A/N: Hello again, everyone! Before we move on to the next chappie, I'd like to thank my two reviewers Kilikapele and Faery Ears for reviewing both of the previous chapters. Thanks so much, guys! You both are the reason I decided to not keep this a one-shot! Yay—virtual cookies to you both!

And now…fry-makers revenge II. Enjoy, Read, and Review.

"No, Blaise! You know bloody good and well that I DO NOT wanna play Blackjack when I get off work today!" I hissed at lane twelve, directly in front of me where my Hispanic friend stood turned around, facing my direction because of his uncontrollable, over-pounding boredom.

Neither of us had customers to check out at that moment, though we usually never did. The manager at Potion Poisons seemed uncomfortable with putting us into big crowds, and therefore only worked us during the slowest parts of the slowest days. Isn't that mean? I think it is. I mean, it's not my fault that I'm slow at scanning items like fruits and vegetables. It's also not my fault that I have trouble using the phone to page a supervisor when someone is buying beer. I think that they gave me a broken phone anyway—I speak into it, but no one ever comes to help me. Maybe they hear, but hate me, therefore refusing to come over and help…you know what?

The manager should just throw us into the dogs—we would eventually get the hang of it and hopefully learn to use the phones. We'd get faster, too. That's what happened to Hector—he was thrown into the dogs, and within a couple of weeks he was as good as anyone else. I don't understand why he won't try that with Blaise and I. What makes us so incredibly different from Hector? Is it because he knows Hector is impatient about everything in life and we aren't? Who knows…

"Draco—what are you staring at?"

I immediately snapped out of my dazed state when I heard Blaise's concerned, loud voice. "Wha--? Staring? Me?" I questioned, completely unaware of how stupid I probably just looked as I brought my surrounding back into focus to see a very concerned and caring Hispanic teenager studying my actions.

"Yeah, dude—I asked you a question about cards, you, like, totally were unresponsive to me. What's on your mind? I've got time, whatever it may be."

I laughed—he was so desperate for entertainment. "It's nothing," I assured him, which was totally and completely true.

All I was thinking about was my job and how the manager treats us differently than Hector. "I just slipped into THINKING WORLD, where I reflect on boring life problems," I finished as he nodded, and then smiled.

"Okay, well now that your safely back on planet Earth, here's my question for the third time: Will you play blackjack IF I buy us a wizard deck when we get off today?"

"No!" I snapped without hesitation or even giving it a thought.

Blaise pouted at my quick decision. "¿Por favor? It'll give me something to look forward to after this! I won't bug you again, I promise. Please man? I'm so bored right now!"

"No," I repeated. "I've told you, I'm not into that. I'd rather be outside in the sun playing Quidditch. You'd be better off asking Harry Boxtrusandas to play with you."

"Actually, Draco, it's Harry Boxterzantaz. Learn to pronounce people's last names correctly dude, if you're gonna talk about 'em. And there is no way I'd ask that stuck-up moron to play cards. He'd annoy me the whole time—I wouldn't have any fun!"

I rolled my eyes. Blaise and that Boxter—whatever may have more in common than they want to admit. First things first: they're both bloody annoying. They also are both completely unaware of the fact that they're annoying…hmm…no wonder they hate each other. They both annoy each other to death. "Blaise," I said. "If you hate Boxter—whatever so much, why can't I butcher his name?"

"Because—you just can't okay? It gets on my nerves."

I sighed. "Whatever. Anyways, Blaise if you're so bored, why don't you clean your mirror to pass the time?" I questioned, referring to his register, or scanner.

There are so many ways to refer to objects around here…it's …man, I'm using this word a lot, but it's annoying! Why can't they just stick to one word? I mean really. Did you know that shopping carts can also be called baskets and bascarts? Who knew, right? I never knew until I was hired here, which is ridiculous. There should be a memo. I bet I'm not the ONLY clueless lad around here.

Blaise crossed his arms and stomped his foot, swirling back around to watch for a customer to enter his lane. Then he roughly grabbed a sanitizer wipe to do as I suggested. I kinda felt sorry for him since he didn't take boredom well, but he had to learn sometime. I sighed. "Guess I'll sign off," I mumbled to myself.

It's what the manager told us to go if we got to a point where we had no customers. As soon as I finished signing off, evil lurked into my lane. That's right—Potty and THE Weasel.

Just like Hector had told it, Weasel held Potty's Wiz-phone up to his ear, chatting away, and they bared tons and tons of items. Three huge carts full to be exact. No way was I doing this—I just signed off. "Sorry, losers," I smirked. "I just signed off. Go to a different lane. Perhaps Blaise's—he's really bored."

I crossed my arms and glared at the pair of them. "Now, now, Malfoy," Potty smiled. "I know you just signed off—you said you were—remember? When you mumbled 'Guess I'll sign off ', Ron and I waited by the edge of your lane so we could enter as soon as you finished. No need to be snooty about it. That's no way to treat customers, now is it? Just wait 'til we report you to management."

