One word: enjoy.
Not JK Rowling. I don't own Harry Potter or the entire world within. Anything you recognize would belong to her. Anything you don't would belong to me, including the crack!plot of this trifle of a story. I am (obviously) making no money off this though if you really want to sue me, I've got $10.00. Good day.
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A week had come and gone, taking Harry, Ron, Hermione, and the three Weasley children away on a plane and to America. The children and Ron had been fascinated by the airport and Hermione had to scold them repeatedly for saying things very loudly about crazy muggle inventions. Sitting and waiting for their plane had been eventful when Harper asked why airports used words like 'terminal' and 'departed' right before you get on a plane. He felt that it was rather morbid and scared him a great deal about getting on such a large muggle invention without magic to protect him if something were to go awry. Getting Eleanor and Angela worked up with his inquiries, Ron and Hermione separated their children and Haper was told not to speak again until they were on the plane.
If Ron and the children had been fascinated by the hand dryers in the muggle bathrooms, they were amazed at the in-flight movies shown on the plane. Hermione had only ever taken them to see a motion picture once before and they had been amazed then, but showing a movie on a plane was more exciting than any piece of magic could ever be. Both Hermione and Harry found this rather cute.
Arriving in New York went about the same way the airport in London had gone but when they ended up in the city with all the traffic and people, even Harry was finding himself amazed. He had never been to New York City before and though he had heard of what it was like, the tall buildings and arrogant, bold attitudes of the people caught him quite off-guard. Hermione grinned at them and hailed two cabs, giving the driver the name of their Hotel and settled back as they were transported away.
They checked into the hotel two days ago and both Ron and the children were amazed by things like the elevator, television, and automatic doors. The first day was spent adjusting and the second day was spent shopping and visiting the Empire State Building, Hermione's two daughters feeling a little overwhelmed with so many shopping choices in the city. Now on their third day, the children wanted to go to the zoo in Central Park and Ron, Hermione, and Harry were more than willing to oblige.
After the zoo and rides, it was just after three-thirty in the afternoon on a warm May afternoon. Children all around the city were getting out of school and Ron was making sure his children were holding hands with one of their parents for fear of losing them in the crowd.
"Let's go eat there," said Angela, pointing to what looked like a small diner across the street. It looked very quaint and very American so everyone else agreed.
Crossing the streets at a crosswalk in a swarm of people, their small contingent separated from the rest and headed down to the diner. A bell dinged as they walked in and presuming that no one was going to show them to their seats, Harry led them to a booth by the counter.
"Get out 'ere," a man in a business suit called to the back of the restaurant in a very heavy French accent. "You 'ave customers."
Harry was sitting at the end next to Eleanor and Angela, who was next to the wall. On the opposite side of the table, it was Harper by the wall, Hermione in the middle, and Ron immediately across from Harry. Angela passed them menus from the end of the table.
"Oh gods," Harry heard Hermione whisper and she clutched at his wrist to the point where it was painful. Looking up, Harry could see a very familiar looking blond come out from the back. He was wearing jeans and a tight grey sweater, a black apron tied around his waist, and a notepad and pencil in hand.
"You don't have to shout at me, Francois. I was just cleaning up in the back like you told me to."
"I feel so sorry for you. I 'ave been so 'eartless," he replied. "Please do wait while ze tiniest violin plays 'My 'Eart Bleeds For You.'"
"There's no need to be sarcastic and rude." He looked away from the French man named Francios and to Harry's table, stopping with a jerk in his steps. His eyes had gone wide and his already white knuckles were turning even whiter as he clutched the notepad in his hand.
"Do not just stand zer. Go to your customers."
He whispered something that looked like 'I do not believe this' and swaggered over to their table. When he moved again, different than before, everything clicked into place. Standing at their table, he cleared his throat and opened up to a fresh page on the notepad. Harry looked up in the hesitant and avoiding eyes of Draco Malfoy before Draco turned away. From across the table, Hermione was looking pale, almost faint, but Ron was wearing the biggest smirk he had ever seen.
"Can I get you something to drink," mumbled Draco, pencil posed above the pad.
"Malfoy?" Ron spit out. "What are you doing here?"
"Can I get you something to drink," repeated Draco, refusing to break his professional stance.
