Chapters Five - Thirteen are un-beta'd. If anyone notices a issue please let me know! Thank you xo
Chapter Five
He was watching her again, she felt it. It was true that she hadn't gone by the boutique or Harry's abode recently, but that didn't mean she wasn't on the same street frequently enough.
She wasn't quite sure what it was about this place. It was a book store although honestly it was more like a library now-a-days with how many people just lounged about with a good book; and it was also a bar. Aptly named 'The Book Bar'. Hermione had rolled her eyes at the originality the first time she found it. She had stumbled in here by accident trying to escape the rain and horrible work day, and instantly became infatuated with the look of the place.
The dark hardwood floors were accented by the exposed-stone walls which were draped lovingly in scarlet red tapestries. Although the color scheme was in the same family as Gryffindor, there were numerous dark shades splattered throughout the establishment that made it feel like it belonged to every house. On one side, there were countless bookshelves, which were made possible by an extension charm she was sure. The other side housed a bar which looked to be made out of wood and brick, obviously crafted by hand.
'Whoever built that must have a lot of time to himself' she thought as she maneuvered her way towards the perfect chair that was calling her name.
The chair was sapphire blue with enough space to occupy two if she was interested, which she wasn't. The best part of the chair was the placement as it was settled comfortably between the wall, a window and was occupied by only enough light so the person seated there could read but not be seen. Actually, she thought as she looked around, it seemed as if all of the chairs were that way, having been modified with a concealment charm so the readers would not be disturbed. She suddenly felt at peace with this place, almost she thought coyly to herself as if this business was her soulmate instead of another person. It wouldn't be a surprise to anyone who knew of her and her love for books.
Thus, from that moment on she made a point to come here once a week at minimum. The week when things finally fizzled out between her and Ron? She was here everyday.
Her visits here began as a way to distract herself from the memories at home, she had read everything in her personal library a few times anyways. She started coming here more when the books began to act as some kind of bandage for the ache in her soul. There were some days she would find herself so absorbed in the atmosphere of the establishment where she forgot the thought of soulmates entirely. In those moments she only felt content warmth and a pair of eyes.
She could not tell you who those eyes belonged to, nor what they looked like.
As if her body was recognising something it had long ago forgotten, she imagined them to be the color of honey and ash. No, they were the color of moss. Hermione shook her head, the whole act of her imagining a pair of eyes on her person was silly!
She was concealed, unknown from the patrons around her. Aside from the concealment charm she was used to being stared at, she was the brightest witch of her age for goodness sake.
A pair of eyes on her never gave her this kind of ... discomfort.
The feeling would fester deep inside of her belly until it bubbled upwards causing her eyes to jump forward to the realisation that there was no one there. No one except the barkeep that is. Which it certainly wasn't him. He never even gave her direct eye contact for Merlin's sake. Which was a shame, she thought. He was quite the specimen.
His hair was long and thick almost as if it was a winter coat, not as unruly as her own but it held a certain type of wildness that sparked desire in her. He had a beard, of course he had a beard. There was no way a man who had such a primal aura about him wouldn't have one. He was built like a redwood, tall enough that she would never have an issue picking him out of a crowd, if she was looking for him. The way he moved around the bar was graceful, as if his poise held more than familiarity for his surroundings. He was always aware of every movement in this building. She had never seen him smile, but imagined him to have a dimple if he were to. He seemed as if he were the kind of man who was just as kind as he was tough, hardworking. He always spoke kindly to his bar guests, and she never could never catch him being idle.
He always performed his duties without magic, as if he had all the time in the world. Unloading bottles of firewhisky, filling the shelves, unscrewing jars….that particular task was her favorite. She loved watching him work. His hands were just like every other part of him, large and demanded attention. As she studied him daydreams of what he could do with those hands plagued her thoughts.
If she had to pinpoint the day her very minor obsession with him began, it was the same day she wandered into the homey establishment. She had been curled up in the chair, with a book that had been in her purse the past week. By the time she had pulled herself out of her chapter-induced stupor the storm had subsided, there was a fresh log on the fireplace and a delicious smelling hot-toddy on the coffee table beside her. She hadn't ordered this, had she? She looked up only to be met by the site of the bartenders backside.
Well, hello.
Hermione never believed herself to be the kind of woman who chose her object of affection based on appearances, but if she was going to become one this was the man to kick-start that side of her.
She quickly shook that idea from her brain. In no way was she going to start a liaison with another person who was not her soulmate again. As much as a quickie behind the bar, on top of the bar, or maybe even between the stacks appealed to her, it was not worth the discomfort she would have to muddle through once it ended. Because they would always end, she was not meant for them.
'But..' thought Hermione, 'if I could only talk to him. He could be.'
There was a heavy silence in the air around her as if that thought held some kind of truth to it, although she had not voiced the desire out loud. "No" Hermione chuckled quietly to herself "that would be too easy.'
If there was one thing Hermione knew deep in her soul about its mate, there was no way it was going to be easy.