Chapter Text
Harry glances at the clock on the wall behind him, sighing heavily. There’s still an hour until he can close the café for the day. He’s been there since 7am in the morning, and it’s now 4 pm. His feet are aching, and he desperately needs a lie down.
There are still a handful of customers left, chatting leisurely over fresh pastries and steaming cups of tea. He smiles softly to himself. Even though the hours were long and exhausting, he still loved this little world he had built, where people could come and hide away from the stress of real life, if only for a little while. He saw so many different people every day, some on dates, some out for lunch with their friends, so many important conversations had been had here, as well as just normal ones. It was beautiful, in a way.
He had started his café for a fresh start, wanting to create a cosy space for people to come and just let go for a little while. He wanted to just be, without people crowding him, touching him, talking at him, trying desperately to be seen by the saviour of the wizarding world. And he had done it.
His café was warm and inviting, and always filled with laughter and joy. There were mismatched coffee tables and armchairs he had found in second-hand stores everywhere, all with comfy cushions and blankets that Molly had made for him. There were stacks of old books and newspapers on the tables for his customers to read, which had Hermione insisted on, and Ron had given him a magical chess set that would shout profanities at anyone who attempted to play it. He had found it hilarious.
There were plenty of indoor plants as well, and lots of odd little trinkets lying around, courtesy of Neville and Luna. There were posters on the walls that Ginny had given him, mainly of the Holly Head Harpies, but also some pride flags that he had proudly displayed. Charlie had helped him find fireflies to use as fairy lights, which illuminated the room in warm light. He had put charms on all of his mugs so the coffee would never go cold, and there was a gramophone in the corner that was enchanted to sing songs based on the atmosphere of the room. There were little bits and pieces of all of the people he loved in his shop, and that was the thing that made it so perfect.
The bell jingles above the door, signalling someone’s arrival. Out of the corner of his eye, he sees a flash of blonde hair, sharp features and sleek dark robes. His head snaps up so fast it hurts, but he’s too busy staring at the person who’s just walked in to notice the pain. His draw drops.
“Malfoy?!” he yelps. “What in merlins name are you doing here ?”
The last time Harry had seen Malfoy had been at the trials. He had testified for both Malfoy and his mother, preventing them from being imprisoned at Azkaban. Lucius Malfoy however, had not shared the same fate. He could rot in prison for all Harry cared.
After the war, the manor and the Malfoy fortune had been seized by the ministry, so last Harry had heard he had been living in an apartment in London with his mother, up until her death 3 years ago. At the trials, Draco had been a shell of a man, his cheeks hollow, hair lax and eyes dull, and he had been almost skeletal. The war had been hard on him. The war had been hard on everyone.
The man standing in front of Harry though, had certainly done well for himself. His hair looked soft and almost golden from the light, done perfectly in a stylish haircut that framed his face. He had gained some weight too, and looked much healthier than he had before. He was still slim, as he always had been, but now he had some muscle too . He looked…good. Very good.
Harry jerks himself back into reality. Since when had he cared about Malfoy’s appearance?
“The same thing everyone else is doing I expect. Buying a coffee.” Malfoy replied calmly, as though it was obvious. Which it was, Harry supposed, but it’s not every day that your childhood nemesis comes into the shop you had built for yourself and orders a coffee. He should be allowed at least some element of shock .
“But- why here?” Harry splutters. “What the hell would possess you to decide to get a coffee here?”
Malfoy rolls his eyes. “Where I choose to drink my coffee is none of your concern.” he said coldly. “Are you going to take my order, or do I have to go somewhere else?”
Narrowing his eyes suspiciously, Harry reluctantly reaches into his back pocket and takes out his notepad and pen. “Alright then, what do you want?”
Malfoy glanced at the display cabinet. “I would like one of those croissants, and a pumpkin spiced latte with almond milk, cinnamon and an extra shot of espresso. And make it quick.”
Harry stares at him in shock, his notepad forgotten. Of course Draco Malfoy would have the most complicated and ridiculous coffee order in existence. Bloody git. “Malfoy, you can’t just order something off menu like that!” he says indignantly. "I don't have pumpkin spice or whatever the hell you just ordered!"
