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“Name?” the barista asks, and Hermione’s brain abandons her. The barista is cute, that’s all, with red hair and freckles that cluster on her nose but cover her whole face, and who’d have ever thought freckles were cute. Hermione apparently. Because they are. They’re as cute as a button and Hermione wants to chart them out like constellations.
“Name?” she asks, again, and Hermione feels herself grow hot from the attention, and embarrassment.
“Sorry,” she says, as she taps her card against the pay station, and she giggles nervously, before cutting the noise off. Christ, one pretty girl and suddenly she’s a blushing school girl again, getting nervous because Nicole Perret is paying her attention. It had only been to try and get Hermione’s help with the homework anyway. “Jane,” she replies, still feeling hot and more than a little embarrassed. “Sorry, I’m a mess before I get my morning coffee. You must know how it is.” She gives another laugh, and it sounds like panic to her ears, but the pretty barista takes pity on her and gives her another smile.
“Oh yes,” she says with a toothy grin. “You’re hardly the worst of it. I need at least three coffees before I’m functioning in the morning.”
“You’re in the right place then,” Hermione says, and the cute barista throws back her head in a laugh.
“I am,” she agrees easily, before she’s moving away to the coffee machine, and Hermione steps back from the counter to wait patiently. She tries not to watch the barista as she makes the coffee, which of course means she does, watching the ease in which she moves, pouring hot water in Hermione’s reusable cup to sit, as she makes an espresso, heats and froths the milk, before preparing it all in the the green and pink cup. When she puts the lid on she looks up, eyes finding Hermione’s immediately, and Hermione feels her face flush at being caught out, hopes the blush isn’t too obvious on her skin.
“Here you go, Jane,” she says with a smile, pushing the cup across the counter towards her.
“Thanks,” Hermione says, picking up her cup and returning the smile, bringing the coffee cup to her lips for a moment before she realises it’s probably too hot to drink straight away. Honestly, her brain has completely abandoned her today. She heads straight for the exit.
“Have a nice day, Jane,” cute barista says.
“You too,” she replies, looking back over her shoulder, but cute barista is already chatting away, talking to another guy behind the food half of the counter, and Hermione leaves out the door before she can embarrass herself anymore.
The coffee is amazing, and she tries to tell herself that’s why she comes back to Felicitus Coffee the next week. It has absolutely nothing to do with the cute barista, or the way her heart jumps in her chest when Hermione sees it’s her behind the counter again.
“What can I get you?” she asks with a smile, and Hermione, slides her cup across the counter and places her order, giving her Jane as her name again, before stepping away to wait.
“Did you have a nice weekend?” cute barista asks from behind the counter, and Hermione looks around the small cafe, in case the question might be for someone else. There’s only the same man behind the food counter, but he’s not answering, preparing some sort of sandwich which looks like it’s all meat and pickles, and the silence has definitely gone on too long when she asks, “Me?”
“Yes, you,” cute barista says, with a light laugh. It doesn’t feel like she’s laughing at Hermione, but Hermione feels a bit embarrassed all the same. “What did you get up to on your weekend, Jane.”
The emphasis on the name makes Hermione feel a little embarrassed, but she pushes it down, trying to think of what she did get up to on her weekend. Mostly study really, the life and times of a PhD student, and she tells cute barista that.
“Oh wicked,” cute barista says, and nobody thinks that usually. Study plans are blergh and, boring, but never wicked and she feels a swell of happiness at that, for the fact that cute barista thinks her studies were wicked even if it is probably just a lie to get her to come back and spend more money here. She doesn’t mind though, the cute barista is nice, and she can choose where she buys her coffee from for whatever reason she wants, even if that is because of one cute barista. And maybe Hermione should ask her name, just to stop calling her cute barista, but that would probably be a bit weird, all things considered.
“Alright, Jane,” cute barista says, “here’s your coffee. Have a nice day and good luck with your studies.”
“Thanks,” Hermione says, taking the cup, “you too.”
And if she walks out the coffee shop with a smile on her face then no one needs to know why.
“Jane,” cute barista says next time, before Hermione can even get her name out.
“You remembered,” Hermione says, a little surprised.
“Hard to forget,” she says, with a smile. Her cheeks look almost a shade pinker, but it’s probably just the heat from the coffee machine.
