AN: Thank you all so much for the support! It is very deeply appreciated!
Metatron understood the fuss over this mortal.
Unlike other mortals who did the bare minimum to help angels, Hermione insisted on finding him the best bottle of tequila galleons could buy. Granted this was because in her words, Metatron had so royally screwed up he would need more than a fifteen sickle bottle to atone for his wrongdoing. Might she suggest Clase Azul Reposado?
Sounded good all things considered, until the issue of price came up.
"Are you certain you want to spend that much on that?" Metatron's eyes were huge. No cheap bar would carry this.
"I'm going to give you the best chance possible of winning her back," Hermione reached into her pocket and pulled out a handful of galleons. "Otherwise, there's no point in buying anything."
"Yes, but this bottle may be too much." Especially if I don't know whether or not this is going to go right through Theresa.
"Don't worry about it. I can pay for it."
"Are you certain you want to?"
"Of course, I'm in a charitable mood." She slid the galleons to the clerk, who in turn opened the stainless steel register.
"You certainly are," the archangel muttered.
"Now," Hermione took her change from the clerk. "Your girlfriend may enjoy drinking it straight, but she may also appreciate a few cocktails."
"What kinds of cocktails?" Metatron asked. Cocktails were too fruity for him to bother with, but Theresa may feel differently.
"I don't know."
The clerk handed Hermione a paper bag containing the bottle and a glass which read, "Angel's Envy. "
She took the bag and turned to the clerk. "Thank you very much."
"My pleasure." The clerk gave her a grin.
"What kinds of flavors does your girlfriend like?" She handed Metatron the bag and led him out of the store.
"She's just a friend, not a girlfriend." He frowned.
"You're going through all this trouble for someone who is just a friend?" She raised an eyebrow.
"It's," Metatron squirmed. "It's an odd friendship."
"Sure," She drawled as they strolled down the street.
The archangel gave her the most no-nonsense expression he could.
"Back to the topic at hand, what flavors does she like?" The mortal was unfazed by his expression. Usually when a mortal was so cavalier it was pride, but this wasn't the case for her. It was as if she'd learned not to be intimidated by that expression through experience. She was an odd mortal indeed.
"I honestly do not know."
"Well, what kinds of food does she like?"
"I suppose she likes dry bread and wine."
"Dry bread and wine?"
Metatron nodded. "She lived a very simple lifestyle and often abstains from frivolities."
"So simple she wants tequila?"
"Let's just say her fortunes have changed since we've met."
Hermione stopped and stared at him. Metatron wondered if she was piecing together who he was. If she was onto him then he was impressed. Not many mortals could detect spiritual beings. Then again, most mortals didn't fuse with spirits. Such a curious case.
"Thankfully, most cocktails don't taste like dry bread, and I don't know why you'd ever want a tequila to taste like a wine, but if you need inspiration," her eyes lit up. "I have a new book that just came in."
"A book?"
"Yes." She smiled. "There's a book which has cocktail recipes from all over the world. I'm certain they have a section on tequila."
"I suppose brushing up on cocktail ideas couldn't hurt."
"It may help you when you plead your case before her," she picked up her pace.
"Are you sure she won't just like it straight?"
"Perhaps, but some variety helps. When I first had tequila straight I thought it was atrocious, but when I had a tequila sunrise, I began to have an appreciation for it."
"If we get cocktail makings, then you'll have to spend more money."
"No, you'll spend the money because you know what your lady friend likes better than I do. I will help you get the book though."
"Sure."
"You're in luck," She turned down the street. "I own a bookstore."
"You do?" He hoped he sounded surprised.
"I do, and it's quite profitable despite my stepping away from it at times."
"Why would you step away from it?"
"To do research."
"Research and running a business?" Metatron hummed. "My my, aren't you accomplished."
"I guess you could call it that." She shrugged.
"I believe I just did."
She blushed.
"So which do you prefer, research or the bookstore?"
"It depends on my mood."
The angel stared at her.
"Don't get me wrong, I love research, but when I can help connect someone to the right book and use it to solve a problem well, there's nothing like it."
"Is that why you're helping me, to feel better about life?"
"No." She stopped and exhaled. Her voice was softer. "I'm helping you because I cannot help myself at the moment."
"What do you need help with?" Metatron drew closer to her.
"I," she brushed him off. "Never mind."
"No, you can tell me," Metatron replied. "I did promise to help pay you back for all this. I do not break promises."
"I'm afraid there isn't much anyone can do about my problems."
"Try me. You'd be surprised what I can accomplish."
"How did you meet your lady friend?" The grin returned to Hermione's face.
"Deflecting I see…"
"I'm helping you win her back." She resumed strolling at a slower pace. "The least you can do is tell me how you two met."
"True," Metatron twisted his lower lip. "We met through my boss. She was quite close to my boss. They used to communicate quite a bit."
"So did you see her at your office?"
"No." Meatron's expression was wistful. "My boss couldn't be with her the way she wanted, so I was sent to relay a message, at least that's how it started."
"What was the message, if you don't mind me asking?"
"Just that she was loved and she needed to share that love with others. There were a few other aspects, but that was the main gist of it."
