Maraudering Matters

August, 2007

As he had predicted, Harry did not fancy living alone. The main reason was that he had to do everything himself. Piles of books on households and housewarming spells could not help him clean up the house any faster. He should have done a lot more reading but after almost a month of struggling with the numerous bugs and insect infestations and dirt sticking to every corner of the building, he had finally been able to make the space habitable.

The nightmares – he had known. He’d suspected he wouldn’t be able to sleep properly so soon and it did take him a week to sleep through one complete night, but he hadn’t seen the old routines coming. That was stupid of him, of course it was, since by now he was aware enough of his own body’s ways and mechanisms – somehow, when he was alone, his body switched to survival mode. For the first week, he found himself waking up every few hours and creeping around the house, making sure it was deserted – safe, even though he knew no one was there taking turns with him and that he wasn’t living in a tent. At first he thought it was the forest area getting to him, but by the second week, the absence of Hermione was like a huge hole in his being. His body had gone back to those instincts and he found himself eating less and less the more time he spent on his own.

That was, until, of course, Caramel had noticed his thinning figure and made all their little appointments during either lunch or dinner and made him order something to eat before beginning work. He had cottoned on by the third time she did that, and the moment she had realized he did, she only looked back with a defiant set of her chin, daring him to say anything.

For about three days, Harry had second guessed himself about his decision of hiring the blonde but then they had met up in a park where Caramel had shown up with a bundle of files and talked him through some pretty important things he had overlooked; then she had proceeded to hand him seven resumes of people she had short listed for him to interview, and he knew that he had made the right decision.

The people he ended up hiring probably had a pattern to them but Harry refused to admit it to himself. Jaden Cooper was tall, dark-skinned and handsome, with dark eyes that seemed mature beyond his years. He described himself as not very social, as he had never been blessed with the ability to put up with Stupid and claimed his Ma’s ingrained politeness was the only reason he had survived college. He had studied to be a teacher in New York but had to shift to LA because of his mother’s sickness and needed a full time job to help pay the extra bills. Harry wasn’t sure if helpers were paid as much salary as he had in mind for Jade (as he preferred being called), but he somehow didn’t want to find out.

Clark Hannigan was probably his most sensible hire by now, since the guy had studied to be an accountant and had a degree to show for it. He was also unfairly handsome, a dark blond with dark blue eyes always alight with mischief and mirth, checking out Harry unashamedly and flirting with him for the first half of the interview. 

His reason for wanting to work for him was that he wanted to work from the ground up, with a fresh startup like his. Not to mention that it would haunt his father, who was a businessman and had been all for him joining his company, until he had found out that his son was gay. Upon further talk, he had confided that he wanted to have enough money to pay off his father for his education and move out from the flat his father had ‘gifted’ him on his last birthday.

Last of all was Jonathan Hutt, the youngest of the lot, barely seventeen, and with one year to go for his school to finish. He lived with Caramel and was happy for the opportunity to make some extra money while staying out of the house for as long as possible with a valid reason.  The boy did claim to know a lot about baking so Harry was pretty sure he would make himself useful in some way or the other.

And so he did, when the lot somehow managed to get him to Clark’s flat on the last day of July with some nonsensical excuse, and presented him with a birthday cake made entirely by Jon. It had skipped Harry’s mind entirely that it was his birthday, and he wasn’t sure how Caramel had found out but she had and had told the others. So Harry had just succumbed to the cheerful atmosphere and drank his way through it, trying his best not to think about all the people he had spent his birthdays with in the past years, and realizing the next day that he hadn’t spent his birthday without Ron and Hermione for eleven long, long years.

December, 2007

Harry was sure it was the worst possible idea he had had all year, including his relocation from the continent he had lived in all his life. He stood outside the small kissing gate at the entrance of the church; a small rucksack not unlike Hermione’s tucked into his socks. It had the same undetectable extension charm on it, something no other thing in his life required now – thanks to the size of his house and his comparatively meager possessions.

