Title: you're feeling that forever fall
Author/Artist: asweetdownfall (LJ/DW), bellairestrella (AO3/FFN)
Prompt: 7: She keeps coming back to the same shop hoping to run into the cute guy who works there.
Pairing: Harry/Hermione
Rating: PG (for language)
Summary: Hermione Granger had a special talent for finding a bookshop or library everywhere she went. She could discover them even in the unlikeliest of places. They were a beacon to her, a welcoming space that always felt like home.
Word Count: 1,481
Warning(s)/Contains: OOC main pairing (it's an AU/alternate meeting)
Author's Note: This was written for the hphet Mini Fest 2020 challenge at Dreamwidth and LiveJournal. Also, Harry and Hermione are POC here (Harry's Indian and Hermione's Black). If that's not your thing, I won't be mad if you don't read.
And this is self-betaed. Any mistakes that remain are my own! Title is from David Cook's song "Reds Turn Blue."
Disclaimer: Harry Potter characters are the property of J.K. Rowling and Bloomsbury/Scholastic. No profit is being made, and no copyright infringement is intended.
Hermione Granger prided herself on knowing almost everything. Whether it was the name of a complicated spell or how to replace a car tire, she was hungry for all sorts of knowledge. And if she didn't know the solution right then, she sought it out in books. There was something comforting about rifling through the pages of a tome, the paper feeling as magical as the words it contained. For Hermione, very few experiences matched that solace.
Yet for the first time in her life, she didn't know if she could find the answers she wanted in a book.
After graduating at the top of her Beauxbatons class, Hermione found herself at a crossroads, with no idea of what to do next. The world stood before her full of possibility, hope, and a certain sense of awe. Countless professors and mentors had assured that with her intelligence, careful eye for detail, and sense of justice, she was the ideal person for any job. She knew otherwise. Her qualifications meant absolutely nothing in the dawn of the new millennium, once people had one look at her copper-brown skin, bushy hair and "unusual" name. Maybe if her hair was sleek, or her name was Sarah…
Her thoughts kept going in a negative circle. This wasn't helping at all. Sighing, Hermione put down the box of framed photographs she was in the middle of unpacking. "Need some fresh air," she muttered to herself. She grabbed her jacket (it was October, she wasn't taking chances) off the sofa and walked out of her apartment, locking the door as she went.
She went down the sidewalk, away from the residential part of Shoreditch and closer to the retail areas. While she knew London like the palm of her hand, she was eager to explore this side of the city, and even more intent to find her sanctuary, the place where she truly felt safe and content.
Hermione Granger had a special talent for finding a bookshop or library everywhere she went. She could discover them even in the unlikeliest of places. They were a beacon to her, a welcoming space that always felt like home.
Today was no exception. She was strolling a side street of cafés and handicraft shops, the traffic a distant roar in her ears, when she saw it. Hermione froze, from both wonder and happiness at the display window in front of her. She saw some movement inside, but her eyes were transfixed to the small yet elegant sign above the door which read, "Books & Broomsticks Bakery." A hand-drawn (or possibly wand-made, since she could sense the magic used on the sign) cupcake and book were placed between "books" and "bakery." Hermione couldn't help but find it charming.
Her hand moved of its volition and pressed the handle on the door. Hermione blinked a few times, trying to shake off the lingering shock, and entered the shop.
The intriguing yet familiar scent of well-worn books and baked goods greeted her. There was also the tinge of spices in the air, as if something had just been taken from the oven. It was new but welcoming.
Walking closer to the front counter, Hermione saw a figure near the bookshelves stacked against one wall. From what she could tell, they were organizing a small cart of books beside them. As if detecting her gaze, the person straightened their posture and looked at her. Hermione found herself speechless.
The book shelver was a man, but not like any of the men Hermione had known growing up and spent time with at Beauxbatons. Those boys were attractive in a bland way and never showed interest in what Hermione cared about, whether it was elves' rights or the gender gap in wizard academia. This man was the complete opposite. He was slender and a bit tall, with dark brown skin and the messiest black hair. It suits him, Hermione silently admitted. His brilliant green eyes seemed to beckon Hermione to him, like a powerful magnet she never wanted to repel.
