Charmed Life
Tucked away in some back corner of rainy London was an oddity of a Coffee Shop, Charmed Life. It was known to the locals as simply, Charmed. Even more of an oddity, however, was that this shop contained both muggle drinks and those of the more mystical variety. The same could be said of the people who worked behind the bar.
None other than pure-blooded Draco Malfoy was a barista at this topsy-turvy establishment. He was in the summer between his 7th and 8th year at Hogwarts, a bright 17-year-old. After the death of Dumbledore…nothing was the same. Draco needed to get out of his house, he needed to be away from his parents, he needed to be away from the talk of Voldemort. He just needed out.
It's not like Draco needed the money, he was a Malfoy after all but he needed to clear his head and learn how to think for himself. That is how he came about applying for and accepting a position at Charmed Life. His friend, Pansy had recommended he work there with her he thought it might be a fun adventure.
Draco really took to it. At first, he was worried that he wouldn’t be successful at something so…mundane, but to his (and everyone else’s) surprise, he was amazing at latte art. He would spend minutes crafting beautiful lattes for himself or his coworkers when it was slow. His favorite one to make was a dragon.
On a quiet afternoon, Draco was cleaning up the espresso machine and tidying up front when someone he did NOT expect walked in, Harry Potter. He had dark circles under his eyes Draco noticed, “but when doesn’t he” Draco thought to himself. “What can I get started for you?” Draco asked as he threw the towel he was using to clean up over his shoulder.
“A double Americano please.” Potter dragged a hand over his face as he ordered. Draco gave him a long blink before typing the order onto the screen.
“Can I get you anything else?” He asked, trying not to study Potter’s face too intently.
“Nope.”
“2.76 is your total.”
“Great, thanks” Potter hands Draco a £5 note. “Keep the change.” Potter goes and takes a seat at one of the tables facing the coffee bar.
“I’ll have it right out, Potter,” Draco calls over to him and begins to make his drink. “A bloody americano? Who orders an americano?” Draco thinks to himself glancing back over at Potter, he was just staring off into the distance.
“Here you are,” Draco hands Potter the drink and goes back to tidying up.
“Thanks, Malfoy.” Potter thanks him and sips on his drink.
They fall into something resembling a pattern with these interactions. Potter coming into the store and ordering Americanos. Sometimes Draco is the one to help him and sometimes it is Pansy or another worker. But every time Potter sat at the same spot and sipped his Americano for about an hour and then silently left.
On a rainy day in June, the cafe felt packed. Almost every table, booth, and couch was full of muggle and magical people alike. Just like clockwork Potter walked into the Cafe and ordered his usual Americano. Draco was just sitting down to take his break when Potter spun in a circle looking for an open table. There was only one, the one that Draco was sitting at.
"Join me, Potter. Looks like we're both in need of a break today." Draco motioned to a chair that was open next to him.
Potter sat down with his Americano silently. They enjoyed each other company for a few minutes before Draco couldn’t keep his curiosity contained anymore.
“What are you doing here, Potter?”
“I could say the same for you, Malfoy,” Potter jested back.
“I’m working,” Draco said flatly, upset that Potter had skirted his question. “I’m getting out,” Draco tried again after Potter didn’t say anything to his first answer.
“Out of what?” Potter finally glanced over at Draco.
“Out of my house, out of my life out of my head. Any of it.”
“Yeah…” Potter said and didn’t say anything else.
They sat in amiable silence for a while, “Let me make you a latte next time. Americanos are trash.” Draco’s break was over.
After that conversation on the busy day, nothing changed. Draco didn’t think anything would. Potter kept coming back to the coffee shop and ordering those god-awful Americanos every day. And Draco kept working.
They were into August when Potter came in one day looking truly terrible. He had darker-than-usual bags under his eyes and a bruise that Draco would swear looked like a handprint across his neck. It was a slow day and Draco had been practicing his latte art on a latte he had just made. He handed it to Potter before he would even fully step up to the counter.
