Hello. Sorry about the delay. Sometimes you just gotta uproot your entire life and restart somewhere new. Here's four pages to make up for the years of silence. /_ /
Today was a good day. There was an invigorating almost palpable energy flowing between everyone working. The sun was shining. The birds were singing. The late summer afternoon air was blowing in lazily from the open drive-through window and danced its way across the floor to tease Hermione's skirt. Honestly, she had not planned on wearing a skirt to work — ever. Skirts really were not her favorite clothes to work in. Her legs felt too exposed, strange men she did not know would openly leer, drinking her in; as if she were the part of the menu, to be gazed at and ordered as well.
Although truth be told, she would much rather work in a skirt than a pair of mocha soaked slacks. An hour after clocking into her eight hour shift, Hermione collided with a coworker and dropped an entire cube of mocha sauce all down herself. Thankfully, her apron caught most of the damage but the very bottom of her pants had been unprotected.
"Hermione, I'm so, so sorry." Sarah held onto her arm, pulling Hermione back up from the floor, "I didn't say I was behind you, I'm so sorry," she profusely apologized, her brow puckered, "Your pants are absolutely ruined, I'm so sorry!"
Hermione put a hand on Sarah's arm reassuringly, "Sarah, I promise, I am going to survive this. You do not have to apologize, it's just a pair of pants." Inwardly, she was dreading the idea of working for seven more hours in sticky, uncomfortable clothing. She walked to the back of the store with an empty mocha cube, and showed her other coworkers the damage. Luckily, her best friend came to the rescue.
"I've got a skirt in the trunk of my car, Hermione," Ginny started digging through her leather mini-backpack, "I think I might even have an extra pair of work shoes in there too." She successfully fished her car keys out and tossed them to Hermione.
"Ginny, why is there a skirt in the trunk of your car? What have you been up to?" Lavender asked, delicately stripping an orange of its rind. She was on one of her two mandatory ten minute breaks, sitting cross-legged on the busted café chair that had been dragged out of the lobby until it could be fixed.
Ginny flipped her long ponytail behind her shoulder, "Not that it is any of your business why I have the things I do, but I wore a skirt to soccer and changed to shorts in my car before practice."
"Does the skirt even meet dress code?" Hermione wrinkled her forehead, jangling Ginny's car keys in her hand.
"Oh my god, Hermione, stop being such a stickler. Do mocha soaked pants meet dress code? Probably not, there's most likely a health code violation in there somewhere." Ginny put her hands on her hips, frankly staring at her best friend, "So do you want to work in those pants or do you want a skirt? If you're lucky there's probably another pair of spandex somewhere in the trunk if you're worried someone is going to try and look at your ass."
Hermione coolly regarded her friend, internally debating on if she should work in mocha pants just to prove a point to everyone. "And what point is that exactly, Hermione? That you're stubborn? All that's going to prove is you're gross enough to work in disgusting pants all day." Sighing, she turned on her heel and called over her shoulder, "I'm assuming you parked in your regular spot?"
Ginny smiled, gently teasing, "Yes, you know-it-all, I parked in the same spot."
Five hours had passed since Hermione had changed into Ginny's black, pleated skirt. She had also taken the liberty of grabbing a pair of, somehow still clean, white soccer socks to replace her mocha soaked socks along with the extra pair of spandex and work shoes. Hermione was thankful for the spandex, while her and Ginny were the same height and best friends, their sense of style was wildly different. The skirt, while the perfect length for Ginny, felt too short for Hermione. The skirt fell just above her knees and the soccer socks barely met her knees. She thanked all the gods that Ginny had left a clean pair of spandex in her trunk. Although, anytime Hermione spun around to hand off a drink to the drive-through or dropped down to grab another gallon of milk from her mini-fridge, the skirt flared out with each movement. The fluttering skirt gave everyone around Hermione, customers and coworkers alike, a quick peek at the few inches of pale thighs normally hidden from view.
Hermione was in her favorite position on the floor, Main Bar. In this position she didn't have to interact with customers at all. Her only job was to make drinks, and make them fast, for customers in the drive-through. She had clicked the volume of her headset down to a comfortably low pitch, loud enough that she could hear drinks as they were ordered, but still low enough that she could carry on conversations with her coworkers.
Dean was next to her on Café/Mobile Bar, boisterously greeting customers. She was happy that Dean was on Café, he made interacting with complete strangers look like a breeze, something Hermione still had not picked up in her few years of working there. Dean was always entertaining and had a way of soothing even the most upset customer, no one had ever threatened to report him to Corporate. His attitude was infectious and seemingly no one was immune to his laughter. While he wasn't making café or mobile drinks he was helping Hermione out with her drive drinks, and cracking jokes until she had to beg him to stop.
Bent over, clutching her sides, between gasps of laughter Hermione managed to get out, "Dean! Please! I can't breathe! You're making me laugh too much!"
Dean, who towered above Hermione, leaned down and gave her a wink, "If anyone needs to let loose, it's you, Hermione. Just think of this as your daily dose of childish fun, I know someone covered in mocha earlier today is not telling me I am too ridiculous. Incredible amateur hour energy to be honest. Leave joking to the professionals." He comically arched a thick brow at her, pulling the last sticker from Main Bar's black box.
In her delirious state of working for seven house while keeping drive times at 37 seconds, Hermione burst into another peal of laughter. She slid down to her heels, her hands curled on top of the mini-fridge that was tucked below the counter of her bar. Her forehead pressed to the cool steel, Hermione continued laughing, "Dean! It was an accident!"
"Sure, sure, sure, whatever you have to tell yourself, kiddo." Dean began steaming soy milk in a pitcher, overdramatically rolling his eyes at Hermione.