"Your boss sent a third party to tell her she was loved?"
"That's actually quite common for my boss."
"In other words, your boss plays the field."
"No, my boss' nature is to love, and that love was to be sent to her via me."
"Then what happened?"
"I started talking to her, and I found her to be different than anyone else I'd met. She was sassy and wasn't afraid to tell me where to stick it. At times, she could be quite wild, and at others vexing." Metatron's lips curled up. "But she has a pure heart. When she loves, she loves deeply. She's as smart as anyone I've ever met too. We can talk for ages about almost anything. She is the one person who can relax me when I've had a rough day, and the one reason I am not a complete workaholic."
"I take it your were once a workaholic."
"I take my job extremely seriously, sometimes too seriously." His expression was wistful. "She accepts that though, and has shown me there's more to existence than work."
"So you began to love her."
"I," he stopped. "Yes, I did."
She put a hand on his shoulder.
"I started seeing her even when my boss didn't send me. We were never together as much as I wanted, but I knew if I waited we could find a more permanent arrangement. When she could finally live where I did," he paused. "I suppose I should've made it clear that I was the happiest being in existence that day. For years I'd been meaning to tell her that, but I always found an excuse not to."
"I'm sure she was just as happy to be with you." Hermione squeezed his shoulder. "I know when I can live with my lover I'll be just as happy."
"I have a feeling you'll be with him soon enough." If Metatron could've glowed, he would have been bright yellow.
One long, comfortable moment passed between them. Then, Hermione cleared her throat and pointed upwards. "Here's my bookstore."
Metatron glanced up. Paradisio Books. The name was more fitting than she realized.
"The book I have in mind should be in the front, though it could be sold out. There were only two copies when I left," she opened the door. "If they sold out, I have a few in the back."
"You are too kind," Metatron began.
"And I'm telling you that your boss is in the looney bin!"
Metatron watched the color drain from Hermione's face.
"She is nuts, and she's going to lose the store. Why? Because she couldn't find a real man!"
"Tell me," the clerk pointed to Hermione. "Is the mental institution in the doorway now?"
The man at the counter turned to them, his eyes growing.
"What are you doing here, Cormac?" Hermione's voice was weak, and void of any of her previous enthusiasm.
"I came to check on Beatrice." He rubbed his eyes. "I figured she'd be distraught after what Harry told me."
"Did Harry say anything to you directly, or were you spying on him?" Beatrice asked.
"He told me everything about your little trip to Crazy Town." His expression was that of a prideful soul just before the archangel began his case. If only Cormac were standing trial at that moment...
"Does using extendable ears count as telling someone something?"
"It's close enough."
Some of the tension left Hermione's muscles.
"Regardless of how I found out," Cormac approached Hermione. "You were nuts to turn me down. Now I understand why."
She backed towards the door.
"I can't believe I ever wanted you. Of all the dead people you could've conjured up, you chose Severus Snape?"
Hermione gulped.
"Step away from her." Metatron positioned himself between Cormac and Hermione.
"Who are you?" Cormac spat.
"Someone you should consider your actions around." Metatron stood up as straight as he could, thankful he could make himself a couple of inches taller than the creep.
"What are you, her bodyguard?" Cormac snapped.
"No, I'm just someone who cares," Metatron's voice deepened. "Very deeply I might add."
"Look, I don't know what she's told you, but she's a nut job who leads men on. First she acts like she wanted me, and then she leaves."
"I would take the hint and leave her store then, but not until after apologizing for your atrocious behavior."
"Don't tell me you're standing up for her now."
"Either apologize to her and leave, or the consequences will be dire."
"What are you going to do, tell me to leave nicely and glare at me on my way out?"
"If I must." Metatron folded his arms over his chest.
"I don't know who you are, but you shouldn't talk to me like this. I am the second in line to become the Chief Warlock."
"That means nothing to me."
"Well it should! If you lay one hand on me…."
"You will do nothing to me."
"Wanna bet? I'll have aurors storming your place so fast your head will spin."
"He told you to leave!" Hermione snapped as she stepped beside Metatron. "Leave now or I will call someone to have you escorted out."
"Who is going to listen to you and do what you want them to do?"
"I can escort you out," Beatrice offered.
"And I will help," Metatron added.
Cormac's eyes darted between Metatron and Hermione, as if sizing them up.
"Get out or I will escort you out personally," Hermione snapped.
With a huff, Cormac stomped to the door.
"Would you like to apologize and repent of your actions?" Metatron demanded.
"Why would I do that?" Cormac held open the door. "She deserved everything she got."
"Then your fate is your own," Metatron warned.
Cormac huffed before storming down the street.
"I'm so sorry about that." Hermione took a shaky breath as the door slammed behind her. "But thank you so much for helping."
"No need to thank me," Metatron replied. "For all my faults, I try to fight for righteousness."
"Indeed," Beatrice drawled.
"Enough about Cormac," Hermione relaxed. "Let me find your book so you can go about winning your girlfriend back."
"Yes, let's," Metatron's expression lightened.
He knew how he was going to repay his debt to Hermione.