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The first time it happened, Hermione didn’t even blink.
“Harmony?”
Hermione rolled her eyes and stepped up to the counter. “It’s Hermione , actually.”
The young man — a black-haired and green-eyed man that was far too good looking for Hermione’s blood pressure — smiled and winked. “Sorry ‘bout that. Here’s your cappuccino.”
Hermione picked it up. Her nose wrinkled when she saw the spelling of her name on the side of the takeaway cup. “Thank you,” her eyes flickered to his name tag which read 'Harry', “ Harold .”
“Just Harry, actually.” His eyes twinkled and his grin gave away his amusement.
“Hmmm…” Hermione turned and began to walk away.
“Have a good day!” he shouted after her.
Hermione half turned around. Her gaze met his over the rim of her cappuccino. Her brown doe eyes wide and her curls bouncing around her head wildly. Harry watched until she disappeared.
Hermione probably would have written off the entire interaction until she took a closer look at her take-away cup. Along the coffee sleeve in messy sharpie were the words:
The coffee’s hot, but you’re hotter .
Hermione stumbled.
She didn’t regain her balance for the rest of the day.
…
Hermione straightened her spine and threw back her shoulders before entering the Marauder’s Mug. She would not be embarrassed away from the best cappuccino of her life. No, sir. Harry or Harold or whoever could just — oh, he wasn’t there.
Hermione sighed, whether in relief or disappointment she refused to analyze further. Just as the customer before her was ordering, Harry came out from the back. His attention was on the plate of chocolate cupcakes he was putting out for display. His eyes flickered upward and instantly met her own. He smiled charmingly.
Hermione felt her throat constrict.
“Miss? Miss? ” Hermione shook her head and looked to the cashier. The tall ginger raised her eyebrow. “Can I take your order?”
“Yes, sorry, medium cappuccino.” Harry had moved to the espresso machine and was already making it.
“Name?”
“ Hermione .”
“€2.95”
Hermione paid and moved over to the pick-up area. She tapped her fingers against her arm and pursed her lips.
“Herminee?”
“ Hermione ,” she corrected instantly.
Harry stood grinning at the counter. Hermione glared and went to receive her drink. The barista held up a white paper bag. “Your cupcake?”
Hermione frowned in confusion. “I didn’t order a cupcake.”
“No? I thought I saw you eyeing them?”
“I wasn’t eyeing the-”
-Harry’s brow raised behind his square, thick-rimmed glasses. The corners of his mouth turned up triumphantly.
Hermione’s glare turned to ice. “I neither ordered nor paid for that cupcake.”
“My mistake. It’s on me.” He winked.
“I don’t eat chocolate,” she declared before spinning around and heading towards the door.
“It’s vanilla!” he called after her.
Her cup said:
Is this coffee steaming up my glasses or is that just you?
It did not make her smile.
…
Hermione went to the Starbucks down the corner the next day. Her coffee came with a “next please,” a misspelt name, and didn’t even taste good. It was spilled all over her when someone bumped into her on the street. Her heel broke on the way home from work and then it began to rain.
It had nothing to do with not going to the Marauder’s Mug. Nope. Nothing.
Hermione went back to the independent coffee house the next day.
…
Harry was on cash. The place was nearly empty of people. “Morning,” he grinned as his eyes skimmed her body. She was wearing the new pencil skirt she’d bought over the weekend when she was replacing her heels. “You look lovely.”
Hermione pursed her lips and narrowed her eyes, mostly to stop the smile. “Medium cappuccino, please.”
He winked. “On it.”
Hermione paid and moved around the counter to where the pick-up area was. It was right by the expresso machine and she watched Harry steam the milk. He was tall and fit. His unruly black hair was more attractive than she’d like to admit.
“So, where do you work?”
Hermione blinked and met Harry’s eyes, desperately hoping he hadn’t caught her staring. He was waiting for an answer as the milk foamed. “McGonagall and Flitwick.”
“A lawyer?” He turned and finished scooping the foam into the cup. Harry made a face as he set her cappuccino and a muffin down in front of her. “I should probably stop stealing food to give to you then, eh?”
Hermione took her drink. She left the muffin. “Less because I’m a paralegal and probably more because you might get fired.”
He grinned and shrugged. "I'm related to the owners. I'm required to help."
"So, this isn't your day job?" she asked, despite the fact she knew she should make her getaway. He just had a charming, calming personality about it. She wanted to lean forward and talk with him about anything. He was magnetic. Hermione had never met anyone like that before.
"I'm a firefighter."
Hermione did not immediately picture him in firefighter clothing and she did not immediately blush.
"How do you have time to work at a coffee shop?"
"I'm on sabbatical." He shrugged. "My family needed help with the shop."
Hermione's heart fluttered. A man who values his family. That had always been one of her soft spots. "Kind of you." She slipped a lid onto her cup and stepped back, ready to make her retreat.
He shot her that charming grin again. "It'd be kinder of you not to mention my thievery." Harry raised his eyebrows. “I won’t tell if you won’t?”
“Now that depends,” Hermione replied with a raised eyebrow, “did you spell my name right?”
Harry laughed. “Blimey, I don’t even think I’ve been pronouncing it right.”
Hermione rolled her eyes -- a faint smile touching her lips -- and turned to the door.
“See you tomorrow, 'Mione!”
“That’s definitely not my name!” she called over her shoulder.
Are you coffee? Because I’ve been thinking about you a latte.
…
“ No ,” Hermione argued, “look, I don’t like it. I’d simply like it remade. I don’t need a refund, I’d just like my coffee.”
“Is there a problem here?” A tall man and near carbon copy of Harry came around to the pick-up area.
