The heat from the sun was so intense, Draco swore it could drain the color from his hair. Seriously, what the hell were they doing here? He regretted wearing black before stepping out of the Manor. Then again, he never made the smartest decisions when hanging out with these two idiots.
"Is my hair sticking to my forehead?" he sighs, as if he’d just run a marathon. He’s met with silence. Typical. No one cares about his bitching anymore, he needs to step his game up.
Are you sure this is the right place? It looks like someone's house," Gregory remarked as soon as he heard his expensive shoe scrape against the floor. Draco tried to stop his eyebrows from shooting up at the sight of the half-demolished yard (he really tried). If there was a neighborhood for Dementors, this is what it would probably look like.
"Yes," Vincent murmured as he stared at the "restaurant" in front of him with a shudder. "Mum said so. Cool soul food, or something like that."
Without skipping a beat, Draco pointed to the left. "Why are you saying that like there's a sign right here? The only sign here is 'keep out'—and it's on the door of the house! Vince, this is not a restaurant, I'm telling you."
Gregory sucked his teeth. Every time Draco’s voice rose by a decibel, he could swear the heat did too. "This is what your mum had?" He sniffled, holding back a chuckle.
"Yes, it's what she told me. It looks like someone's house." Despite his skeptical expression, Vincent maintains his indifferent tone. "The food your mother served last time was fantastic, so I'll give this a go..." Draco shuddered as he shoved his hands in his pockets.
"We're risking our lives." Gregory mumbled. They stepped inside.
It took them three seconds. Three seconds for one of them to start screeching.
"Merlin, no!" The blonde practically screamed.
Gregory let out a sound he didn’t even know his vocal cords were capable of producing. Maybe it was just a side effect of puberty.
Vincent's facade finally broke. "Oh, that's— The whole place is dirty."
Gregory points to the floor, his gaze sharp and eager, like a pigeon spotting a piece of bread. "There is a SINK on the floor." He makes sure to emphasize it once more, his voice rising with incredulity. "a SINK!" His eyes dart to the two, as if looking for someone to confirm the absurdity of what he had just said.
"This looks like a place where Azkaban escapees would gather." Vincent shakes his head as he skims the room. "Sketchy."
Draco, in pure distress, puts his hands on his head, his face twisting. "We've got to go..." He breaths out.
Yet, lo and behold, before they could even step out of the so-called restaurant, a third voice fills the room. "What do you lot want to order?"
"This cold soul food?"
"Yeah. What y'all want?"
Vincent's stomach growls.
"......What y'all got?"
"We got an $8 plate and a $10 plate."
"What's the difference between the plates?"
"The $10 dollar plate has more food."
"How much more food?"
"$2 worth."
"What?" Gregory's face scrunches up in confusion. Draco rubs his forehead, swearing a vein has popped. Whoever he was in his past life, he must have really gotten on Merlin’s bad side. It was the only explanation for why he kept ending up in these situations.
"I've got stuff to do, hurry it up!"
Vincent slowly walks forward, as if marching to his death, and orders. "How long is it going to take?" Draco asks, raising an eyebrow.
"Oh no, we good out here," the employee replies, as a coworker pops out of thin air, handing him a plastic bag of three plates.
"Huh?!" the three exclaim in unison. "Is that pre-made?" Gregory blinks, still processing.
"What? No, it's all fresh. Home-made."
"How did you get it out that fast?"
"It's 30$."
"Check it, check it!" Draco insists, pointing at the plate Gregory pulls from the bag. Vincent lets out a long sigh, stepping up to pay. "We're already here, might as well. A price for salvation."
A pregnant pause.
"...This looks kind of good," Gregory mutters, stabbing his fork into the food. "This looks exactly like what we had at Vince's!" He exclaims, disbelief in his voice. Vincent quickly grabs another fork and takes a bite. The two watch him intently, almost waiting for a sign of impending doom. Vincent smacks his lips as the fork leaves his mouth.
"Oh yeah," he nods, practically beaming.
"For real?" Draco's eyebrows shoot up on their own.
"This is exactly what my mum had!"
"You guys really make this shit in this dirty-ass place!" Vincent shakes his head, nodding at the employee in approval as he takes another bite.
The three of them end up walking out of there, each holding a plate.
Maybe they were Merlin's frenemies in their past life—nothing too bad. Draco wasn’t about to admit he’d been dramatic earlier, though.
