Of Grocers and Leprechauns

A/N: This was written in response to a challenge posted seriously, like three years ago. I cannot remember what the parameters were, only that this story matched them. So, there you go. I rather like this one, as it illuminates some of the aspects of the HHR relationship that I consider especially important.

Of Grocers and Leprechauns

It was fall, just days before Halloween. Hermione sat in her rather cluttered flat- one lined with bookcases and lightened by windows bearing cushioned seats that seemed a bit haphazardly scattered around. At the moment she was rather delicately perched Indian-style on the front edge of a pinstriped wing chair, cradling her head in a hand as she concentrated on her fireplace. The head in it stopped to stare for a second as she laughed gently, before continuing his story.

“Well, do you know what he did?”

Hermione feigned an abashed look, “I’m ashamed to say that I, in fact, do not.”

“He touched the artifact. Just went and touched it.”

Her mouth dropped open in genuine shocked. “But you-“

“Yup.”

“And the minister-“

“Yup. Completely disregarded all the warnings, all the orders, just everything.”

“But... but what happened?”

“Well, first-“ But Hermione cut him off with a glance at the clock.

“I’ve got to be going if I’m going to be done with my shopping before tea time.”

“Oh yes, I’d forgotten. On Mondays you volunteer and have watercress. On Tuesdays you go to see a film and allow yourself some popcorn. And on Wednesdays...”

“On Wednesdays I go shopping and have buttered scones for tea. You got it right on the nose.” She completed his sentence and tapped the body part in question.

In the fireplace Harry laughed. “You know Hermione, some people thought that after Hogwarts you’d relax, allow yourself to stop regimenting every moment of your life.”

“Well, ‘some people’ were wrong and need to get over themselves. It’s called having purpose in life, it’s called not wasting what little time I have when I’m home, it’s called-“

A peal of laughter from Harry cut her off before she could work herself into a complete tizzy. “Did I say I was some people? I happen to think your system is very practical.”

She beamed. “Thank you Harry. You’re always so understanding. But I can’t dally any longer. Besides, Aggie will be concerned if I’m late.” She pushed off the chair and made for the closet, which she opened and began ruffling through it.

“Aggie?”

Her head turned sharply from getting her cloak, her expression surprised. “Surely I’ve mentioned Aggie. Agatha Wuthersons? No? Oh, well, she runs the market around the corner from here. Just took it over a couple of months ago. A bit odd, but she knows my schedule and my usual order, so she usually sets some of the items I usually get aside.”

“Is she the one who makes the scrumptious pumpkin pies?”

“Yes! I knew I’d mentioned her.” Hermione had been fussing with her hat in the mirror and now turned, victorious, and faced the fireplace again.

Harry took a second to muse on how lovely her hair look spreading out from under the hat and over her cloaked shoulders before insisting, “You’d never mentioned her name.”

“Oh, I’m sure I did.” She called as she left the room for a moment. She came back with her boots and sat before commenting again. “I was so sure.”

“Hermione,” he started with a serious, intense look on his face, “I remember everything you say. Always have, always will.”

Her breath caught in her throat as the uncomfortable silence that always followed one of these proclamations, which they both seemed to be making with a slowly increasing frequency.

She finished charming her boots tied and turned towards the fireplace and looked him straight in the face while whispering, “I know you do, Harry. And I hope you know how much I appreciate it.” She straightened quickly and changed back to perky, “I’ll talk to you soon Harry.”

He reverted also, “You know it!”

She exited the flat and his image flickered out of the flames.

--

Hermione’s flat was tucked in a small corner of wizarding London. The buildings there had been developed by an American wizard who had based the block after the one where he’d grown up in Boston. It was slightly out of place among the charmingly awkward buildings that characterized British magical architecture. On the corner was a small shop that had originally been a convenience store, but in the years since it was built it had also been a flower shop, a diner, a hair salon, and- for a bizarre six months- a specialty bat emporium. Those on the block did not enjoy the odors emitted by the last, and after they had helped the owner to find a more suitable (and distant) location, a lovely middle-aged witch had opened a small grocery in the space and had begun inhabiting the apartment above it. The store complemented normal items with some more interesting ones that were delightful rarities.