“On the house, a latte, you’ll like it.” Draco handed it to Potter and didn’t say anything further. The latte art today was a typical rosetta design. Nothing outstanding but nothing too easy either. Harry finished his drink and got up to return his drink to the counter.
“Potter,” Draco called, “you never answered my question you know,” Potter looked confused for a second before giving a shy smile. He reached for his neck, right where the bruise was.
“I’m getting out too.” He said and walked out.
Draco could not stop thinking about what Potter had said for the rest of his shift, and the rest of the night after he got home and the morning when he was getting ready. The dark bags under Potter’s eyes, the bruise on his neck, the sad look in his eyes when he finally answered his question. Draco had to get to the bottom of this. Not because he cared about Potter, absolutely not, but because it was bothering him so much.
The next morning he baked some chocolate croissants and set one aside for Potter. He couldn’t keep giving him random lattes. Right on time, in the mid-afternoon, Potter walked into Charmed Life. He ordered an Americano, Draco made it and when Potter was about halfway finished with his drink, Draco took his break. Draco plated two croissants and took them over to Potter.
“I made a new recipe, I don’t know if they’re any good. Want to taste one?” Draco asked as he sat down at Potter’s table.
“Sure,” Potter said picking one up. His eyes looked so sunken like he hadn’t eaten in days. How was Draco just now noticing this?
“What are you escaping from,” Draco said, not trying to be gentle at all. Potter huffed, looking into his cup, “My family, just the same as you.”
“I don’t think our families are very similar at all,” Draco said, confusion clouding his voice.
“Oh, I think they are,” Potter gave a smile that looked more like a grimace. “I have seen how your father treats house elves. My uncle treats me the same.” Draco’s eyes flicked to Potter’s bruise, somehow it looked worse than yesterday.
“Your uncle did that to you?” Draco motioned to the bruise.
“Uh, you noticed this huh?” Potter looked embarrassed.
“Kind of hard to miss,” Draco said taking a bite out of his croissant, they were really good.
“Yeah well, it’s been like this since I can remember.” Harry looked up at Draco, there was a complexity behind his eyes.
“But you’re the chosen one” Draco rolled his eyes at the sentence.
“Yeah well, even the chosen one gets beat up by his family.” Harry downed his americano and left half the croissant on the plate. He pointed to it, “These were great.” Then got up and left.
If Draco couldn’t stop thinking about Harry before, he surely couldn’t stop thinking about him now.
“Tell me about your family?” Harry was sitting at the table closest to the coffee bar, chatting with Draco as he sipped his Americano.
“Not much to tell that you don’t already know, my father is uptight because he wants me to be the perfect son and my mother is uptight because she believes I am the perfect son. If I don’t live up to those perfect expectations well…you know the rest.” Draco scrubbed at the same spot on the counter the entire time he spoke. “I know they love me, they just don’t show it very well…or at all.”
“I wish I could say the same about my family.”
They continued like this for at least a week. Talking about their lives when the store was slow or just simply sitting quietly while Draco was on his break if the store was busy.
Draco found himself captivated by the changes in Harry – the resilience that defined him and the depth of the emotions he hid behind his green eyes. Harry, in turn, discovered a side of Draco he had never glimpsed before – the vulnerability beneath the cool exterior.
One day, Draco gave Harry another latte, this time with his signature dragon latte art.
“It’s a dragon, for Draco, cute,” Harry said looking down at the cup.
“Oh, I was thinking more about the Triwizard Tournament. But Draco works too.”
Both of them looked at each other and blushed.
“Well, either way, I love it, and I can’t wait to drink it.” Harry took a sip of the latte and closed his eyes in pleasure. “They really are better than Americanos.”
“I never thought I would see the day! Harry Potter finally admits that Americanos are garbage!”
“Hey! I never said they were garbage, I just said lattes made by you are much better.”
Amid enchanted lattes and magical pastries, a connection blossomed. The coffee shop, with its aroma of beans and the comforting hum of conversation, became the backdrop for a new chapter in their lives – one that held the promise of friendship, understanding, and perhaps something more.