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Squinting against the blinding bright light coming from her window and wincing as she finally managed to shut her screaming alarm clock off, there was no denying that Hermione was hung over. She didn't typically get drunk, but it had been Ginny’s hen night last night, so Hermione had drunk much more than she usually did, and now she was paying for it. But, although it was Saturday, she had a meeting with a client in just over an hour. Today was definitely going to be a coffee morning.
Hermione had never been much for dressing up in general, but hungover Hermione was even less concerned about appearance. She threw her hair in a messy bun, then pulled on the most comfortable pair of jeans she could get away with at work. Next, an old tank top that, if one were uncharitable, could reasonably be called “ratty”. Showering was out of the question if she wanted to have time to stop by the cafe down the street which always had the best lemon scones, so she put on some extra deodorant and deemed herself presentable-ish.
Emphasis on the ish. It was fine. Her office was mostly for show, given that Hermione was her own boss, and merely needed a designated place to conduct portions of her work as a rare book seller.
As fate would have it, the coffee shop - the only one that was convenient to her apartment, was closed . Hermione resisted the urge to actually facepalm and settled for merely doing so internally as she pulled out her phone to find the next best substitute.
Time for Tea was out of her way, but not terribly so, and while she might be later to work than intended, if would be reasonably so. As she opened the door, the bell chiming merrily above her head, all Hermione could think was Fuck Me.
Literally, and figuratively. Literally, because the barista behind the counter was drop-dead gorgeous, with high cheekbones, defined facial features, and pale blonde hair that went down to her lower back with purple tips. And she had a labret piercing in her lower lip that Hermione immediately longed to suck into her mouth. But above all of that, she was tall. Like, taller-than-Hermione-tall which almost never happened. Hermione wanted to shag her until neither of them could walk for days.
And of course, the first time Hermione encountered the woman, Hermione was dressed like a complete slob. Figures.
“Welcome to Time for Tea, how can I help you?” The barista’s voice was bored - not enough to be rude, but enough for Hermione’s self esteem to wither up and die, just a bit. The barista was probably straight, anyway. What a waste. Hermione would bet anything that she could make the girl behind the counter come more times in a night than any guy could, although she wasn’t brave enough to say that out loud.
Hermione shoved her lust aside and ordered. Carina, said the barista’s name tag. Carina’s eyes were a shade of gray that made Hermione’s heart melt, outlined in a thin line of eyeliner that was just on the right side of too much for this early in the morning. And Carina was tall.
There was a part of Hermione that liked being tall - Hermione was 5’10”, taller than her singular ex-boyfriend, and taller than all of the girls that had followed him save one, a one night stand she’d picked up at a dyke bar one hazy friday night, who had been an even 6’0” and had made Hermione wish that Hermione was shorter, because god it was hot being with someone taller than she was. And being the little spoon was underrated.
It would be reasonable to call it a fetish, but it was not a fetish, because Hermione could - and did - enjoy herself perfectly well with women shorter than her! But. For a one night stand, that girl really stuck out; it wasn’t even that the sex was that good (although it was perfectly enjoyable), but being with someone taller than her? Yeah. It was nice.
So, clearly either Hermione should have been either a) shorter or b) straight (or bi, she supposed), but neither of those were things she could go back and change, so her subsequent partners had been shorter. Scowling at the curse of genetics, she picked up her latte from the counter.
That Saturday was not the last time Hermione visited Time for Tea, but she made damned sure it was the last time she ever went there looking like the mess she had the first time. On the days Carina was there, Hermione sat down at a table and made eyes at the barista when she thought no one was looking. When Carina wasn’t there, Hermione took her coffee to go, and then went on with her day, resolutely ignoring the fact that she was regularly going out of her way for subpar coffee only to moon over a straight girl. And she was not stalking Carina, just...appreciating her aesthetic. At work. Quietly. As a paying customer. Who tipped well to everyone, not just cute baristas.
Ginny, not surprisingly, mocked Hermione mercilessly once the redhead figured out what was going on. She thought it was hilarious, especially considering that Hermione had never even managed to progress beyond small talk with Carina.
Things might have carried on that way for quite some time longer than they already had, but somehow, at one of the queer bars. Silver Stag was more of a dive bar than a club, although it was pretty busy Friday and Saturday nights. It had trivia on Thursdays, Karaoke on Mondays, and was blissfully quiet the remaining three nights of the week. Most of the regulars were men, but the owners did a good job of keeping it welcoming to everyone.
