Work Text:
It was Thursday. Arguably Hermione's favourite day of the week, because it was her evening with Greg. The boy she had tutored from the latter half of fourth year until their graduation had been coming to her little shop every week since she had hung the sign and it was the highlight of her week.
Like always, he walked in right at six o’clock and she gave him a brilliant smile.
"Hi Greg! How's your week been?"
"Hello Hermione. My week's been alright. Busy but alright. What about you? Business still good?"
"Quiet but good. Take a seat, I'll grab your coffee and come join you."
She ducked into her back room and grabbed the Iced Brown Sugar Oat Milk Shaken Espresso she'd picked up from Starbucks earlier. Pouring it into a mug, his mug , she grabbed that and her own peppermint mocha and took the seat opposite him.
His grateful smile at the drink in front of him made her blush and she tried to hide it behind her own mug.
The pair sat in comfortable silence as they sipped on their coffee. Hermione looked at the book he'd placed on the table and pointed at it.
"What did you think?"
About six months after she'd opened, she had noticed that he would make sure to buy whichever book she told him she was currently reading and then after a month they would have an impromptu book club when he came in on the first Thursday of the following month.
"Honestly, not really my cup of tea. The way Austen wrote Darcy reminded me a lot of Draco. All suave arrogance until he realises his shite attitude will lose him the girl he wants most. It was like watching seventh year with him running after Astoria all over again."
Hermione burst out laughing at his extremely accurate comparison, the sound making him smile and laugh with her.
"Godric you're right!" She said after catching her breath. "I know the world is enamoured with Darcy, but I was always more partial to Mr. Bingley. He knew what he wanted and it didn't matter who told him no. Jane was the woman he loved and nothing except her open rejection would get in his way once he made up his mind to have her. If not for Darcy's interference, they would have gotten together far more quickly."
"Darcy should have trusted Bingley's judgement about his woman." Greg said, and Hermione tilted her head thoughtfully.
"Well, if you think about it in our terms, that's like a pureblood scion and only heir to an ancient house falling in love with a muggleborn. His family wouldn't approve of her, especially if she didn't come from a wealthy muggle family. His friends would try and save him the embarrassment of breaking the status quo because they wouldn't see her as good enough."
Greg's eyes bored into hers and she resisted the urge to squirm in her seat at the intensity they held. He leaned forward and put his elbows on the table, his button down stretching deliciously against his upper arms and shoulders. With the sleeves casually rolled up to just above his elbows she had a full view of the myriad of tattoos that covered his forearms. Watching them move as his muscles occasionally flexed with his adjustments, her eyes remained transfixed on him while her mouth went dry. His expertly cut shirts were going to be the death of her.
"And what if he told them all to sod off anyway, like Bingley should have done in the first place? Because if it was me, I'd go after the witch I want when I felt ready to admit I'd slowly fallen in love with her since I was fifteen and watched her at the Yule Ball dancing with Krum. Cursing myself the whole time for having been too much of a coward to ask her to give me the pleasure of being her escort."
Hermione felt like she couldn't breathe as he spoke. Her head spun with the idea that maybe, just maybe , he'd liked her for as long as she'd liked him. And as her ears rang with the echo of his words, she had to force herself to focus on him as he continued speaking.
"I would want to tell her that by the time our last year of school started, I didn't need a tutor anymore, she was that brilliant. I just used it as an excuse to have her undivided attention three nights a week because those nights were what I lived for."
He reached forward slowly and ran the back of his finger down her cheek and she shivered at the contact, her tongue darting out in a desperate attempt to wet her lips.
"I would tell her that I never want to stop coming into her bookshop and that I have to force myself to come only once a week. Otherwise I would surely live here just to watch her light up as she fulfils her dream of having her own business surrounded by the words she loves and loves to share.
"And finally I would beg her for the chance to court her properly. To take her to dinner, walk through the nearest park with her arm in mine as I ask her about the new book she's reading. The book that I know I will buy from her the following day so I can share in the words that captivate her. Then at the end of what would be another perfect evening spent in her company, I drop her off at the door of her flat, praying that she’ll say yes when I ask for the chance to kiss her for the first time."
"Greg…" she breathed as his thumb traced her bottom lip.
"I love you Hermione Jean, and I've known for a long time you were the only witch for me. I'm not Fitzwilliam Darcy, and I can't even say I compare to Charles Bingley. But if you give me the chance I'll show you the love of a man who knows that he's been made better because of the genuine goodness of the witch who showed him kindness and encouraged him while they were still angsty teenagers."
His hand cupped her cheek and she leaned into the touch, revelling in the surreal nature of the conversation that their little book club had turned into.
"I love you too." She admitted softly. "Thursday is my favourite day of the week because I know you'll be coming in. I love that you buy the books you know I'm reading and then talk with me about them. I wanted to go to the Yule Ball with you, but you were the popular Quidditch player and I was the Gryffindor nerd.
"And I knew you'd improved in your studies by seventh year but I also lived for those evenings with you, so I played along to keep those too short hours with your attention on me. They were the highlight of my week. I don't care that you aren't a Darcy or a Bingley. You're Greg, my Greg, and that's all I've ever wanted."
His smile lit up her little shop and she giggled. He leaned fully across the table and pressed a kiss to her forehead before leaning his head against hers.
"Next Thursday, let’s do dinner instead. Where can I pick you up?" He asked, his voice full of hope and excitement now that she had confirmed her feelings for him.
"Right here." She replied, smiling up at him. "I've closed early on Thursdays for over a year now. This is our night, our little ritual, and I wanted you all to myself without the chance of distraction."
He nuzzled her nose with his as he chuckled at her admission. "So that's why we're never interrupted by other customers? You brilliant, brilliant witch."
He pulled back and stood from the table, putting on his jacket before offering his hand to her to help her up. She took it and laced their fingers together, walking with him to the door of the shop.
"So Thursday?" He asked, triple checking for their first official date.
"Thursday." She confirmed, and she made the word itself sound like the promise that it was.