Gravity of Love : Archives
Title: Conversations Over Coffee
Author: KissThis
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Rating: PG
Setting: 9 years post-Hogwarts. London.
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Disclaimer: I did not create Harry Potter or any of the characters from the Harry Potter series. I also have a mortal fear of lawyers. Harry Potter and all its rights ©JK Rowling.
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A/N: This is part of a compilation of COMPLETELY separate one-shot Harry x Hermione fanfics. So, PLEASE, do not review saying how much you can't wait to see what happens next. This story is DONE.
October 2007
"Would you like another cup, miss?"
Hermione glanced up at the young girl standing beside her table holding a steaming decanter of coffee. Hermione smiled and marked the page in her book, setting it down and pulling off her thin wire-framed reading glasses. Her hands she folded upon the closed book as she leaned forward slightly to give the girl her full attention.
"Actually," Hermione said in a soft voice. "If it isn't too great a trouble, I would very much like a cup of hot tea."
The girl returned the smile as she picked up Hermione's empty coffee cup and set it upon her already half-laden tray. "It's no trouble at all, miss. I'll be right back with your tea."
"Thank you."
Hermione sighed and unclasped her hands, only to resettle them in her lap. Bemused, she turned her gaze out the window and onto the busy London streets. The waitress had been new; otherwise Hermione would have known her name. She also would have been called 'Hermione', rather than 'miss'. She'd been coming to the café every day at precisely eight o'clock for the past two years and knew every square inch and every face like the back of her hand. And never once had she sat anywhere, but at her table.
Her table was small, made of worn oak and pine, with a pedestal leg and ornate vine-work etched into the border. The circular table-top was just big enough for her to rest her drink upon and her book as well, should she ever grow tired of holding it up. The table was set back in the far corner of the café, far enough from the bright lights that there was no glare off the polished wood, but not quite entirely in shadow. To her right was a large bay window that looked directly out upon the main street where, if Hermione ever bored of her work or book, she could look out upon the people passing by and be entranced by the simplicity of others' every day lives.
"Tea instead of coffee? The world must be ending."
Hermione pulled her gaze from the street and turned to face her companion, having nearly forgotten he was there at all. She promptly glared at him and picked up her book, as if she were going to ignore him completely. He laughed and reached across the small table to push the volume back down upon the tabletop.
"Really, Harry," Hermione snorted, giving him her best look of annoyance. "You know it's Wednesday. I need something a little more soothing; less harsh. I've had about all the coffee I can stand for today."
Harry chuckled a bit and shook his head. "Yes, I know what day it is. Are you going there again?"
Hermione tutted and gave him a look, her fingers idly fiddling with her folded reading glasses. "Of course I am. I can't not go."
She gave him another look, as if daring him to object or argue. Harry merely threw up his hands in defense, laughing slightly as he did so. The look on her face was damn near priceless. He brushed the unruly bangs from his eyes, leaned back in his chair, and gave her one of his patented roguish smiles, "I would never dream of trying to dissuade you from going."
"See that you don't," she replied, dismissively. But he knew he'd gotten to her. He could see the smile tugging at her lips and the way her honey brown eyes danced.
The waitress returned with Hermione's tea and Hermione moved her book to the side so that the girl could set the cup down. They exchanged niceties and Harry waited until the girl was gone and Hermione had taken the first few satisfying sips of tea before he spoke again.
"Is the tea any good?" he asked, conversationally. "I thought cafés were only supposed to sell coffee, cappuccino and stuff."
His poor attempt at a joke made Hermione smile as she set the steaming cup down upon its matching saucer. "A common misconception," she told him softly through a smile. "It's 'Earl Grey' and quite delicious. Would you like to try it?"
She began to move the saucer and cup towards him across the polished table, but he lifted a halting hand, shaking his head. "No thank you, 'Mione. I never really had the taste for tea."
She shrugged and lifted the cup to her lips for another drink. She swallowed it; reveling in the bitter burning sensation it gave as it trickled down her throat, and wiped her pale lips with a napkin. The cup clinked quietly as she set it upon the saucer. "It's an acquired one I suppose."
"So how are things going with you?"
Hermione sighed and ran a hand through her bushy hair, "We always talk about me, Harry. I want to know about you." She insisted earnestly.