It was Christmas Eve and he had plans to spend the next evening at his shop handling the barrage of customers and orders brought on by the heavy discounts of Christmas week, and the special Christmas food he had been baking for the past week. He had not expected his little café, or the food to be especially popular, but they were definitely starting to build a considerable following of regulars. More and more people seemed to bustle into his shop in the daytime – it seemed to be an unusually wet month. He could happily admit that business was booming, sometimes quite literally as someone or the other was always trying to make themselves heard over the din by shouting.

For this day, however, he had been fighting with himself, trying to decide upon the two courses of action – stay in at the shop baking his way non-stop through the day, or keep up the seventh year of the strange and silent tradition with his best friend. Said best friend would probably kill him on sight if he happened to bump into her, but a part of him was hoping she would never show up. She had no reason, after all.

He had finally given up after being distracted at work, and realizing the time difference, had muttered to Caramel about needing to visit some place important in the afternoon and decided to leave.

Thankfully, he had had the foresight to add an old tapestry right above the couch in the kitchen of the café, and making sure he was alone, walked through it into his own sitting room at home. The magical connection had been Rolf’s idea and Harry couldn’t appreciate it more as he grabbed a jumper, a robe, scarves, gloves and shoes from the very back of an old wardrobe and quickly shoving them on, walked back through the same tapestry, out through the back door of the kitchen, and turned on the spot, concentrating on an ideal location. He had to apparate about five times before he was sure he was near enough to the old English countryside where Godric’s Hollow was located, before apparating at the  same exact spot they used every year.

A deep calm settled over his heart as he looked around - the atmosphere was the same every year, it was always snowing and they could hear the carols and music and laughter from the little pub at the heart of small village, lights dancing wherever they fell in the snow. He felt the rush of cold air, biting deliciously into his skin and he reveled in the stings his breaths caused in his lungs. It was like hugging an old friend, untouched by time.

He had chosen to arrive later than usual, hoping to avoid running into her. Despite this precaution, he was sure it would mean his untimely death if he ran into Hermione here, hence the reason for this being one of the stupider ideas he had had. He had walked upto the statue in the middle of the village, staring at his scarless baby face, and the stone faces of his parents. He wondered what they would think… what they would say to what he was doing with his life… But no – he had stopped doing that to himself. He wasn’t allowed to let those thoughts wander any further because it was an unending well of questions that would never be answered.

But isn’t that the point of today?

Taking a deep breath, he walked into the place silently; there were no lights in the Church but it did not matter – he remembered his way now. He lit his wand to help himself walk, his heart thundering in his chest, the familiar feeling of something crushing in his body filling him to the brim the closer he got to the graves of his mother and father. How he wished he could have met them… loved them… seen them live… be happy…

The familiar white gravestones shone slightly from the light of his wand, and he noted with another jolt in his stomach, the wreath of roses – fresh, but with a considerable coating of snow upon them. His heart felt fit to tear open at the thought of what he had lost… what could have been… what his life could have been… filled with love, laughter, family, friends… He sat cross-legged for what felt like hours beside his mother and father, letting out the poisonous grief in his body, wishing… wishing, not for the first time, that he was with them… away from it all… at rest.

When he finally stepped out of the gate after about an hour, his heart was a little lighter, but he had one more stop to make. People were still singing the same old carols in the pub, and he had flashes of his last Christmas Eves, all spent at The Burrow or Hogwarts, surrounded by his friends and the people he loved, listening to Hagrid, Charlie and Mr. Weasley sing drunken carols or Hermione forcing Crookshanks into a red hat, or Ginny and George getting scolded by Mrs. Weasley for setting the gnomes dressed like elves and fairies after Ron. Of the few spent at Hogwarts, he missed the grandeur of the decorated castle, tinkling fairy lights and bells, glinting suits of armors and Peeves singing carols at the top of his voice, causing as much havoc as possible.

He walked towards the end of the single lane that led out of the small village, stopping at the old dilapidated house he now recognized as his own. It belonged to him, and as the owner he had wondered if he wanted to get it repaired, but he had never found the guts to change anything about the old ruin. He had never even entered it, despite the building now belonging to him. It still had the muggle repelling charms and all the other protective enchantments, or so he hoped, but he had not actually dared to find out. Who would want to break into an old ruin anyway?