"Water, please," said Hermione, but Ron would not be abated.
"I can't believe this. A Malfoy working in a diner. Serving. A Malfoy serving other people."
"And you, sir?" said Draco, looking pointedly at Ron.
"Coke," he replied. Draco made a note. He looked to Harry.
"Water," mumbled Harry, resisting the urge to reach out and stoke the smooth, pale skin of his cheek, and Draco simply nodded, making a note and looking to the children.
"I get it," said Ron before Eleanor, Harper, or Angela had a chance to respond. "You're pretending like you don't know us. Fine. Draco," he said very pointedly, over exaggerating reading Draco's name tag.
"And the children?" Draco said, never missing a beat.
"Apple juice," said Angela.
"Same," said Eleanor, both girls looking strangely at their father.
"Milk," said Harper.
"I'll be right back with your drinks and to take you order," said Draco, turning away from their table and practically running behind the counter. He sent the order for the drinks back.
"Zat was very eloquent, Draco," said Francois. "Perhaps you would like to stumble over yourself some more?"
"Shut up," hissed Draco, stealing a glance at their table. Taking a tray from behind the counter, Draco carried their drinks over to them and set them down in front of their respective owners. "Are you ready to order or do you need more time?"
"We're ready, Draco," said Ron, looking to his children who nodded. Ron, Hermione, and Harry had all ordered burgers but the kids had opted for grilled cheese, except for Angela who wanted a hot dog because she thought the name was funny.
As Draco was taking Harper's grilled cheese order, the bell dinged again and Harry turned around to see a young girl enter. She had platinum blonde hair with black streaks in it, and just behind her was a tall, dark-haired man with tan skin and stubble covering his face. Removing his sunglasses, the man stuck them in the pocket of his leather jacket and strutted over to sit next to the girl, who had already thrown her bookbag on top. The man, but not the little girl, was receiving a glare from Francois.
Harry noticed that with the ding of the bell, Draco had also stolen a peek at the door, also glaring at the man. He half-heartedly noted what it was that Harper was saying and headed off to the back without looking at the new customers or his table. Hermione gripped his wrist again and he looked up to see her staring at the man as well.
"Just a few notes," she hissed. "Ron, stop being like that to Malfoy. Harry, are you okay? We brought you here to get away from him and here he is."
"I'm fine," Harry lied.
"You are not. You don't, however, look unhappy."
"I know he's alive now, don't I? No one knew what happened to him. Now we know he's still okay."
"But a waiter?" said Ron. Hermione glared at him and he shut his mouth.
"Now that the essentials are out of the way, do you know who that is?" she hissed, pointing to the man sitting at the counter and drumming on it with his fingers.
"Should we?" said Harry.
"Not exactly, but that's Joel Montgomery. He's the author of that book series about the witches and wizards. Remember, Albus sent them to us and we've been wondering how he knew so much about the wizarding world?"
"That's him?" said Ron and Hermione nodded.
"Must you do zat?" Francois snapped at Joel. Joel grinned.
"No, but I know it annoys you."
"Why do you insist on coming 'ere every day?"
Joel shrugged. "Because you don't like me? Besides, I have a job to do."
"I am sure Cherish is capable of walking 'erself 'ere after school, oui?"
"I am," the girl named Cherish protested, "but Daddy is far too overprotective. Uncle Joel, can't you talk to him?"
Joel laughed. "Yeah, okay. Let's do that. I'm sure he'll listen. Where did he get to, anyway?"
Just as Joel uttered his last statement, Draco came out of the back and walked behind the counter, an uneasy eye on Harry's table.
"Would you please ask your friend to leave my establishment?" Francois snapped at Draco.
"Joel," he said, leaning on the counter and rubbing his temples, "don't you have somewhere to be?"
"Of course. Right here with you. It's Friday, you know?"
"What does that have to do with anything?"
"Friday is your weekly 'you need a life' chat," said Cherish. Draco stared at her. "What?"
"Do your homework," he snapped, now rubbing at his eyes. Cherish shrugged and opened up a textbook.
"Man, what's wrong with you?" said Joel. "You seem even more cranky than you usually are on a Friday afternoon."
"Nothing is wrong. I just need some quiet and your incessant racket is hurting my head."
