Harry Potter Imagines

Bookshelf

Harry would always think that the Wizarding world was better than the Muggle one. He would think of so many reasons to think wizards, witches and magic was the best thing that had ever happened to him.

"Muggles are so odd- like he is pouring himself. You just swish a wand and lay back. Let it pour itself." Ron kept staring at the old man in the coffee shop, whose hand was shaking agressively due to age or some disesase or pure alcoholism. He tried many times to put sugar in his tea with a spoon but each time, it fell right back into the sugar cup. He started cursing himself, grabbing the sugar with his fingers and throwing it into his tea until it made a splash, pouring some of the tea on the table.

Ron kept smiling at the old man's unfortune meanwhile Harry only rushed forward without a glance at the old man. He wanted this to be over. Fast and efficiant. "Muggles don't know about magic." he chuckled, turning the corner and up the stairs.

"Some do."

"Most of them don't." he stopped, grabbing the doorknob and grinning. "If they knew, they wouldn't want to be Muggles anymore." he smiled and swung the door open, walking into the library.

"Bet." Ron stood behind before chuckling and running after him. "Reckon they'd think we have long noses, witch hats and brooms to fly on, which we do but still." he continued to talk, hearing Harry laugh as he shuffled through the books.

"Just go and find the dumb book. It has to be among the G's." his finger traced among the book spines. He heard Ron's footsteps distancing themselves from him and that gave him plenty of time to focus his eyes on the book titles. His eyes did not remove themselves from the thick, thin, black, grey, green, blue, wrinkled, ironed, smooth and harsh book covers until he went to the far edge of the bookshelf, bumping his hand into a wall. He slightly moved his hand at it, shaking it and noticing something catching his eyes on the other side of the shelf.

It was only a flicker, a glance, not even a full, long look and he knew.

He stopped and stared through the gap between the shelves.

There you were. Your nose was stuck in a book, your fingers quickly turning the pages as your mouth mumbled something incoherently. If he focused on it, he could hear exactly what you were hearing.

"Come on. Come on. It's not like I haven't analyzed you a hundred times. It has to be Cortazar- except." you closed the book with a thud and stared at the distance, turning back to the bookshelves, letter C. "Except, except, except..." your hand touched the shelf and your eyes scanned every single book from right to left. "Conti?" you pulled out a book and started shuffling through it.

Harry only smiled.

He could remember you from your primary school when he was still going to the Muggle school. The two of you were classmates from year 3 to year 6 before he went to Hogwarts.

You were always nice to him, always found something to talk about but never much a friend. He was a classmate and only a classmate and you were just the same to him, except when you were the only girl who didn't listen to Dudley and actually treated him, Harry, as a normal boy.

You always had good grades. Sometimes with a comment, snarky or smart, either way you reminded him of Hermione.

You've grown up.

He's grown up.

He's an Auror for 2 years already since the whole battle and Voldemort. What are you?

"Oi, Harry! I couldnt' find it but it was worth a try-" Ron came back with a book in his hand, perplexed when he could see Harry panic. "What? What is it?" he tried to pull out a wand and by now you were already looking for the source, finding yourself watching two men waving their hands at each other. One whispering, one speaking quite loudly.