Chapter 1

Harry left school in a hurry. He was sure Ron and Hermione understood when he didn't turn up to say goodbye after school because he feared if he came in late he'd leave a bad impression on his first day at work, and that wasn't exactly what he wanted to happen. He had been talking about this job for weeks now, and Harry couldn't be happier when Mr. Hagrid, the café manager, called him yesterday to say that he got the job. Finally he would have a few more hours away from that bloody house, and he wouldn't have to put up with Aunt Petunia's shrill voice every time she told him to do house chores. It wasn't his favorite thing to do in the world, especially when Uncle Vernon was around because he always complained about Harry's hair, how it looked like a bird's nest and how badly it needed to be cut, shaved even. Harry liked the way it looked on his head because it covered that ugly lightning shaped scar on his forehead which was another reason that Dudley made fun of him when they were younger. Now Dudley cared less about how Harry looked like and did more of physical blows than verbal ones. Not that he wasn't already Dudley's punching bag when they were twelve. That good-for-nothing cousin of him beat the shit out of him every time Harry called him a 'pig' or anything close. He didn't look like it but Harry was a fast runner so whenever he tried to fight back Dudley he just ran, and his obese cousin would run out of breath trying to catch him and give up in the end.

"Harry, you seriously need to move out of that house. Why wouldn't they let you?" Hermione frowned as she stuck a fork in a piece of meat at lunch that day. Ron munched on his corn beef sandwich that he swore he hated, but Mrs. Weasley kept making him. Harry asked once if Ron had already told his mum that, but he shook his head saying he would just scold her.

"I am going to move out once I have the money to rent my own flat." Said Harry. "And as for why they wouldn't let me I don't know. In my opinion, life would be easier if we aren't all living under the same roof."

Today he sat somewhere in the middle of a bus on his way to work. The café was twenty minutes away from school, and it's already 2:43. He exactly has seventeen minutes from starting his job as a barista, and he's quite ecstatic about it. Harry always wanted to work at a café because he loved the smell of coffee, and it reminded him of mornings even if his wasn't so pleasant all the time.

"Ya got it all, Harry? Luna is here to help out if ya need somethin,' right Luna?" Mr. Hagrid beamed at the two of them. He was a beefy man with a bushy beard and size twice as a normal man, and heavens he's even bigger than Uncle Vernon. In contrast to his uncle, Harry didn't find Mr. Hagrid intimidating. He's nice and warm, and Harry thought he could switch the café manager for Uncle Vernon to be his relative. It wasn't the first time they met but Harry found himself in surprise whenever he looked at him because Mr. Hagrid could easily squish him with his fist and he'd be crushed to death. He was exaggerating, Harry thought and shook off the idea of dying at the tender age of eighteen inside a café on his first day at work.

"Merlin's beard, I've got a wild imagination." Harry muttered under his breath.

Mr. Hagrid's eyebrows rose. "M'sorry?"

"Nothing, I…thank you, Mr. Hagrid." Harry smiled. He just finished orienting Harry of how things work around the café. It took about thirty minutes for Harry to familiarize himself with all the buttons and keys in the cash register, the menu, and the place itself. There weren't a lot of people today as Hagrid was saying, and most of the time the place was jammed-pack. Right now Harry could see a group of students cozied up in a space at the left side and a couple of giggling women seated on one of the couches. He could see the different angles of the café on the monitor in front of him, and figured there were four hidden cameras in the shop.

"Nah, drop the 'mister.' Mah whole name's Rubeus Hagrid, but yah can call meh 'Hagrid'or 'Rubeus'…" He trailed off and looked into the distance like he was trying to ponder for a moment. "I prefer 'Hagrid,' actually. Just call meh 'Hagrid.'"

Harry nodded. "Okay, Hagrid." A crooked smile crept out of his lips. Luna bobbed her head gently to the left as she examined his face and noticed how oddly beautiful Harry's eyes looked behind those crooked eyeglasses. Always been this way, Luna has. Observant, her father described her.

"I think yah can handle it now. Luna," Hagrid turned to her and jerked his head to Harry's direction. "Help him out, 'kay?"

"Okay," The girl called Luna spoke, and Harry heard a voice as soft as whisper escape her lips.

A lady customer who wore a gray trench coat and black heels approached the counter, and Luna signaled him to entertain the woman. Harry could only hope he'd do well at this.

As the door opened came the sound of tinkling wind chime, and Harry looked up to see who it was. The lady just left with a regular sized cappuccino, and Harry was expecting another customer and make their order. Luna was making the beverages while he operated the cash register.

A tall man of about five feet nine inches entered, and the first thing Harry noticed was his sleek blond hair and cold gray eyes. He had haughty good looks and sophisticatedly dressed in black long sleeves and trousers. Harry's face filled with shock. It was Draco Malfoy who just walked in, and Harry had no intentions of treating him kindly only if that arrogant git started a fight.

He was coming close, Harry said to himself, dropping his gaze to the boy whom he felt nothing but hatred. He was sure Draco Malfoy felt just the same as evidenced by his relentless teasing since fifth grade. He wondered why Malfoy hated him so much, but no matter how much he racked his brain to come up with an acceptable conclusion nothing came out. If there was someone he disliked more than Dudley, it was this miserable, stupid bastard who just walked in.