"Dude, Draco. Relax. I'm only here to bother you with Friday's discussion. What time do you get off?"
"Five. I always get off at five. I've been getting off at five for three years now. I don't know why you even ask anymore."
"Well what if it changed one day?"
"Then I would tell you. Could you please just leave? You're making this harder on me than it already is."
"Making what harder?" Draco glared. "Nevermind. What are you doing tonight?"
"I don't know. Going home. Eating dinner. Watching television. Taking a large dose of sleeping pills."
"Draco," whined Joel, "you need to get out. Sam and I would be happy to watch Cher. She could play with Devin. What happened to the guy that wanted to do something with his life? You've been a waiter for ten years now. You don't talk to anyone but me, Sam, and Gwen anymore. What happened to you?"
"I got burned," replied Draco.
"You can't be scared to get hurt again. Being scared of getting hurt only makes you miss out on all the good stuff you could be doing. Ever since Mel left you're like a fifty year old man. You're too old to party but too young to die."
"Are you suggesting that I die?"
"No, I'm flat out telling you to go out and make nice. Otherwise, you're already dead. You need to go out, Draco. You need to socialize with people again and stop spending all of your time at home claiming that Cherish needs you."
"I'm not going out, Joel. I haven't gone out in a very long time. What makes you think I'm going to tonight?"
"Because you need to make a friend. You need to get laid. Find some woman, hell find some man, and get some. I don't care what you're into. Inanimate objects. Animals. I don't care. Just get yourself some fuzzy handcuffs and get laid. How long has it been since you've had sex?"
"Joel," Draco hissed, "I do not want to discuss this in front of my daughter."
"Daddy, I'm eight, not four," said Cherish. "I know what Francois is really saying when he yells at Uncle Joel in French. I know about sex, penises, vaginas, and the whole gang. I know that you're really unhappy a lot of the time and I know that you need to stop using me as you excuse. On a brighter note, I got an A on my spelling test today."
"Yeah?" asked Draco. She nodded. "Do you know how to spell 'quiet'?" She nodded again. "Then take a hint."
"Daddy, don't be so melodramatic," said Cherish, rolling her eyes.
"See, even your daughter thinks you need to get laid. Seriously. How long has it been? Was it Melody because if it was, I'd even do you just because you need it that badly. However, I'd prefer that you find someone else. I am married with two kids. Affairs break up families."
Draco rolled his eyes, and looked past Joel to see Harry, Ron, and Hermione all staring at them, obviously overhearing the entire conversation. Draco wasn't sure if he wanted to shoot Joel or himself, and he was just about to make a decision when a bell dinged and Draco had to carry the food to Harry's table.
"Oh man, Draco," said Joel, once Draco had served them and came back behind the counter, "if you treat all your customers like that, I can see why you're getting stiffed on tips. You haven't hit anyone lately, have you?"
"Hit anyone?" asked Cherish.
"Yeah. Your dad used to work at this coffee shop when you were really little but he got fired for hitting one of the customers."
"I fucking hate coffee," grumbled Draco. "I hate those mocha latte vanilla frappuccino-"
"We know, Draco," said Joel. "Your dad has a real fiery hate for fancy coffee."
"It comes from years of serving it to stuck up stock brokers."
"I see," said Cherish, arching an eyebrow. "You're very strange, Daddy, but not as strange as Uncle Joel."
"Let us hope that it never gets to that point."
"Now Draco," scolded Joel, "I'm not that bad. You're just sour because its Friday and we're having the weekly 'your sex drive has gone into a coma' conversation."
"No, you're having the conversation and I'm just retaliating."
"What is you problem today?" snapped Joel, throwing his hands up in the air. "I surrender. Come on. I've known you for ten years now. Tell me. Did you hear from Melody?"
Cherish dropped her pencil. "No, I didn't hear from Melody," said Draco as Cherish picked her pencil back up.
"Of course you didn't. Its been eight years, right?"
"Right little ray of sunshine, aren't you?"
"Sorry," mumbled Joel. "You're just off today. I want to know what's up."
Throwing down the rag he had been wiping the counter with, Draco snapped, "There is nothing wrong with me, okay? I'm just having a very bad day and I don't need you coming in here reminding me of everything that's gone wrong in my life."
Joel looked at Draco and then to Cherish. "Cher, honey, maybe you should go take a walk."
