AU! EWE

WRITTEN FOR QLFC, RESERVE LEAGUE

SEASON 7, ROUND 8

Captain: Ten of Cups: Upright - inner happiness, fulfilment, dreams coming true.

WC: 1025

Harry beamed as he gazed up at the shop's sign. The words 'Potter's Patisserie' were written in big, bold, black letters, the letter 'P' shaped like a lightning bolt. Pride filled Harry's chest as he gazed upon his new shop.

A hand clapped him on his back, and Harry almost tumbled forward. Ron laughed heartily and dragged him back up. "This is great, Harry! I can't wait to try out your cakes! Or the pastries. Or anything, really."

Harry grinned and pushed his glasses up from the bridge of his nose. He glanced at Ron. "Do you think I'll sell anything? Honestly, I'm a bit worried."

Ron stared at him like he'd thought Harry had lost his mind. "Mate, everyone wants to taste your desserts. You're going to be sold-out on the first day."

Harry's face warmed, and he ducked his head. "You really think so, mate?"

"I know so," Ron said, rolling his eyes and smacking Harry's head. "I'm going to buy at least three of everything. Then, we've got the rest of my family, Hermione and her parents, then the Lovegoods, Neville and his grandmother, Seamus and his family, Dean and his, Oliver and the rest of Puddlemere, the Cannons, and the other useless Quidditch teams…"

Harry's shoulders trembled with laughter, and he nodded. "Okay, yes, I get it. Everyone wants a piece of this."

"Kinky," Ron teased, winking at Harry, who laughed even harder. Ron grinned and said, "Still, Harry...don't worry. Everything will go as smoothly as possible. Mione's managing your business, mate. And we both know how scary she is."

Both men shivered at the thought of their brunette best friend. Harry looked up at his pride and joy, his lips turning up in a small smile once again.

It had always been his dream to own a bakery where he could bake and sell all sorts of delicious desserts. Even when he had gone off to Hogwarts and fought in the war against Voldemort, his dream hadn't changed. People had expected him to join the Aurors, but Harry had had enough of doing what other people wanted.

It was time to do what he had always wanted to do: own a simple bakery where he could bake to his heart's desire.

Harry was finishing touching up the frosting on his cupcakes when he heard the familiar drawl from the other side of the counter.

"Give me a slice of that red velvet cake, Potter."

Harry glanced over his shoulder at the tall man leaning against the counter, his platinum-blond hair arranged to perfection and his expensive black robes unwrinkled. Harry felt like a mess dressed in his dirty apron and ratty trousers.

Harry's bakery was a success. Well, mostly. Everyone loved his baked goods...except for one annoying customer. Every time Draco Malfoy came to the bakery, Harry knew the Slytherin would complain about something or the other.

Last week, Malfoy had taken a bite of the crumble, scowled at Harry, and snapped, "Merlin, Potter! Crumbles are one of the most perfect desserts, and you don't even remember to put raisins in them? Were you raised by werewolves?"

The week before that, Malfoy had loudly complained about the bakery not selling gingerbread cookies. When Harry had pointed out that it wasn't Christmas, Malfoy had whined, "I don't care that it's July and not Christmas! Don't the Muggles say customers are always right? I'm a customer! I want gingerbread cookies, Potter, and you're going to make them for me."

Harry had rolled his eyes and got to work, amused by how petulant Malfoy could be when it came to desserts. It was strangely cute.

Now, Harry thought, 'Damn, Malfoy looks good enough to eat! No, bad, Harry!'

He licked his lips before asking, "Weren't you complaining about the red velvet cake just yesterday, Malfoy?"

"That's because I figured even you weren't dumb enough not to take my advice about adding cream cheese to the topping," Malfoy stated, rolling his eyes. "Or was I wrong? You did add the cream cheese this time, right? And what about the colour? Did you add the proper amount of red food colouring? Even a house-elf knows how to do that simple task!"

"Yes, I've added the right amount of food colouring, Malfoy. And just because you couldn't taste the cream cheese yesterday doesn't mean that I hadn't added it. I'm a professional baker," Harry said, scoffing as he placed the cupcakes in the showcase.

"Is this how you treat all your customers? Merlin, Potter! No wonder no one comes here," Malfoy drawled, popping up his collar even higher.

Harry made a point of slowly looking around his packed bakery and then, he turned to Malfoy. "You need to get your eyes checked, Malfoy."

"And you need to give me the red velvet cake, or else I'll have to officially complain a bit more about your terrible time management skills. It's not very professional, you know."

Harry rolled his eyes and walked over to pick up a slice for Malfoy. He still didn't understand why Malfoy always ended up in his bakery every other day if he hated Harry's desserts so much. Must be a masochist.

Harry placed the slice on a white plate and handed it to Malfoy. "Enjoy," he said sarcastically.

"I want to say I will, but we both know your baking skills are subpar. I'm sure this will be just like the petit gateau I bought a few days ago. It just didn't melt like it was supposed to."

"Did you take lessons from Snape on how to talk to people?" Harry teased, snickering when Malfoy's nose scrunched up in distaste. "Oh, so it comes naturally to you, huh?"

"Shut up, Potter. I'm a customer, so treat me with respect," Draco said, his nose up in the air.

"You wish," Harry taunted, his grin stretching further on his face.

"Potter, you don't know what I wish for," Malfoy said with a straight face before turning around and walking off to his usual lonely, empty table in the corner.

What did he even mean by that? Harry was determined to find out.