Author's Note: Here we go, chapter 2! And lots of Hannah! Thank you so much for reading this story, I hope you like it!
Hannah couldn't get back behind the bar fast enough. She was mentally kicking herself. You idiot, she thought, they were your friends, they were trying to still be your friends. She lay her empty tray down, turning so that she was staring at Tom where he stood at the other end of the bar.
"I'm taking my break now," she called to him.
He nodded, his bald head gleaming under lantern light, and waved her off.
Brilliant, now she would have forty minutes to herself. Now, she was ashamed to admit even inside of her own head, she could go hide. She checked her watch to make sure of when she'd need to be back and then ducked into the kitchen, hoping that there would be some food to grab quickly.
"Hi Hephesta," she sung out over the loud radio, which at present was playing an old standard of Celestina Warbeck's.
Hephesta was the main cook for the Leaky Cauldron. Hannah wasn't sure how long the old witch had been there, but she was certain it had been at least the length of her lifetime and probably closer to that of her grandmother's. When she didn't look up from the stove Hannah called out again, louder this time. Apparently decades of working in a kitchen, of large pots and pans banging into the metal stovetop and sliding in and out of ovens, could really do a number on your hearing. Also, she really was rather old.
When Hephesta looked up her gaze didn't land on Hannah, but rather past her. She grabbed her wand out of an apron pocket and jabbed it at something over Hannah's shoulder. The younger witch ducked out of the way just in time, as a large mixing bowl full of something that smelled both sweet and tangy flew through the kitchen air towards the workspace next to the stove.
"Oh!" Hephesta said with some surprise as the metal bowl landed with a clank. "I didn't see you dearie. You really ought to announce yourself when you come in here, you know."
Hannah grinned, "I'll try to remember that."
"What can I do for you?" Hephesta said, then a dark look came over her face. "Did someone complain about the food?"
Hephesta was very proud of her work, and Hannah knew that her ego was fairly fragile. "No," Hannah said quickly, "Of course not."
The cook nodded, looking assured. She tapped her wand on the stove and the flame beneath a large pot shrunk slightly.
"I was actually wondering," Hannah continued, her hands pushing hair behind each ear, "If anything had been sent back earlier?" She paused before adding guiltily, "It's my dinner break."
"Over there," Hephesta answered. She pointed at a counter near the door. There sat a sandwich that looked blackened. "They asked for crispy bread and then got upset with it, can you imagine?"
Hannah smiled. She retrieved the sandwich for herself and yelled, "Thank you!" She also snatched a bottle of pumpkin juice before slipping out of the kitchen door.
Once back out she made her way to the stairs with her head down, determined not to get sidetracked or asked for any sort of service by one of the patrons who might recognize her. It would have been easier to just apparate, of course, but she still felt a bit unnerved from seeing her former classmates and wasn't sure she could stomach it.
It was part of the deal she'd made with Tom when she started working at the Leaky Cauldron that she could live in one of the rooms upstairs as long as she needed to. A year later, and it was still the best option she knew of. Susan had suggested that they could get an apartment together someday soon, but Hannah had found that she actually really liked living alone. Maybe it was because of sharing a dorm room for so long, or the complete lack of privacy they had living in the Room of Requirement during that horrid seventh year. She wasn't sure, but it wasn't a subject that she felt the need to dwell on either.
Once on the third floor Hannah put the pumpkin juice under her arm and opened the door with her freed hand. Her a-bit-more-than-slightly-messy room greeted her. It had all of the features that the guests' rooms had: four poster bed, fireplace, wardrobe, tiny table by the window, mirror that sometimes squawked at her if her appearance wasn't wholly satisfactory. Her gaze landed on the table as she shut the door with her foot. It was covered fairly well by many half-done things that Hannah had only put half of her heart into. There was an embroidery hoop with a scrap of fabric stretched inside of it, only a few stitches done, there was a small palette of watercolor paints, and there were two books that had been half read. A sigh escaped Hannah as she looked at it, meanwhile a sense of heaviness settled into her bones. She felt very, very tired suddenly.
