Harry Potter x Reader Oneshots - All Generations

Harry Potter x Reader - Part 1

Pennies littered the streets. Grandmother had used to say that they held memories within their faded faces and metallic feeling. That as you ran your hand along the copper surface you ran your hand against the palms of everyone who had ever touched that penny. Every hand, young and old. Hands that may never be felt again except in spirit, the small piece of them that still lived in that penny. 

There were hundreds of pennies on the cobblestone sidewalks. Enough to amass a fortune. Enough to account for every soul you had lost in the past year. You didn't dare touch any of them, full well knowing that if you did you might feel one of those souls. 

There was one hand above all that you never wanted to touch again. And another you would do anything to feel again. The two clashed within your mind as you looked down at the pennies at your feet. 

No one moved to reach for the pennies. No one even seemed to know them. Maybe, like you, they knew what horrid memories were hidden in pennies. Maybe they were just non-magic folk who saw no significance in the pennies underneath their leather shoes. You hadn't met or even seen a single wizard since you moved out of England. You told yourself you wanted it that way. After all it was the reason you chose this place to live. Wizards avoided Seattle like the plague. The dark magic that was laced in the history of that town at the Puget Sound on its coast were more than any wizard would risk. Eventually it brought bad luck to any magical being there. 

But in that moment, leaning against the brick coffee house and staring down at the pennies that tempted you with their hardened stares, you started to regret that decision. It was an impulse, but you had quickly learned to trust your instinct. So you left London in a hurry, without a word left behind. Your house was picked clean as if you hadn't existed at all. You couldn't imagine who would bother searching for you after the war, but the thought hadn't occurred to you until after you were already on a one-way train ride to the coast. 

The city was never quiet, but it never felt the same as England. You couldn't close your eyes and fool yourself into thinking for a moment you were back in Diagon Alley, searching for supplies for the next school year. Those days were long past. 

These days were filled with endless white noise that was never soothing, pints of beer that were never strong enough, and a new-found addiction to cigarettes. 

Eventually you became bored with looking at the pennies, and before your memories could come creeping to the front of your mind you went inside the coffee house, receiving a friendly wave from the barista. You tried to return it. 

"Hey William," You said as you passed. You sat down far in the back. The table was always empty because there were no windows near it and it was right next to the bathrooms. 

"What's got you all nervous?" William asked as he brought a cup of tea. You couldn't stand coffee, and you blamed your time in England for getting you hooked on tea.

"Just one of those days," You said passively.

"Withdrawals? I know you've been trying to quit those nasty cigarettes."

You pursed your lips and pulled out an open pack from your pocket. "That reminds me," You said with a chuckle and lit another cigarette. 

His face turned in disgust. "Put that thing out (Y/N) please."

"Oh c'mon William!" You protested as smoke poured from your mouth. "This is the only coffee place that'll let me smoke."

He rolled his eyes. "You don't even drink coffee."

"But you make some damn fine tea."

"Yeah yeah," He waved passively as he headed away from the table and back to the counter. "Flattery gets you nowhere in life (Y/N)."

You hummed quietly to yourself as you looked at the wall as though looking out a window that wasn't there. 

"You're going to give yourself lung cancer with those," You heard a voice behind you.

You instantly froze up. The hairs on the back of your neck on end. The puff of smoke from your cigarette stood still inside your mouth. You were too afraid to breathe. You were too afraid to even stand up in your chair and run away, something you wanted to do desperately. 

The puff of smoke trailed out of your mouth menacingly as you whispered. "Get out."

"Now would I do that?" He asked as he slid into the chair across from you. You couldn't tear your eyes away from his nostalgic smile. "It's good to see you again (Y/N)."

Your only response was another puff of smoke. It floated right into his eyes and he coughed, waving the gray wisps away. 

"You do know that each of those things takes off ten minutes of your life?" He looked at you incredulously.

"Don't you think we've lived long enough Harry?"

He seemed to jump back at the sound of his name in your mouth. It had once sounded so sweet but was now laced with smoke and distaste. 

"Is that why you moved here? To escape your life?"

"This is my life, Harry. Seattle is my home now."

He sighed. "It's not a bad looking place I guess."

"It's not the looks that worry you."

"And it's not the cigarettes that are killing you is it?"

You stiffened up. "You always did know how to turn a conversation around." You let out a forced laugh. 

"You always did know how to avoid answering a question."

"Is that why you're here? To get answers."

"I'm here for you, (Y/N)." He reached his hand out, and you reacted just slow enough that you felt his hand on yours. 

He flinched away when he saw you pulled back. You closed your eyes and exhaled deeply, trying to get control of your breathing again. This was why you didn't touch pennies. If you felt his hand for even a moment you wouldn't want to let go again.

"You shouldn't be here Harry," You whispered. You refused to make eye contact, staring at your tea. It had gone cold. 

"Why not?"

"This city is littered with pennies." Your voice was low and barely audible against the noise of the coffee house. You had almost forgotten there were other people in the building. It had only been you and Harry sitting at that table for what had felt like forever, but now that spell was broken.

"What'd you say?" He leaned forward, his eyes desperate and eager.

In that moment you were trapped. Your instinct to run was stronger than the memories of your love for him. You had pushed those memories deep down because along with them came things you never wanted to remember.

You used magic for the first time since the war. You used magic for the first time since you threw your wand into the ocean and ran to the other side of the world.

You apparated out of the coffee house, and luckily for you, no muggles saw. Only Harry, his mouth agape and glasses askew, saw your body contort and disappear into thin air. His eyes filled with tears. It was the first time he'd seen or spoken to you in years, and now all that was left of your encounter was a cold cup of tea and a dying cigarette. 

(A/N This oneshot was by no means meant to promote smoking or cigarettes. They're horrible things that eventually kill you. Also, part 2 coming soon.)