I don't own the story or the characters of Harry Potter, this work is entirely fan-made. The rights to everything Harry Potter belong to J.K Rowling. I also have no beta or proof-reader (at least not a human one) so expect some mistakes from time to time.

As he drifted off into his dreams, Harry hoped that he didn't just scare Hermione off with his Freudian slip, which he meant by all accounts, he just didn't want to seem too desperate or to be moving too fast. When the morning came and Harry was once again back in reality, he realised that his dreams last night were up to him to make real. The dreams of a brown-haired goddess in human form, the ones that he knew were his favourite. However, time was not something he had endless amounts of, work was. He had started a job in a restaurant called The Blue Rook when he was fifteen, lying slightly to the manager, who he knew already to be a kind and forgiving person when asked about his age. Normally, you weren't supposed to have a proper job until you were out of school and the age of sixteen, but when Uncle Vernon tells you to do something, you do it regardless. His instruction that day had been to get out of his sight and start acting your age. So Harry went one step further, he asked to move in with his friend Ron as soon as they both turned seventeen, which would have been ages away and a long stretch to go to just to spite his Uncle and Aunt, but they would just have easily said good riddance. Or, they would have, were they not totally shocked by Harry's departure from their house on the 4th of August after his seventeenth birthday.

Harry had worked for the job, the money and the standing he had within the restaurant all on his own, but he only ever had to pay half of the rent for the flat that he and Ron shared, as somehow, Ron managed to scrape together the amount each month. Once or twice, Ron had failed to produce the money, but he had covered the cost, as a… token of goodwill. After all, Harry was the one who had not only found Lavender for Ron but also spoken to her and been his 'wingman' for their initial interactions. Looking back on it, that wasn't the smartest choice of those he had made, given that it was a fifty-fifty chance that Lavender would stay at their place after school and even most nights. Her step-father was a promiscuous drunk and so she avoided him at all costs. She didn't even know where her mother had fled to, but it had to be better than the place she described as her house. Now, it felt more like Harry was sharing the flat with the both of them and it was not easy to stomach. Ron was messy, sloppy and unorganized and Lavender was less concerned with personal space than she was with trying to steal Ron's tonsils with her mouth. And if those weren't bad enough, the fact that the flat only had one bathroom, meaning all of them had to share and having to alternate was finally the deal-breaker. Harry had decided that he needed his own flat, one where his work, school, and personal life was his to share with someone who respected him more. His eighteenth birthday was the perfect opportunity and whilst Ron had turned 18 the previous March, Harry was more aware of the growing need for space and solitude. So, taking his bag and wallet from by his bed, Harry left for work, leaving Ron and his lover to stay in bed for the foreseeable future.

"Harry, good morning. Back to the saucier station today?" Brian asked. Harry nodded and waved good morning to him, cheerily setting his bag down in the locker and grabbing his uniform. The black shirt and trousers paired with the white waist apron were to identify him as a cook, not a waiter or a patron of the restaurant out of bounds. "Harry, we need to get to work now, come over here." He went over to Mitchell, the Head Chef and got his station prepared for the first few hours, which served as a plain example of why Monday mornings were the best for a cook. No-one could be bothered to make themselves breakfast, at least, not the sane people, so they would come to the Blue Rook for a bite to eat before work. Harry had the luxury of not being needed as much in the morning, as all that he worked on were sauces, stews or sautéed foods. Although, he did have to make a fair few French Toasts and omelettes during his first hours there. "Got another two French Toasts for table… uh, sixteen. Yep." After the clock struck 10 o'clock, Harry made his way off his station, wiping it down for the next person who would use it and went over to the locker room again. Wiping his hands that were recently washed on the towel he always kept in his work bag, he went to take the apron off and call Hermione, until Mitchell walked over. "Right, Potter, I need you to get back on the sinks and wash up. Michael called in sick and you have a break, so get on it. Thanks." Disaster struck. Hermione needed him and he had promised to call, but his duty called. So he was in a bind. "Uh, Mitchell, Sir, I was hoping to call my g.., friend. I kinda promised her that I would call now." He winced as soon as he said it. Harry was being too trivial for Mitchell's liking.