“Fine, I’ll have a caramel iced latte. I should have known your incompetency would extend to making coffee,” he mutters. “I’ll be sitting over at that table over there.” He points to a table in the corner of the room. “You can bring it over when it’s ready,” he says, before turning and brusquely walking away.
Harry bristles. How dare he come into Harry’s shop and talk to him like that! As if Harry were some kind of servant! What was he even doing here anyway? He was probably up to something again. Malfoy was always up to something, Harry thinks, glaring at him from across the room. He was busy reading one of the newspapers that were left on one of the tables. Harry huffs and turned back to the coffee machine. “Twat,” he mutters under his breath.
When the coffee is ready and the pastry has been warmed, Harry marches across the room and dumps them down of the table in front of Malfoy, making a loud clatter. The blond man startles, which draws a small smile out of Harry. Good. He should be scared.
“There’s your bloody food. Now, tell me why you’re really here.” He demands, pulling out a chair and sitting down.
“Is this how you talk to all of your customers?” Malfoy says, leaning back in his chair. Harry just glares at him. Malfoy chuckles. “Calm down Potter, I’m not trying to kill you or anything. Can’t a man just enjoy a cup of coffee in peace?” he says.
“I don’t believe you. You’re up to something and I’m going to figure out what it is.” Harry hisses.
Malfoy hums distractedly. “If you say so.” He turns back to his newspaper and sips his coffee.
“I’m serious!” exclaims Harry. “Stop ignoring me!” He snatches the paper out of Malfoy’s hands.
Malfoy glares at him icily. “Stop being such a child. Honestly, I thought you would have grown up over the past couple years, but apparently not,” he said, snatching the newspaper back. “You’re going to chase all of your customers off if you keep acting like this you know.”
Harry had forgotten there were other people here. He looks around. Most of them had noticed the commotion and were now looking over at the two of them, with varying degrees of interest. A couple of people looked scandalised, and a young witch in the corner looked like she was trying very hard not to laugh. Harry’s cheeks burned.
“This isn’t over,” he warns, jabbing a finger at Malfoys chest, who just smiles innocently. Dick. He storms back over to the counter.
About half an hour later, Malfoy is still sitting there. It was almost closing time and Harry desperately wants to go home and have a drink and complain to Ron and Hermione. All of the other customers had left, so now they were alone in the store. Harry clears his throat and glares meaningfully at Malfoy.
“Are you going to sit there all afternoon, or do I have to kick you out?” he calls.
“Are you always this polite to your customers?” Malfoy asks sarcastically. Harry just glares at him. Malfoy sighed. “Don’t worry Potter, I’ll leave you alone to your … whatever this is.” He waved a hand around vaguely, and then stands up and picks up his coat from behind the chair. “I’d best be going now anyway. Good day Potter, lovely to see you.”
And with that, he sweeps out of the café dramatically, leaving Harry gaping at the door, wondering what in merlin all that was about.
“And do you know what he did then? That pompous little ass got up, said it had been lovely to see me and then left!” Harry exclaims angrily as he paces around the room, waving his arms about in the air. Ron and Hermione look at him, obviously trying (and failing) to contain their laughter.
After his encounter with Malfoy, Harry had closed up the shop and immediately flooed to the flat his best friends shared. He had then proceeded to rant all throughout dinner about a certain blonde-haired twat, to the great amusement of Ron, and the exasperation of Hermione.
“Harry, don’t you think you’re taking this a bit too far?” Hermione suggests cautiously.
Harry spins around to face her. “No, I don’t think I am! He’s up to something, I know it. Why else would he come in?” He sits down heavily into one of the armchairs arranged around the fireplace.
“Um, to get coffee?” says Ron, who recoils when Harry shoots him a poisonous look. “Look mate, I hate Malfoy just as much as you do. He poisoned me in sixth year, remember? But I have to agree with Hermione on this one. He hasn’t done anything to warrant any suspicion in years.”
Hermione nodded. “He’s grown up, Harry. He doesn’t believe in all that toxic pureblood nonsense anymore; he told me himself. He’s actually quite a nice person these days.”
“What?!” Harry practically shrieks. “Since when do you talk to Malfoy!”
