The following Tuesday Harry visited Grimmauld Place and made sure everything was in order. He stocked the kitchen with groceries, made sure the bedrooms and washrooms all had clean linens, and then travelled back to the flat. He was ready for his five-day guests. This would be a huge payday for them, the longest muggle excursion they'd done so far. He hoped he could provide good service. Anyone who could afford this trip had to be loaded, and if they recommended their business to their loaded friends, it could be a big breakthrough.

On Wednesday morning he dressed purposefully in his favorite muggle attire. He wore a fitted dark red t-shirt with light blue ring collar and a West Ham United crest on the front, atop faded blue jeans and burgundy Adidas. He kept a wallet in his back pocket stocked with plenty of muggle currency, and he assembled a welcome packet with information about all of the activities their guests had selected. By nine o'clock he was dressed, fed, and ready for their arrival. He was determined to make this a great outing, one he could enjoy as much as his guests. He was sitting at the desk in the rolling chair with his feet on the counter, sipping his second cup of coffee while playing solitaire on the laptop when the door swung open.

Oh Merlin, no.

The first person through the door was an older witch, seventy years old if she was a day. She had wiry gray hair swept up in a bun, a long green velvet robe and the proud, posh bearing of the born wealthy. Behind her was Narcissa Malfoy. And Lucius Malfoy. And - oh Merlin it can't be - Draco Malfoy.

Harry froze with his coffee halfway to his mouth as the Malfoy trio stopped and stared. Lucius was as absurdly dressed as ever, in a full, black, sweeping robe all detailed in glittering gold accents. He had a jeweled ring on every finger and clutched a polished cane in his hand. His long blond hair swept back over his shoulders and he regarded Harry as though something smelled rotten. Narcissa wore a coordinating black and golden gown, and her long blond hair was tied up in a coiling, intricate knot. Large gold earrings dangled nearly to her shoulders. She stared at Harry as though seeing a ghost.

And then there was Draco. In keeping with his family's theme, he wore black as well, although more tastefully. His button-down shirt and black trousers would be nearly passable in London, if a bit morose for summertime. His short blond hair was neatly trimmed and not a strand was out of place. He looked at Harry as though he might be sick.

The older woman approached the counter with a delighted smile. "Good morning," she said with warm, breathless excitement. "We're here to check in for our Muggle Adventure."

Harry belatedly dropped his feet to the floor and set his coffee down. He pulled the laptop over in front of him and called up the reservation spreadsheet.

"Madam Gliese Honeychurch," Harry stumbled over her first name.

"Glee-say," she corrected him kindly. "It's a star in the night sky."

"My apologies," Harry said quickly. "And this is your party?"

"Indeed they are," she rolled her eyes. "You have your work cut out for you, they're not a bit interested in muggles."

"But you are?" Harry looked up.

Her eyes sparkled humorously, "I've always been interested in muggles. I thought my dear relatives could use a lesson in tolerance, given their recent poor behavior."

Harry nearly choked on his own tongue. His head was spinning and he wasn't sure what to do. He made up an excuse about needing to fetch their travel packet and ran up the stairs to the flat.

"Dean!" he hissed as soon as he reached the landing. "Where the hell are you?"

"I'm in the loo, Harry, go away," Dean's voice came from the direction of the hallway.

"The Malfoys are downstairs," Harry ignored him and ran to the washroom door.

"The Malfoys?" Dean sounded confused. Harry could hear him click his mobile as he checked his records. "No," he said, "Honeychurch."

"Yes," Harry said impatiently. "That's who made the reservation but she's traveling with the Malfoys."

"All of them?"

"All of them," Harry was scared to speak above an agitated whisper. "Draco fucking Malfoy is down there, and I'm supposed to take them all on a muggle fucking excursion."

"Harry," Dean sighed. "Go away, stop talking to me through the bathroom door."

"What am I supposed to do?" Harry's whisper squeaked.

"Take them to London," Dean said. "Show them a good time. Markup the price on everything and get every penny you can out of them. Be a professional, for Merlin's sake. This is your business."

"But-"

"If you do not go away I will curse you into next week," Dean said calmly.