Breathing deeply, Harry pushed open the gate for the first time, and it didn’t budge – which was not unexpected. After a few seconds of struggling, he was able to pass through the narrow gap created and found himself climbing the steps to the open doorway, through the small overgrown lawn. He felt somewhat like he was having an out of body experience – when he noted the messy state the house was in. It was all brown and covered in dust, which was not surprising since nobody had probably entered it in twenty-six years.

He could make out the old rotten furniture and what looked like a broken cup of tea on the table in the first room, but that was not what he was looking for. He walked further in, looking into what he could only guess was a bedroom, but then came the kitchen. It was on the right side of the house and looked to have suffered a great deal of damage as the ceiling had caved in. There was some snow on top of a few piles, but it looked like the perfect place for what he had come to do.

Digging out the pouch from his socks, Harry extracted the small wooden box, and placed it at the side, before grabbing a blunt and random piece of wood from a pile nearby. He looked for a place where the floor had given into more earth than the rest of the area, and set to digging for his perfect hiding place. 

January, 2008

Finally, when everything was done and prepared and construction and decoration was finished, Harry couldn’t help but be a little proud of the beautiful place he was glad to call his workplace.

Canopus Café had opened to the public in on the 19^th of September, 2007 and was situated somewhat in the middle of the city of Los Angeles, close to the University as well as the freeway. Harry liked to think that he had not deliberately chosen the date that coincided with his friend’s birthday, because he was not guilty. Anyway, it was not like he could give the witch a birthday present – or anyone back home for that matter, so he would have to compensate in his own probably mental ways.

The rest of Christmas had passed with no presents received, and he had felt an incomprehensible loss, waking up to no presents on Christmas after at least sixteen years. The downfall in his mood was unexpected – but who was he kidding? He had known this was going to happen when he had made his decision and told Kingsley to intercept all his mail – everything he received by owl was courtesy of Kingsley letting it through, and since it was only the daily wizarding newspaper that made it through anyway, it was clear that the man was doing his job. He got a lot of unwanted fan mail everyday after all – and that was before he had disappeared.

Canopus was a good distraction from his worries of the state he had left his home country in - the walls were painted a happy purple, with pictures of many of his desserts and biscuits and shakes he had taken himself, decorated on the walls. The seating arrangement could probably use some work – it consisted mostly of beanbags and armchairs around settees with a large number of cushions all over the place. There were only six tables in the room, for those who wanted to do actual work and there were only a few proper chairs with high backs.

The counter was situated at the other end of the long, well-lit room, and a door opened into the equally huge kitchen and storage, which had a sitting area in one corner, for breaks and lunch. The tapestry covered the wall behind the sofa, and for all it’s odds of being a magical painting and being at least a few decades old, it fit in rather well with the modern kitchen.  A rather rickety staircase led to his small two-room flat-office, one of which was occupied mostly by Clark once he was done with his shift – and the other was covered with Harry’s supply of wizarding ingredients he sometimes fancied experimenting with, some potion ingredients, but mostly just daily food supplies for the café. There was a spacious bathroom attached upstairs, for him and his staff, although he preferred using the word friends somehow in his head, in the loosest possible sense.  

They had a rough system that somehow worked, despite the strong differences in character of his staff. Harry arrived as early as 4 am, and somehow Caramel had made sure every meal he had was shared with one of them or the other. In the morning, he ate with Caramel and Jade, who helped him open shop – cleaning out while he started on the first batch of English muffins, pastries and puddings. By afternoon he was making those things on demand, since they always ran out, no matter how many batches he made in advance. He had an early lunch with Caramel and Clark, who showed up just in time for his lunch anyway, and a late lunch, basically supper, with Jade and Jon. Jon arrived when it was time for Caramel to leave for her evening class and Clark and Harry shuffled between handling the main counter for the evening. Jade stuck to serving and Jon helped Harry with cooking as well as he could.

Dinner was always a noisy affair since everyone was ravenous by closing time and Harry and Jon cooked alternately, switching between classic American meals and full English dinners. If it wasn’t school night, dinner was cooked at Clark’s spacious two bedroom apartment. Having all meals together did help everyone bond, but at the same time, they knew the limit to their knowledge of Harry’s personal life.