“Since he became one of the most reliable potion makers that supplies to St Mungo’s, that’s when!” Hermione snaps. “He offered me an apology, which I accepted by the way, and we went out to lunch together. Believe what you want about him Harry, but he’s changed, and for the better.”
Harry stares at her, dumbstruck. Since when was Hermione friends with Malfoy?
She stares back defiantly. “I’m done talking about this. I’m going to make a cup of tea,” she practically growls, storming off into the kitchen.
Harry looks at Ron guiltily. “I did take it too far, didn’t I?”
Ron leans over and pats his shoulder. “It’s alright mate, we’re used to it by now.”
Over the course of the next couple weeks, Draco Malfoy becomes a regular customer, much to Harry’s confusion. After his conversation with his friends, he had begrudgingly agreed to give Malfoy the benefit of the doubt, even though it was proving to be difficult.
Almost every day he would march in at 4pm on the dot, order his stupid coffee and then sit in the same spot, reading the newspaper for half an hour, and then leave. It was maddening. And of course he had to be a snob about it. Every day he would come up with increasingly complex and strange orders, half of which Harry was sure didn’t even exist. If Harry took even a minute too long to make his coffee he would glare aggressively at his watch and glance over at the counter every couple seconds, then sigh loudly when his coffee wasn’t immediately forthcoming. And then, just to be annoying, he would stay an extra 10 minutes, even after everyone had left just so Harry had to stay longer to clean up. Petty bastard.
It was a Wednesday afternoon, and the shop was empty and quiet. Harry was wiping up dishes in the sink when he heard the bell jingle. He took a deep breath and tried (and failed) to stifle his groan. He scrubbed a hand over his face and turned to face the inevitable. So much for closing up early.
“Hello Malfoy,” he sighs. “Potter,” Malfoy says, nodding curtly. “I’ll have a half vanilla, half hazelnut latte with oat milk, but only if it’s the bougie brand with the gold label. I can taste the difference Potter, don’t test me,” he said, pointing a finger at Harry warningly.
“Are you kidding?” Harry splutters. “You are such a snob.” he shakes his head. “You know, it’s almost like you come up with these intentionally just to annoy me,”
“What can I say, I like to keep you on your toes,” Malfoy replies, smirking. “is it working?”
Harry just glowers and starts to make the stupid coffee.
By the time it's ready, Malfoy had only looked at his watch 4 times, and sighed twice, which Harry counted as a win. Usually, it took about 6 sighs and sometimes he even started muttering about the ‘terrible service’ and ‘I don’t even know why I bother, the coffee here is terrible anyway’.
He takes the coffee over to Malfoy, placing it carefully on the table (He’d had a whole lecture the week before when some coffee had ‘accidentally’ spilled all over Malfoys precious new robes, and now knew everything one could possibly know about the difficulty of getting coffee stains out of pure silk clothing, so he wasn’t going to take the risk of spilling anything else again).
“Thank you, Potter.” Malfoy says.
Harry waits for the usual complaints about how long it took or the subtle insults about his appearance. He seemed to take great pleasure in asking Harry if he ‘got that messy, unkept look on purpose, or if his hair was just permanently a rat’s nest’, and then recommending some great barbers he knew. But he remains silent.
“Is there anything else?” asks Malfoy politely. Harry blinks. This is new. Harry hadn’t known that Malfoy was even capable of being polite to people he considered lesser, like a coffee shop owner such as himself, for example. He didn’t know what to do in this situation.
“Um, no?” he cautions.
“Eloquent as usual I see,” Malfoy quips, looking back at his paper. When Harry just stood there, he looked up again in disbelief. “Well? Are you going to insist on standing there like a moron?”
Harry rolls his eyes. It seemed Rude Malfoy was back again. Yay.
“You still haven’t told me why you insist on coming here for coffee you know,” he says.
“Oh?” said Malfoy distractedly, obviously trying to ignore him. Harry decides to just keep talking. He’s never been very good at shutting up anyway.