Harry stepped back and tried to calm his racing heart. His partner was right, he needed to be a professional about it. He could do this. He was Harry bloody Potter. He could handle anything. It would be a piece of piss. He turned on his heel with forced confidence and marched down the stairs wearing his best customer service smile.

"Here we are," he said as he reentered the shopfront. He held up the welcome packet and opened it on the counter. Gliese bent over its contents with interest, while the Malfoys continued to huddle miserably at the door. "You've asked to pack quite a lot into one trip," he remarked. "Let's identify your preferences. Hopefully we can do it all, but if we can't we'll want to prioritize."

Gliese shot the Malfoys a withering look, "Stop lurking in the doorway and come look. Cissy, what are you interested in?"

"Well," Narcissa crept forward as though afraid Harry might bite. "Obviously shopping would be fine," she shrugged delicately. "And perhaps this art museum you've been talking about."

"Lucius," Gliese snapped in a less affectionate tone. "What would you like to do?"

"Didn't you say we could see their Ministry of," he paused, unsure how to proceed, "non-Magic?"

"Parliament," Harry corrected him. "You can do a walking tour and attend a debate."

"Draco, darling," Gliese waved the blond boy closer. "Surely you're interested in football. It's so similar to Quidditch."

"It's actually nothing like Quidditch," Harry smiled apologetically. "But it's very popular and quite fun to watch." Draco frowned and did not speak or make eye contact.

"If you're ready we can depart at any time," Harry said with more confidence than he felt.

"Where exactly are we going?" Lucius demanded, his spine straightening as though digging in his heels.

"We will be staying at a house in a muggle neighborhood, so we'll head over there first to get settled in." Harry explained, bridling privately at his tone. Easy, boy.

"It's so exciting!" Gliese exclaimed. "I haven't been out in twenty years! Too much rabble about purity in recent decades," she shot Lucius a sharply critical look. To Harry's shock he actually looked away as though too ashamed to meet her fierce gaze.

"Please repeat after me," Harry held out the jar of Floo powder for each guest. "Twelve Grimmauld place."

"Twelve Grimmauld Place," his guests mumbled in unison.

Just then Dean came clattering down the stairs with an expectant grin on his face. "Malfoy!" he thrust his hand out at Draco. "Good to see you, mate."

Harry didn't know how Dean could sound so chipper. He knew his pleasant demeanor was a cover for his dislike of the Slytherin boy, but the fact that he could cover it so convincingly was impressive. Harry had his game face on, but inside he was struggling not to scream.

"Alright, mate," Draco muttered miserably and shook his hand as though humiliated. Suddenly he looked up. "P&T. Potter and Thomas. Do you two own this place?"

"We do," Dean beamed.

Suddenly Harry understood. Dean was proud. He was proud that he and his schoolmate had started their own business. He was proud of their cramped, narrow shopfront in Diagon Alley, their secondhand laptop, their gaudy colorful post-it notes and push pins and paper clips purchased from a muggle desk supply shop. The fact that Malfoy was the customer didn't bother him. It made him proud.

"Potter?" Gliese covered her mouth delicately with a wrinkled hand. "Are you Harry Potter?"

"Yes, Ma'am," Harry ducked his head sheepishly.

"How wonderful!" she exclaimed. "And you will be our tour guide?"

"Yes, Ma'am."

"Oh dear, you should be charging more," she grasped his arm with surprising strength. "People would pay to have a celebrity guide."

"Oh please," Draco snorted and turned to gaze out of the window.

"I'm not interested in celebrity, Ma'am," Harry said apologetically.

"Oh please," Draco said louder.

"Does the Daily Prophet know you're here? They've been reporting on you."

"I know," Harry sighed. "I wish they would stop."

"Gliese," Lucius sounded strained. "Perhaps this is not a good idea. There is still time to book a holiday at a proper wizard resort. You enjoyed Rotterdam."

"Hush, Lucius," she snapped. "This holiday is exactly what you need."

Harry liked Gliese.

"Are you all set to go?" Dean asked with a professional smile.

"Yes, does everyone have their Floo powder?" Harry checked around the group. He tossed his in, announced his destination, and departed for what he privately suspected would be the worst trip of his life.