They didn’t ask about his past after receiving cold, single-syllable answers to questions about his parents and family. Jon backed off about making Harry wear short-sleeved shirts (something Harry had not done for many years now) after one glare that stoutly shut him up. He never stopped finding fault with Harry’s favorite pair of socks, though, the two mismatched different colored ones gifted to him by Dobby. Caramel was of the nosy sort and insisted on setting him up for useless dates that only ended in one night stands and a string of discarded numbers, but she kept on, somehow coming to the silent agreement that if he did this for her, she wouldn’t pry into his dating life any further. Past or present.

Clark and Jade never tried to break boundaries, except the silent gestures that somehow meant more to him. Jade ignored the number of knives and guns he had hidden around the café, always finding something in one unlikely place or the other and silently cleaning it and placing it back. Returning the favor, Harry didn’t ask him where he learned to unassemble and reassemble a gun. Similarly, Clark had once accidentally sneaked up on Harry, who had pressed a knife to his throat in the next second, before apologizing profusely. Somehow, after that incident, everyone made sure to make extra noise when approaching him.

Clark and Jade had also accepted the two bags he had handed them three months into the opening of the café, wordlessly, and just nodded when he told them to keep them at their place ‘in case of an emergency’. He had gone further to explain that each contained a set of essentials he would need in case any situation would arise, and that to just forget they were there in the first place. They hadn’t said a word, but he had still concluded his speech with a comment to never speak about it again.

They had even ignored the biggest mystery of all when he had stupidly apparated straight back to his shop on Christmas Eve and entered the kitchen to Caramel, Jade and Clark having a panicked discussion about his whereabouts. They had been stunned speechless since he had entered wearing robes – basically clothing he hadn’t left in, covered in dirt, snow in his hair, wet clothes, and red-rimmed eyes that his glasses did no favor of hiding. He had not been able to come up with any plausible explanation so had simply barked at them to get back to their work stations since he was back and would handle all he needed from here. He had to thunder ‘Go!’ at them to snap them out of their shock at his state, and glared ‘No questions’ as soon as he saw Caramel open her mouth, scowling anytime they mentioned it again, but otherwise pretending short-term deafness.

They never looked at him any different, even after he informed them, for the fifth time in seven months that he had blown up his phone again. He used a different variant every time but they had caught on to the fact that he didn’t do well with technology- often assigning tasks related to the oven to Jon, if he was there, getting someone else at other times.

This made him wonder if they believed he had finally gone off his rocker when all four of them looked at him with varying expressions of skepticism. He had only mentioned that something about the brunette from that morning seemed a little off – surely, that was less insane and abnormal than the rest of his behavior?

They were having dinner at Clark’s place, and the brunette in question, Amelia Court had ambled in with one of their regulars, Alex, and promptly stopped as soon as she had laid eyes on Harry. Harry had panicked for half a second, and was almost sure that her eyes flicked to his scar, before the girl just smiled shyly and blushed, and then spent the rest of their stay flirting with Harry non-stop. Alex and Caramel had made fun of him over it, but that wasn’t why she made him paranoid.

“You’re just pissed because she flirted with you the whole day and then kissed Alex goodbye and not you!” Jon remarked once the others had stopped looking at him like he was crazy.

“It was on the cheek. What am I, ten?” Harry refuted exasperatedly, at the same time Caramel snorted and took a bite of her steak, before speaking, “No, he isn’t pissed. He’s paranoid at the possibility of a female voluntarily showing interest in him.”

Clark laughed into his beer, “That’s worse, Harry. You need to loosen up! You’re easy on the eyes and I don’t just mean your ass, I swear.”

“That’s not even the – anyway, no – that’s not it. Okay this will seem really barmy and you have to swear not to say anything to Alex or her, if she comes around again.”

“Okay…” Jade frowned from his armchair, leaning forwards a little. Caramel rolled her eyes, “This should be interesting.” Clark and Jon just nodded interestedly. Harry didn’t even know why he was sharing it with them – he was pretty sure he sounded crazy even in his own head.

“Okay so don’t ask how I know this because I have no idea why – but I think her name’s Amanda Tyson.”

“What?!”

“Are you kidding me?”

“No way, dude.”

