. Not true love at least. He didn't want to date a muggle. No, that would be no good. What if they didn't accept him and his magic? There was no way he would hide it, he was too dependent of his wand. So, dating a muggle was out of the question. The Wizarding world wasn't much better. There, they were intimidated by him. He was the Boy Who Lived, the saviour of the Wizarding world. No one thought they would ever be good enough for him. They couldn't fathom how someone as famous, not to mention good looking, as him could want anyone normal, so no one ever really got to know him. And those who did have the courage to approach him were all stuck up and snobby, the exact opposite of what he wanted.

Wanted as what though, that was the question. A friend? A girlfriend? Or...a boyfriend? The thought had certainly crossed his mind. Afterall, the only people he had ever kissed were females, and those experiences had all been awkward and clumsy and just not very thrilling. And the romances that really entralled him were those about gay males. He had never been really attracted to a man though. Not that he had ever really been attracted to a woman either. Not since Cho in his 5th year at Hogwarts, and that was just some silly little crush. He didn't think it really counted as anything more than that.

As Harry walked down the street questioning his sexuality, he earned odd looks from those around him, as he was so caught up in his thoughts that he would often make faces when he disagreed with himself or smiled at something he thought. He barely even noticed when he neared his destination until he heard someone call his name.

"Harry! Watch out!", yelled Hermione, trying to warn him that he was about to run into a pole.

Too late.

"Ow!", he exclaimed as he collided head-on with a rather large black pole. It didn't really hurt, seeing as how he did this type of thing all the time, but it was bloody humiliating. Unless on a broomstick, Harry was incredibly clumsy. He tried to laugh it off, but his embarrasment still showed bright red on his face as he walked over to Hermione, who was laughing hysterically, giving her a hearty hug.

"Harry! Are you alright?", she bit out through her laughter.

"Hey Herm, I'm fine. But you know, you could stop laughing!" he said, trying to look hurt by her laughter, but failing miserably. He was just too happy seeing her to be upset.

"Oh, I'm so sorry Harry. It's just that well...You looked like you were poll dancing when you ran into that pole!" She said as she continued laughing. A smile quickly spread across Harry's face, and he couldn't help but laugh at the mental image that spurred in his mind.

"And how would you, my dear sweet innocent Hermione, know what a poll dance looked like? Eh?" He joked, then laughed as her face turned red.

"And what if I did? Huh? What then?" She countered, recovering from her embarassment giving him a wicked look and smirking evilly. She vaguely reminded him of someone...

"Too much information Herm! Too much!" he replied, laughing jovially. He loved Hermione. She had always been on of his best friends, and always supported him in whatever he did. And you wouldn't think that such a bookworm would have such a great sense of humor, but she could always make him laugh.

"So, how are you? And how's Ron doing? I haven't talked to him in awhile" he asked her as they made their way to a table inside the shop.

"I'm good. So's Ron. He is so excited about he baby! I swear! It's all he ever talks about. He says that if it--we choose to be surprised and not be told its gender-- doesn't have red hair, he thinks he'll cry. He misses you Harry.You know he can't get around that easily to meet you, not with...well...you know. Why don't you come around for dinner every once in awhile?" she asked, looking at him with a pleading look. Harry knew that because Ron couldn't walk, it was harder for him to get around. And he really did miss his best mate, but...Visiting the Weasleys would mean visiting the Wizarding world, seeing as how their flat wasin Diagon Alley near the twins' shop, Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes. He could be seen, and he wouldn't be Harry. He'd be Harry Potter, and he just didn't want to deal with that.

"I know Herm, I do. And I do miss him, he's my best mate after all. But every other time I've visited, you know what it's like. They don't know me. They just see the scar, and nothing else."

"I know. I'm sorry I asked, but you do realize that you're going to have to Stop being such a baby about this and come back. You could have such a much better life there Harry! There are so many more opportunities for you. And if only you would give people a chance, you'd see that they aren't all like that. Don't you want something more than just working day after day at the small little used bookstore?" She finished, looking at him with a look that cleary said she knew his answer. She knew he hated it, and that he was lonely. But she also knew that he was terrified at the aspect of having to go back. She had seen what it was like after the war. People fawned over him even more than they had before, treating him like royalty. And he dispised it. Harry just wanted to be normal. That's all he ever wanted, but people just couldn't get past his fame to really get to know him.

