Bottom Draco One Shots !Drarry!

Muggle Cafes And Muggle Coincidences

Draco sauntered past the various camera shutters and indiscreet cameras flashing, pretending he didn't notice them. All he wanted was some peace and quiet. And a cup of coffee. It had been 10 months since the war and 7 months since his mother died. His father was slowly losing his mind in a cell in Azkaban and Draco was constantly being hounded by reporters, asking how he felt about things. It had also been 3 months since the boy who lived went M.I.A. 

Draco quickly looked behind him before ducking into the potions shop he managed to get a job at. It was only him and a kind old wizard, Felix, in the small, cramped shop. The small bell above the door jingled loudly as Draco slammed the door shut. He raked his hand through his cropped hair. He'd decided he wanted nothing to do with his father so he cut it short. It was slightly shaved at the sides and Draco loved the style.

"Draco? Is that you?" a scratchy voice called from the back of the shop. 

"Yeah!" Draco called back. 

He grabbed his apron from the counter and tied it around his waist. He quickly got to work, mixing stuff into cauldrons, sweeping the floor, telling jokes to his employer. Soon, Draco's shift was over and it was time to close up. He waved goodbye to the last customer and set to work cleaning the place up. He flipped the sign at the door to 'Closed', he said goodbye to Felix and headed out.

By now the streets were dark, Draco's way only dimly illuminated by the lampposts. He came across a booming pub, filled with people. Draco paused in his tracks. It has been a while since he's been to any pubs and he didn't have any work the next day. But who would want to sleep with an ex-death eater? Draco shook his head and continued his trek home. 

He knew he could apparate home but Draco always enjoyed walking under the night sky. There weren't any reporters pestering him at this time, because apparently those scathing monsters needed sleep too. He dug in his robes pockets for his keys as he approached his small dingy flat. He unlocked the door and shut it behind him. He toed off his shoes and hung up his coat. He slipped out of his clothes and put on his sleeping clothes. He entered the bathroom and got ready for bed. 

The next day, Draco firecalled Pansy. (i forgot what it was called oops). Pansy suggested going to muggle London if Draco was looking for an escape. 

So there Draco was. In muggle London, looking for some good coffee. He entered a small cafe that was lined with flowers on the outside. It looked nice and cozy. Draco entered the shop and was immediately attacked by the strong aroma of coffee. He made his way to the counter. The place wasn't empty but it wasn't packed either. It was perfect. There was a small fireplace in the corner that made the place feel weirdly like home. Despite the fact that all of Draco's memory of home were cold and unlike the atmosphere this place had. 

He rang the bell at the counter. There were sounds of bickering at the back before someone stepped out heavily. Draco's heart almost stopped when he realised who it was.

Harry Potter. Harry Fucking Potter.

Potter had grown taller than Draco, he looked more mature somehow. He had a tattoo peeking out from his collar. His arms were covered with various bracelets and bands. He had wire-framed glasses that were rose gold.

"Malfoy?"  Potter said sharply. 

That voice hadn't changed though. It was deeper, but familiar. Draco felt like his face was on fire. Draco also felt like he should leave. But his feet stayed stubbornly rooted to the ground. Draco cleared his throat and looked up at Potter. He seemed more... muscly. He also pierced his ears. He wore round, black studs. Draco gulped when his mind started thinking of biting those earrings, swirling his tongue around it. He imagined kissing that hidden tattoo, sucking it.