“I’m not kidding! I really think her name’s Amanda and I have this voice in my head telling me that, but I don’t know how or why I know that. It’s so weird – it’s like I know but I just can’t fucking reach the thought. It’s right – there.”

“It’s so weird how you find new ways to creep me out, man.” Jon commented thoughtfully, but Caramel just rolled her eyes. “I don’t believe you or the voice in your head. You’re both idiots.”

“Maybe you’ve seen someone like her before?” Jade prompted, but Harry shook his head. “No, it’s her. I’m really sure.”

“Okay I’ll admit – it is weird.” Clark said, shaking his head, “Who wants to ask her tomorrow?”

There was a sudden chorus of loud ‘Me’s from the other three, and Jon laughed, “Ha! Called it!” at the same time Harry exclaimed loudly, “Uh - No.”

The air was suddenly a little thick when Harry looked at Jon, fixing him with a meaningful look.

“If her name’s actually Amanda, which is a good possibility even if you think I’m crazy – it’s better that she doesn’t know that I remember that name. It could cause… problems for me.”

There was a tense pause where everyone regarded him a little warily, before Jade said, “Cool.”

And they moved on to topics easier to agree on for the rest of the night.

As it turned out, Amanda, or Amelia Court as she preferred, did visit again in the next few days after which Harry was almost sure that he had seen her at Hogwarts, but just could not recall where and when or how. Her American accent was also almost perfect, and if Harry wasn’t completely tuned in to her every single word and whisper, he would’ve missed all the little clues that suggested otherwise. He didn’t share this with the rest of his staff though, since he doubted someone wouldn’t slip up in front of her, if she came around again.

He was in the kitchen, and it was nearing closing time when Jade stuck his head in and shouted, “Mr. Segall called – he forgot his wife’s birthday and he needs an emergency delivery of a chocolate gateau and a box of jam doughnuts.”

“That guy really needs to watch his sweets, and his kids’ health.” He added, before disappearing again. Harry didn’t normally deliver, but made exceptions for regulars, or people who needed it in important situations such as the present. He shook his head and got to work on both dishes; emerging half an hour later with the two packages and grabbing his keys and jacket off the rack next to the door.

 “I’ll be back in a few minutes. I’m trusting you to hold down the fort till then. Don’t let Jon sneak out before closing. We’re having dinner today – Caramel was right, it’s been almost a week.” He instructed Jade, who opened the door for him, nodding distractedly and waving a hand as he left.

“Don’t drive too fast!” He shouted just before the door closed and Harry chuckled at his useless reminder. He had just reached his bike when he saw a man walk across the door of the café, turn around suddenly, sniffing the air and making his way towards him, walking fast.

“What’s that? Why does it smell so good? Listen, I’ll give you a thousand dollars if you give this to me right now and get more for yourself. You could get a lot more with a thousand dollars, right-?”

“Uh, look. I’m delivering this for someone, but why don’t you go in there and order for yourself? That’ll be easier. I’m already late-“

“Dude, are you not hearing me? A thousand dollars. That should cover you for a few months, shouldn’t it? You don’t even need to work or anything. Just gimme the food man, it smells too delicious and they’d take too long to make more-“

“I don’t need your money, dude.” Harry gritted out, finally annoyed with the man who looked liked he’d been too used to money solving his problems for him. He was wearing an expensive suit, although he couldn’t be exactly sure in the fading light, and he looked vaguely familiar – like someone you’d have seen in a crowd but forgotten immediately. He had a carefully styled beard and hair and his watch glinted in the light from the café.

“Everyone needs money, pal. I could buy this place in a few minutes and make you owner. Or better, make myself owner so that I could fire you and eat the good damn delicious dessert you’re being too fucking ethical over.” The man slapped a wad of cash to Harry’s chest, and he could feel the thickness of it through his shirt, along with the man’s rather cold palm. His breath was warm and smelled vaguely of chocolate and mint as he moved closer to Harry’s bike.

“First of all,” Harry grabbed the cash from the guy’s hand and slapped it back into his palm, “I am the fucking owner, asshole.”

“And second of all, I’d feed you for free if you had a wink of something called civility. And also if you weren’t so damn arrogant.”