Hermione had begun frequenting the shop due to its proximity. Of course, distance doesn’t matter to wizards and witches who had Apparation and Floo Powder, but Muggle habits such as going to the closest market died hard for Hermione. She had begun using it religiously because she had made great friends with its proprietor, a Ms. Agatha Wuthersons. One of the things that gave the older lady great delight was to croon over Hermione’s lack of a boyfriend. When she did this Hermione would always blush and protest, but there’s nothing like a good confidence boost.

Also, Agatha made the best pumpkin pie in the entire world. Hermione had developed a bit of an addiction to the stuff after a cousin had made a delightful one for a Granger Christmas celebration, and, after Harry had curiously sampled a contraband slice that had been smuggled from the kitchens so Hermione could celebrate the end of the fall term, he’d also developed a predilection for it. From then on special occasions that their set celebrated always included at least one pie and when Hermione had tasted a pie that Agatha, or Aggie as Hermione was instructed to call her, had baked, the Hungry Hippogriff had become the place for her weekly shopping.

Today when Hermione entered, she didn’t immediately see the store’s owner and called hesitantly out into the space. She was relieved when Aggie came out from the back bearing a pie Hermione strongly suspected was intended for her.

Her face lightened seeing the witch in the doorway. “Hermione! You were running late. I was a smidgen concerned when you were late. You’re alright?”

“Oh, yes. I was talking with Harry, and we got a bit caught up.”

Aggie turned from stacking cans of Prudence’s Quality Restorative Persian Peas. “Harry? That the young man who liked my pies, correct?”

“Liked them so well he knew you by them! In fact, he mentioned it today while we were talking.” Hermione blushed a bit remembering Harry’s statement soon after. Everything she said. Surely not!

Aggie noted the blush with a knowing smile before proceeding with their business. “So what can I do you for today Hermione?”

Hermione glanced up from gazing at a display of “Great Wizards of the New Age” trading cards, whose blazing popularity had, of late, overtaken even Chocolate Frogs. “My normal order if you please. Except, leave out the tea. I stocked up quite well on my last trip.”

Aggie’s head popped up above a shelf. “Where were you my dear? Tea prices have been quite mad as of late.”

“China. Some of my favorite herbals were going for three sickles less a pound.” Hermione commented before beginning to “Accio” items from around the store towards herself. “They gave me a time about it at the Portkey customs, and it was still the only good thing about the trip. The way they treat house elves over there is absolutely atrocious.”

“Well, my dear, these things don’t change overnight. You’re going to have to change a lot of attitudes before you really begin to change anything significant.” Aggie gave her a sympathetic smile.

Hermione gave a long suffering sigh. “I know, I know. Harry always tells me the same thing. Well, no use crying over things that will to be changed soon enough.” She forced a cheerful smile onto her face. “Where are the pastrami sandwiches I love so much?”

“Oh, in the back in the stove.” Aggie stated without any sense of this being odd.

“The stove?” As used to Aggie’s eccentricities as Hermione was, she was still occasionally caught off guard.

“Well, of course dearie. Are you going to fetch them, or should I?”

Hermione composed herself again. “Oh, no... I can get it,” she said before scurrying into the back room. She was rather surprised to find upon her return, Harry standing talking amicably with Aggie. Her order was resting on the counter, and it would appear the two of them were discussing the peculiarities of her order including her specification of receiving exactly seven bananas.

“Well, if it isn’t the famous Harry Potter.” Harry turned and smiled at the old joke before returning her greeting with, “Miss Granger.”

She put the sandwiches on the counter to give Harry a hug and stepping back inquired, “What are you doing here? We just talked a half hour ago!”

“Miss Granger, you rather heartlessly ended our earlier conversation without much forewarning, thus leaving me with no opportunity to pose a rather urgent inquiry to you.” Harry had an impish glint in his eyes that contradicted his serious speech.

“Mr. Potter, I must apologize most profusely for such a grievous offense. Now, pray tell, what is this pressing matter?” Hermione played along with his game.

“It occurred to me that I have forgotten to ask for you to accompany to the All Hallows Eve party that the most esteemed Ronald Weasley is hosting in a mere matter of days.”

Hermione grinned, pleasantly surprised. “It would please me immensely to accompany you. You’re invitation is most happily accepted.”

He presented her with his arm. “Then, Miss Granger, there are buttered scones waiting to be consumed, and I’d hate to disappoint.”