So she went to her bed. The bed was the brightest spot in the whole room thanks to the yellow crocheted blanket that was spread neatly at its foot. Hannah's mum had made it for her during her first year at Hogwarts. Back then it had served as some sort of assurance that, despite both of Hannah's parents having been in Ravenclaw, Norah Abbott was pleased with where her daughter had been sorted—or at least that's how Hannah had seen it at the time. Whether not that effect had been intentional she'd never know. Besides, she'd never thought that being in Hufflepuff made her any lesser, no matter what the prats in some of the other houses might have said, it had been her granddad's house, and her cousin's after all. Regardless of any of that, present-day Hannah was careful to make sure that she kept her food away from that handmade blanket, lest crumbs or something else reach it.
She checked her watch again. Thirty-one minutes of break to go. She set about eating, snatching an old copy of Witch Weeklyoff of her nightstand to flip through as she did so. Of course it was all drivel, but sometimes that meant a pleasant break from the realities of everyday life and the less-than-savory thoughts that can flood one's mind in vulnerable times. Times like the ones that Hannah was having that night, and frankly had been having on and off for about five years. She was several paragraphs deep into an article about which Quidditch team's uniforms were cutest—apparently not the Harpies, Hannah noted, her mind going back to Ginny downstairs—when there was a sudden rapping on her window.
Rapping perhaps wasn't the best term. It was more of a dull tinksound as the owl outside pecked at the glass to gain her attention. She rose quickly, crossing to the window.
"In you come," she said as the bird, a sturdy looking Barn Owl, swooped about. He perched on the back of the chair that sat at her small table. Hannah ripped off a piece of burnt bread from her sandwich and fed it to him when she took the letter he carried. She pulled out her wand and sliced the envelope open, noting that her name appeared on it in the neat print of her friend Susan Bones.
Dearest Hannah,
Reminder that we're getting breakfast together tomorrow. Don't you dare try to back out again. I know your schedule and you don't work Saturday mornings. Besides, I'm coming to pick you up at the Leaky so even if I have to drag you out you're coming.
In all seriousness, though, I'm worried. We'll talk about it more tomorrow but I saw Justin today and he said he hasn't heard from you in a month. You can't just disappear on us all you know. You've already tried that, haven't you?
Anyway, I'm planning to arrive around 9, and I'm looking forward to our morning together!
Love, Susan
Hannah's cheeks burned a little after reading through the letter. There was nothing untrue about it, not even anything unwarranted. Still, it stung a little to be called out like that. She knew Susan well enough to understand that this was just one of the ways she expressed kindness, by looking out for what's best. And Hannah did have a tendency to sort of disappear on her friends, as noted by what had happened downstairs before her break. Although, she reminded herself, there was nothing wrong with a healthy amount of separation.
The owl hooted softly and Hannah gave him another piece of her sandwich's bread. She dug through the clutter on her table until she'd assembled a small piece of parchment, an inkwell, and a quill. She jotted her reply down quickly, her loopy scrawl looking a bit frantic.
Susan,
You know, dragging me out of bed might be a real possibility—I'm working a double shift tonight. But I'll try to be wide awake and adequately dressed by the time you get here. And I know you have things you want to talk about, but I'll give you a tidbit as well: the DA's finest are here tonight. Harry, Ron, Hermione, Neville, Ginny, and Luna all at a table in the back as if that means they won't be noticed by the public. I'll have you know, the front of the pub is looking rather lonely tonight. Everyone's trying to catch glimpses.
I'm also looking forward to our morning together. Maybe we can even stretch it into the afternoon? See you soon!
Love, Hannah
She gave the bird another bit of bread before sending him off with the reply. Finally starting in on her meal again, she checked her watch: sixteen minutes left.
The pub was even busier after Hannah's break ended. However the crowd inside of it had shifted a bit, as the time for meals had mostly passed. Now everyone was there for drinks. Hannah was stationed behind the bar, and anticipated being there for the rest of the night. That was something she didn't mind. In fact, her favorite times working at the pub were when she was behind the bar. Back there she was safely separated from the bustling world of the patrons and, instead, existed in a world that was just herself and sometimes Tom or one of the other servers. She was close enough to know what was happening outside of that little bubble, but not so close as to be drawn into it. There, she could move quickly in a way that felt natural to her, methodically fulfilling orders and keeping the place running. It felt like honest work, and it felt good.
