Author: SIB
DISCLAIMER: Not mine.
WARNING: Some hints of slash (Draco/Harry) OOC characters
Sometimes being not recognized is nice.
Tell me what you would feel if you were me. You live in a world where everybody greets you with overabundant politeness, awe sparkling in their eyes. Wherever you go, you cannot escape from many attentions, which sometimes are not exactly welcomed but still painfully unavoidable. Whatever you do, people always and will always see you under the name 'The Boy Who Lived'. Or 'The Boy Who Lived After Killing The Dark Lord And Saved Us' now.
It was years ago. Time passed, the world changed, and I grew, but people do not forget. They always look up to me, now an auror whose ability I myself doubt can be compared with that of my best friend. Hermione is always better than me.
Well, at least she understands.
She has never thought that I am some kind of messiah sent from God above to save the world of wizardry. Even Ron thought me as one when I came back alive –at least breathing and intact– from the battle with Voldemort.
She always understands.
Scratch that out. She usually understands. She maybe my savior in many problems including that one but she, being a fussy clever girl that she is, seems to always find a way to sneak her nose in at some places I prefer to be left alone. In case you are confused, I'm talking about privacy and lately she has begun to bug me about girls.
Yes, girls.
It always begins with, "Harry, do you have any girlfriend?" And I always give her this blank look of mine, which only provokes her to click her tongue in impatience. Then she starts to accuse, "Don't play dumb. I only ask you if you have a girlfriend or not." Since she has asked me so often, I usually spare her a bored look, assuming that it will be enough to answer her. But of course I forget something crucially important; this is Hermione. And she doesn't accept any non-verbal reply to answer her verbal question. That is the rule of equivalence.
After losing the staring contest (I always lose, damn her) I finally manage to croak out a 'no'. Either my voice is horribly far from convincing or my answer simply upsets her, she then starts to rant about me being an introvert young man who, if we cut it short, needs to get laid.
She said that, bluntly, and I'm not going to preserve her reputation as a civil well-mannered girl –the image Viktor Krum may have been led to believe, but she is not, really– by using 'to find a girlfriend'.
And thus, with approximately all population of the world of witches and wizards plagued by the disease to not leave 'The Boy Who Lived And Now Desperately Needs To Be Left Alone' alone and my only savior –or used-to-be savior– interrogating my private life plus suggesting me to get laid as soon as possible, you can probably imagine how acute my hunger is for freedom and a little peace.
That's Harry Potter for you. And that's exactly how I end here, in a morning when I usually have sat behind my desk in the Auror Headquarter, in a coffee shop.
Ironic, isn't it? I was so determined to escape from the Muggle world in my school years and now here I am, finding my final sanctuary in that world I once loathed to the core, sitting in a complete leisure with a cup of a coffee and a piece of buttered croissant before me, reading newspaper which pictures are stay and still, amidst people I used to detest. Life is weird, if you ask me. I may have even smiled if Dudley by any chance suddenly walks in.
But life has never been so good either. I guess it is the even price. Because you'll never know what you have until you lose it.
Talking about losing, have I told you how much I miss my old friends? Sure, I still meet Ron and Hermione often (she works as an auror too and Ron is Hermione's boyfriend and, not to mention, still my best friend, so that makes sense) but I seem to lose any contact to the others. The closest I can get are those rare encounters at Diagon Alley, or in the elevator at Ministry of Magic if I'm lucky. However, I've learnt to accept the fact that we've grown up and it means things are not the way they were.
And that doesn't change the fact that I still miss them.
So, how do you think I, who has been led to believe that life changes as it inevitably supposes to, a young pilgrim under the quest of seeking a brief yet absolute peace in an ordinary coffee shop, suppose to react when suddenly Draco Malfoy walks in? Yes, the son of Lucius Malfoy, no other than the Prince of Slytherin himself. Hello? I'm in the picture of utter normality, the world of Muggles, and suddenly lo and behold! here comes Draco Malfoy. Somehow those words don't really go with each other.
He doesn't notice me at once –minus the scar which is safely hidden behind my bangs, I'm pretty much unremarkable among these ordinary Muggles– and immediately walks to the counter once his feet are set in the coffee shop. To be honest, I'm surprised that he knows how it works here instead of claiming with his emblematic haughtiness that His Highness has to be served. Some things surely change.
Well, he does change in height and outfit (for the first time in my life I see him with suits and a black trench coat, but I guess it won't be appropriate for me to think that he looks really good in them, so just ignore me, okay?) but obviously not in manner. From behind my newspaper, I can see his eyes narrowing in distaste at the lack of variety the coffee shop menu offers. This guy really has to meet the Dursleys and be introduced with my daily meal on those days of endless tyranny and totalitarianism.
Oh, probably he will just laugh and wish me luck to descend into that life again as soon as possible. This is Draco Malfoy we're talking about.
So, how about asking how Draco Malfoy The Great ends up here in a Muggle coffee shop?
