Coffee Machine
“Get out of my way, Potter.” Draco snarled under his breath.
“Fuck you, Malfoy.” Potter whispered back.
“Only in your dreams, Potter.” Draco grit his teeth, and elbowed Potter hard.
“I think you mean nightmares, Malfoy.” Potter wheezed and stomped viciously on Draco’s foot.
"Ow! You stupid bitch — these are custom made—”
“Keep your voice down!” Potter hissed.
“You stupid bitch—” Draco whispered back, furious.
Behind them, someone cleared their throat.
Draco dearly hoped that is wasn’t Shacklebolt. And of course — because Draco had hoped for something with all his heart — it turned out to be Shacklebolt.
Draco bit back a swear.
“Is there a reason you’ve both been hogging the coffee machine?”
Potter, the fucking toad, turned to Shacklebolt, “Malfoy cut in line.”
Draco gave Potter a look of pure disdain. “I did nothing so crass. I got here first.”
“You did not, you dirty liar!”
Draco turned to look at Shacklebolt — look at what I’ve had to deal with every-single-fucking-day since you partnered us.
Look at me and feel guilt, you worm.
Shacklebolt pinched the bridge of his nose. “Malfoy.”
“Yes, Minister?”
“Did you cut in line?”
“I most certainly did not.”
Shacklebolt sighed. “Harry.”
“Yeah?”
“Are you overreacting?”
“Wha— No! I’m the one who got here first—”
“I don’t care — both of you get out of my way.”
Potter shot Draco a dirty look — as if this whole ordeal was Draco’s fault. Draco didn’t know how he’d managed to get through this past year without strangling Potter’s sanctimonious neck.
‘Ooooh look at me, I’m the Boy Who Couldn’t Fucking Stay Dead and I don’t know how to use my eyes and Ooooh look! There’s that death-eater scum, Malfoy! And he’s in front of me! Oh shucks, he must have cut in line! There’s absolutely no waythat’s he’s been there from the beginning! Oooooh let me shove him out of the way like the heathen that I am!’
Draco made eye contact with Astoria — one of the only good things in this godforsaken place. She smiled at him and rolled her eyes: Potter’s a Moron.
Draco smiled back: Exactly, my dear.
And of course — because Draco was smiling innocently, and that must mean he’s up to something — Potter whirled back towards Draco. “Why’re you smiling?”
“I’m planning on murdering some puppies when I get home.”
“Listen here, Malfoy—”
And that’s when the coffee machine exploded — all over Shacklebolt’s newly bought dress-shirt.
Draco eyed the broken contraption — about time, as well. With the amount of raw magic circling around the Ministry, the Muggle device was bound to malfunction. Perhaps exploding was a rather exorbitant malfunction — but what did they expect, really. Muggle devices have never properly functioned amongst magic.
(Something to do with how magic disrupts the electric field and prevents any delocalised excitation from occurring — thus preventing the flow of electrons — or what the Muggles like to call: elecktricity.)
(Or so Granger liked to drone.)
“Did you do that?” Potter demanded.
Draco sneered at him, “Yes. And I invented cancer as well.”
“Malfoy.”
“Keep your panties on, you twit. It wasn’t me,” Draco rolled his eyes.
And of course, that was the moment that Shacklebolt lost his fucking marbles.
“Harry! Malfoy!”
Draco exchanged a look with Astoria.
“This is your fault!”
Draco couldn’t believe this. “Um, no, actually, it isn’t—”
“Shut up, you ninny!”
Well, then. Draco rubbed his forehead and looked at Potter. Do something, you useless bugger.
“Kingsley, it wasn’t—”
“Shut up.”
Potter — the most pathetic Gryffindor of them all — did, indeed, shut up.
And that’s how Draco and Potter ended up in a Muggle coffee shop, buying coffee for their entire bloody department.
“You’re fucking useless, Potter.”
“Fuck you.”
“Not even to save my life.”
“Oh, fuck off!”