Warnings: none.

Chapter 17 - Draco Malfoy

Harry walked into the coffee shop, still raging in his mind about Hermione and her nerve. Where exactly did she get off? She had said it herself -- she wasn't qualified to tell him what was wrong, and yet, she thought she knew everything. That was just like little miss Know-It-All Granger. She was right and to hell with everyone else's opinion. Well, for her information, he wasn't making up a thing, and she could just bugger off.

"If I'm not mistaken, Potter, you're ten minutes late."

"Stuff it, Flint. It's not the day."

But in mid-motion of pulling up the counter piece to get to the back, Harry paused. That smug drawl hadn't been the jittery, crack-happy voice of Marcus Flint. He looked up at Remus, who was making a coffee at the newly repaired machine. It couldn't be... Remus couldn't be that mean, never. Surely not. Even as he turned to face the speaker, he knew that he wasn't imagining it.

Draco Malfoy stood at the cash register, smirking at Harry, dressed in the green shirt and apron and khaki pants Remus required as uniform, a name tag sporting his ridiclous first name pinned to the apron on his chest. If Harry had thought nothing could be worse than Marcus Flint, Crackwhore Extroidinaire, he was damn wrong. Draco Malfoy, the Great Bloody Smug Ferret and Mini-Lucius, was just as bad, if not far worse. What in the hell had gotten into Remus? Aside from Sirius... Harry made a mental note to wash his brain out when he got home. Mental images of Remus and Sirius weren't good for Harry.

"What's he doing here," Harry near-yelled at Remus, who just turned those deep, paitent amber eyes on him. He already knew the answer, but hoped against hope that he was wrong. He just couldn't be that unlucky.

"He works here, Harry. You're manager now. Marcus is still in the hospital after that coffee machine incident, and then after that, he's going to jail. The doctors found cocaine in his system. You can't run the shop by yourself, Harry, and I can't always be around."

"But... but... Malfoy, Remus! Wasn't there anyone else! Anyone who isn't a foul, loathesome, evil little cockaroach?"

Remus gave Harry a look that clearly said 'There was nothing I could do.' Harry sighed. Obviously, there had been worse than Malfoy that applied for the job. Personally, Harry would have picked Norman Bates over Malfoy, but it was Remus's shop, not his. He needed the money, and the place had actually started growing on him, so he couldn't quit. Maybe Malfoy would get bored with work, since his almighty popmous highness could get all the money he wanted from daddy dearest, and he would quit. Hopefully, he would be rid of both Captain Peroxide and Prison Bitch Flint. Could he really be that lucky? Well, maybe. If he hired a few hitmen, and bought a giant vat of molten cheese, perferrably swiss, and a few peppermint sticks, just for kicks... So, not quite resigining himself to his fate of working alongside Draco Malfoy to provide the people of London with caffine-induced buzzes, Harry went behind the counter to clock in.

"Now that we have that little mess cleared up," Remus said, laying some money by the coffee machine and head around the counter, "I've got to get home and pay some bills. I trust that there won't be any promblems."

Draco and Harry agreed, though a bit grudgingly and Harry was sure Draco's fingers were crossed behind his back. Away Remus went, leaving the two boys alone in his precious shop. Draco turned that ever-smug smirk on Harry, who glared back. It was going to be a long night. Harry just knew it.

He couldn't have been more right. Draco had taken over the register, which Harry had always presided over. He flaunted his good looks and poured on the charm, and sold so much coffee and sweets that Harry knew Remus would keep him on. He flirted and smirked in his sexy way and nearly filled the tip jar all on his own. Those confident, smug and handsome smiles he shot Harry made him want to cram the damn jar down his throat.

His first day as manager was totally and completely ruined by Draco's ferret-faced presence. Harry almost felt like he would have preferred Marcus and his roaming hands to Draco's cool and in-control demeanor. He had this job, and what made it worse was that he knew he had it. Just the way he looked at Harry said it all.

Draco not only knew how to earn his keep, so to say, he also knew his way around the shop with great ease, a feat that had taken Harry nearly a week to learn. All of it made Harry sick. No, Draco Malfoy made Harry sick. And he was likely to slam the blonde's fingers in the register drawer if he didn't stop smirking at him like that.