Harry sighed as well. Resting his elbows on the edge of the table, he pulled his chair closer and leaned towards Hermione. "You know I can't tell you anything, 'Mione. We've been through this."
He smiled at her apologetically, but she waved it away with her hand, "Yes, yes. 'Top secret' and all that." She sighed heavily. "That doesn't stop me from wanting to know, though."
"So how's life?"
He grinned impishly at her startled look, and watched her expression soften. She laughed softly and the smile reached all the way up to her eyes. "You always were so single-minded," She teased.
Harry shrugged and his grin widened, "One of my many charms."
Her eyebrow quirked, "Did I mention cocky?"
"I assumed it was just implied."
Hermione let out an amused peal of laughter, her curls bouncing across her shoulders and her honey eyes lighting up with joy. Her shoulders quaked as she clapped a hand over her mouth to subdue her tinkling laughter. "Oh, Harry," She said when her giggles finally subsided. "I've missed you so much."
Harry shook his head at her words and gave her a good-natured smirk, "I come and visit you every week."
The change in her mood was instantaneous. The light faded from her eyes as sadness overtook them. The look on her face was one of resigned reminiscence as she looked across at him, her fingers fiddling absently with a ring on one of her hands.
"It's been nearly two years since you left, Harry." She said quietly. Sadly.
Harry sighed, and the simple gesture was enough to know that this subject was one he had been wishing to avoid. He'd always had a nervous tendency to run his hands through his hair and at that moment his raven locks were an utter mess.
"Hermione, please." He pleaded. He reached out, as if to take her hand, but then drew back at the last moment. He sighed again, "Please, let's not talk about this. Not today."
Hermione ducked her head, letting the thick chestnut curls fall over her shoulders and obstruct her face from view. She nodded, and the motion was nothing more than a bouncing of bushy hair. He heard her sniff and then reach for her cup of tea. She leaned back and took a long sip of the bitter drink, and only then did Harry see the liquidy shine in her eyes.
"Don't cry, Hermione," He whispered. "I couldn't bear it if you cried because of me."
"Too late," she said thickly. She forced a smile to match the weak joke, but it was too close to the truth for her to talk truly in jest. Harry was looking at her with his handsome green eyes filled with guilt. She turned away. Dabbing along her eyes with the corner of a rumpled napkin, she sniffed lightly before clearing her throat to speak.
"Ron misses you too, you know," She said, quietly, still holding the crumpled napkin in her hands.
Harry spread his arms wide in helplessness, "You know you're the only one I can visit." He replied patiently as if this wasn't the first time they'd had this conversation.
Hermione nodded, "Yes, I know. Which, by the way, you have yet to explain to me." She gave him a pointed look, but he only smiled and shook his head as if to say that wasn't going to happen.
She frowned at him, a quick down turn of her lips, and drank more of her tea before continuing. "Yes...I know you can't visit him, but I thought you'd like to know all the same.
Harry smiled, and Hermione suddenly felt better for having said anything at all. "Thank you," he said. And he meant it.
"You're welcome," she smiled over the teacup that had long since stopped steaming.
"Now, what's new in the life of Hermione Granger?"
She laughed at his stubbornness, and a small weight lifted from her shoulders to find that he wasn't truly angry with her at all. Her gaze drifted to the window and out across the street to where two small children were kicking a ball back and forth across the sidewalk. She watched them with rapt interest.
"Things at work are going wonderfully," She told Harry, her face still turned towards the window. Another child had joined the first two and the small red ball rolled merrily back and forth across the cobblestones. "We just got a preliminary grant to begin work on the new library in Paris. The design is beautiful; black marble floors, two stories, mahogany everything..."
Harry chuckled as she trailed off wistfully, and he couldn't help but make a comment. "You can take the bookworm out of the library, but you can't take the library out of a bookworm."
Her lips pursed as she tried to look affronted, "There's nothing wrong with loving a library. They're wonderful places."
"I always did wonder if you loved the library more than me 'n Ron." He teased.
Hermione smiled and told him; "No, never." She watched an elderly couple cross the street hand in hand and smiled faintly. "I got an owl from Ginny yesterday. She's still in Africa working with the 'Worldwide Doctors' project. Everything's going well, so she'll probably be down there for another month or so."
