Chapter 01
There he was again. Harry had seen the blond man a couple of times before. Well, more than a couple of times if he was honest to himself. Since Harry had picked up his part time job at The Times about three months ago, he shared his train ride into the city with the man almost every morning. Sometimes they even caught the same train back home, at least when Harry stayed in the office for longer than his usual working hours.
Harry looked down at the notebook in his hands and fidgeted with the pen in his fingers. He could not help but to sneak glances over to the other man in the seat facing him on the other side of the corridor. For three months he always seemed to sit somewhere in the back of the train, polished shoes, a clean and crisp white button up, black pants and a neat jacket. Recently, Harry had noticed, the man carried a coat with him since the weather had started to change and it was getting cold outside with fall clearly falling over the outskirts of London and the city itself.
Sometimes Harry liked to simply look out of the window on the one-hour long train ride, noticing how with each passing day more and more trees turned from green into yellow and reddish colours, how they also started to lose some of the leaves while the land around them seemed to settle into preparation for the upcoming winter.
Harry glanced back at the man. Today he was wearing a tie, which didn’t happen all that often and Harry almost felt bad for knowing that so well. He blamed it on being a writer, on noticing insignificant things around him that others often didn’t see at all, but he knew it was only true because he kept watching the man every day. Harry would give a lot to be that calm, to look so fresh out of a fashion magazine, awake and ready for the day. Well, maybe not out of a fashion magazine, which wasn’t what he was aiming for but on some mornings, he was aware that he looked like he had fallen out of bed and rolled directly towards the train station.
It wasn’t entirely untrue; Harry had a habit of getting up too late to prepare properly for the day so he ended up throwing on whatever he could grab in a hurry while boiling water for his tea on the go and grabbing whatever he needed and shoved it into his bag since he still failed to pack it the night before.
Harry was a mess. He thought it would just take time for him to get used to the new situation, to his new job and his new house and all of this but apparently three months were not enough time to get used to it or he really was just the disaster that Hermione said he was, even if she meant it in a friendly way.
Harry had recently bought a home in the outskirts of London. His parents had died when Harry had been five, his memories of them were flimsy at best and he had days where he missed to not have his parents in his life. Not that his childhood had been worse, Harry had grown up with his godfather and his husband, both incredibly good friends of his parents. They had made sure that Harry would not forget them, that he would hear as many stories as they could tell, and he had a vast collection of pictures. Still, it was never the same.
His parents had left him quite bit of money and he had gained access to it after his 18th birthday. His education had been paid with some of it and he paid his college fees from it, too. Still, there had been enough left to buy a house with proper ground around it in the countryside, after all Harry wasn’t sure what else he was supposed to do with his money and surely Sirius and Remus would have his head if he had wasted it on stupid things.
The house was nice, a two-story cottage with a garden and plenty of trees. He had been convinced at first that he would not need such a big house, but he was glad to have it now that he had gotten used to it. He had enough space to host guests, he had a working space, and everything was nice and open, and the sun was always shining through the windows when it wasn’t hiding behind some dark clouds typical for the British weather.
Harry sighed again as he looked away from the window, it was not quite dark anymore, but the sun barely showed behind the heavy clouds and through the mist covering the ground. It was a terrible day, weatherwise at least, and Harry always felt like he needed longer to wake up on those kinds of days. Unlike the other man, he noticed, who looked focused as he checked his tablet for what Harry thought was something work related. It must be, from the few glances he had caught while trying to not be too noisy, he had seen numbers over numbers and statistics, probably something in finances but Harry wasn’t sure. Considering how relaxed he looked, Harry guessed that the blond seemed to enjoy his work.
Harry did that, too, most of the time. He has been writing since forever and had majored in journalism. He had a job at a very respectable newspaper, but it had a sour taste since he was sure he had only gotten it because Remus used to work there as well, and the man how had hired him had known his parents. Still, it was what it was and Harry was not going to complain about something that was paying his bills, especially when it was paying well.
His job wasn’t the most exciting, he only wrote book and movie reviews and recommendations and about his favorite baking recipes, an unimportant part of the daily newspaper but enough to make him feel like he was doing something worthy at least. Maybe it was because Luna called it the cozy corner of the papers, which Harry liked to think it was true. Books and movies and baked goods were something to make a day nice and cozy and good and maybe he could bring a little joy to those people who bothered to read what he was writing.
Harry could work from home, if he wanted to and sometimes he did but it could feel lonely quite fast out in the countryside and he preferred to do his work in the office that he shared with Luna and Neville. Plus, he was terrible at getting things done without a deadline or someone reminding him to do his work and get himself together for at least half an hour so he would get it done.
Luna, who wrote the astrological page for the The Times, something that was so fitting for her personality that it was scary sometimes. Neville, the man was responsible for the gardening and planting tips, and he certainly was an expert in that case. He also was the one who kept their office plants alive because Harry was terrible with everything that was not a cactus, and he had managed to let one die before, while Luna simply forgot to water the plants because she was terrible to keep track of time.
Working with the two of them was a bliss, they were nice and just that kind of people Harry liked to be around. Friendly, soft, warm, all those things that kept him content. He was thankful to have gained to friends in the brief time he had been working there.
Harry noticed how the blond man packed away his tablet, meaning that they would reach their destination anytime soon. Harry had picked up on that habit, too. Usually, the man would pack away his work about ten minutes before their arrival, looking out of the window or reading a book, as if he were taking a break before his actual workday was going to start. Harry never worked on the train, not for his real job at least. As much as he liked being a journalist, Harry’s true passion was writing, novels and fiction and little stories. Maybe it was because he had been told many of them from an early age or because he just loved to read, he wasn’t sure.
There were millions upon millions idea in his head, but he had eventually settled on one and tried to work it out to an extend that he could have a chance to get it published. He had gotten a notebook just for that, where he kept all his ideas, his character descriptions and the plot. It felt more natural to him to do this by hand. He used the train ride to plan out his story and sometimes he even took his laptop with him to write a few bits and pieces. This was one of the reasons why he took the train to work, the other was that it was a pain to reach the center of London by car within the same amount of time and he hated to be stuck in traffic.
When the voice coming from the speaker announced that the next stop would be the stop Harry wanted to get off, he packed away his notebook and pen and got ready to leave, his travel mug in his hand already since had almost forgotten it in the past and he was not in the mood to chase after it again when he was almost off the train. He could see that the other was getting ready as well, fixing his tie and picking lint off his black coat.
Harry sighed. He had to stop with this obsession, at least before the other would notice that Harry was watching him daily. At least he would feel uncomfortable if he’d find out someone was watching him day in and out. Sighing once more, he pushed his hair back and let the crowd push him out of the train along with several others and soon losing track of the mysterious blond man.