He winked and sighed with satisfaction. Him? Report me? I don't think so. I love this job too much. "Potty! I'm shocked! Why would you ever want me fired? You couldn't do this revenge-thing anymore and—wait!"

I suddenly had an idea. If I told him I wanted to be fired, he wouldn't report me because then he'd be letting me have my way. "What am I saying," I continued. "I hate this job! Its stupid and hard and a waste of my time! My phone doesn't even work! You want me fired? I say bring it, mate."

"And bring we shall," Potty replied slyly, slowly unloading the first cart onto the conveyor belt as I angrily signed back on.

All the while, Weasel was simply yakking away to what I suspected to either be Granger or some invisible, make-believe person he made up in his head. "Saturday? Oh, I don't know, baby-doll, I'm quite busy that day, but you know what? I think I can make room for you. I love watching romantic movies with you on Saturday nights while making out. Yes, I love you, too, sugar-lip doll-face!"

"What's that? Where am I? Oh, I'm in line at Potion Poisons, but its okay, Harry's with me, so he'll unload everything and make sure it's paid for. We can manage, babe. Uh, huh….yeah…oh…I can't wait…aww…how cute…"

The entire conversation was sickenly sweet, and I swear he was trying to mock the relationship between Pansy Parkinson and me. It wouldn't be so bad except for the fact that he was actually doing a good job at it.

I roughly scanned a canned good, placing it on the belt. Then a bag of rice, where I had to unfold the label in order to scan it. After a few more items, I had to wait for him, because the stupid git was still in the middle of unloading cart one. I bit my lower lip to hid my annoyance.

Once he added about ten items to the belt, he stopped to take a break—ugh! I'll have to wait again soon! "Shew!" he sighed dramatically, "I'm sweating—I just got off work, you see."

I rolled my eyes. 'Duh!' I thought sourly. 'It's five o'clock—most jobs DO let off at that time!'

"Anyways, I am SO wiped!" he continued as I scanned a mid-sized box of chicken, pretending to care about his life.

"Oh—that price isn't right," Potty pointed at the computer. "The sign in aisle ten said chicken was three sickles not four."

I rolled my eyes and looked for aisle ten. Today I didn't have a bagger, so I borrowed Blaise's, Cash Wilson, who, of course, wasn't occupied at all. "This lad is convinced chicken is three sickles and not four. Go check in aisle ten, okay?" I asked.

Cash nodded and jogged over to the aisle I asked him to check. When he returned, I was the right one—it was four and not three. Potty didn't even apologize. The nerve of him…

"That's an extra sickle out of my pocket…" he mumbled, adding the last of the items in cart one up to the counter because I stood once again waiting for them.

"Of course I loved it when we kissed non-stop for ten full minutes last week…ooh…do it again? Baby, you know it!"

The sickenly sweet mood of Weasel mixed with the tired and angry mood of Potter really didn't make good results. And when you add my sour mood into the mix, it creates an unhappy, awkward, and frustrated situation that no one would dare mess with. I'm fairly sure that even if the manager walked by at that moment to see Potter and I glaring dangerously at each other, nothing would be said to me. At least not until later…

Anyways, matters didn't clear up anytime soon. I spent forever checking them out, hearing the same stupid lines. "That price isn't right!"

"Ooh…baby…your new dress sounds like it'll look hot on you…I can't wait to get out of her and see it…"

"That price isn't right!"

"Wow! You bought a puppy? Can't wait…but I'm telling you, this cashier we have is NOT good at his job…"

"That price isn't right!"

"Yes, exactly, sweetie, slower than a snail…"

We went through the whole 'Price is Wrong' process fourteen times, and soon Cash Wilson just transferred over to my lane and let Blaise bag on his own since his customers weren't nearly as worried about prices.

Two hours later, Potty had finally finished unloading the last of cart three, and was ready to pay. My arms were sore and my fingers were stiff from all the rice, chicken, cat food, evil twenty-four packs of coke and water, flowers, fruits and vegetables he had bought. I also had a headache and a nauseous feeling in the pit of my stomach from Weasel-King's non-stop sweetheart babble.

"Yes, Sugar-lips, I'm still in line at Potion Poisons. Unbelievable, eh, babe? At least I'd be been able to hear your beautiful voice all this time, otherwise…I don't know, cookie, I'd be on the verge of insanity…"

I growled, shaking with fury. "That will be eighty galleons and one knut, Potty!"

He shook his head and handed me dozens of coupons, most of which were expired or didn't apply to him because he didn't buy enough to use them. "That will be seventy-eight galleons and one knut," I said when I finished all the coupons.

"Can you knock off the knut? Most people do--"

"No! Seventy-eight galleons, one knut. You know what? Let's make it two knuts just for being a bloody pain!"

Cash shook his head. "You can't charge him any more than what the computer says—it's a rule. You break it and there are serious consequences."