"She's probably not the most successful one of our group, but I'm glad she's following her dream," Harry said proudly.
"Ginny was always happiest when she was helping others," Hermione murmured. "She's the only completely kind person I've ever met."
"That's a very high compliment, considering the state of the world."
Hermione shrugged. "Everyone's having trouble picking up the pieces after the war," she commented off-handly.
"Even you?" Harry asked quietly.
Hermione chuckled into her tea, "I'm probably the only sane person left."
Something flitted across Harry's eyes, and he turned his face away from Hermione's curious gaze. "Something I said?" she asked in concern.
Harry shook his head and plastered a smile across his face, "No. Just thinking about the war."
Hermione waved his words away, "Nonsense, Harry. You shouldn't dwell on such things; the war is over." She smiled brightly, "Let's talk of something else."
"How's Draco?"
It was a cheap shot and he knew it. Her smile faltered, and she sort of turned inwards on herself. The teacup was clutched tightly between her hands, and she was looking down at her reflection rather than meeting his gaze.
He sighed, already feeling sorry for bringing it up, but pressed on nonetheless. "How's he doing?"
"What do you want to know?" She asked blandly.
Harry frowned slightly, knowing she couldn't see it. "I just want to know what he's up to."
"He hangs around a lot," She said suddenly. Her voice was tight. She pulled her gaze from her tea, but her eyes darted away from Harry and landed on the window. "He...he makes excuses to see me."
"How so?"
"Visiting me at the Ministry, at home..." She trailed off. He leaned forward and she immediately turned to look at him. Her eyes were wide and looked lost. "He's even started coming to the café."
"He's probably just worried about you, 'Mione." Harry said.
"Well, maybe I don't want him worry about me," She huffed indignantly, crossing her arms over her chest.
"Come on, Hermione. I don't think you have much say in the matter." Her head snapped up, amber eyes narrowed. She was mad. Just great.
"And what matter is that?" She hissed under her breath.
Harry held up a hand, and his voice was calm as he replied. "Don't even start." He told her. "I know how much he cares for you."
Her anger faded as he refused to acknowledge it, and she turned back to the window, scowling to let him know she wasn't happy with him. She pressed her forehead to the cool glass and let her mind drift to those people standing on the other side. A young teenage girl was juggling half a dozen shopping bags in her arms when some cruel trick of fate stirred the wind and blew her hat off her head. Hermione watched the girl disappear around the corner after it, scrambling across the cobblestones in high heels with her arms full of parcels.
An older man was walking his dog, a small shiatsu, down the narrow side-street that led to the park. The dog was yipping and bouncy excitedly up and down, stopping every few steps to dart back and forth across the sidewalk's width as far as the leash would let him. The man just watched with mild interest and smoked his pipe. Crossing the street away from the dog was a woman and her young son. The boy strained his fingertips to reach the puppy, but his mother kept a firm grip on his hand as she pulled him to the other side of the street. The boy scowled at his mother's turned back, and kicked dejectedly at a small pebble, sending it careening into the gutter.
"He asked me to marry him," she said suddenly.
Harry's jaw dropped.
"It was all so sudden, really," she continued hastily. Her hands nervously traced the outline of her forgotten book. "I mean, we haven't even really been dating, but he..."
"Go on," Harry said encouragingly. He was watching her face closely as he leaned in to hear her answer more clearly.
"He said he couldn't live without me," She finished quickly. She dropped her jaw into her palm and her eyes flitted down for a second, then back up to Harry, "Pretty corny, huh?" she whispered.
Harry shook his head to disagree and mirrored her by placing his jaw in both of his hands and resting his elbows on the tabletop. "And what did you say?"
Hermione sighed and pushed away from the table until her arms were completely straight. The chair balanced precariously on its two hind legs as she looked out the window, "I told him that was certainly an odd thing to say. I mean, we're all going to die eventually, so saying that he couldn't live without me was pretty much an empty truth. He was getting on just fine before we met, so it's logical to propose that he's going to die all the same, whether or not I agree to marry him."
Harry was staring at her with a horrified look upon his face, "You did not!"
She nodded furiously and finished off her tea, "I did."
"Jesus H. Christ, Hermione!" Harry exclaimed, slapping his palm against the table. The teacup rattled on its saucer. The chair slammed back onto all four legs. Hermione's eyes were wide with surprise and she was holding a fist to her mouth. "You didn't make fun of the man's choice of words when he was proposing, did you?"