She accepted his arm and replied, “Well, we mustn’t do that! Aggie, we really must be off on a matter of great urgency! Could my groceries be owled to my flat?”

“Buttered scones should not be forced to wait. It won’t be a problem.” She had a rather smug grin as she said this, and Hermione reminded herself to ask about that later.

Also, she swore that she heard the lady mutter as they exited through the door, “When will she learn? Denial is not just a river in Egypt.”

--

The Weasley’s Halloween parties had become a bit of a tradition for their classmates and their families. The entire Weasley clan would usually put in appearances. Lavender had in the past brought her fling of the week, until she had married Ron. Parvati would drop in, sometimes dragging Padma along also, sometimes not. Neville would arrive bumbling as always, his lovely Hannah by his side. Seamus would be there, brash, shouting in his loud Irish brogue, and usually got thoroughly smashed. Dean would check in and give them all a little grief, and he and Ron would have their annual shouting match, or as they liked to call it “debate,”on the identity the best sport.

Hermione liked to be escorted to these things to avoid the knowing looks of her classmates, and Harry had confided once he felt the same. And so while it had seemed their problems were rather neatly solved by going together, this combo was gaining them more knowing looks then going alone usually did. Hermione was a little bit bugged by this, but at least she was getting the spend the evening with Harry and that was always a good thing..

Of course the looks may have just been astonishment at their costumes. There were some odd ones, including Ron done up as an 80's rock star, from the hair that seemed to be in complete defiance to gravity, to the spandex and leather get up and a guitar slung around him and hanging behind him. Lavender explained that he was admitting to a secret love of singing in the shower. “I can’t count the number of times I’ve awoken to ‘Sweet Child of Mine’” When Harry and Hermione arrived he was serenading those assembled with “Born to Be Wild.” They both found this very disturbing.

Showing their pride in their Irish heritage and taking advantage of their plentiful red hair, all the Weasleys under the age of 5 were done up in little leprechaun getups, even the youngest, little 5-month-old Emmie Weasley who was bedecked in green footsie pajamas and shamrocks on both her cheeks. Her big cousin, the very spoiled Rosaleen, Percy’s eldest, had insisted her family come as characters from her favorite books, some American novels about a girl finding out she was a princess or something. Hermione was vaguely aware of the books and was pretty sure the character Percy had been assigned had a foot fetish, but somewhere that had been changed to a sock fetish and the bungled charm was leaving Percy acting extremely peculiarly for him. Hermione was very glad she had no socks under her hoopskirt.

Yes, hoopskirt. Harry had offered to handle their costumes, and wanting to relish her week off from jetting around the world crusading for various human and non-human rights cases, she had been glad for the offer. Harry had gained a bit of an obsession with the American Civil War, absorbing books, movies and just about everything he could get his hands on. Hermione wasn’t sure what had inspired this mania, but she should have known Harry would choose costumes rooted in it. He was dressed as a Union general and had gotten her a beautiful period dress. It had a red fitted bodice and red silky layers of skirt that were alternated with white lacy ones, all topped and bottomed with black tassels and there was fringe all over the place. She rather liked the dress, but she felt its splendor was rather lessened by the ridiculous poke bonnet Harry had insisted she wear. The flamboyant red ribbon was a bit dusty- Harry had not revealed his source, but she suspected it was someone’s attic- and she fought the urge to sneeze all night.

Unfortunately, her resistance to this urge gave out at a most inopportune time. She was dancing with Harry, properly for the first time all night, in the second floor room that had been designated for the activity. She been enjoying the feel of being in Harry’s arms, considering telling him that fact, admiring the other couples around them- George with one of his nieces on his toes, and his wife with one of their nephews in her arms, Ginny and a slightly uncomfortable Draco waltzing about in Roman outfits, Seamus done up as a - was he a shrub?- stepping on a James-Bond-babified Padma Patil’s toes- and just generally feeling happy when the urge to sneeze struck her suddenly and violently. Through some klutzy series of events that involved tripping all over her hoop skirts, bumping into several people, a sofa being located rather inconveniently for her, and possibly some steps, she ended up on the floor, her leg painfully bent under her and Harry bending concerned over her.

