"Welcome to Birkenstocks à la Malfoy, or B.A.M! How may I assist you today?"
The man who walked in was a fashion taboo – bottle cap glasses, unkempt hair, and an old flannel shirt. "Oh dear," Lucius added in a humorless voice, lip curling.
"Great shoes," the man greeted, eyeing the racks of beautiful Birkenstocks along the walls. Lucius was proud of his collection, but he could not claim the same about his errant customers. Too often, they were creatures of familiarity – not vogue, as one would assume.
"I'm afraid I must ask you to refrain from touching," Lucius interjected before the man could venture any further. "These are the most beautiful shoes in the world – a new level for Birkenstocks – premium leather and minimal buckles."
"I can't... touch one?" An ungloved, unwashed hand hovered above the display, making Lucius cringe.
"Absolutely not," he cried out, stepping forward to protect divinity. "These shoes are the next level . Have you no propriety?"
"Let me just – "
A devilish hand slipped past him, plucking the model off its display. Lucius tried to snatch it back, but it was too late. He watched in horror as the latest Birkenstock model (premium black leather, minimal buckles, perfect soles) was crammed onto a bared, sweaty Hobbit foot.
"Ah! This is so good," the naff customer murmured. As Lucius watched the cockwomble ogle and tarnish the Birkenstock, his soul shriveled and died.
Divorcing Narcissa, losing the Manor, remaining silent as Draco married that Greengrass sycophant – none of it had prepared him for this agony.
The Birkenstocks on his own feet remained pristine. Lucius wondered how long he had before everything beautiful was taken away from him.
Without ceremony, the sullied shoe was shoved into Lucius' trembling hands. "Not my size," the sadist explained. "Got a 10?"
A hoarse whimper escaped Lucius' throat.
"I'm not certain what happened," Harry said, holding a pack of ice against his forehead. "I only came in to buy some shoes, whatever they're called – Bibblystocks? So there I was – "
"Stick to the facts, boy," the police officer snapped.
"I am!" Harry groused. "I picked up a shoe and this bloke went mad. I tried to calm him down, but he attacked me."
"Is this when he used his cane to scratch a 'B' into your forehead?" The officer asked.
Harry lifted his fringe to show the jagged cut. "It's assault, Officer Snape!"
"What you did to that Birkenstock could be considered assault as well," Snape interjected. He sneered at Harry's off-brand sandals. "Lucky for you indeed, that Lucius Malfoy is a civilised man."
"What?" Harry sputtered.
"Research a continent before you travel, Potter. The French love Birkenstocks. We would never deign to entertain another shoe brand. Now, hands behind you."
A cold set of handcuffs tightened around Harry's wrists. In a steely tone, Officer Snape recited his rights to him.
"You must be joking," Harry protested as firm hands pushed him inside the police car.
AN: The fanfiction is dedicated to my editor, who entertains my 4am "what if" ramblings and never fails to laugh at (or edit) them. While neither of us are fond of Birkenstocks, it was a fun drabble! I also dedicate this to an email I received from Birkenstocks by mistake, advertising their 2018 models.
This is being classified as HarryLu because, if I ever continued it, that would be the pairing. I also humbly submit this to the HarryLu archives.