It feels like flirting is all, when she says it like that, but Hermione’s been wrong before. Her life is a series of are they/aren’t they and that’s how it is really, when you’re a woman who likes other women. Sometimes women are being nice and sometimes maybe they are being nice because they want to kiss you and Hermione has not, as of yet, figured out a way to tell the difference. She’s probably just being nice is all, her job is in customer service, and Hermione knows what that’s like, would never try to take advantage of someone who is just being nice on the job.
“Here you go Jane,” she says, her ever present smile on her face, and Hermione likes to think it’s for her, but it’s probably there for everyone, just another part of working in customer service.
“Have a nice day,” she adds, like always.
Hermione nods, taking her coffee and adding “you too,” before she ducks out.
“There’s a party here on Friday,” cute barista says, when Hermione is waiting for her coffee and definitely not watching cute barista work like the creeper she is. She’s enthralling is all, all fluid movements and she may be small but Hermione can see the strength in her arms when she works the handle of the portafilta, and she definitely doesn’t think about what else those hands would be good at. “You should come down.”
“To the party?” Hermione asks, a little confused. “Why is there a party?”
Cute barista laughs loudly, throwing her head just a little as she does, but her hands don’t leave the milk jug as it froths and heats. “It’s Felicitus’ one year birthday. It’s open to anyone really, but it will be a jam I promise you. You should come.”
“Oh,” Hermione says a little dumbly. “But I wouldn’t know anyone.” She points out.
“You’d know me.”
“I don’t even know your name.”
“It’s Ginny,” cute barista says, placing Hermione’s coffee on the counter, but this time she doesn’t slide it across like, usual, just holds it halfway, hand still wrapped tight around it, and Hermione hesitates to reach for it. “As in with a G and an I. Like the alcohol. Ginny. Now you know my name will you come?”
“Umm,” Hermione stalls, her brain searching for an answer. “If I’m free.”
“Great,” cute barista — Ginny — says with a smile. “I’ll see you Friday, Jane. Have a nice day.”
“You too, Ginny,” Hermione says, as she turns to leave, but not before she sees the smile on Ginny’s face, wider than she’s ever seen before.
It takes approximately six different clothes changes, and another half a dozen clothes discarded on her bed without even trying them on, before Hermione feels ready to head to the party. She’s almost talked herself out of it as many times, and even now as she walks up to the place she usually orders coffee from, she is considering turning around and going straight home, shoving the clothes she’d left on her bed all to one side, and curling up with a Crookshanks and a book.
There’s music, but it’s not too loud and for the most part people are standing around, talking, and Hermione stands just outside of the gathering of people, looking in and feeling out of place. She’s an idiot for coming, even if it had felt like Ginny had been insisting, she’d got her hopes up that maybe she’d get to actually talk to her tonight, but Ginny probably knows everyone here, and Hermione has barely made it outside of her office and away from her data sets all week.
“Jane!” a voice interrupts her thought, and Hermione looks up to see Ginny breaking away from the crowd, a smile on her face as she half runs towards Hermione. Hermione barely has time to brace herself before Ginny captures her in an unexpected hug, and it takes a moment before Hermione moves to return it, arms wrapping around the other girl, if a little tentatively.
“You made it,” Ginny says, when she pulls back from her, and her smile is so wide, Hermione can’t help but return it. “I’m so glad you came.”
“Me too,” Hermione says, and means it.
Ginny looks stunning, in tight black jeans and a patterned black and white shirt. She’s got it unbuttoned low, low enough that Hermione can tell she’s not wearing a bra, and when she realises it, she tears her eyes away back to Ginny’s face, feeling a hot flush, of shame — but also something more — rush into her face.
“Do you drink Espresso Martini’s?” Ginny asks, and when Hermione nods, Ginny grins at her, before reaching down for Hermione’s hand, lacing their fingers together. She walks off towards the coffee shop, pulling Hermione along with her, as she walks past everyone standing and talking outside, to take them inside. She walks around the back of the counter, hand still linked with Hermione’s and it isn’t until she’s behind the coffee machine that she finally releases her hand; pushing Hermione back against the counter behind them as Ginny moves to stand behind the coffee machine.