Harry pushed his bike off the stand as the man stared at him with a slight look of shock, and his mouth slightly open.

“You’re the owner? Why are you delivering?”

Harry rolled his eyes to heavens. That was all the man picked up from that? He said it in such a skeptical voice that Harry wanted to laugh hysterically. Or punch him.

“And third of all, this is for someone who respects me and actually needs it in an emergency. Not for a spoilt brat who can’t wait in a line because he’s used to being too important.”

“That’s not-” The man began, but Harry started his bike with a loud rev of his engine, effectively cutting the man off.  “And guess what, fucker? The real good things in life, like the next batch of this cake, always take time.”

He looked at his watch for effect, “Thirty minutes to be exact. Hope you can settle your priorities till then, pal.”

And he was off.

When Harry arrived back in time for closing, the egotistic man he had met outside was now sitting with his back to him on one of the stools at the counter, but Harry could tell it was him because of the extremely expensive suit he was wearing. Caramel was chatting with one of their late regulars while clearing tables and cleaning up slowly, Clark was probably up in his office, Jon was nowhere to be seen and Jade was glaring at him from behind the counter, flicking his eyes to the figure at the stool.

He started making his way over to Harry as soon as the bell ringed to announce his arrival, and met him halfway, whispering as soon as he was in hearing shot, “Harry, why the fuck is Tony fucking Stark sitting at our counter waiting to eat a fucking cake made exclusively by you and onlyyou? When did this happen, do you know-”

Harry had never heard Jade swear twice in one sentence and even though his voice was slightly squeaky and he sounded funny, like he was nervous or something, Harry could tell he wasn’t very happy by the guest’s presence. At least that explained why he looked so familiar, though. The man was on the news a lot.

Caramel interrupted him though, whispering in a considerably more excited voice than he had anticipated, “Harry I did not know you know Tony Stark! Oh my God he is so handsome, even though he’s a little short in person, just like you! How adorable is that-”

“Okay, stop.” Harry frowned, before Caramel accosted his ears any further, pushing them both away with each hand, “Jade, help Clark with anything he needs and let him know you guys are having dinner without me today. I’m gonna have to stay back and handle this prick.” He nodded reluctantly to the man, who had turned around to look at him but only spoke when Harry approached the counter finally.

“You said thirty minutes. It’s been an hour and I’m still hungry, waiting for whatever it was that smelled so good. I deserve the free food now, pal. And what kind of a name is Harry? Also, might I mention, it’s really creepy that your staff doesn’t know your last name. That’s some next level weirdass-”

“Okay, Mr. Stark. Welcome to Canopus Café, what would you like to have today?” Harry interrupted with a blinding smile, reveling in Stark’s abrupt halt and speechlessness at his change of lanes. It only worked for a few seconds though – since it looked like the man was capable of spouting bullshit at a speed rivaling Peeves.

“I’ll have the jam doughnuts. That handsome devil there-” He pointed to Jade, who was trying not to listen in, with Caramel at his side, “-told me that’s what that order was, so I’m gonna need a lot of those since I’m really hungry. I’ve had a few cups of coffee to keep me going so you can get to work whenever you want, and I’ll be waiting right here, patiently.”

Harry quirked an eyebrow at him in silence, he was pretty sure that if given a dare Tony Stark wouldn’t be able to sit still for five minutes, let alone half an hour. He groaned internally, this was going to be the longest hour of his life.

“Alright. I’m gonna get started on those, as long as you can sit here and wait calmly.” Harry chose to ignore all other things the man had said about his name, and retired to the kitchen, giving up on his dinner plans and hoping they could try getting together the next evening, even though it would be a school night.

The kitchen had already been cleaned by Jon and he was sitting at the corner sofa with a coffee in his hands and a book in his lap. He looked up and excitedly put away his book as soon as he saw Harry, but Harry held up a hand before Jon could start too, “I don’t know him. He just ran into me outside and decided he wanted to taste the doughnuts because they smell too good, no matter how longs it takes for me to come back and make them.”

Jon deflated a little at that, but then perked up, “Does that mean we’re going home for dinner?”

“Yes, it does. We’ll just do it tomorrow. Try not to sound so excited about that.”