"Right, counter-offer, you do the washing, and you don't get a pay deduction for the hour. Fair enough." Mitchell Johnson was known for having a short-fuse but never expressed anger through shouting or scenes. He would slyly imply something to a person, and the task he wanted doing was done, without question. No-one had bothered to stand up to him and recently, he'd been through a divorce and was still angry, so the approaching was not possible. "But, I told her that I would be there for her. She's going through a tough time." Brian O'Connell's eyes widened and the rest of the locker room went silent. Even George Fredericks, the supposed thickest guy in the kitchen knew that Harry had crossed a line. "You know, I am not known for my patience or my lenience. You need to do your job, not obsess over women that will distract you and fail you. And do you not think that other people have tough times?! That other people don't get pushed around enough?!" Harry hung his head in defeat and threw his apron back around his waist. "I'll get right on those dishes, Mitchell." His voice betrayed the venom in his veins that he directed at the Head Chef. "Sir!" He growled. Harry was feeling slightly pent up and cocky it seemed, so he pushed further. "There's no need to call me 'Sir', Mitchell." A loud gasp came from Amy Higgins, the Chef de Partie from even inside the kitchen. The chef in question's head whirled around to her which made her fall silent. "Potter," he spat. "You will do those dishes, and stay behind after your shift is over. The Manager will hear about this." He stalked back off into the fray of busy cooks, leaving Harry to glare after him. 'If only looks could kill.' He thought. Brian was still staring at the back of Harry's head. "You fuckin' idiot, mate. Well, it was nice knowing ya." He laughed and gave Harry a jokey pat on the back. "Seriously, though, if he tries to fire you, I think every person in this restaurant will vouch for you. I'm willing to bet that with a repertoire like yours, you'll have the support of the regulars too." Harry smiled for a fleeting moment and left his phone in the bag that got shut back up in his locker.

Hermione had resigned to playing games on her phone and looking through some old photos. Harry had promised that he would call over 45 minutes ago. He hadn't even left a text to say that he couldn't call. She was still confused and hurting from what had happened yesterday with her mother. Several of her photos were with Harry. Though he didn't like having them taken all that much. One of them was when they were just starting out at college and they had been caked in snow from head to toe before getting home from their bus stop. Another was them at the college welcome evening for new students just last year. They had both been helping out their tutors and had gotten lost in their duties to them. They would try to help everyone they could, and they always managed it. Matilda Granger came in to bring Hermione some soup from dinner, when she saw her lying on her bed, a frown on her face, though she slept peacefully with her phone still clasped in her hands. She saw the screen, with a message displaying her low battery and a photo behind it. There she was hugging a boy who she supposed meant a lot to her, as the Hermione in the photo was wearing a wild blush, unlike the unhappy girl in front of her right now. "He'd better be worth your suffering sweetheart." She took the tray and bowl with her closing the door gently so as not to wake her.

Harry left his post and thought of going home, but upon realising that he'd probably be fired anyway if he went straight home, he glumly waved to Brian and knocked on his manager's door. "Come in." he said from the other side of the door. 'Good, she seems to be in a good mood.' He thought with a shallow smile. He took a breath and squeezed the door handle, twisting and pushing it open. Surprisingly, Mitchell was not with her, but clearly, he had set this meeting up. "Mr Potter, I have heard of a complaint filed against you from the Head Chef. I have heard his side of the story, now, tell me yours." Harry gulped and relaxed; she seemed calmer than he had thought. "Well, it started this morning after my first shift." He recounted the events leading up to and including the verbal back-and-forth with Mitchell, leaving out the specifics of who his friend was and why they needed him.

"So, that's sort of... well, it. I went to work on the dishes and I tried to avoid him as best as I could for the rest of the day. That brings me to now." He was getting slightly heated just from thinking of the unfairness. She seemed to be looking at something else on her desk that was covered by another piece of paper. 'Likely his story from today. The lying bastard.' He thought with malice.

"Well, the good news is, as far as I can tell, you were in the right. He didn't have a right to dock your pay for any amount of time, so you can have that back on your check. Secondly-,"

"Wait, what?! I thought he was just threatening. He didn't tell me he'd actually done it yet!" Harry fumed, murder etched of his face. Mrs Burbage raised her hand to stop him and shot him a look of warning. "Here's the thing. Mitchell Johnson has been sour ever since his appointment. I don't entirely blame him for his demeanour, however, I can fault him for doing everything since then that he has been reported for. I assume you don't know how Phillip got his injury from that fryer last month?"

Harry creased his brow with confusion. "He told the chefs here that he fell and tried to stop his fall with his hand and accidentally got it caught in the deep-fryer. Is that not what happened?" Charity shook her head. She then pulled out another document and opened it to a back page. "This is all of the reports filed by employees and customers towards Mitchell Johnson. The most recent, bar the one you could make, is the one of Phillip's after he came back. It was purposefully not made public. The gist is that our resident, angry Head Chef stormed out, knocking Phillip into said deep-fryer. Then told him to watch where he was going and get back to work or he would…"

Harry finished for her: "Tell you?" She nodded in response

Harry's eyes bugged out and he slumped back in the chair. "Is there any lasting damage on him?" She shook her head. "Aside from a small scar on the palm of his hand, the burns have healed. He still didn't want to come back after he reported it though. Anyway, Mr Johnson has had several complaints made about him for a while and I'm afraid that this one kind of takes the cake. For what it's worth, I am incredibly sorry for what happened and how he handled it. Don't worry though, you will make it through this as unscathed as I can manage. Thank you for bringing yet another one of his issues to light. It was quite brave of you." Harry smiled and was excused. He gathered his things in his bag and left through the back door.