She fidgeted in her chair. She wouldn't meet his eyes when she nodded her head. He swore and ran his hands through his hair, "Why did you do it, Hermione?"
"Well it's true! I—"
"Hermione..."
She sighed in defeat. A soft tip-tapping noise rose as she drummed her fingers against the wood. "I was nervous, I suppose," she answered half-heartedly. "I mean, like I said; we never really dated. Then, all of a sudden at lunch yesterday he just got down on his knees and—"
"He was on his knees?"
Hermione winced at the surprise and harshness of his words. She nodded meekly. Harry let out his breath in one great gust, and when she glanced up the look he gave her stabbed at her heart. He looked so disappointed.
"I'm so sorry, Harry," She started, but he cut her off with a halting hand.
"I'm not the one you owe an apology to," He said shortly. "What was your answer?"
"My answer?" She was confused.
"To Draco's proposal, what was your answer to Draco's proposal?"
Her reply was soft, "I didn't give him one."
"Christ, Hermione. He loves you, and you love him. Why are you doing this to him?"
Hermione's chin rose defiantly. "I don't love him," she said vehemently.
Harry couldn't help but smile. Her cheeks still held the faintest flush of her earlier embarrassment, but the look she was giving him could have melted an icicle right off the roof. "You do. You just don't realize it yet."
His words were so soft, and spoken with such utter surety, that their resulting content made her heart ache. "How can you say that?" she whispered. She was so angry at him, that she could cry.
"I'm gone Hermione. You have to move on..." he told her quietly.
"No!" She exclaimed. "I don't want to stop loving you!"
The tears had started without her noticing, and she rubbed at them roughly. She didn't want to cry, she wanted to be angry. So angry that Harry would apologize for all the terrible things he had said; that he would take them all back.
"Hermione..."
"How can you come and sit here every week with me and tell me not to love you anymore?" her voice was nearly breathless. "I love you so much it hurts."
"Hermione, please. You have to stop this."
"No," she said harshly. "I will never stop loving you."
Harry had stood up from his chair, and she had to crane her neck upwards to meet his eyes. Tears were shining in her own, but her scowling face kept them from falling. Harry, however, was not angry. He never was. He just stared down at her with those sad, emerald eyes of his and willed her to give in.
Hermione shook her head fiercely. She would not. "I can't possibly love Draco," she insisted. "I could never love anyone as much as I love you, Harry. I could never love anyone as I love you."
"I'm not asking you to," he said slowly. "I'm asking you to allow your love for Draco free."
"Harry!?" She whispered. Tears spilled from her eyes and rolled down her cheeks, "How can you say that? We were in love!"
"That was two years ago, Hermione."
"Two years, yes, and I've never stopped loving you since that day you left!" She shot back.
"Don't use me as an excuse to hide behind," Harry snapped, his patience finally breaking. "You're afraid of getting your heart broken, so you refuse to love anyone else!"
Hermione's hands clenched into fists to keep herself from slapping him. The table started to rattle from the force with which she pushing down upon it. Tears blinded her, and she stared angrily down at her hands through blurred vision as crystalline droplets splattered against the polished oak.
Harry sighed and moved around the table to crouch down beside her chair. His hand rested on the edge of the table, close to hers, but careful not to touch. "Hermione...look at me, please."
Her fists unclenched as she let go of the tension running through her body. Blinking her vision clear of tears, she turned to look at him, her chocolate curls catching the morning sunlight through the bay window.
"As a favor to me," he said softly. "I want you to try and work things out with Draco."
They stared at each other for a very long time, but Hermione refused to answer. Harry sighed one last time and looked up at the clock hanging above the bar. "I have to go," he told her, somewhat regretfully. "I'll see you next week?"
Hermione nodded reflexively, looking straight across the table, not really seeing anything. Her tears had long since dried leaving her eyes red and slightly puffy. She seemed to know what time it was already, without looking at the clock. "Yes, I should be going too," she murmured and began collecting her things.
When she looked up again, Harry was gone.
She left an overly generous amount of money on the table, because she could afford it and because the people there were so good to her. She pulled her satchel over her shoulder and slipped a pair of plain black sunglass atop the bridge of her nose then stepped out into the busy London street she'd admired from her table.
