A/N: And chaper nine is now up. Thank you for your patience, and once AGAIN, I apologize for the condensed reviews at the end of this. If any of you are offended by this, please let me know in your next review, and I will be sure to respond to you individually again. I am feeling much better, and I think I may be falling into a more regular pattern of updates. I have, apparently, a single male reviewer-nice guy, might I add. I adore you all!
"Asshole," Draco muttered heatedly, glaring at Potter's rapidly diminishing form in his rearview. He slouched down in the seat and floored the accelerator. Beside him, Pansy let out a little squeal.
"Drake! Slow down! I'd like to make it home in one piece, okay?"
Draco ignored her and shifted gears. The BMW roared forward and he blasted through a yellow light just as it turned red, gritting his teeth. Today had been a bad day—listening to people ramble on and on about the new kid, that impudent prick hitting on him, as if he, Draco Malfoy, were some kind of fag, and then staring at him all throughout gym class like some sort of pervert…
A sudden blare of sirens made him glance into the rearview again, and he cursed as he spotted the police cruiser hot on his ass.
Could this day get any worse? he wondered bitterly as he began to pull over.
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Two hours later, Harry Potter was absolutely livid.
Muttering to himself and completely unaware of the strange picture he presented, he shot down the sidewalk on his skateboard, casting dark looks at the few residents crazy enough to brave the biting winds for a bit of window browsing. His unique sense of fashion, combined with the brooding glare—barely tapered by his cold-reddened nose and cheeks—sent people scurrying out of his way without protest.
He'd attempted to apply for six different jobs, three of which were at shops displaying 'Help Wanted' signs in their front windows. At each store, the managers had watched him with disdainful eyes as he filled out the applications, and each had informed him, with frosty attitudes and what Harry was coming to think of as horrendous American accents, that the store was no longer in need of assistance and that they would be sure to call him if the situation changed anytime soon.
"Hel-lo!" Harry called out now, to the world at large, zipping through a crosswalk an instant before a line of cars came barreling through. "I have a charming English accent, you wankers! I could sell your pathetic shit like genuine diamonds in a fuckin' dime store!" He nodded furiously at a startled passerby and launched himself onto a curb, still ranting. "Okay, so maybe I look a little different! Variety is good, you bloody fools! Variety is the spice of life!"
Preoccupied with fuming as he was, Harry didn't see the fire hydrant until it was too late.
With a breathless, un-Harry-like shriek, he tried to swerve, but the edge of the skateboard clipped the metal monstrosity, and, flailing, he did a spectacular mid-air somersault and landed flat on his back. His board clattered into the street upside-down and came to rest, wheels still spinning. Silence descended. Across the way, a pair of bundled shoppers gaped at this amazing display of clumsiness.
"Urrg," Harry muttered as new bruises began to blossom atop the old ones. And then he began to laugh.
Honestly, it was just too ridiculous: here he lay, spread-eagle, the filthy damp of the sidewalk beginning to seep through his clothes—a boy out of his element, to be sure. It stuck him as utterly hilarious, and when he turned his head and happened to catch sight of the forlorn skateboard sitting petulantly in the middle of the worn asphalt, he cracked up and let loose with a five minute-long bout of hysterical laughter. Unnoticed, the shoppers exchanged dubious glances and scurried away.
If only the gang back home could see me now, he thought, and laughed harder.
Eventually, he managed to get a hold on himself and sat up, wincing through lingering chuckles. He retrieved his skateboard, pleased that it hadn't been run over while he lay on the pavement and howled like a loon, and thinking that it would have been just his luck. He paused to stretch and work out the kinks that were making themselves known in his backside.
Idly, he glanced about and was surprised to see himself standing in front of a small bookstore. He must have passed it a dozen times while skating around town in search of a job, but this was the first time he had noticed the tiny, somewhat dingy shop nestled between the dry cleaners and Melody's Diner.
He considered the sign that swung gently in the breeze for a long moment, liking the simplicity of the name: Lupin's Literature. Below the title, Rare and Used Books at Reasonable Prices read in faded bold script.
Harry approached the display window and peered curiously through the dusty pane of glass. On a swath of purple velvet were three thick tomes: an ancient copy of Steinbeck's The Pearl, a fairly new copy of Sidney Sheldon's latest book, and a leather-bound collection of the works of Emily Dickinson. He felt his heart sigh at the Dickinson volume, and tried to ignore it; after all, he had failed horribly in finding a job, and his cash fund was depleting rapidly. But then his eye caught something else, and his shocking emerald eyes lit up with hopeful delight.
Tucked into a corner of the window, looking as if it had been there for ages, was a small, neglected 'Help Wanted' notice, warped with time and covered in cobwebs. Harry grinned to himself, forgetting his earlier disposition as if it had never existed, and bounded into the bookshop.