On the bus ride home, he realised a crucial detail that he had accidentally left out of his day. Hermione. His call could have been answered at lunch, but he was too focussed on the pity party that he had thrown himself for pretty much that entire reason that he forgot about her. Once he got back to the flat, he greeted Ron and Neville, who were sat on the sofa with a full stack of pizza boxes shared between them. Neville mumbled something that sounded like "Want a slice before we eat it all?" though it was hard to distinguish between that and "Wa sis fo we ee I all?", so he just nodded at them, telling them to give him five minutes. When through his door, he locked it and dropped the bag on his bed, forgetting the thing for now. His desk chair beckoned him with a cold seat, so he planted himself on it and punched in the numbers of his password on the laptop screen. The video-chat website was already up and so all he had to do was select Hermione as the recipient. It rang once. Then twice. Three times. "Harry?"

Hermione looked worked up and tired, judging by the messy hair and drooping eyelids. "Hermione. Damnit, I am so sorry for missing the call. I was at work and Mitchell told me to use my break time to do the washing up 'cause Michael's sick. Then I got caught up in the rest of my work and it all got out of hand. I'm so sorry." He blurted out, getting more flustered by the second.

"Harry, I'm not that mad. In fact, I feel more rested and less worked up than I was yesterday. I just wish that you could have been able to tell me. But, I understand that it wasn't your fault. Anyway, I wanted to talk about our dinner plans." She pursed her lips in anticipation. He looked surprised through what she could ascertain from the image on the screen. Then he smirked.

"I was supposed to be asking you about that earlier, again, sorry. But, um, go ahead. What did you have in mind?" He inquired with a smile on his face in the dim evening light. Hermione looked more pleased than he had ever seen her, even more so than when she had won an award in college for outstanding achievement in charity work. "What, you didn't think that I'd cancel on you, did you?" Harry asked, beyond surprised.

"I just didn't think that you'd have time, especially since I don't think that I'll be living with my mum anytime soon after what she's done to us." Hermione's smile faltered and she looked away, trying to wipe a tear from her eye without her friend noticing. She failed at the surreptitious part and caught Harry staring back at her in sympathy. She sniffed again, feebly attempting to chase away the tears and pain by distracting herself with Harry and his wonderful green eyes.

"Hermione, I will always make time for you. No matter where you are, or how far I am from you, I won't stop thinking about you. Don't forget, you're the smart one in this relationship. Not me." He chuckled and succeeded in putting a grin back on her face. "I'd travel to the ends of the earth for and with you. You know that, right?"

Hermione sniffed again and dabbed at her eyes with a tissue that was on the table. Coughing to clear her throat, she startled Harry and made him sit up straight, intently listening to her. "You look just like a jumpy puppy. I coughed and you looked at me like the world would end." Harry rolled his eyes and shook his head, still letting a smile shine through the lens to her.

"What can I say, I don't want you to be ill. Besides, that was pretty loud, are you sure your grandparents can't hear you through the walls?" He chided as she stuck a tongue out at him.

"They're asleep by now, so we are all alone. I wondered whether I could come and pick you up later tomorrow evening for a meal at… oh bugger, what's it called, the blue raven or something. I know it was a bird name."

"The Blue Rook? The one in town?" He raised his eyebrows and held his breath, hoping that she didn't mean his restaurant.

"Oh, yeah, that's the one. How did you guess." She had an evil glint in her eye that betrayed her thinking, even if she hadn't said much.

"You know that is where I work. You are doing that on purpose, aren't you?" He asked with a flat tone and a deadpan. She nodded hastily and told him the specifics of their date.

"Fine, just as long as we don't linger and can leave as soon as we're finished." He reasoned. Hermione pretended to mull it over for a moment and put on a comical thinking face.

"I do believe that we have reached an accord, Mr Potter."

Just a short disclaimer, though I am slightly familiar with some places in my home country, I have purposefully based this story in an unspecified area of Britain/England because if I picked a specific place, I would have a lot more research to do and a lot of areas to comb through to make sure I didn't butcher any place names. So, for that reason, assume that this world is governed by the laws of England/Wales and that I do not know where specifically my story takes place.