“You’re in luck,” Ginny says, as she starts her machinations. “I make a mean Espresso Martini.”
It’s an even better angle from here, watching Ginny as she works. She was invited back here, which probably wasn’t actually an invitation to perve on Ginny’s arse, but she can’t quite bring herself to stop. She’s almost surprised when Ginny turns around, holding out a clear plastic cup three quarts full with a dark liquid.
“Only plastic tonight, sorry,” Ginny says as she passes the cup over, their fingers brushing on the pass, not that Hermione tries to think about it. Ginny tips her cup up, drinking, and Hermione follows suit, not taking her eyes off Ginny until the liquid passes her lips.
It’s delicious, but strong, the alcohol enough to almost prick at her eyes. She takes a long drink, before lowering her cup, licking the traces of it from her lips, and only noticing Ginny’s eyes on her lips when she finishes.
“Are—” Hermione doesn’t know what she was planning to say, but it’s cut off by Ginny closing the distance between them, and capturing her lips in a kiss. She tastes like the cocktail Hermione was just drinking, but she feels amazing, and when she pulls away, Hermione can’t stop the disgruntled noise which falls from her lips.
Ginny pulls back for a moment, her eyes searching Hermione’s face. Ginny steps in, placing her hands on Hermione, one hand coming to her neck, thumb brushing her jawline, and the other coming to rest at Hermione’s hip, palm hot and firm against her stomach, and then she finally kisses Hermione again.
Hermione fumbles for the bench behind her, placing the cup there as carefully as she can given the circumstances, and then she can finally get her hands on Ginny in return. She’s moving too fast, this is nothing like her usually, but she wants and she lets herself follow that desire to touch, to feel Ginny beneath her. One hand comes up to her chest, to palm at her breast, and Hermione can feel the groan Ginny makes against her own lips. The other hand she slips down to Ginny’s arse, remembering the way Ginny had looked as she’d been making the martini’s, and she tucks her hand into Ginny’s pocket, groping at the flesh there.
Hermione is starting to feel dizzy when they finally break away, and her lips feel almost raw from kissing. Ginny doesn’t look much better, lips wet and a little swollen. There’s a flush on her neck which reaches all the way down her chest where her shirt is open, and Hermione wants to trace the path with her lips.
“I’ve been dreaming of doing that since you first walked in our doors, Jane,” Ginny says, fingers tracing patterns against her hip, and that’s surprising, a wonderful delight but also—
“My names not Jane.”
Ginny’s hand stills on her hip, and she pulls away from Hermione, breaking the contact between them, except for the hand on her hip. Hermione lets her own hands fall away, brings them up to fumble and grasp at the bench behind her as she drops her head, looking away from Ginny to their shoes instead. Ginny’s wearing silver boots, they’re not even close to the most stunning thing about her.
Hermione misses the contact already.
“What?”
“I’m sorry,” Hermione rushes to say, because Ginny is looking at her in confusion, and Hermione feels like she’s put her foot in it once again, like she always does, ruining things before they can even begin. “I’m sorry it’s just that — my name is, it’s confusing, and people get it wrong all the time, and I just — I usually give Jane at coffee shops because it makes it easier, and that’s kind of like my middle name and I’m just—” she lets out a deep breath, closing her eyes to block out Ginny and feeling ridiculous, but also so so scared in this moment. “I’m sorry.”
Hermione is going to leave this shop, and this party, and she’s going to never come back. Maybe she can move house too, or uni campus, just to be sure, just to never run into them ever again. She can feel the tears pricking at her eyes, and her breath is starting to come quicker, heart racing to match it and she’d done it, fucked everything and —
Ginny’s laugh cuts through her thoughts, and it’s enough to have her eyes fly open, and Ginny’s face doesn’t look cruel; she’s smiling.
“Oh silly,” Ginny says, with a smile, and a squeeze of a hand on her hip. “I would have learned any name for you. What is it then, oh mysterious one?”
“Hermione.”
“Well, Hermione,” Ginny says, stepping in close again, and bumping her legs into Hermione’s, “It’s nice to finally make your acquaintance. I would really like to kiss you again now, and then again a lot of times. Is that alright with you?”
Hermione nods, and Ginny closes the distance, doing just that.