Draco's eyes flicked to the direction of the boy standing at the counter, and his heart skipped a beat. He recognized the familiar chaotic jet-black hair and crooked glasses and the slender figure that stood a meter away from him, and realized how unfitting he belonged to the scene that moment. Or rather Potter. Either way, it was wrong for the two of them to meet here, of all places. As soon as Draco acknowledge that fact, he wanted to spin around and step out of this bloody place. But a question remained in his head: Why, of all people, was Potter here?

Their eyes met for a second. That brief moment was enough to send his heart racing, and after all these years of non-stop effort to deny the truth that always presented itself, why was it hard to quit obsessing about Harry Potter?

His parents always told him that someday, he was to produce a male heir for the Malfoy family. In order to do that he had to wed a woman from a respectable family, and pass on to his future children the traditions of the family. But at the young age of eleven he knew his fate might deviate a little from the ordinary male Malfoy. Lucius Malfoy was a cold, unforgiving man, and sometimes he looked as if he felt nothing towards his only child that was Draco. Sometimes he remembered how it felt against his skin, the whip Lucius used to punish Draco for crying at school. He could still remember that day when he tried not to weep for being hit, but his father's screams remained too loud inside his head.

A surge of irritation boiled down Draco's veins as soon as he realized he was taking a trip down memory lane. Right now wasn't the time for that, and he had work to do for goodness' sake. First day in a café and he was going to tear up like a baby. For quite some time now he had come to terms with himself. He liked men, end of story. But this, this was a different story. We were talking about Potter here, and fuck, he was good looking. In an effort to stay calm and collected, Draco put on a smug face Potter himself had familiarized with over the years. This was how he masked his true feelings; he had to be the arsehole Harry Potter had known for seven years.

"Of all people," Draco began. His stomach twisted in a knot after spewing out three words, three fucking words, and he didn't know how to finish a sentence. Harry looked up to him and right then and there he saw that kissable frown lingering on Potter's face. "Of all people," Draco repeated, "it just has to be you, Potter."

Harry's eyebrows furrowed. Now Draco was getting on Harry's nerves, and he couldn't be more than proud that he was able to make him feel infuriated. Draco recognized Potter's anger when he witnessed his hands curl up to a fist.

Provoked, Harry wanted to beat the shit out of Malfoy once and for all, but today he must calm down. He was at work and he couldn't afford losing his job on the first day. Now that would humiliating.

"Ever care to change clothes? You've been wearing that for a week now." Draco jeered at him. Honestly, he hadn't seen Harry this week at school change that damn ugly shirt. Every day for seven years he went to school in those baggy clothes that didn't fit him. Now Draco wondered if this week Harry ever went home at all, if he ran away just like he did. He knew Harry was an orphan, and the poor boy lived with his uncle and aunt.

"Fuck off, Malfoy." Harry snapped. "Stop ogling me and stare at the menu instead so I can take your order."

Draco lips curled. "Where is the manager?"

"Why on earth are you looking for the manager?" Harry scowled at him. Malfoy must be so full of himself to make an order to the manager, not to him. This pissed Harry even more.

"I said, 'where is the manager?' Are you deaf or just plain stupid?"

That's it. Harry lost his temper. He grabbed Draco's shirt by the collar and spoke to him with gritted teeth. "If you're asking for a fight, Malfoy, let's do it outside."

"Blimey, 'Arry! Drop him!"

Hagrid came rushing to the scene and held Harry down. "Everyone's lookin'!"

Harry wretched his eyes from Draco to the people inside the café. He was starting to feel embarrassed for his indecent behavior. "Sorry. That won't happen again." Harry's eyes dropped to the floor.

"That bettah be true 'cause Darren here is goin' to—"

"Draco," Malfoy corrected him. He hated it when people called him 'Darren' or 'David' because who the fuck forgets a five-letter name? He was aware his name's uncommon but fuck, wasn't it supposed to be easy to remember because it was unusual?

"Draco, 'right. Draco here is goin' to work as a barista too, so ya'll better get a long or ya both get sacked." Hagrid finished with a sigh.

"What?" Harry said sharply. No, no, no. There must be some mistake. Why the hell would a rich kid want to work at café? He didn't need to. He's got loads of money to spend. Why on earth would Draco sodding Malfoy would want to work his ass off?

"Here's ya apron, son." Hagrid tossed Malfoy a mass of green cloth which Malfoy caught mid-air. He smirked at Harry and proceeded to the work station behind him with Luna. He tied the back of the apron in a knot and washed a few dishes while Harry stood there with his mouth agape.

How come he just showed up here like he owned the place? No, scratch that. How did Draco Malfoy manage to walk in and wash dishes as if it's…normal? In a café? Today? How come he didn't need orientation when forty minutes ago he was in one?

Luna walked up to Harry. "He was about to work yesterday but there's an emergency, or so he said, and Hagrid decided to let Draco start today. You must be wondering why he just did that. Wash the dishes I mean."

Harry glanced at Luna and blinked. How she read his mind he had no idea, but Luna's striking him as a weird kind of person. The good kind of weird.

Luna nudged him on the side when a customer drew near the counter. So Malfoy was here yesterday? But still that didn't explain why he worked here.

"Tch," Harry frowned as soon as the customer walked away.

Ron and Hermione are going to hear about this tomorrow, Harry thought.