Cross the Threshold
If Hermione Granger was to be described as anything after the ending of the war, she would like to be described as a reader. Big books, small books, books written in code; she wanted them all. That is why we must open our scene and introduce our Hermione in a small wizard owned bookshop called Teapaper slapped right in the heart of muggle London.
It was a lazy Sunday afternoon, her favorite type of shift as she sat at the register enjoying a popular romance novel with her face basking in the afternoon sun. It was finally autumn again and she’d picked out an oversized knit sweater that she knew was in her favorite color of deep rose red and a pair of black tights to wear. The outfit served her well to protect against the short bursts of chilly air from the shop door opening for another customer but didn’t let her sweat in the sun.
As if on cue the bell chimed, and another gust of air ruffled through the short pixie cut she’d gotten in a fit of pique.
“Hello, welcome to Teapaper! Is there anything I can help you find?” She greeted, pulling her bookmark out from between the pages and marking her spot with a newly practiced ease.
“Perhaps. I’m looking for a gift.” The guests voice rolled over her like an icy shockwave that tingled the tips of her fingers.
Hermione knew she’d frozen for too long when the guest shifted on the entry mat.
“Sorry, you sounded like someone I used to know, and it surprised me. What kind of person are you shopping for?” Slipping into an easy grin that was most certainly a change from her Hogwarts persona Hermione stood and slipped around the counter.
“An older woman. She enjoys gardening and trashy romance but has been complaining about boredom lately.” Hermione relaxed. The voice might match down to the exact dulcet tones she remembered but the words were certainly not any she could even imagine she could hear.
“Hm, well could I suggest a plant-based comedy novella?” She headed off in the direction of comedies, slow measured footsteps followed behind.
Reaching the desired shelf Hermione found the book she desired fairly easily; the 3D patterned spine was obnoxious to say the least of it. Pulling it off the shelf she held it out to the guest. The book was taken quickly and the pages turned even faster. A speed reader- no, a skimmer if she’d ever met one. What a heathen.
“This will do.”
In theme with the shop itself her guest added on a tin of dragon fruit tea to go with the book and she had everything neatly packaged in a bag with green tissue paper.
“Please come again!”
The shop door opened and shut with little else to say about it and Hermione reopened her book with shaking hands. It was entirely too soon in this venture of hers to start talking with dead men. Even one as good as he had been.