Closing time at last and Harry was without a doubt ready to leave. As fast as he could, he took inventory, cleared the register and began stacking chairs, while Draco sat on the counter and counted their tip swag.

"Mind helping me," Harry growled. "We'll get out of here faster if you do, you know."

"I think we may have raked in today, Potter."

"Oh really? That's nice." Harry didn't care. He, more likely than not, wouldn't see any of it. Draco, flirt whore that he was, had filled the jar on his own, afterall. And what were the chances Malfoy would share anything with him? Malfoy had hated him since the blonde's arrival in the first grade where Harry had refused his friendship and his cookies. Draco had been an arrogant prick even then, and Harry had wanted to punch him in the forehead even then (which he had done once, if he wasn't mistaken), and Harry had hated oatmeal raisin cookies even then. Draco was, and had always been, most proud and had held a grudge against Harry ever since. Harry wondered if Draco even remember why they were bitter enemies.

Draco slid, with a fluid grace Harry could never hope to attain, down from the counter to stand in front of it, flashing that smirk at Harry again. He was beginning to despise that smirk even more, if that was possible. He just stared at Harry a moment across the space that seperated them, then he smirked again and headed out the door, leaving Harry to close up by himself.

"Lousy, good-for-nothing, evil little ferret," Harry mummbled as he began stacking the remaining chairs. A few swear words added spice to his complaining of Malfoy.

Harry paused in putting up the chairs to stretch, then groaned. He still had half the room to go. If only somehow, it would do itself. But Harry knew things didn't work that way. He went to the back to grab his wallet and change into the clothes he had in his locker. It had been a long day for Harry. All the serving customers and glaring in a hateful way at Draco. That can really take it out of a person.

He pulled his shirt off over his head and tossed it into the locker. Harry looked at himself in the mirror. Lately, he had started to grow more and more pale. He needed to get to the gym or something. He was in need of some exercise before he lost what muscle he had. Sighing, he pulled on his t-shirt. There were chairs waiting for him. So, after closing and locking his locker, Harry headed out into the shop again.

He stopped short, though, when he got in. When he had went into the back, the majority of the chairs had been still on the floor. Now, they were all neatly put on the tables, and, what was more, the trash was already out by the corner for pick-up, the counter was wiped down, and the register was locked down for the night. Harry was in shock. Surely... surely it hadn't all done itself. He shook his head. No, that was ridiclious. Still... No. Draco must have come back and cleaned a little while he was dallying in the back.

The keys to the shop were laying under the counter where he always left them, and all he had left to do before he could leave for home was to lock the doors behind him. Harry leaned over the counter and groped around for them. Instead, his hand closed around something else. He pulled back to see what it was.

Draco had left the wad of tip money under the counter for Harry. He just couldn't believe it. Never had Malfoy done something more... un-Malfoyish. Well, he could either take it or do without, and it would go a long way toward the last bit of payment on his car. He pocketed the money, grabbed his keys, and headed out the door. There was really something strange about Malfoy lately. He had never had a job before to Harry's knowledge, and certainly not one in service. No, serving others was far under Draco Malfoy. And all day, he had made a point of looking at Harry when before Harry Potter was nothing more than an outlet for Draco's bullying. Now, the money...

That was it. The whole world was going bonkers, and Harry just had to be the only sane one left. Well... perhaps he had thought too soon, because that tabby cat was sitting across the street, watching him. There was no escaping it, really...

Author's Response

Marauder Number 5: heehee, glad you enjoyed it! Also glad that you're loving it! I am too, heeheehee! (PS - it's quality, not quantity. )

emurez: Yesssssssss! As long as I'm keeping up my reputation! Ah... I see... Well... I'm gonna do it anyway! Yeah! Because that's just stupid, and if they want to delete this story/ban me over something like that, then whatever! If that should happen, then you'll be able to find this story on adultfan. under the penname House On Fire. Because I do what I want! Fight the man! Yeah! Okay, right... hmm... Anyway... Thanks for letting me know. Yay, you've got my back! But anyway, yeah, thanks for the reviews! You're such a sweetheart!