Hermione was past tipsy and approaching drunk, maybe hoping to pick someone up, but mostly just not wanting to be at home alone. Crookshanks had passed the night before - not unexpected, but the half-kneazle had been hers for fourteen years, and Hermione was allowed to be sad and wallow in self-pity.
Hermione was not an alcoholic. She just loved Crookshanks and everyone else was busy, because it was a Tuesday, and who got drunk on a Tuesday? But she worked for herself, and could skip work Wednesday morning if she wanted, so she was getting drunk, on a Tuesday.
But this Tuesday - off to a particularly bad start - abruptly became significantly better when Carina walked in.
There were three things that made this moment fantastic. One, it was Carina, whom Hermione had been infatuated with for several months now. Two, because if Carina was in a gay bar, it meant she might not be straight after all. At the very least, Hermione could justifiably flirt with Carina here. And three, Carina was wearing heels.
The heels were the best part, and because Hermione was drunk, she stood up from the barstool, took a moment to make sure she wasn’t too wobbly on her feet, and went and told Carina that to her face.
“Ohmigod but you look even better in heels than you do in a barista apron,” was what came out of Hermione’s mouth. Smooth. Not at all stalkery.
Carina’s lips pursed, looking as though she was unsure whether to be annoyed or amused. “Look. I don’t date chasers. Or sleep with chasers. Not sure which you’re going for, really. Honestly, I have very little interest in chasers in general, although I suppose you do get points for being female and less creepy, and kinda cute. But. You can take your bicuriosity and your fetishization of trans people elsewhere, and leave me alone to brood in peace.”
Huh. Hermione was suddenly struck by the realization that they might be having two different conversations. Now she wished she was sober. “I’m not a chaser,” Hermione retorted, because the alternative was I just love girls taller than me .
Carina snorted. “Yeah, said every chaser ever.”
Hermione resisted the childish, drunk urge to stomp her foot. She tried to seem a little less drunk. “Look, I didn’t even know you were trans, and I’m lesbian, not bicurious. I also didn’t even know whether you were queer or not, or I might have said something before this. It’s just…”. There was a pregnant pause as Hermione figured out what to say next.
Sighing, looking as though she was expecting to regret asking, Carina probed, “Just what?”
“I just am really, really attracted to girls taller than me. And I’m tall enough that it doesn’t happen very often. And then I saw you, wearing heels! and you’re just…so beautiful, and I’m sorry if I’ve been creepy, I’ll leave you alone after this. You’re just so pretty.” Not for the first time, Hermione’s gaze was drawn to Carina’s lip piercing.
Carina looked more than a bit taken aback. “You’re drunk,” she accused Hermione.
“Well, yes. But that doesn’t make it less true.” A thought occurred to Hermione and she brightened. “I could buy you a drink! Multiple drinks! And then we’d both be drunk.” Inwardly, Hermione thought this was the best idea she’d had in quite some time.
The corner of Carina’s mouth tipped upwards in the cutest half-smile Hermione had ever seen. “I wouldn’t say no to that,” the blonde affirmed.
Several drinks in, Hermione had learned several things about her months-long crush. Carina had grown up in Wiltshire, and had moved to London when shit hit the fan when a childhood acquaintance had outed her to her parents. “It was bullshit,” Carina had confided. “I’d known Pansy since we were toddlers. We grew up together, and started dating in uni. I told her I was thinking about transitioning, and that I’d understand if she didn’t want to be together. The last thing I expected was her to write my parents about it.”
Hermione agreed that it was bullshit, and bought Carina another drink. Carina had gotten three years into a degree for chemistry, but had to take a couple years off and was now resuming school part time while working at Time for Tea. Her favorite food was tikka masala. The only TV show she watched was Star Trek.
“Come back to my place,” Hermione blurted.
“No, thanks. You’re still drunk.”
Oh god. Hermione hadn’t even asked if Carina was single.
“I am single, but I’m pretty sure you’re more drunk now than you were an hour ago.”
Great. Hermione hadn’t even realized she had said anything out loud. “Then go to dinner with me. Have you been to the curry place over on Newport?”
Carina laughed. “Only at least once a week.”
“Great! Maybe Friday?”
Carina furrowed her brows at Hermione. “Friday it is,” she sighed. “What’s your phone number, then?”
It was a good Tuesday. Hermione had gotten Carina’s number, secured a date three days from now, and had actually gotten to know her.