She was passing two flagons of a dark ale to a wizard in his twenties with unfortunate looking facial hair when Neville emerged down the bar. Hannah regarded him out of the corner of her eye as she mopped up a spill on the pine bar's old, worn surface that, frankly, was due to be refinished. She was struck by how out-of-place he seemed there. He wasn't from this version of her life, he was from a life that she thought she'd mostly left behind, save for a few lingering connections like Susan. He also looked like he feltout-of-place there. His tall frame was slouched, as if trying to blend in with those who stood around him, and his eyes scanned around the area behind the bar until they landed on her. He offered a small smile.
Hannah walked down to stand across from him, attempting to match his expression with her own. "What can I get you?"
His smile wavered, as if he'd expected a different response to his presence. "Uh, hi," he said before quickly moving on to give the response her statement had demanded. "Six ales please."
"Dark or pale?" Hannah asked, reaching below the bar to start pulling out the glasses she'd need.
"Pale," he answered.
She nodded. As she started to fill the first glass from the tap she told him, "You can go back to your table. I'll bring these over."
He looked taken aback. "Oh, um…" his eyes shifted from her face to the crowd and back again. "Would you mind if I actually stayed for a minute?"
The words had tumbled out of his mouth so quickly that she wasn't sure she'd heard him correctly at first. But when they clicked in her mind, Hannah was the one who felt taken aback, realizing how rude and dismissive her words had probably sounded. "Of course," she said quickly, beginning to fill the second glass.
She was onto the third before he said anything.
"So," Neville said, his voice so tentative that she had to strain to hear him over the crowd. "How are you?"
"Good," she said automatically. Her eyes met his, "You?"
He nodded, "Yeah, I'm good too."
She gave a small smile, "Good."
You idiot, her mind yelled at her as she started the fourth glass, that was the lamest response you could've said.
Hannah took a deep breath and tried again. "It's nice of you to come order for everyone."
Neville shrugged one shoulder. "I don't attract attention the way they do."
Hannah glanced down the bar, where two pretty witches had been staring at him since he'd arrived. "Sure," she laughed softly.
She saw his cheeks go slightly pink as Neville's hands fidgeted on the bar's surface. It was endearing, to see him act so much like the Neville she had known before. That is, before everything in their lives had been turned upside down. Even after the war was over, and they'd been two of the students who chose to return to Hogwarts for a final year, he hadn't been like this. Or maybe he had been and she just hadn't noticed, so wrapped up in all of the overwhelming feelings she had walking through that castle each day.
The fifth glass was nearly full when Neville asked, "How much is this?"
Hannah was so caught up in her thoughts that it took a moment for the meaning of his words to sink in. "Oh," she said, realization hitting. She was about to answer, to say that it was twelve Sickles, when she stopped herself. "It's on the house." After how she'd treated them earlier, she reasoned, it wouldn't hurt to reach out a little.
Neville frowned, "Won't Tom—"
"I can give my friends drinks if I please," she said. Then, when the bareness of her words started to make her face feel warm, Hannah added, "Besides, Tom would give you lot free drinks anyway."
Neville smiled, laughing slightly. "If you're sure."
"I am," she said, topping off the final glass. She set it down on the tray that held the other five and began to lift it.
"I can take it," Neville said.
She frowned at him, "Neville, that's very nice, but it's my job and—"
"Oi!" A voice yelled from up the bar.
They both looked over and found a middle-aged wizard holding out his hand, his face twisted into a grimace.
Hannah turned to Neville, "I guess if you're sure."
He smiled at her, "I am." He pulled out his wand and started levitating the tray so that it would go over the heads of other guests. He started to walk away, but paused. He turned back to her. "You know, you should come—"
"Can I get some service!" The man called out.
"I'm sorry," Hannah said. "I'll…see you around."
"Yeah," Neville said, holding her gaze for another moment before turning to walk into the crowd.
Hannah wasn't sure why, but she didn't rush to the new customer. Instead, she watched Neville's head as it bobbed through the crowd. When that had disappeared she did get back to work, but still looked out and followed the tray.
When that disappeared, it felt like her stomach had flipped.
Thank you so much for reading! Reviews and suggestions are always very appreciated and welcome!