"But I'm not allowed to. Daddy thinks I'm going to get mugged or something."
"I pity the man who tries to mug you," whispered Draco. "You can go, babe. Just stay nearby, okay?"
"Okay," she said, wrapping her arms around Draco's neck over the counter to give him a hug and a peck on the cheek. "I love you."
"Love you, too, babe."
Cherish packed up her backpack and left it sitting on the counter as she left the restaurant. Once the door was shut, Joel looked back to Draco. "Seriously, man. What's up? You look like you're about to crack."
"I think I deserve to crack," sputtered Draco. "I've had a very bad ten years and today doesn't look like its going to make my life any better."
"Shit, Draco, what happened today?" he asked but Draco just shook his head and wiped at his burning eyes.
"Draco," said Francois, coming out of the back, "you need to go finish cleaning up. It is a pig sty back zer."
Rolling his eyes, Draco muttered a few unkind words and disappeared through the door.
Harry picked at his cheeseburger, saying nothing. The children were engaged in conversation but the three adults stared at each other, daring who would speak first. Neither Harry nor Hermione was surprised when it was Ron.
"Malfoy has a daughter," he said. "And he seems to know Joel Montgomery. I bet that's where he got all his information about wizards and witches. From Malfoy."
"He doesn't seem very happy, either," said Hermione, softly. Harry continued to pick at his food. Hermione prodded Ron in the side. "Move." Ron stared at her. "I want you to switch seats with me."
Sliding out of the booth, Ron let Hermione get up before he sat back down and slid in next to Harper. Hermione, however, walked right over to the counter and took the seat Cherish had been in next to Joel Montgomery.
"I'm sorry," she said, "but I couldn't help but notice you. You're Joel Montgomery, aren't you? Author of the Morgan Straker books?"
Joel nodded. "That's me. Are you a fan?"
"Actually I am," she replied. "I was wondering if you'd like to join us at our table."
Taking one look at the door Draco had disappeared through, Joel seemed to consider this offer and nodded. Standing up, he followed Hermione to the large booth closest to the counter and Hermione sat back down next to Ron. She motioned for him to take a seat next to Harry and she noticed that Harry was shifting uncomfortably. While she was gone, Harper, Angela, and Eleanor had moved to their own table behind them and were now coloring their placemats.
"I take it you're British," said Joel as he sat down. Hermione blushed and nodded. "What brings you to New York?"
"We're on a holiday. We wanted to take a trip to somewhere the children had never been," she said, motioning to the three Weasley children in the booth behind them.
"So you know Draco?" said Ron before Hermione could say anything else.
"Yeah," answered Joel, eyes narrowing. "Why? Do you?"
"We went to school with him," said Hermione. "It was quite a shock to see him working here."
"Oh," he said, looking at the staff door. "I take it that you probably didn't get along."
"Why would you say that?" said Harry, still picking at his uneaten burger.
"Because Draco is in one of the foulest moods I've ever seen him in. Friday afternoons are always bad for him but this is especially bad. I'm glad I know, though. Its starting to make sense. Sort of."
"We did get along for a short period in our last year but we fell out of touch when we graduated," explained Hermione before Ron could screw this up.
"I guess so if you didn't know he lived in New York. Moved here a few months after his graduation. He doesn't talk about his past much. I think it hurts him to think about everything not that New York's treated him much better." Joel shrugged. "From what I know, he hasn't been in touch with anyone who lived in England so don't be offended."
"We'll keep that in mind," said Hermione.
"So you never told me. What are your names?"
"Oh!" cried Hermione. "How rude of us. I'm Hermione Weasley, and this is my husband Ron. That's our friend, Harry Potter."
Joel thought for sure his eyes popped out of his sockets, turning to really look at Harry for the first time since sitting down. He knew that Draco's mysterious ex was named Harry Potter, and now that the name clicked, he did look an awful lot like Draco had described him. There was the black hair, the green eyes, and the lightening bolt shaped scar on his forehead. Nothing, indeed. If this is what Draco called nothing, Joel wanted to know what Draco called something. Before he had a chance to say anything else, the bell rang and Joel looked up to see Samantha come in.
"I thought you'd be here," she said walking over to him.