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"Draco, this is unacceptable."
Draco winced at his father's steely tone and tried to look ashamed, still seething with anger. "I know, Father. I am deeply sorry. But the cop was completely unfair and he couldn't be reasoned with—"
Lucius Malfoy spun on his heel to face his son, blue-grey eyes dark with warning. He clutched the ticket between long, elegant fingers and thrust it into the younger Malfoy's repentant face. "This is a reckless driving ticket, Draco. You were going twenty-seven miles over the speed limit, and the speed limit was fifty. I hardly believe the police officer was unreasonable. If anything, he was lenient. It's amazing you are still in possession of your license. This is six points on your driving record, son—two more and you won't be driving until you attend several classes and turn eighteen. What on earth possesses you to drive like such a maniac?"
Draco cast his eyes to the floor. "I was in a bad mood, Father. I know it's no excuse, but I guess I wasn't paying attention to what I was doing. I apologize."
Sighing, Lucius let the little yellow slip of paper flutter onto the desk and turned to look out the full-length window, which faced the private gardens and provided the only light in the dim, dark-paneled study. "This ticket is nearly three hundred dollars, Draco," he said softly, straightening his tie. "I will not make you pay it; after all, forcing you to get some sort of plebian job would be foolish and far beneath you, seeing as you will be taking my place as head of Malfoy Enterprises after you graduate from college." He glanced at his son, a younger, softer replica of himself, and felt his chest swell with pride, before doling out the sentence. "However, you are to be punished accordingly, and that means no car for a month."
"What!" Draco exploded before he could stop himself. "No car? Are you mad?"
"Do not question me, Draco Malfoy."
"But Father! How am I supposed to get to school?"
"Your friend Blaise has a car, does he not? A well-kept vintage Jaguar, if I recall correctly."
"But I take Pansy to and from school! What about her?"
Lucius felt his mouth curl down with distaste. He really didn't like the pug-faced Parkinson girl; over the years he had learned how to recognize a gold-digger. After all, he had married one.
"I am sure Miss Parkinson is able to find another mode of transportation—for instance, the bus. Now, Draco, I won't hear another word of this. Like I said, be glad I'm not forcing you into the demeaning position of having to get a job at some filthy, common little dive to pay for this on your own. You are dismissed."
"Yes, Father," Draco mumbled, and turned to leave the room. As the thick oak door of the study swung closed behind his son, Lucius heard Draco hiss something that sounded like "Stupid Potter." After he was gone, the elder Malfoy gazed out on the gardens, wondering, What's a Potter? Have I just been insulted?
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Remus Lupin was a man whom age was kind to. His hair was a warm honey brown and the grey that had begun to streak the curling tresses made him look distinguished, as did the smile lines and the crows' feet that lined his friendly brown eyes. Of average height and build but sophisticated bearing, his presence made most feel immediately comfortable and open to sharing every aspect of their lives with him.
He'd moved to the small town of Pettigrew twelve years ago after a lifetime of a nomadic existence, and now he felt no urge to wander anymore. Seven years ago, he'd opened Lupin's Literature, which catered mostly to an older clientele and remained marginally profitable. And four years ago, he'd met Sirius Black, a resident high school teacher and the love of his life. Now he and Siri lived in a cozy loft above the bookstore, and they were both happier than they had ever been before.
Over all, Remus Lupin lived a comfortable life that offered no surprises, no twists or turns, and no deep, dark secrets.
That all changed the day Harry Potter ran giddily into his shop, a bundle of energy and nerves—and veritably teeming with deep, dark secrets.
Of course, Remus didn't know that then. All he knew was that he had a customer when the bell above the door jangled, and that he'd better get moving. It had been a slow day.
He set aside the books he'd been shelving and wound his way through the shaky towers of books with an ease of long experience. As he entered the front room, he was greeted by the sight of his customer's firm, jean-clad rear as the boy leaned down and began to rummage through a box of discounted novels by the door. He stopped, guiltily enjoying the view for several moments before clearing his throat. The boy straightened up and turned to look at the older man with a flirtatious, knowing smile. Remus felt his face flare with humiliating color; honestly, the boy couldn't have been more than eighteen, and here he was, a taken man nearly twenty years his senior, openly gaping at the teenager's ass.
"Uhh, welcome to Lupin's Literature," he said in a valiant attempt to cover his embarrassment. "Can I help you find anything in particular today?"
The boy grinned again, and Remus took a moment to admire his fantastically colored hair, glimmering bottle-green eyes, and the multitude of piercings. He had, of course, seen similar alternative fashions in his travels over the years; but he was more than a little surprised to see it now in such a place as Pettigrew.
"Actually, I'm not here for books." The boy's voice was unexpectedly deep and carried a strong, cultured English accent. Remus admired that as well before mentally admonishing himself to snap out of it.