I glared at Cash with hatred and rolled my eyes. "It was a joke!" I shrieked. "I'm kidding, Potty. It's still seventy-eight galleons and (cough) two (cough) knuts."

"DRACO!"

"Fine!" I cried with frustration. "Seventy-eight galleons, ONE knut. Happy?"

Cash nodded and I shot him another look that only made him snicker. Potter slowly took out his wallet, counting one piece of gold at a time. I sighed and drummed my fingers impatiently on the register/mirror/scanner. No wonder Hector came up to our dorm in such a grumpy mood yesterday! Don't worry; though…I'll make Potty pay that extra knut when we get back to Hogwarts…mark my word.

I smiled at this thought, but quickly replaced it when the boy-who-doesn't-play-revenge-fairly finished counting only to announce that he didn't have enough gold to purchase everything. I scowled, biting my lower lip. Leave it to Potty to spoil a happy moment…bugger…

"Just take some items off. The only two things I wanna keep are the two cat foods that are brand Cat Lovers. Everything else I don't care," he explained.

"WHY can't you just tell me what to take off?" I growled at him.

He shrugged. "Because I don't care. It's too stressful for me anyway. I am, after all, famous. You wouldn't want to be responsible for stressing out the famous Harry Potter, now would you?"

His voice was soft and dangerous. My mouth dropped. "I'm famous, too! My father's big in the Ministry and I live in a mansion!" I pointed out.

"Yeah, but that's not as important. You're famous for your daddy. I'm famous because I'm un-killable to the Dark Lord. I made him go into hiding for years, remember? Oh, yeah, that's right—you're a follower of Voldy, sorry, how could I forget--"

"SHUT UP!" I screamed. (Perhaps just a little too loud)

I felt like giving up and throwing a major temper tantrum, but just yelling 'Shut Up' bought me a lot of odd looks. So instead, I took a few deep breaths, refusing to let some stupid Gryffindor tear me apart.

I almost removed a cat food from the brand Kitten Sweet when Potty stopped me. "Oh—wait—I forgot. I want to keep that brand, too, put it back, sorry," he apologized as I stomped my foot and had Cash bag it back up.

I had to do the same thing after trying to remove a bag of cookies, a pack of gum, a box of owl food, a jug of milk, a toothbrush, a pair of shoes, and a leather jacket. "Is there anything ELSE you refuse to remove?" I hissed as Cash bagged the leather jacket up a second time. "Because everything I've tried to take off, you've denied me. Either pay up the gold total or stop being picky and let me take a few items off!"

Potty sighed and concentrated hard to remember everything he'd bought. "Fine…take off two 24-packs, three vases of flowers, the mittens…"

After removing nine-galleons worth of items, it was time to pay up for real. "Sixty-nine galleons, one knut, Potter. Care to try and change the price again? Because you've already made a dozen of customers in this line leave. Might as well make a few more!" I shrieked sarcastically, but he decided to finally pay.

I felt relief wash over me…I did it! I made it through Potty and Weasel's evil revenge! Until…

"Malfoy—don't tell me you bagged everything in plastic bags! Ugh—no! I won't take them. I need everything to be in paper bags. Switch them all over!" he demanded.

My headache returned as he said this and the Weasel informed his 'girlfriend' of it. "Sorry, cupcake, we WERE about to leave, but the idiotic cashier bagged everything up in plastic. What a moron! I mean really. Anybody whose anybody knows Harry Potter must have paper, not plastic!"

I glared at Potter for a moment, not believing my ears. "Paper, Malfoy. Step on it. I've got places to be!" he scowled.

"Wha--? No—you never told me--"

"You forgot to ask whether I wanted paper or plastic. I'm not supposed to have to tell you what I want. I'm afraid management isn't going to fancy me informing them of your neglected question."

He raised his eyebrows and smiled. My stomach dropped. He wouldn't—would he? "Fine," I said, "But if you get me fired, Potty, you're going to find yourself jobless as well. So watch what you're playing at. And by the way, this isn't my fault—my bagger should've asked, not me--"

"Hey! I wasn't over here when you first started bagging items up, Draco! You're the one who used plastic, so I just continued it for you, assuming that's what these two gentlemen wanted!" Cash stood up for himself. "Just do as you're told, switch it all over, kindly, Draco, okay? I'd help, but my lane is becoming busy. It appears Blaise needs me back."

Cash waved and stepped over to assist my best friend, leaving me alone to this stupid job of transferring all the items from plastic to paper. Like it really matter what type of bag I use. I rolled my eyes.

I can't wait to return to Hogwarts tonight and make him pay that extra knut for being a pain…

A/N: Umm…this chappie's REALLY long, I know, but it's also been a while since I updated, so…yeah. Anyways, I hope you liked this and I hope everybody will stay tuned because there's more to come! Find out what Hermione does for revenge to Draco while he's cashiering, and exactly who the geeky first year Harry Boxterzantaz is! Read and Review!