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Harry first met Lucius Malfoy at three thirty on a Wednesday after someone had just dumped an entire peppermint mocha on the man's expensive leather loafers.
Harry expected an uproar. But one didn't come, and that was weird, knowing what Harry did about Lucius, although that admittedly wasn't much- just what he'd heard from Ron's dad whenever he went round to the Weasleys’ for dinner back when he'd been in school.
Lucius did not take his sodden loafers and wounded pride and leave,-- which is what Harry would have done. Rather, he got in the queue and ignored the undignified squelching from his ruined shoes.
The normal thing for Harry to do would be to follow the man's lead and go along with the charade that someone had not just dumped sixteen ounces of coffee onto his feet.
Harry wasn't very good at being normal.
"Sorry about your shoes," he said when he probably should have started with 'Hello.’
And then followed up with, 'What would you like to order?'
But instead, he said, "I hope you don't hold it against us."
There was a second where the Malfoy frigid mask cracked, and it looked as though he might smile. But it was gone before Harry could really be sure that it had been there at all.
That was when Lavender, Harry's coworker and the one who was meant to be dealing with customers, stomped on his foot in a universal signal to shut the fuck up.
So he did, sliding behind his espresso machine and out of her way.
After Lucius left with his double espresso, Harry fully expected to never see the man again and would have promptly forgotten the experience. However, that wasn't an option, what with Lavender waxing poetic about his face.
"He really is just gorgeous in person." She sighed dreamily. "It's a shame he won't be back."
Only the following week, he was back. This time his expensive shoes survived his short stay, which happened to coincide with when Lavender had gone to the bank.
She returned when he was on his way out and flounced around the end of the counter, slumping against the pastry case, a picture of disappointment.
"He would come in while I was out," she moaned.
"There's always next time," said Harry.
"I suppose," she said, "it's a good thing you make such good coffee, or there wouldn't be a next time."
"I don't do anything special-"
"Harry shut up and just take the bloody compliment."
Harry shut up.
And Lucius did come back. Nearly every day, for almost a month.
"I swear," said Lavender, "I don't know how he does it, but he always manages to come in when I'm out. It's like he comes in here just to see you."
Harry scoffed. "You're mental," he said, shaking his head.
"You say that now ," replied Lavender, primly.
The thing about Harry was, once he had something in his head, he wasn't very good at getting it out, no matter how preposterous the idea.
So now, whether he wanted them to be or not, Lavender's words were firmly fixed into his brain.
Fortunately for Harry's sanity, it was an idea that was quickly put to rest. Later that afternoon, he met Ron for a pint, and as usual, Rosmerta the bartender had the tele murmuring on in the corner of the Boomsticks.
Ron scoffed into his beer, eyes glued on the screen over Harry's left shoulder.
"Christ, you think they'll ever get sick of plastering that pointy bastard's face all over the damn news? No one cares about his bint of an ex-wife or the swanky flat he's just bought. You'd think it wasn't any actual news with how they carry on."
"Oh, so he's moved then?" asked Harry.
"Not you, too ," said Ron sourly.
It wasn't that Harry cared. He didn't, but Lavender did, and since they spent most of their waking hours together, that meant that he sort of had to care, too. Besides, now that he knew why Lucius came into the shop, he could set her right about her most recent delusion, and then they could forget she had ever brought it up.
Harry didn't get a chance to tell her until the following week, and when he did, she just laughed at him.
"And how do you know that?" she asked, still chuckling.
"I saw it on the tele; I guess he's bought one of those renovated flats around the corner, so we're convenient, is all."
"Convenient," repeated Lavender, and she sighed. One of those full-body sighs while she wiped down the front of the pastry case.
"What's up then?" asked Harry, leaning over the counter.
"It's been four days," she moaned, "I'm starting to think he's run off for good."
"Who?"
"Lucius, you nut." she said, "He's never going to come back, and I won't get to look at his perfect face ever again, and it's all your fault."
"Sorry?" said Harry. Although he had no idea what he was apologizing for.
She sniffed. "You should be," she said and finished wiping down the case with a flourish.
Harry may not have noticed Lucius' absence until Lavender mentioned it, but it was obvious now that she had.
He was noticeably absent the following day, too. Which wasn't a bad thing really.
After all, Harry had spent most of his life hearing that Lucius was the scum of the earth. A backhanded, slimy, conniving bastard who deserved what he got and more.
Only that image and the person that Harry has served for well over a month didn't line up.
Maybe he was naive- Harry had certainly been told that he was before- and it's not like Harry really knew Lucius beyond his coffee order.
Still, Lucius was patient in the queue, and he tipped well, and that was more than Harry could say about most people.
It might not be the worst thing in the world that Lucius wasn't coming in anymore, but it sure made the days considerably more dull. Especially this time of year, when the shop was slow more than it was busy, and it rained all the time.
It had been a grey day in a grey week. Harry had the afternoon shift for once and he was running late. Which shouldn't have been a surprise to anyone; after all, there was a reason he usually opened.
Right as Harry was about to leave, it started pissing it down.
"Bugger," said Harry, squinting out at the street through the rain-streaked window, and off he dashed to try and find an umbrella before he missed his bus.
Harry did, of course, miss the bus and had to hurry on foot all the way to the shop, dodging puddles all the way. He'd just about made it when, in an attempt to skirt the edge of puddles taking up most of the sidewalk, he bumped into someone hard enough that he stumbled, left foot landing in the puddle and thoroughly soaking his shoe.
"Bugger," he said, hastily adding a ' sorry! ' to whoever he'd crashed into.
"I do hope you won't hold it against me," drawled Lucius, amused.
"I mean," said Harry, trying very hard to ignore the blush creeping up his neck. "I was the one who crashed into you."
Lucius was very tall and very close, and while Harry saw him almost every day, it was from behind a counter, and somehow, seeing him like this was different.
Lavender was right. His bloody face really was perfect.
That was not where Harry's brain needed to be at the moment, and in his best attempt at salvaging the situation, he said, "Lavender will be thrilled you're back. She's missed your pretty face."
Lucius laughed.
"You know, it's not fair how often you throw that poor girl under the bus," he said, adding, "I'm afraid she'll have to be disappointed for another day."
"Aren't you coming in?"
"Not today," said Lucius airly.
"See you tomorrow then," said Harry, pulling open the shop door, and regretted it almost immediately,
Lucius turned, eyebrows raised, and smiled. It was just for a second, but it was there.
"You will see me tomorrow," he said and continued on his way, leaving Harry in front of the shop.
It wasn't like Harry was looking forward to seeing him.
It didn't matter that Lucius wasn't at all like Harry thought he'd be; Harry wasn't curious at all.
Really. He wasn't.
Only he was, and that was a problem.