I can very well just ask the said Malfoy because the next second he has seen me, which implausibly brings a smirk gracing his lips. To hide again behind the newspaper seems to make me sink below the courageous so I just stare at him back. Then he starts to advance towards my table and there goes my morning of tranquility. The end possibility of a coincidental encounter with this Slytherin prince ranges from me losing a tooth or two to him crucio-ing these nice innocent muggles who are in the peak of their bad luck for being here with us... no, him. In short, nothing good will come from the two of us meeting at a cozy coffee shop... well, at anywhere in this normal peaceful world of oblivious muggles.
Is there any chance that he actually doesn't recognize me and that smirk is merely intended to impress everyone here that he has the most charming smirk? Because he always smirks. I've never seen Draco Malfoy with a smile which is not smirk-like.
"Harry Potter." Damn. I'm obviously recognizable. As ubiquitous as my name is, this is too much for a coincidence.
"Draco Malfoy," I declare with the same –I hope– level of coolness. His smirk stretches for an inch wider which alarms me even more. Does his mother ever teach him how to smile properly? Oh wait, he's a Malfoy. Perhaps they are only allowed to smirk.
Without saying a word, he puts his tray down and sits in front of me. All I can do is watching him in a state of beyond wordless, as he imperturbably violates my right as a free grown-up man to have a personal space. I mean, there are still several unoccupied tables beckoning him to claim them as his, so he doesn't really have to give me a company –something I have never asked, remember that– and we can all be happy by pretending that we have never met. At least that's what I thought until I remember that his goal of life is probably to make sure that mine is satisfactorily miserable.
He is definitely climbing the stairs to the summit of full success because I definitely can no longer enjoy my solitude. Not with his perpetual stare. His eyes are tracing up and down as if I am an ancient artifact to be appraised. Oh hell, now I'm lamenting why I put my wand in a place so far and out of reach such as my bag. Sure it's just there laying next to my feet but he can very well Avada Kedavra me before I can move even an inch to retrieve my only choice of defense.
"So you're an auror now, eh?" It surprises me that he actually initiates a conversation first. I almost believe that this is my godfather losing the track of days and playing a trick on me instead of Malfoy himself. I'm currently waiting for an 'April fool!' to come when his blue eyes darken, warning me to answer before he decides to make my morning more miserable.
"Yeah, so what?" I lean back to my chair, trying to look as nonchalant as possible. My answer seems to offend him (of course, I always manage to offend him, deliberately or not) but before he can spit out an angry retort or worse, a spell, I've asked mockingly, "And what are you doing here, Malfoy?"
"Obviously looking for you, Potter, what else?" he sneers at me. Smirks and sneers; these Malfoys certainly inherit a wonderful talent to make sure that everything about them, including countenance, is depicting a superiority complex.
"You're in that much need to see me that you sacrifice your mighty feet by setting them upon the Muggle earth, Malfoy? That flatters me, really."
There is a hostile glint brewing in his eyes, which almost makes me throw the table upside down to grab my bag and most importantly, my wand. "I can go anywhere I want, can't I, Potter?"
With his eyes still devotedly locked to mine, the only option left for me is to glare at him back. When I mentioned friends at Hogwarts whom I really missed, Draco Malfoy didn't cross my brain even once. Hell, we were not friends and I seriously doubt we are now. Friends obviously don't glare across the table at each other in a peaceable morning. We are not talking decently, let alone friendly, only throwing insults at each other with coldness and hatred fighting for dominance in our eyes. Which part of it describes 'friends'?
He finishes his coffee and stands up. I sigh; finally, I'll be able to have my peace back. That is my current thought and I'm quite resolute on it, so my shock is like competing with his to win the greatest title when I hear myself say, "I'm at my office from 9 to 5."
I don't know what made me say it. Perhaps it was the damn wish I was blabbering about missing my old friends, perhaps it was him and his good look in those outfits, or it was just me drinking to much caffeine in one morning. Wait, I haven't even reached my second cup, so forget the last. Or maybe... just very little maybe, I in fact want us to be friends.
Hell, that doesn't even make any sense.
But he looks at me, no smirk or sneer, simply looking at me with his hands plunged deep into the pockets of his trench coat. I'm scared, you know, even if I prefer to die than to let him know, I'm so damn scared that he will just put that typical smirk again and say that I can go dreaming with my muggle friends and rot with them.
Well no, he doesn't say it. In fact, he says nothing and simply leaves with my eyes watching his retreating back. And that is how my short encounter with once my archrival, Draco Malfoy, ends.
Was it good?
Well, at least it doesn't end with me loosing any tooth, neither does anyone get killed, so I guess it's pretty good.
Note to self: Never to be late again for work. And make sure not to come home earlier either.
A/N: Not sure how this one got me, it just did. I use Harry's POV because it will be too hard using Draco's since I have to explain about his current life, which I have no idea. But maybe I can try if you want one. Thanks for reading, people! Please give me reviews!