Book 3: The Prisoner of Azkaban - A Hermione x Male Reader Story

Lost and Found

It was already approaching Noon, (Y/N) was afraid he'd actually miss seeing Hermione. Harry and Ron as well, but he was more interested in seeing Hermione. He hadn't gotten any of his books yet, which wasn't that big of a deal, but it would cause unnecessary distractions in the event they all already had their stuff. He could've made time to get his stuff sooner. He should've made the time. After putting a damper on his own mood, he sulkily walked around Diagon Alley, going into Madam Malkin's first to get his new robes, which took fifteen damn minutes. He then went and got his books from Flourish and Blotts, and when the owner asked him if he needed the book listed under Care of Magical Creatures, (Y/N) said he'd get it himself. After demonstrating to the shop owner that all you had to do was stroke the spine, it turned the book completely docile. He did put a binding charm on it, just in case.

He came across some wanted posters of a man named Sirius Black. (Y/N) wondered why anyone would name their child Sirius was completely beyond him.

He continued looking around, but to his dismay, he hadn't seen a familiar head of red hair, brown bushy hair, or untamed black hair. He mentally berated himself for not making time. He wouldn't see Hermione until he got to King's Cross, which he wasn't sure if her parents would still give him a ride or not. He couldn't Apparate, yet, and any other form of magical transportation was out of the question. As he passed the Quidditch Shop, his eye caught a broom that he'd forgotten about because of Quidditch being canceled for the second half of the school year, "The Firebolt..." he made up his mind immediately. He had the money on hand to buy the broom right then. He walked into the shop with money, and walked out of the shop with a new broom. He would keep his Nimbus Two-Thousand at Hogwarts for future years, just in case he couldn't use the Firebolt. He was not going to use the School's broomsticks, that was asking for losing a match. He put his Firebolt in his pouch he got from the Tower when no one was looking, this way it was kept secret in the event he had to play in Harry's stead.

He now had no money on him, but that was fine for the moment as he had all of his stuff, and it wasn't like he'd be going to Hogsmeade anyway with no one to sign the form, so what the fuck was the point of having spending money with no way to spend it? Then again, he might want something from the Trolley on the Express, so he did go and withdraw a hundred Galleons.

He scoffed at his idiotic situation and began walking with heavy footsteps back to Gringotts, still on the search for his best friend. He was slowly losing hope on seeing her today. He didn't normally have to wait two whole months to see her, and he had no platonic interaction those two months, he felt like he was going mad.

On his way back into Diagon Alley from the bank, he was almost blindsided by some new looking soon-to-be First Years, the likes of which were running from their friends in a game of tag, possibly Wizards Tag, (Y/N) didn't know if that was a thing. The point was, they almost knocked him over. He felt a quick flash of anger. Nothing came about it, he'd have been angry no matter how old the person or people who almost knocked him over was, "Damn kids..." he was only two years older than them, but with all the growing up he had to do since the night that changed his life forever, he felt physiologically older, even though that was impossible.

It was nearing one o'clock in the afternoon by this point and he resigned to just sit at Florean Fortescue's. He didn't even order any ice-cream, he was mainly just tired of walking, "Ya gonna buy somethin'?" Florean asked him.

"I'll be gone in a minute, just needed to rest my feet..." he responded dejectedly.

He honestly didn't know why this was affecting his psyche so much. He leaned forward and ran his hands through his hair, staring down at the table his elbows currently rested on.

He stood up, feeling suddenly drained mentally and physically. The whole summer of researching the Tower and its magical barriers that surrounded it, and the lack of moving very far or very much at all was causing him to be more tired than usual. He wouldn't let his physical state become this ever again.