Harry just barely manages to keep a grip on the cardboard tray of coffee cups he's carrying when he walks in the door to the bookstore, a feat he mostly attributes to well-honed reflexes and two years of practice avoiding Draco in small spaces.
"Fuck," Draco says, actual emotion in his voice. "Did you almost just spill coffee on me again?"
"Did you almost just run into me again?" Harry asks, not above making a little bit of a face. It's too early for Draco. It's always too early for Draco.
Draco tilts his head up, ignoring the question. Typical. "Is one of those for me?" he asks.
"No," Harry says, easily, even though there are clearly three cups in the holder and only three people he would be bringing coffee to a nine in the morning on a Saturday. Working the morning shift on days without classes sucks, especially when the apartment coffee maker is broken again because Draco and basic technology don't mix. "Two for me, one for Luna."
"Luna," Draco groans, grabbing the cup labeled 'cinnamon, whip' on top -- they're past the point where Harry makes fun of him for his coffee order but sometimes it's still fun to judge him silently. After he takes a sip he sets the cup back in the container. "Luna reorganized the store last night," he says, eerily calm all of the sudden, "remember you vaguely wondered out loud where she was and I ignored you because you're always wondering boring things?"
He pauses and looks at Harry as if he's waiting for Harry to confirm his tendency to talk about boring things out loud. Every day Harry regrets moving in with Luna even though he knew Draco was her other roommate and every day he subsequently remembers how hard it was to ignore the fact Ron and Hermione had no idea how loud they were when they had sex at the old apartment and how disturbing they sounded. When Harry spends a few seconds deliberately not moving a single facial muscle to acknowledge Draco he closes his eyes briefly and continues.
"She reorganized the entire store," Draco says. "All of it. The entire thing."
"But did she reorganize the self-help section?" Harry asks, just to be a dick, one of his favorite Draco-related pastimes. He coffee container is getting really hot under his hand but Draco is completely blocking the entrance.
"Yes," Draco says, annoyed, "obviously."
"What about the romance section?" Harry asks.
"Fuck, Potter," Draco says, "what isn't getting past your brain about the entire store?"
Harry shrugs -- this is actually a common occurrence, since Luna thinks the general organizational set-up of the bookstore is irrational and contains bad karma, or something. They frequently have to put everything back in it's place, usually once a month, and Harry's only main concern about it is hoping Luna didn't put two innocent books next to each other to create something really disturbing, like the incident when a customer was so scandalized by two books that she started a petition to close them down for supporting necrophilia.
"I just know that romance is your favorite section," Harry says, finally pushing past Draco's shoulder, "and I know you'd be particularly upset if it were all messed up and you couldn't find the most recent Harle--"
Draco smacks the side of his head from behind and this time Harry actually does drop the coffee holder. "The fuck," Harry says, spinning around and (in an entirely mature response to being blindly attacked) jumping straight at Draco so they both fall to the floor. He manages to settle over Draco's waist and pin his arms up with little difficulty and definitely practice. He's considering either making Draco hit himself in the face with his own hand or just keeping him like that and maybe gloating for a few minutes about his superior strength, but before Harry can decide on the better option, Luna's footsteps (he can tell it's Luna because she's wearing her ridiculous socks with bells again) come up from behind.
"Oh," she says, "good! I knew reorganizing this time would finally create the perfect balance of sexual energy. This time I did more research."
Argument and physical assault briefly forgotten, both Harry and Draco roll their eyes at each other.
"I should write an article on it for my matchmaking column in the paper this month," Luna says.
Draco laughs a second before Harry gets it fully -- both of them are used to Luna trying to set them up in weird ways, claiming the amount of time they spend arguing would be completely minimized if they had sex or proposed marriage or something equally stupid. Harry disagrees. Draco is argumentative and a dick and Harry is better and more intelligent and knows how to do things like work a coffee maker. Their arguments are always completely valid.
"Is that your sexual energy I feel, then, Harry?" Draco asks, shifting his hips up and bucking Harry off.
Harry makes a noise he hopes conveys disgust and distracts from how warm it is in the bookstore, because they really need to get the air conditioning fixed anyway. Also he's sitting in the spilled coffee and that's what is making his cheeks feel flush, not Draco and his stupid hips and the way his mouth had maybe been parted a little while he waited for Harry to do something while Harry had him pinned down.
"Maybe I'll send a copy of the article to my father," Luna says, sounding distracted and patting Harry on the head because he's rolled near her hip, "he's been researching sexual energy in Greece, anyway, so he can come back and teach a course on it next semester."
She turns back around after a moment more of patting Harry on his head and leaves Harry and Draco sitting on the floor. "You signing up for that course?" Harry asks, shifting on the floor to see if his jeans are wet.
Draco makes a face to convey his distaste toward the idea and then looks sadly to the nearest bookshelf. "My bookstore," he says, with more emotion than he uses in his voice for anything other than when he's disappointed with how the plot of his favorite soap opera is going on the television. (Something Harry is saving to mock him for, because it's honestly so amusing when Draco doesn't realize he's yelling at Maria for dumping Sam and hooking up with Greg, who is ten times less hotter and has less money, studying for finals forgotten. Harry will mock him about it at some point when it becomes less amusing, though he has been considering recording it and at least sending it to Ron, because seriously.)
"Our bookstore," Harry corrects automatically, and then makes a face at himself because even if he and Draco and Luna work there more than anyone else and also happen to live above the shop, they don't actually own the place. Draco, for his part, doesn't correct Harry, probably because he agrees and would never admit it. Harry knows he wants to buy the building when they graduate because he'll come into his family trust once he has his degree, and the thought is nicer than Harry would admit out loud.
"I suppose we should start fixing it," Harry says after a few seconds of watching Draco frown deeply at the 'Classics' section, which is now full of books on pet care and sex positions. And wow, that's another petition waiting to happen.
"You start at one end and I'll start here," Draco says, nodding and standing, "we'll meet in the middle."
Harry shrugs and kind of wishes he had more coffee when Draco passes by him and bumps their shoulders together on his way to get a cart, probably inadvertently, and it makes Harry feel overly warm in his sweater again. Before he starts in the back on reorganizing he has to go fix the thermometer and then talk to Luna about not publishing an article on sexual tension in the bookstore, just in case she was serious.
"I can't believe you spilled the coffee," Draco says when he walks past again, bumping Harry in the back with his cart, "I'd only had one sip. One, Harry, and that is not enough to function on."
"You go get more, then," Harry says.
Draco stares at him for a moment. "Fine," he says, "at least then I'll maybe get my own coffee order right. You do know I like my coffee straight and black, right?"
Harry can't help but snort a little at that. "Sure you do," he says, "whatever helps you sleep at night, dreaming of whipped cream and cinnamon and milk and carmel and --"
The door to the bookstore closes in the middle of Harry's sentence and he watches Draco turn down the sidewalk through the window, his shoulders hunched over and his expression a mix of the general annoyance that is permanently a part of his features and maybe, before Harry blinks and makes himself look away, something a little fond that Harry counts as a victory.