Hermione giggled for a minute before pulling herself back together, her forehead still pressed to the minifridge. She glanced up at her counter and realized her gallon of 2% was empty. Grabbing a new one from her mini-fridge and setting it on the counter above her. She unfolded herself from the floor and with the fluidity of years of practice, she crushed the empty gallon with her hip against the counter, twirled around, and overhand tossed it directly in the recycling a foot behind her.
Dean dropped his voice to that of a basketball commentator, "Granger shoots and it's nothing but net! The crowd goes wild!"
Hermione's laugh caught in her throat as she spun around and found herself falling into a pair of dark eyes. He was back. The dark haired man in all his tailored suit glory was back. The black box to her right spit out a ticket and she had never been more grateful for a drink order in her life. Hermione tore her eyes from his and read the sticker, GRANDE LATTE. She busied herself pouring the milk, while surreptitiously watching the dark haired stranger in front of her. His eyes were flicking between herself and Dean. She punched the double espresso button and her movement brought the man's eyes back to hers. Hermione could feel her face turning pink as the man's eyes traveled across her features.
"Just a venti flat white for you, sir?" Hermione almost jumped at Dean's intrusion. The man's eyes briefly met Dean's and gave him a curt nod before returning his attention to Hermione. Hermione was busy pouring her steamed milk into the grande cup and missed the glance of confusion from Dean. Hermione spun around and handed her drink off, skirt twirling along with her. Heat unfurled across her face as she turned around and found the man's eyes trained on the hemline of her skirt.
"Here's your flat white, sir!" Dean, with a forced note of cheerfulness only she could detect, said while holding the venti cup out to the man. The man's eyes traveled up Hermione's frame and settled back on her face. Once again, Hermione felt like she was being pinned to the spot and inspected.
The silent man accepted the drink from Dean without breaking eye contact with her. He inspected her for a minute more before turning and exiting the café. Dean gave her a questioning look but Hermione was speechless. Lavender, however, was not as she clicked on her headset B-button, "Hermione! Your man is back! Did you say anything?"
Dean's eyes widened as he glanced between the two, "Your man?"
Hermione threw a reproachful glance at Lavender before clicking her B-button, "He is not my man."
"You didn't answer, did he say anything?"
The drive-thru bell went off and Hermione thought she was safe from answering stupid questions. Unfortunately, Lavender would not let it rest as the last customer pulled away. "So," she drew out the vowel, "what did he say?"
Hermione groaned before clicking back on, "Nothing. He said nothing to me."
"Ugh, weird. He's kinda fine though, if you're into the whole daddy thing. Which I am."
Before she could answer, Dean clicked the B-button on his headset, "Lavender, we know you've got daddy issues, we see the men you date. You don't have to bring it to the floor while we're working."
Lavender laughed and rolled her eyes at Dean before continuing on, "Hermione, you should flirt with him."
"No." Hermione huffed into the headset.
"Oh come on, Hermione. Ever since the break up you've—"
Before Lavender could finish her sentence, Ginny Weasley's voice came blasting through their headsets, "Oi! Don't you say a single word, Lavender Brown. You know that's off limits." Ginny Weasley came striding out from the back of house, iPad in hand as she clocked back in from her lunch break.
Lavender jumped at the sight of the towering redhead and sheepishly glanced away before muttering, "Sorry, Hermione."
Hermione didn't say anything back, she turned away from Lavender and cast Ginny a grateful look. Dean coughed next to her.
"In case you're curious," Dean pulled a drink sticker from underneath his bar, "I have your mysterious stranger's name."
Hermione grabbed the ticket from Dean's outstretched hand before he finished his sentence. There was his name, right across the top of the ticket in all caps, SEVERUS. She scoffed, of course his name meant stern.
"So, who is he? He's not a regular that I know." Dean's curiosity peaked out behind his words.
Hermione sighed, staying quiet for a moment as she listened to the new drive order. As she was steaming the 2% for a cappuccino she finally answered, "I don't know who he is. He showed up earlier this week right at open and this is the third time he's been here. He doesn't say much. Obviously."
Dean called out a tall shaken espresso before turning back to Hermione. "He wouldn't stop staring at you. It creeped me out. The next time he comes you can leave the floor if you want. I can deal with him."
Hermione bit her bottom lip and didn't respond. Dean tactfully dropped the conversation at her silence. Thankfully, the last hour of Hermione's shift finished uneventfully. She made herself a grande iced oatmilk chai with a double shot of blonde espresso before clocking out and heading home.
"I'll see ya tonight!" Ginny called, waving at Hermione from behind the bar.
"I'll have dinner ready for you!" Hermione called back.
Hermione was true to her word. She wrapped up Ginny's portion of the dinner she had made and placed it in the fridge to be reheated later. Ginny had soccer practice again and wouldn't be home till late that evening. Slipping on her noise canceling headphones, Hermione wandered their apartment, Crookshanks at her heels, lost in thought and indie electronica. She rifled through thoughts as she paced. Thr city skyline shifted through the windows as she thought about her latest read, Hangsaman. She was analyzing the relationship between Natalie and her English professor when, unbidden, her mind conjured the dark eyes of the stranger. No, not the stranger anymore, Severus.
Her thoughts trailed down her few interactions with him and even in the privacy of her own apartment, she felt a blush creeping up her neck. Who was he? Where had he come from? Where did he work? Why did he stare at her like that every time? Why had he stared Dean down like that today? Why were his eyes so impossibly dark? Would he continue to show up? Should she take Dean's offer and disappear to the back of house the next time he came in? She shook her head, no, she couldn't do that. She couldn't let a stranger she barely knew have that much control over her. In the quietest part of her mind another question was left unspoken; did she like the attention, did she want his gaze on her more than she cared to admit?