Most people were working at this time of day, so Hermione had the street relatively to herself. It wasn't a long way to her destination, so she didn't bother buttoning up her coat and let the crisp October air barrel into her. Unlike the teenage girl she'd observed earlier, Hermione had worn sensible shoes to her daily café visit and now traversed the cobblestones with experienced ease.
She'd traveled this path so many times she felt she could do it with her eyes closed. She nearly did just that. Her feet carried her down familiar streets as her eyes moved all around her, soaking up everything the Wednesday morning atmosphere could provide. She stopped at a shop on the corner of Westphalia Ave., and opened the door to a rush of cool air.
The floral shop was always cold, to better preserve the flowers, but it never seemed to bother Hermione. She pulled the door shut behind her and made her way straight for the counter, where an aging man with a receding hairline sat reading the newspaper. At the sound of her shoes click-clacking against the tile floor he lowered the paper, and upon seeing her face closed it completely.
"'Ello, Hermione," he said cheerfully in greeting.
She mustered a smile and a sort of half-wave as she reached the counter, "Hello, Pete."
"I've got your usual right here, all ready to go." He lifted the simply bouquet of flowers from behind the counter and handed it to her. A dozen white roses interspersed with a great deal of baby's breath. In the center of the bouquet was a single blood red rose. Thirteen roses in all.
She accepted them gratefully, burying her nose in the bundle to inhale the sweet honey scent. It was so hard to find good smelling white roses, but good ol' Pete had never failed to come through. She tucked the bouquet under her arm and fished her wallet out of the pocket of her tan felt trench.
"You've been crying," Pete the flower-guy commented bluntly as she paid.
She shrugged and wiped self-consciously at her red eyes, "Yes...I guess I have."
"Has someone done something to upset you?" He cracked his knuckles menacingly, but the gesture only made Hermione smile. Pete wouldn't hurt a fly.
"No," she said , stuffing her receipt in her purse. "I suppose it was my own doing..."
He made a confused face, but Hermione was already stepping out onto the street. "Thanks, Pete."
"See you next week!" And the door closed with a loud jingle.
Hermione crossed the street and her shoes immediately sank into the soft grass. She gripped the flowers tightly in her hand as she walked up the hill and out of the protection of the buildings. Wind buffeted her from all sides, but she maintained her steady climb up the hillside. Images of Draco flashed in her mind, but she shook them all away until she reached the very top.
At the very top of the hill was a large stone cross that served as a marker for the only grave on the hillside. Hermione's feet carried her towards it, tracing the familiar path until she was kneeling before it.
The flowers were clutched so tightly in her hands her fingers ached. She took a deep breath and the air whistled through her teeth. Forcing her fingers to uncurl she laid the bouquet down upon the grass at the cross' base. With both hands free she reached up to caress the cold stone; lovingly, carefully.
Draco's face floated into her mind, pale and handsome. He smirked at her and his icy blue-gray eyes flashed as he faded away again. Dropping her forehead against the cool stone, Hermione cried. She pressed her palms to the cross and let the tears fall silently.
Thunder rumbled in the distance. A storm was coming. Pushing back on to her heels she brushed the ragged tendrils of hair from her eyes. Dark streaks patterned the marker where her tears had fallen. Her hands were more tentative this time as she reached out and traced the engraved words.
"Don't use me as an excuse to hide behind," Harry snapped. "You're afraid of getting your heart broken, so you refuse to love anyone else!"
Sniffling, she wiped her eyes on the sleeve of her coat and was grateful that she hadn't bothered with make-up that morning. She gave the bouquet a compulsive touch, assuring her that it was where she had laid it, and slowly stood.
The wind picked up in a rush, flapping the tails of her trench coat and twisting her hair about her face in a torrent of bushy brown curls. If any tears still fell they were whipped away by the gale before they could even drop down her cheeks. As she stared at the stone cross, she unconsciously began to fidget with her ring again.
"I will never stop loving you," she whispered fiercely. Then she walked away.
The storm was starting and rain splattered down onto the stone monolith, dribbling over the beautifully carved words.
Harry James Potter
1980-2005
Loyal Friend,
World Protector,
Beloved Fiancée.