Hermione sighed. “There’s something off with my cappuccino. I don’t know what, but there is. I’ve had it plenty of times here-”
The older man turned to the shorter, chubby-cheeked youth who’d made her drink. “-Ritchie?”
He shrugged. “I don’t know what happened, Mr. Potter? I thought I did it right?”
Mr. Potter turned back to Hermione. “Sorry about that, ma’am. We’ll remake it-”
“-I’ll do it.” All eyes turned to one: Harry Potter. “Medium cappuccino?”
Hermione nodded stiffly. “Thank you.”
He smirked at her and said, “What was the name again? Hermnee?”
She rolled her eyes dramatically. “Yes, that’s it exactly. And yours? Hagrid? Haggis?”
Ritchie and James’ eyes ping-ponged back and forth between the bickering pair.
“Haggis? Who would name their child Haggis?”
James leaned towards Ritchie. “I should of,” he said out of the corner of his mouth, “that’s brilliant.”
“Oh, I don’t know,” Hermione continued, not having heard James speak, “a perfectly befitting name for you, I should think.”
Harry laughed. Hermione crossed her arms and grinned. “You just don’t quit, do you?” He placed her ready-made cappuccino down. “Do you ever not have a response?”
“No.”
Harry grinned.
She took her cappuccino.
“See you tomorrow!” Harry hollered after her.
Hermione accidentally looked back. She scolded herself instantly and continued on to work. She set her cappuccino down at her desk and tried to ignore the coming pick-up line so thoroughly that she nearly let her drink go cold.
Finally, she gave in.
There was nothing there. Disappointment filled her. Maybe he hadn’t had the time? Of course, he hadn’t, they’d been flirting — arguing , the whole time.
Oh well, she thought, it didn’t matter either way. She wasn’t interested. He was far too pretty for her. And probably loud, dirty, or partied too much or something else she would eventually hate. Not that she was even interested — not really.
Hermione turned her attention to work as best she could. The disappointment never left.
During her break, she picked up her cup and tossed it in recycling. She didn’t notice the phone number accidentally hidden beneath the coffee sleeve.
She didn’t go back to the Marauders Mug.
…
Harry was only walking past when he saw her through the window. He did a double-take before pausing. A grin slid across his face. He hopped the gated fence that blocked off the street from the patio area and slipped into the coffee shop. He ran a hand through his hair before asking, “Did I scare you off, then?”
Hermione jumped and turned around. Her eyes widened on Harry. “I beg your pardon?”
Harry shrugged, hands in his pockets. “I just know you like our coffee best, which I don’t blame you for. It is the best. So, I’m wondering if I was too forward.” His mouth ticked up in the corner and his tone was amused but there was an underlying seriousness to his question that confused Hermione.
She blinked and searched for words that seemed just out of reach. “No. Of course not.”
“If you’re sure?”
Hermione pursed her lips and wrinkled her nose. “I am. Why’re you even here?”
Harry leaned forward conspiratorially. “I’m scoping out the competition.”
She raised an eyebrow. “I thought your coffee was the best?”
“You thought right.” Hermione pursed her lips again at his poor joke. “Fine. I saw you while walking by and I had to stop to talk to you.”
Hermione blinked. She laughed shortly. “If I’ve always got an answer then you’ve always got some horribly cheesy pick-up line.”
Harry gasped, hand to his chest in mock offence. “They’re not lines. They’re romantic .”
Hermione shook her head. “You’re insane.” She moved forward in the line to the cash and ordered her drink.
“Make that two,” Harry cut in and handed the barista some cash. Hermione narrowed her eyes at Harry and said nothing. They moved to the side. “So, was I too crass, then? I thought my lines were fairly innocent. My godfather’s suggestions were a lot more… involved.”
“Charming.”
Harry watched her and waited for her response.
She sighed. “You obviously weren’t serious and I don’t like being-” she gestured aimlessly, "-played about.”
Harry looked startled. “I wasn’t playing you about.” She huffed out a disbelieving laugh. “I wasn’t! Didn’t you look at the last one?”
Hermione shook her head. “You didn’t write anything.”
“I did! I swear, I did.”
Their cappuccinos were called and Hermione walked away, claiming, “I don’t have time for this.” She slid a lid onto her cappuccino and turned one last time to Harry. “Thank you for the drink. Good day.”
Harry left his drink behind and ran out after her. “No no no no no, that’s not the end of it.”
Hermione sighed and stopped walking. Harry came around so he was standing in front of her. Her shoulders sagged in exasperation. “Isn’t it? The second I gave you a bit of attention back, you stopped. You don’t give a shite about me you just want a body to flirt with and I’m not sorry that I’m not willing to participate in your self-gratification so — what?”
Harry was smiling. “I wrote my number on the cup.”
She blinked. “No, you didn’t.”
“I did.” He nodded at her. “Take a sip of your drink.” Hermione hesitated before slowly sipping it. She made a face. “You think it's horrible. I know, because I do give a shite about you, thank you very much.” He stepped closer. “You do like chocolate and you weren’t eyeing up the cupcakes.” Hermione’s cheeks turned pink. He took another step and looked into her espresso brown eyes. “And you don’t like cappuccinos. You like dry cappuccinos. Espresso, no milk, just the foam.” He plucked the cup from her fingers and tossed it into the garbage bin. “So, how about I take you to the Marauders Mug and make you a real cappuccino and then we can talk about that date we’re going to have tomorrow night.”
Hermione stared at him for a long moment. “Are you trying to seduce me with coffee?”
“Try? I rather thought I was succeeding.”
Hermione grinned.
He wasn’t wrong.