Bzz. Bzz. Bzz.
Harry's bed displayed shards of light that filtered in through the window, showcasing the morning light. Groaning as he stretched, Harry fumbled around his bed before realising that his phone was still in his pocket from the night before. When had he fallen asleep? From how heavy his eyelids were, it didn't feel like that long ago.
Ron: when does harry usally wake up??
Hermione: He has work at nine, so usually his alarm would be set for eight
Unless he forgot to turn it on which is also entirely possible
Because he didn't text last night so he most likely forgot
Ron: yea he didnt text
Wait deos that say hes active
The green dot
Hermione: yes ron that does indeed mean he's active
Ron: harryyyy
Harry: i'm here
Ron: fuckin finally
Lil shit. almost had me worried
You didn't text last night
Harry: yeah sorry i must've fallen asleep
Or got distracted at least
Hermione: do you feel refreshed?
Harry: not really
Hermione: oh
Ron: rip
Rereading the last few messages, Harry looked at the time and then swore.
Harry: gtg get ready
Sniffing his shirt as he stood up, Harry wrinkled his nose and then quickly sifted through his bag before laying his hands on a red shirt and struggling into it as he stumbled into the bathroom, locking the door behind him. Washing his hands a minute later, he was faced with his reflection: hair sticking practically upright, dark circles under his eyes and a line of dried drool running down the left side of his mouth. Swearing, he quickly rubbed it off before running back into his room and finding a jumper.
When Harry walked through the kitchen door, his uncle rolled his eyes and continued to ignore him. "Thank you, dearest," he said as Petunia laid a cup of coffee in front of him.
Feeling out of place, Harry didn't move from the doorway. "I was wondering if I could be dropped off at work."
Vernon didn't look up, just took another sip from his coffee.
Petunia briefly glanced over but then busied herself with scrubbing the kitchen bench.
Stifling a sigh, Harry tried not to feel hurt. This happened nine times out of ten, he wasn't sure why it still stung. "Alright. Well... bye." He didn't lift his head until he closed the front door, out on the front step in the cool air. Looking up, Harry squinted at the grey sky and the clouds forming, wishing he had a scarf. It looked like it might snow soon.
Shoving the notion aside, he rifled through his pocket as he walked to the nearest bus stop, praying that he had remembered to pack his wallet.
--
"You're late," Draco's snide voice called from the back room as soon as Harry rushed in.
"Bold words coming from someone who should be out front serving," Harry retorted as he practically threw his coat onto a bench and tied on his apron, adjusting his glasses as they slipped down his nose. As he turned around, Draco came into the serving area and placed his hands on the counter.
"My apologies, Potter, I had no idea Mr Invisible and his family had come to get a cup of tea." Suppressing a smirk, Draco looked at the blank room in front of him. "Can I take your order, sir?"
"You slimy, sarcastic piece of-" Harry growled. The grey skies filtering in from the window outside accentuated the grey of Draco's eyes and made his already pale skin almost glow. Harry caught himself squinting at the boy, wondering how someone could be so fair and have a face so sharp yet skin looking so soft, especially in this lighting.
Startling Harry, Draco's eyes flicked to the side and just before he began scowling there was something else, but Harry couldn't put his finger on it.
"What are you staring at, Potter?" Draco asked, his voice cold.
"No!" Harry blurted defensively and then regretted it immediately. No? That doesn't make any fucking sense. God dammit. Maybe he didn't pick up on it?
Shaking his head, Draco crossed his arms. "Well, let me know when you've gone back to school to learn English. I'm going to clean the coffee machine before we get any customers. Oh, and, Potter?" turning around, Draco didn't even try to hide his smirk.
Harry couldn't break eye contact and his chest felt weirdly tight. "What?" he said in what he hoped sounded like a disinterested tone.
"Make sure Mr Invisible gets his order. You wouldn't want to keep him waiting."
Clenching his fists, Harry hoped Draco could see his images of Draco being strangled to death. "Fuck you."
All Draco did was raise a singular eyebrow for a fraction of a second before curtly turning around and grabbing a chux cloth.
Glaring at the back of Draco's head, Harry went through his thoughts before deciding on something to say, marching up and roughly pushing past the other boy.
"What the- bull hockey!" he exclaimed and Harry almost forgot what he was going to say.
"Bull hockey?" he repeated dubiously. "The hell is that meant to mean?"
As he mumbled under his breath about having a strict, traditional family, Harry could've sworn the tips of Draco's ears were turning pink.
"What do you want?" Draco ended his mumbling harshly.
Remembering what he was going to say, Harry made sure he had his angry face on. "Why aren't you going to a staff party?"
Rolling his eyes, Draco walked past Harry in the opposite direction. "Why would I go in the first place?"
"Um, because it's a staff party." Following after him with crossed arms, Harry frowned at Draco's unlikeableness. "It's not a all-staff-except-for-Malfoy party."
"You'd like that, wouldn't you?" Draco said, turning on the tap.
"What?" Harry chewed his lip, trying to figure out if he was just insulted or not. "That's not-"
"Customer," Draco interrupted, running a knife under the cool water. Draco liked knives. Even if they were covered in sticky chocolate brownies. He felt cool. And dramatic. "Have fun."
As Harry took the orders of the small family who just walked in, Draco took the bucket of dry cutlery into the back room and began shelving them, mulling over Harry's words. What was he going to say after he was interrupted? Was he going to say that he actually wanted Draco to come? Somehow he was doubtful of that. Well he can't have that little flame of hope spreading lies, so he may as well end this argument right here, right now. Draco is not going to that damn party. And he will make sure Harry knows that.
Speaking of the devil, Harry walked right past Draco into the back room, muttering the order over and over again under his breath.
"Scarface." Draco crossed his arms as Harry over his shoulder at him.
"What?"
"I'm not going to that stupid staff party and that's final. Do you hear me?" Draco smiled inwardly, pleased at his assertion of dominance. Nobody manipulates the Malfoys.
After placing three paper cups onto the bench, Harry spun around and took a few steps towards Draco, stopping just before they came into contact. "You're coming." he said shortly, his eye contact making Draco gulp. "Do you hear me?"
Suddenly feeling very flustered, cornered up against the wall, Draco couldn't bring a scowl to his face. "Fine," he spat, feeling absolute contempt when his voice broke.
Going back to the bench, Harry smirked to himself. "Good. Oh, by the way," he said as he walked past again. "We're thinking of making it halloween themed. Make sure you have your costume ready."
Pulling at his collar, Draco swore. What the fuck just happened?