She didn’t stay like that long. Her klutziness was made even more glaring as it was juxtaposed to Harry’s grace in swooping her up in his arms without jarring her leg, managing to get her down the stairs despite her cumbersome skirts, making their apologies and explanations to Ron for their early departure, transporting her to the house’s apparition point and then apparating her to her flat. She was sure his actions after that were carried out with equal panache, but she succumbed to the pain and passed out.

--

She awoke to find a pair of green eyes looking at her, their concern quite evident. Noting that her awakening noticeably lessened his worry, she gingerly tested her formerly injured limb and found it blessedly mended. She glanced back at Harry, “So what happened while I was out?”

His good humor obviously returning rapidly he replied, “Well, using the detailed instructions left on your refrigerator, I contacted you Healing Magic Professional of choice, who was very obliging about apparating over at 11:30 at night to heal a broken leg. She informed me the magic was rather taxing, and I shouldn’t expect you up for another 12 hours or so- and she was very right.” He added after a glance at the bedside clocks- one of which read the time and the other which read ‘Extremely Late. Don’t you have better things to do than sleep?’ “Anyway, I camped out on your couch, just in case you needed anything. Which you didn’t. I moved myself in here an hour ago when you started muttering in you sleep.”

This aroused some curiosity in her. “What was I saying?”

“All I’ll say is that I’ll tell your next boyfriend that the true way to your heart involves Jell-o, his feet and crappy American rap.”

“I really don’t want to know do I?”

“No, it’s probably for the best that you don’t,” he agreed with a smirk that made her just a wee bit weak in the knees.

She’d noticed something. “Harry, I’m not in that ridiculous dress. You didn’t... Uhm... you know...” She trailed off, uncertain of how to phrase the question, her cheeks pinking a bit.

“Undress you? Oh, no, no... definitely not. Your doctor did it. Though I chose the pajamas. I thought you’d want your favorites, even if you were asleep, I don’t know why...” He was babbling and a blush was spreading on his cheeks too. “Hermione, I’d never undress you while you were unconscious. Well, without your permission. Not that I know why I’d have your permission for such an odd circumstance and bequest...” He trailed off looking at her nervously.

Perhaps it was the close proximity for a extended amount of time, perhaps it was a residual wooziness from the healing magic, perhaps she wasn’t completely awake following her mini-hibernation, but for some reason she asked him in a tone of voice she didn’t remember ever using with Harry before, “Do you mean to imply you’d undress me if I was awake?”

Harry’s cheeks were most definitely red and his voice was definitely higher now as he replied, “Well, I suppose, if the circumstances were right, and you wanted me to and we were in some form of a relationship that was serious enough for that to be... an option, that it would be a very pleasant experience.”

“Harry,” she continued, whatever madness that had motivated her first commenting moving her to continue, “Would you be interested in arranging for those circumstances to occur?”

He was definitely squeaking as he replied, “That would be nice.”

A slightly sleepy smile was growing on her face, “Yes, I agree. I think that would be very,” she broke off for a yawn, “nice.”

Seeming to have regained some of his composure, he leaned over and place a lingering kiss on her forehead before gently commanding her, “Now, get some more sleep, dear.”

Her grin grew as she snuggled deeper into her pillow. “I think I will. I think that would be lovely.” He thought she was asleep, but it seemed she had one more thing to say before returning to the land of nod. “I love you Harry. Did you know that?”

He was rather startled by this, and stared at her, hoping for more to the statement. But she was apparently completely asleep now, and he leaned to kiss her forehead again. “Well, I didn’t, but then you didn’t know I love you, either, did you?”

--

The next time she awoke, she found a bowl of soup on her bedside table and felt like herself again. Next to the soup- which had been given a very well done Heating Charm- was a note from Harry.

Hermione-

Had to dash to work. (Hermione had grinned at this. Since becoming a full fledged Auror ‘Had to dash to work’ was Harry’s favorite phrase) Do not even think of doing anything that requires more energy than lifting a finger. I will be back later to continue to be your slave but until then take the opportunity to languish like the princess you know you are.

Love You,

Harry

It was the love that threw her- the rest of it was one-hundred percent Harry. And it was the love that brought all of the previous 24 hours’ events rushing back into her brain. She’d made rather suggestive remarks. She’d all but propositioned him. She’d told him that she loved him!

She fell back into the covers with a high pitched “Meep!” This was very... this turn of event was absolutely... he... she...