"Oh?" he replied mildly, praying his burning cheeks went unnoticed in the dim lighting of the shop and knowing all too well that they did not.
"Yeah, I'm here about the job."
"What? The…the job?" Remus' brow furrowed in confusion. Suddenly the light dawned and he clapped his hands sharply. "The job, yes, of course!" His warm liquid eyes lit up with delight, and he chuckled, bustling behind the counter immediately.
"I take it it's still open then?" the boy asked hopefully.
"God, yes!" Remus exclaimed, sorting through the mess under the register. A moment later, with a hum of triumph, he brandished a single crumpled and coffee-stained application. He thrust it at the boy, who took it gleefully.
"A mere formality," Remus assured him. "Take it home and fill it out." He settled onto a worn leather stool behind the counter and looked the boy firmly in the eye, all trace of embarrassment long forgotten. "I'm the owner, Remus Lupin."
"Harry Potter," the boy responded, shaking the proffered hand.
"Let's hear the basics, Harry."
Harry nodded, looking happier by the minute. Taking a deep breath, he began to rattle off facts quickly.
"I'm seventeen years old and I just moved here from Surrey, England. I'm still in high school, but I'd be able to work anytime after four on weekdays and throughout the weekends. I'm a hard worker and I'm willing to do whatever you require—work the counter, clean, do stock, take inventory, organize what needs to be organized, make you breakfast, lunch, and dinner, kiss ass or kick ass—"
"Whoa, whoa," Remus interrupted, laughing. "Calm down, kid. You sound perfect for the job. Just one question," he continued, sobering. Harry hesitated, obviously holding his breath.
"Ever been convicted of a felony?" the older man asked gravely.
Harry burst out into relieved laughter. "No, sir!" he replied promptly.
Remus grinned. "In that case, welcome aboard, Harry Potter. Bring me back that application tomorrow, and you start Wednesday."
Response for the Reviews:
marauders4ever: Thanks! And yes (if you couldn't tell from this chapter) that certainly was Draco's pretty little BMW.
catseye348: A good idea, though I may be awhile in including it. Thank you!
bakachan17: I'm pleased that I could do away with a cliche rebel!Harry. Thanks!
Unattainable Adrenaline: Hey, you liar! Lol. Don't worry, hun-I'm going at it at my own pace. Hope to talk to you soon!
SilverDragon161: Ah, everyone knows that true love goes hand in hand with Harry Potter. Harry will be the dominant in this story, for two reasons: 1. I'm sick of seeing submissive!Harry fics, and 2. I want to give Harry an excuse to say, somewhere along the line, "Hush up, Draco-you know you're my bitch!" Thanks for your wonderful review!
Vladaia: Wow-a lot of really, really clever ideas. I will be sure to work in the Hermione moshing, Ron saving, idea, for sure, because I love it! I think Ginny may be getting that piercing also, something somewhat conservative and common, like a belly ring, eh? I'll consider the Harry-Draco ideas as well, and thank you so much for everything! Email me and give me as many nifty little concepts as you want-I promise to consider everything!
Saber ShadowKitten: No worries-Draco won't wake up one day, go, "Holy fuck! I'm gay! I crave the cock-Harry's, to more specific!" I'm going to try to make it as realistic and angsty as possible. Thanks!
ura-hd: I was thinking that though Hermione finds out first, maybe Remus and Sirius could be the ones to do something about it. What do you think? Thank you.
Prose: I am both honored and slightly unnerved. Lol. Thanks, though!
Headmaster-Alex: MY ONLY MALE REVIEWER! Eeek!
Madizon: Honestly, I have no idea how I'm going to write Draco's venture out of the closet. Rest assured, it probably won't be pleasant…but thanks for reviewing!
Additional and just as important thanks to: Skyla Gerdes, Rin Kanzaki, Mimbulus, Faren'sFowl, Benjis VIP, CommaSplice, Siren of Hell, Mistress Vamp, Raven's Light, fudgebaby, DreamersDisease, Moonglow-girl, luvbug080688, Rowenna7, AbbieE, wicca-magick, Mystic Dragonsfire, SnakeTalker, driven to insanity, AllAmerican19, Goldensong, BratPrincess-187, charlle, Sezza Ridka, chocolatedemon, coriander, Lady of Snow Mt., addmoose2004, DanishGirl, Hacen Necah, gothic-looser, vote-larry4prez, Iori 0.o, magic-shield, itsasledgehammer, angelkitty77, Shinchansgirl, theTigersFire, Hawkenten, Aveeno-Baby, and Crystal Moon Dragon.
A/N 2: Okay, that's it, y'all. (I love that word: y'all...heh.) Like what you've read? (Hopefully!) More to come! Review review review, darlings.