Over the next fifteen or so minutes, everyone said goodbye to Harry, Caramel being the last to leave, “You should have dinner with our guest today, he looks lonely.” She had whispered just before leaving and as soon as he heard the door shut behind her, he heard Stark entering the kitchen, walking around slowly.

“Whooo! Classy little setting you got here, Green Eyes.” He commented, sitting on the sofa and somewhere at the back of his mind Harry wanted to shoot him a smart ass reply, but he was too damn exhausted to even try to come up with it. Instead, he asked, “Did you have dinner, Stark?”

He had already started cooking sausages and mashed potatoes along with buttered peas and onion gravy for them both, and the jam doughnuts as dessert. “No.” Stark replied, “But that’s no big deal. Although I would like to know why the short blonde girl told me to make sure you have dinner. What’s up with that?”

“What? She did what?” Harry turned to him skeptically. Surely, Caramel wouldn’t go that far to make sure he was properly fed? Especially since it was Tony Stark she said that to, hence, a probably huge feat for her since he was practically a non-approachable person for the (otherwise) shy girl.

Stark nodded, his eyes roving around the kitchen but settling on him occasionally, “Yeah. Why? Is that surprising? Do you normally not have dinner? I think that might be something we have in common, Bird Head.” He said casually, but then turned serious, “Seriously, how long is this gonna take? I think I haven’t eaten properly in like thirty something hours and whatever you’re making is making my insides melt with the smell.”

“It’s almost ready, Stark. Quit hogging me I’m doing this alone – I don’t seeing you making your ass useful. Go grab plates from that cupboard there.”

“Is this how you treat a guest here? Do other customers have to work around here too?”

“You’re not a customer because you’re not paying. I told you, honestly, just challenged you and you remained hungry for over an hour to prove yourself right. That’s why you’re getting the free food.”

There was no reply from the man as he walked around the kitchen gathering plates and spoons and forks and such things and setting the table rather nicely.

“This is too nice of you. I thought you Brits were polite, but this level of nicety is just plain old scandalous, pal. Does this mean that I now get free food from here till the end of time?”

Harry shot him a flat look, “Don’t push it, mate.”

Stark chucked and Harry served dinner in silence, and he thought it would be awkward sharing dinner with the man, but as soon Harry picked up his plate, Stark was at it again.

“So what’s your surname?” He started, taking in mouthfuls of food at a rather alarming rate. Harry rolled his eyes – he was too tired for this. How could anyone be so annoying?

“That’s none of your business, honestly just stop asking. It’s not gonna get you anywhere.”

“Fine. I’ll pull your papers when I get home. I’ll know one way or the other. How old are you again? You definitely don’t look old enough to own this place, kid.”

Harry breathed deeply through his nose, reminding himself his documents were probably redacted or something so the man couldn’t possible find anything out about him. “Again, none of your business. I’m regretting cooking you anything right now.”

“Oh come on, but you’re a really nice chef – you have a talent. I’ve never had such good gravy, I swear. How are you so good at it? Do you use any special herbs or spices? I’ll tell Pepper to get them for me.”

“Who’s Pepper? And why would you need them if you skip dinner and probably dine out whenever you eat anyway?”

“Good point. Pepper’s my… well, I don’t know what she is.” He hummed thoughtfully for a few seconds and his expression had shifted a bit to something… softer, when he talked next. “I hired her as a secretary, I remember that, but it’s been ten years and I don’t know where I’d be without her, to be honest. She does everything for me, handles everything at the company, at home. I don’t know what she is.”

“Probably a robot version of herself by now if she’s been dealing with you for ten years.” Harry remarked, not wanting to go anywhere near that kind of expression on Stark’s face. He hardly knew the man and this was probably a one time thing and he would hopefully never see the man again in his life.

“Nah, I have robots who take care of me separately. JARVIS and Dum-e. Well, technically JARVIS is an AI but whatever.”

“I didn’t understand eighty percent of that sentence, Stark.”

Stark looked at him with an incredulous look, like the ones Hermione used when he said something incredibly stupid or pigheaded. Harry fought hard to not reply, and ended up shoving a lot of sausage into his mouth. He quickly washed it down with the wine Stark had dug out from somewhere.