“Meep!”

She really hadn’t let herself think about it much when Harry returned, seemingly unaffected by Hermione’s rather dramatic pronouncement. This made her just a little bit hacked off. Was he just going to ignore it? Treat her like her feelings didn’t matter? Well, she’d show him unaffected.

And she did. For the next half hour they talked of a variety of topics. It was witty banter, with the occasional ribbing of one or the other, and couple of good jokes. It was light, it was airy, and if it wandered anywhere near relationships it was quickly directed to turn one hundred and eighty degrees. It was pure torture for both of them.

An uncomfortable silence fell. Harry broke it, asking, in a quiet voice. “Are we going to talk about last night?”

She answered at the same volume, “I wasn’t sure you wanted to.”

“Well, if you wanted to take anything back, I’d fully understand and we could proceed...”

Her eyes widened and it was possible that they were a bit wet, “Is that what you want? For me to take it back?”

He went over to the bed, perched himself on the edge and leaned over her and looked deeply into her eyes for a second, almost searching for something, before he took her hands and refocused on the intertwined fingers. “I only want you to say it if it’s true. I really don’t know what I’m going to do with myself if it wasn’t. But you were tired and the healing magic... So if you didn’t I’ll... I’ll try to understand.” He looked back up at her and it took her breath away to see just how much emotion his eyes held.

She looked up at him and her mouth spread in a sad smile and she gave a little shake of her head. “Of course I meant it Harry.”

His reaction was instant- his face morphed into a broad grin, his eyes lit up with a happiness she’d only seen on rare occasions before and then...

Well, then he did some things that it wouldn’t be very polite to write about. It suffices to say he kissed her. A lot. And the only other thing I’m going to tell you is that at one point he broke away from the thorough inspection his mouth was making of Hermione’s neck to catch his breath and managed to get out between gasps, “Merlin knows how much I love you. I mean it’s been so long and I just couldn’t...”

She silenced him with a finger to his lips. “It’s a very good thing you love me, Harry Potter, because it just so happens I love you, too.”

That grin was back. “You cannot even know how wonderful it is to hear you say that.”

She raised an eyebrow. “Well, I imagine it’s just about as wonderful as when you say it to me.”

This threw him for a second. “It would be wouldn’t it? Because you love me.” This he said with an adorable amount of surprise and befuddlement.

She laughed a bit. “Why, yes. Yes, I do. And you love me too. Isn’t that grand?”

If it was possible his smile got even bigger. “It is grand. It’s grand.” He kissed her temple briefly. “It’s wonderful.” Her cheek. “It’s lovely.” Her nose. “It’s just absolutely fantas-“

And their actions after she cut him off with a kiss are also impolite to transcribe. So I won’t.

--

It was late November and Harry and Hermione were sauntering down her street toward the Hungry Hippogriff arm-in-arm, looking, in general, absolutely, sickeningly happy. But a puzzled expression came across Hermione’s face as they came to the shop and found Agatha out front locking the front door.

The two of them reached her just in time to hear her mutter “...And now for something completely different,” and brush her hands of invisible impurities. She turned to Hermione and greeted the befuddlement on her face with a grin.

“Hermione, I’m so glad you got here in time. I wanted to tell you myself. I’m moving.”

Confusion turned to surprise and dismay, “Oh, Aggie, why?”

“Oh, you didn’t have expected me just to sit here and tend shop all my life did you?” The expression on Hermione’s face made it evident she did. “Well, I didn’t dear. And now that I’ve discovered my goal in life it’s time to move on.”

A flabbergasted Hermione managed to get out the words, “Goal in life?”

“Oh, yes. I’ve discovered my goal in life is to breed rabbits.” Aggie seemed to take a good look at the two of them for the first time. “Oh, the two of you have finally gotten it together. I’m so happy for you. I’m sure I’ll see you both again. Hermione, pull yourself together, that is not you best look.” She quickly hugged Hermione, whispering in her ear something that didn’t fully register about inviting her to the wedding. That only left her more confused- what wedding?- until-

“Oh!” And then she blushed horribly and turned to correct Aggie, who had gone past her, only to find the witch had already Disapperated.

Harry turned around to face in the same direction as her and slung his arm around her shoulders. Slightly reassured by this, Hermione said the only thing she could think of:

“Rabbits. Huh.”