“I still haven’t ruled the possibility of you trying to ruin my business slowly by buying all my croissants and using up all of my caramel flavouring. Or maybe you’re a spy sent here by a top-secret organisation so they can find out all my secrets,” Harry says, actually starting to enjoy this. He can think of many, many theories. “Or – “
Malfoy slams his hands down on the table. “Oh for merlins sake, Potter! Have you ever considered that maybe, no wizarding coffee shops will serve me, you know, considering my previous death eater status?” He practically hisses. “You must be stupider than I thought if you think I could even step a foot in Diagon alley without being practically chased out by a horde of angry people all shooting very painful curses at me!”
Ohhhh. Right. Harry feels a little bit bad now.
“And you actually have half decent coffee, unlike many of the other hovels in this city,” he continues. “Honestly, I just want to enjoy my coffee and read my newspaper without people glaring at me and whispering about me constantly, and this is the only place I can actually relax!” he shouts.
Harry had not expected that. Malfoys face flushes red with embarrassment. He opens his mouth, then closes it and looks down at the table. “Sorry. I shouldn’t have yelled. If you don’t want me here, then I’ll find somewhere else to get my coffee. Maybe they’ll actually be able to make my order.” He huffs out a dry laugh, then stands and starts walking towards the door.
Harry just stands there, gaping. Malfoy is technically his best customer, and even though he doesn’t want to admit it, after he got used to his obnoxious blond presence, he was actually starting to look forward to it. He groans inwardly, already regretting what he was about to do.
“Malfoy, wait!” he calls. Malfoy doesn’t stop, pushing the door open and walking out the door. Harry catches the door just as it’s about to swing shut, running out onto the footpath behind him. “Look, I’m sorry, ok?”
“Piss off Potter,” Malfoy yells over his shoulder, speeding up. Harry curses under his breath, and then chases after him. He manages to grab Malfoys shoulder and tugs him back, stopping him from going any further. Malfoy stumbles a little and then whips around to face Harry. “What the fuck are you doing?” he squawks indignantly.
“Just wait, ok?” Harry lets his hand drop. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know that people were treating you so badly. It’s unfair, and you don’t deserve it.”
Malfoy looks taken aback. “What?”
Harry takes a deep breath. “Look, I know you don’t like me, and trust me, that feeling is mutual, but I suppose you’re my best customer, and as annoying as you can be, I wouldn’t want to deprive you of my amazing coffee.”
“That is so kind of you Potter, thank you, really,” Malfoy says dryly.
“Oh, shut up. What I’m trying to say is that you’re much less of a prick now, and I don’t mind you coming in and drinking your coffee in the corner for half an hour every day if it’s the only place you can relax, since that’s kind of the whole point anyway. And if anyone else has a problem with it then they’ll have to deal with me,” he adds, glaring at Malfoy defiantly.
He seems to be dumbstruck, staring at Harry with a strange look on his face.
“And you have to come back in anyway, you haven’t paid, and you forgot your coat,” Malfoy snorts at this, but still turns and walks with harry back to the café. He doesn’t say anything until they’re inside, quietly collecting his coat and paying for his coffee.
He stands at the till, obviously searching for what to say. He opens his mouth, hesitating. “Thank you, Potter, this is very kind of you. I know we haven’t had the best relationship in the past, but I’m very grateful for this. It’s nice to be able to have somewhere to relax away from the wizarding world, even if it is your dingy little shop,” he added, because god forbid he actually give Harry a compliment.
“Right, well, I suppose I’ll see you tomorrow then,” Harry says awkwardly.
“Yes Potter, I suppose I’ll see you tomorrow,” Malfoy says. And then he smiles. He actually smiles, and it’s dazzling. Harry forgets to breathe. He doesn’t think he’s ever seen Malfoy smile before. Well, at least not at him. It makes his eyes twinkle and completely transforms his face. Harry wonders dazedly how he gets his hair to look like that, when he snaps back into attention. Since when had Malfoy been attractive? And since when had he been attracted to him??
“Alright there Potter? You look a little flustered,” Malfoy asks looking worried, which is concerning in its own right.
“Er, yeah I’m fine. Just tired. Time to go, I’m about to close up,” he squeaks, flapping his hands to try and make Malfoy go away.
“Don’t sound so eager to see me leave. I am, after all, your best customer,” Malfoy smirks, and then fucking winks. Harry feels weak in the knees. “Goodbye Potter,” he says, wiggling his fingers at Harry as he leaves.
Harry stands there staring at the door for a while after that.