" I can't do that. I just can't. I may not be happy with my life, but at least I'm satisfied", he lied, knowing full and well that he wasn't. "You know what it would be like if I ever went back." Harry sighed and slumped down in his seat. It was like this everytime they talked. She might be right, who knows. But still, he didn't know if he could face what awaited him in the life he ran away from.

"So...How are things at the store?" asked Hermione lightly, tactfully changing the subject. /Thank Merlin!/ Harry thought, /I know she's probably right, but.../ his thoughts trailed off, and he answered her question.

"Oh it's fine. I was late again today, as always. I really think old Mrs. Marlow is warming up to me. She even told me to have fun today! Granted, she tried to cover it up, but still, its a definate improvement", Harry said energitically. He was making a conscious effort to make this meeting as enjoyable as possible. Seeing Hermione was one of the highlights of his day, and he wanted to make the most of it, especially after his mediocore morning.

"Well it's about time! I should say, you've been working for that crabby old woman for how many years? Three?" Herm had met Mrs. Marlow once or twice, and she didn't take well to her.

"Oh come on, go easy on her! She's lonely, she can't help it. How would you feel if your love of 46 years died and left you all alone? Besides, I bet underneath that sour exterior she's a regular old granny. You never know", Harry honestly didn't know why he was defending her, not after how she treated him. /I guess I have a softspot too/ he thought to himself.

"I suppose you're right. You hungry? Of course you are! It's your lunch break! Now, lets order" she said brightly. And with that they ordered lunch and chatted, talking about nothing and laughing at everything.

*

"So, Harry...Do you still do contracting on the weekends?" Asked Hermione after they had finished their meal.

"Yeah, a bit here and there on the weekends. Why?" Working at the bookstore during the week was nice, but he needed something else. So, on the weekends he did contracting work. Mainly just installing dry wall or painting flats and the like. Nothing too big, but enough to bring in some extra money. It was nice and relaxing for him, seeing as how he always enjoyed working with his hands. He liked making things, seeing them come together slowly but surely. It was almost like magic.

"Well, you know how I sometimes do a bit of accounting for the friend with the realstate company? Well, he needs somebody to paint some apartments he just bought. Don't worry, its a muggle building, so you wont be found out. What do you say?" Harry considered it. He didn't have anything to do this weekend, but apartments? Sounds like a big job.

"Apartments you say? About how many?", he asked.

"Oh, not too many. It's just a small brownstone. He's actually thinking about using it for personal use."

"Personal use? How in the world do you use a whole apartment builing for personal use?" he asked skeptically.

"Oh, believe me, you can. Well, he can. He's very...over the top. Always has been." She replied smiling, laughing, thinking about her friend. /Eh, might as well. Not like I've got anything better to do/ he thought to himself.

"Well...I guess I'll do it. Just be sure to tell your friend it might take a couple of weekends for me to finish. My main priority is the bookstore you know", he said just as his watch started beeping again. "Shit! Herm, I gotta go! I can't be late or else Marlow'll have my arse", he exclaimed, standing quickly, pulling out a few bills for the tab and throwing them on the table.

"Bye Harry. Be well, okay? I'll talk to you soon." She said hugging him.

"Mmkay, love you Herm!", he said, giving her a quick kiss on the cheek then starting off down the street.

"Oh! And Herm," he yelled, suddenly remembering something."Tell that friend of yours to call me so we can set up a time for me to come by and give a bid! Okay?" he yelled to her through the crowd.

"Okay Harry! Sure thing!" Hermione answered, though he was already half way down the street. Paying for her own meal she chuckled at her friend, then stood and went to the curb to get a cab with a mischevious look in her eye.

TBC...

*

a/n: Well, that's it. I think I added at least a bit more substance to Harry. Hope you enjoyed it. You know what I enjoy? Yep, that's it! Reviews! Tell me what you think, I'd really appreciate it. Oh, and just a quick note, the poll dancing comment, that actually happened to me once. I was walking down the street with a group of friends, and bam! I ran into this thick wire coming down from a telephone poll (graceful, aren't I?) and one of my friends started laughing hysterically and said it looked like I was poll dancing. Hehe, such a fond memory.