Do You Want Fries With That?

Part 1

"Absolutely not," Harry exclaimed, pushing the costume back into the hands of his manager, Albus Dumbledore.

Dumbledore sighed. "None of us wanted this for you, least of all me. But, Ginny quit. We've run out of Weasley's, Harry. It's your time. It's your turn. Please put on the outfit and get outside." He thrust the bag back into the arms of a sputtering Harry.

"It's a bloody dress, Albus! I have black hair! And did I mention, it's a dress? I don't mind challenging gender stereotypes and the association of certain clothes with certain genders, but it's ninety degrees, and I do have certain appendages that don't really cooperate well with heat."

Dumbledore gave an apologetic shrug, twinkled his goddamn eyes, and rushed off to the front counter, where a customer was arguing with Hermione about the amount of onion rings she received in her order.

Harry's shoulders slumped. It could've been worse- he could've been the poor sod who had to dress up as Ronald McDonald across the street. Honestly, playing Wendy wasn't that bad. Sure, he had to now don a red wig, fake freckles, and a blue dress, but at least he wasn't Tom Riddle.

He looked out the window to the McDonald's, and, yes, that was indeed Riddle with his white face paint, red nose, and clown shoes. It was quite terrifying, especially as Tom didn't bother with cheerfulness until his boss, Slughorn, bothered to check on him outside, so he would just watch the cars with a blank stare. When there would be a lull between customers, Harry entertained himself by looking across the street at Riddle, and his terrifying clown-ness.

Harry exhaled, disappointed. How one can sigh with disappointment was unclear, but Harry managed. He only got the job because of the relentlessness of the Dursley's to keep himself busy during the summer, and Ron's insistence that one last hurrah before starting university in the form of a group trip would be fun. Of course, funds would be needed. But at what cost?

With one last withering glance at Dumbledore, Harry trudged along to the bathroom to get dressed in the dress and wig. Why Lavender Brown, the new trainee, couldn't become Wendy, Harry didn't know. He undressed, and began to pull the dress over his thighs through the neck hole, but it stopped and wouldn't budge.

'Great,' Harry thought, 'my thighs are too thick for dresses.'

He sighed again, pushed down the dress, and began to yank it over his head. He adjusted the wig, making sure that the braids dotted his face with freckles (why, Albus, should Harry decorate his face with freckles when they would be unseen from cars?), and pushed open the Employees Only door.

Only to be faced with a loud guffaw from Draco Malfoy.

Malfoy sauntered up to the counter, with the confidence only the son of the CEO of the UK branch of Wendy's could possess, said, "Red hair? Hand me down clothes?"

"You must be Wendy."