So, a friend of mine is doing a two-week writing challenge with me. No idea how many of them will be fanfiction and how many will be original, but you're welcome to the nonsense that generates. Today's prompt is: Your character chooses to get a shot of Luck in their regular morning coffee. Tell the story of where they get this coffee and why they chose today.

Disclaimer: I know very little about drinking coffee (I prefer hot chocolate or tea), and nothing at all about drinking coffee in England, or coffee shops in England, so if this is far off base, my apologies.


Of course the Dursleys disapproved of magic, everyone related to them knew that. And most of Harry's acquaintances allowed for them being Muggles, and thought no more of it.

But there was one good-hearted woman (with ever-changing hair and nose and…whole appearance, really) who thought that, perhaps, the Dursleys just hadn't seen enough of magic to fully appreciate. Oh, they'd seen even to terrify them—she'd heard about Dudley's pig tail and long tongue both, and laughed till she cried at those stories—but they hadn't really seen how wonderful it could be.

She thought, off and on, during the dragging parts of missions for the Order, or the long dull dinners with people who didn't believe Voldemort was back, about how to show Harry's family that magic was, truly, one of the best gifts in the world.

And then she came up with a plan.

Snivellus (as Sirius still liked to call him) had brewed several doses of Felix Felicis, which the Order sometimes took if they knew they were going into battle. It was child's play to take on his appearance (or close enough to pass at a distance) and take a small vial of it.

Of course all of the Order knew where Harry lived; it was common sense to keep track of Voldy's main targets. So she recointered for a bit, and found out that the only time the Dursleys ate or drank anything outside of their home was at very expensive restaurants, or when Mr. Dursley went to lunch.

And she found out that Mr. Dursley was very fond of coffee.

It would take several pages to tell of all the antics Tonks created as a barista, but her fun-loving attitude made her coworkers indulgent towards her—even when the cream machine exploded. She learned all sorts of things about Muggles' tastes for this drink, and also realised she would make a terrible house-elf.

In the meantime, she wormed her way into the shift that covered Mr. Dursley's lunch hour (very thankful that both her Aurorer business and the Order's business generally happened at night. She came into work in the odd Muggle clothing (her hair was blue that day), and she kept the potion in her pocket.

Mr. Dursley came in and ordered a coffee ("black, the largest size you have, and quick!"), and she smiled and asked him if he wanted a shot of luck.

"No," he grunted, and walked out with his coffee in the hand holding his doughnut. Tonks blinked after him.

"I suppose I could slip it into his drink," she mumbled to herself. "But I could just see Remus frowning at that." She frowned herself. "I'll just have to persuade him to take it."

For the next two days, she tried. Each time the big grumpy man snorted at her and took his black coffee and his bagel or sandwich and left the shop.

But on the third day something changed. Tonks noticed the change in his food first; instead of something scrumptious, he was holding something that looked a bit like a round circle of packing material, and he was eyeing it in a disgruntled fashion.

"Coffee, black," he ordered gloomily.

"Are you sure you don't want a shot of luck? It looks like you could use it today." Tonks glanced at the black liquid swirling in the cup. "It won't change the taste at all."

He sighed. "I don't believe in luck."

"That doesn't mean it won't still work. Come on, try it."

"My son—he's a good boy. Big, you know. And he wants to try to be more manly. If I believed in luck, I'd give some to him."

"Then give him a sip of your coffee. But take half for yourself. Why not try it?"

Mr. Dursley opened his mouth—probably to say no, Tonks knew, so before he could say it she dumped the vial into the drink and handed it to him. "Drink up!"

"Sure, sure," he responded with a sour look. He took the coffee and took a small sip, shooting her a suspicious look. Then he grunted, apparently finding the flavour unchanged, and went to leave. But as he turned to go, his hand brushed the counter, and his packing-material-food dropped onto the floor.

"Oh, that's too bad," Tonks said brightly. "Here, have a sandwich. On us." She handed him one. "Enjoy your luck today! I promise it will be magical."

He spun, looking her in the face-with a bit of terror-for the first time in the four days. "Magical? Magical? Young lady, there's no such thing as magic! And it has nothing to do with us, if there is!" he sputtered, and she smiled at him.

"Luck is always magical. Tell your son I said good luck as well, and don't forget to give him some of your coffee!"

She waved goodbye and went in back. Once there, took of her apron, walked out of the coffee shop, and watched as Mr. Dursley went stomping towards work-hitting every green light along the sidewalk.

"Maybe you'll like magic a little better now," she mused. "It would take something magical to make you more bearable to be around. But it's done! And maybe someday I'll tell Harry and he can thank me."