When he opened his mouth to say something, Hermione's reflexes kicked in and she bolted out of the bakery. She didn't dare to look back.
A few days later, she was on her bed attempting to read her favorite novel (Toni Morrison's Sula). Her mind wasn't cooperating. Instead, she was reliving the last moments at Books & Broomsticks: the sign, the books, the man, her frantic escape. Hermione felt ashamed; at the same time, her curiosity and need to examine the finer details was overpowering. She wanted to return to the bakery/bookshop, not only to peruse the wall of books but to talk to the man (the owner? the owner's son?) and find out everything about him.
Not in a creepy way, of course; she was drawn to him for reasons she couldn't explain even to herself. They'd barely met, yet when their eyes locked, Hermione sensed an odd familiarity. As if they knew each other as well as the pages of a beloved book, a bond that went beyond life. Hermione didn't believe in fate, but she wondered if he'd attended Beauxbatons. Maybe they could have been friends.
Or maybe she needed to stop overthinking and 'follow her heart,' as Disney and Hollywood romantic movies loved to remind her.
Hermione scoffed and closed her eyes. She had to go back and apologize for being (unintentionally) rude. And if she happened to explore the bookshelves, that was icing on the cake.
Hermione did return to the bakery, time and time again. Despite her determination to woman up, go in, and apologize, for Minerva's sake, she never walked more than a few steps toward the entrance. A strange fear paralyzed her, to the point she didn't look inside the display window in case the man caught her outside vigil. So she usually went to the place next door, which was a café, and ordered a hot chocolate to go.
It was the middle of November when Hermione saw the man smile widely at a customer and her resolve crumbled to dust. Mr. Green Eyes (the completely uncreative nickname she'd chosen) had a really lovely grin, she observed. A smile that reminded her of the sun, golden and so splendid it hurt to look. A smile Hermione wanted to see every day, and not just in a bakery setting.
She decided to wait until the customer left, eliminating the chance for distraction. Then she took a couple of slow and deep breaths, fixed her posture, and walked into the shop. This time the smell wafted gently over her. There still was the ink and paper scents of the books; now they were mixed in with jasmine and turmeric. She noticed there were hanging pots of flowers; some were in the corner next to the counter, while the others had been placed in the back, away from the bookshelves.
Hermione almost lost her resolve again when Mr. Green Eyes turned around (he was sorting the day's receipts, from what she could tell) and saw her. His face lit up like a holiday tree, and Hermione's heartbeat went faster. Am I really getting tachycardia because of a handsome man. Get it together, Granger!
She cleared her throat and walked closer to the front counter. "Hello," she greeted Mr. Green Eyes, her voice slightly wavery. "You probably don't remember me but I was here a while ago. You were about to say something but I ran off. That was extremely rude of me, and I'm so sorry for that. It wasn't you at all, I just got nervous." She winced a bit at the wording. "So I thought to return and make it right. Have a good day." She turned, about to walk away, when Mr. Green Eyes' voice stopped her.
"You didn't need to apologize, miss," he replied in a confused tone. "I, uh, wondered if you'd come back again. I hoped you would," he added with a small smile.
Hermione's eyebrow rose. His words flustered her, and she wasn't sure how to reply. "You hoped?"
"Yes," he said firmly, as if he could feel her skepticism. He casually leaned over the counter but kept his hands folded. "It's not every day a cute girl walks into the bakery." Oh, those emerald eyes were going to be the death of her.
Hermione couldn't help but laugh. "Usually that pick-up line doesn't work on me, but you say it in such an adorable way."
Mr. Green Eyes jerked back. "Oh, I didn't mean –!" He shook his head. "Bloody hell, I'm awful at this. It's not a pick-up line, I was being honest."
Hermione's breath caught. "Um. Thank you then, mister…"
"Harry. Just Harry, not mister." He said wryly. "I'm too young for that."
"Then don't call me 'miss,'" she retorted. "I'm Hermione." She smiled softly. "Just Hermione."