"Hey, Sam," he said, standing up just long enough to give her a quick peck on the lips. Turning to Ron, Harry, and Hermione, he said, "This is my wife, Samantha."
"Hi," they chorused and Hermione said, "Please sit down."
Taking a seat next to Hermione, Samantha said, "So who are your friends, Joel?"
"Well, this is Hermione. She came over and asked me to join them. She's a fan."
"How nice," she mused, shaking Hermione's hand.
"Oddly enough, these three went to school with Draco. Didn't even know he lived in New York. They were pretty surprised to have him as their waiter."
"You went to school with Draco?" They nodded. "Well who would've thunk."
"And that's not all. This is Hermione's husband, Ron, and their friend, Harry Potter."
"No!" said Samantha as Draco emerged from the back and looked like he was going to pass out upon seeing Joel and Samantha sitting with the Gryffindor trio.
Rubbing his temples, Draco walked over to their table and began clearing the plates. Once he came back, his professional front was up again. "Is there anything else I can get for you?"
"Dessert would be good, Malfoy," said Ron. "Hey kids! You want dessert?"
They looked to Hermione who normally did not allow them to have desserts. She nodded. "Maybe just this once."
Suddenly the children were frantic and Draco was taking the orders, avoiding Samantha and Joel's eyes upon him. Francois strutted up next to him and glared down at Joel.
"What are you still doing 'ere? Get out!"
"I'm a paying customer," said Joel, hurrying to pull out a five dollar bill and waving it in his face. "See. Draco, I want a chocolate sundae. They're under five dollars, right?"
"Yeah," he replied, rolling his eyes as he marked it down and walked away to put in the order.
"Oh. Five dollars. I'm rolling in ze dough, now."
"You are a very unhappy little French man," said Joel. "You need to make friends. Maybe you and Draco could go out sometime and look for friends."
"Ze day I go out to look for friends is ze day Draco gets laid," said Francois.
"I heard that," called Draco from behind the counter.
"Well I said it loud," replied Francois, heading for the staff door again.
Draco returned to the table, ignoring Ron snickering next to Hermione. "Can't you just go home? And when did you get here?"
"Are you okay?" asked Samantha, looking up at him. "Good God, Joel, what did you do to him?"
"I didn't do anything," he said, holding up his hands.
Draco wiped his face. "What are you doing over here, Joel?"
"Having a chat with your old schoolmates. Hermione, Ron, and Harry are very nice."
Paling, Draco looked down at a grinning Joel. "You hate me, don't you?"
"On the contrary, I'm very fond of you."
"You leave him alone, Joel Montgomery," said Samantha, swatting his wrist. "We should be going."
"I want my ice cream first. Hermione, Ron, Harry, how would you like to come by my apartment when we finish dessert. I'm sure out kids could play together and we can finish this conversation without Draco hovering over us then."
"Sure," said Ron and both men received glares from their wives.
Shaking his head, Draco headed back to the counter before returning with the ice cream. As he left the table, heading for the staff door, Samantha caught his arm and spun Draco around. "Joel isn't doing this to you to torture you. He's trying to help you."
Draco nodded. "I know."
"You want to come over tonight since we're apparently already entertaining guests? Bring Cherish."
"I don't know, Sam-"
"We live across the hall from each other," she said. "If you don't come over, Joel will bring him to you." Draco didn't answer. "Is that really him?" she finally said, softly.
"Who?"
"The ever popular Harry that you're so in love with." Draco sighed, nodding.
"Yeah. That's him."
"He's cute."
"I know."
Samantha paused, looking from Draco back to the table. She saw Harry staring in their direction, eyes glazed over, and she figured that he was staring at Draco. A small smile came over her face.
"Come by tonight. Don't let this opportunity pass you by, and I don't want to hear any excuses about having to take care of Cherish. There are countless diners in New York City and you're ex-boyfriend that you're still madly in love with and happens to be from an entirely different country saunters into yours. Of all the places he could have eaten, he ended up where you work. That isn't just a coincidence, Draco."
Draco bit his lip and shook his head. "I'm sorry, Sam, but I just can't. I've been burned too many times. I hurt him too badly. I just can't."
Turning away from Samantha, Draco headed in the opposite direction and disappeared behind the bright teal door labeled 'STAFF'.
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