“Y’know this looks suspiciously like a date. I just noticed.” Stark said suddenly, and Harry burst out laughing. That, in itself, was a ridiculous statement if he heard one.

“What, are you saying you wouldn’t date me?” Stark said in a suspiciously insulted voice, followed up with a quick, “Not that I swing that way, but I like to think I’m pretty attractive for both sections of the market.”

“Yeah, for a man your age.” Harry quipped, and got rewarded with an even more insulted and loud, “Excuse me?!”

It took him a few minutes to stop laughing because as soon as he was near calming down, he would take a look at Stark’s scowling face and it would set him off again. The man was pouting, and it was just such a hilarious image that Harry couldn’t help it. When Harry finally calmed down enough, Stark opened his mouth again.

“So why did you name your café after the second brightest star in the sky?”

At Harry’s surprised look, he rolled his eyes, “What? I can’t know the names of a few stars or constellations? It’s not hard to put together.”

Harry pondered silently for a few moments if it was a piece of information worth giving up, but somewhere inside he was glad he could maybe tell someone about it. So he finally replied, “It’s named for my godfather. People in his family were named after stars and constellations and he had no children of his own. I was already named and I’m not having kids anytime soon. This place is the closest thing I have to a… baby, I guess? God, that’s ridiculous. But yeah, it’s something that’s fully mine, it belongs to me. It’s my responsibility completely.”

“What’s wrong with the brightest star – Sirius? Okay, nevermind. I can’t see anybody walking into anything called Sirius café.”

“Uh, yeah and it’s also already my Godather’s name.”

Stark stared at him for a few seconds before blinking, “You’re shitting me.”

“No. I’m serious.”

A pained expression crossed Stark’s face and Harry suppressed a smile. “Oh boy, I can’t believe I haven’t met this man. The puns, the possibilities, my mind will collapse in on itself.” Stark was actually holding his head with his hands and his eyes shut, like he was working hard on calming himself. Harry smirked to himself at the man’s breakdown.

“Hey, that reminds me. I forgot to ask you why you’re here.”

“What do you mean?” Stark frowned and Harry explained further, “I meant earlier – when I was leaving to deliver that package. Why were you wandering down the streets of LA, hungry and by yourself at that time of day? Aren’t you supposed to be somewhere? A party? Or your house?”

“I’m guessing those are the only two places you could spend your time at.” He added as Stark nodded, “Yeah, my car had broken down. My driver Happy was looking for mechanics and had to wait there and I didn’t want to wait so I took off. Happy’s waiting for me in the next block. He’s had dinner and the car’s fixed so we’re ready to go as soon as this is done.”

“Oh cool.” Harry commented as he realized that they were actually almost done. “Yeah, so anyway. I’m gonna take these with me if you don’t mind.” Stark jabbed a finger at the jam doughnuts on the plate and Harry quickly moved to pack them up.

Stark got up and stretched languidly, “Man, I haven’t had such good food in a really long time. Especially freshly cooked good food. So thanks, I guess.”

Harry nodded as he handed over the box, feeling suddenly bone-tired and ready for his bed. It had been an exhausting day to say the least.

“This would be a lot easier if I knew your last name, Hotshot.” Stark said uneasily, but then shrugged as Harry shot him a stolid look, “Eh, I guess terrible nicknames will have to do. But you can call me Tony since I’m stuck calling you by your first name.”

“I think I’m gonna stick to Mr. Stark.” Harry smirked, and Stark looked like he was gritting his teeth and trying to ground out something but kept stopping himself. Finally, he turned around and walked out, looking frustrated and Harry frowned - he hadn’t seen Stark check himself from saying anything the whole evening.

As Harry locked up, he noticed Stark waiting outside on the road, standing next to an expensive looking black car. He straddled his bike and backed it onto the road next to the older man; he noticed Stark looking him up and down and mutter, “You don’t even fit on that thing, for fuck’s sake.”

Before Harry could react, however, he was opening the car door, “Don’t call me Mr. Stark. Mr. Stark is what people called my father. I’m Tony.” With that, he shut the door in Harry’s rather stunned face and immediately drove off.

Harry blinked, shook his head, chuckled to himself and followed the car out of traffic.