A Cup of Tea, Please

4 | Mystery Solved, or Not?

Not too long before sunset, Harry found himself on the streets of Muggle London once again.

What am I doing? He'd only just asked himself, following the path that he'd taken to Le Café de Carnation earlier that day. This is ridiculous. But then he smiled to himself.

I am ridiculous.

Harry winced in response to his own thoughts, did he really just say that to himself? Oh well, it wasn't like anyone else heard him, so why did that matter?

And in no time, standing before Harry was the fancy, plant-covered cafe. Through the heavily frosted windows, he again saw the faint glow of fairy lights. He hoped that he could be as bright as them someday—he found himself becoming more and more miserable lately, even with Ginny around.

Harry wrapped his fingers around the golden door handle, his heart thumping. Only one problem: he wasn't hungry. Well, not hungry for food.

Shit. Harry realised that he hadn't rehearsed what he was going to say in his head as he pulled open the door. What was he going to say? He couldn't just walk into the cafe and strike up a conversation with the workers, could he? That would seem strange. Of course he had to buy something then.

Still preoccupied with his thoughts, Harry headed over to the counter peeping out from behind the sheer curtains. He didn't know how long he had been standing there, lost deep in thought, but it startled him when an icy voice spoke.

"What would you like?"

"Er," Harry started sheepishly, his eyes flicking to the large copy of the menu behind the worker, partially to avoid eye contact, partially to figure out what he wanted to eat. "I'm not sure . . . maybe something light?"

Harry's eyes fell back onto the worker, and he instantly recognised him as the tall, blonde man with the snake ring. And sure enough, when Harry looked down, he saw the black metal serpent writhing around the man's long, pale finger.

"I'm not too familiar with the menu myself," he started with a drawl, ceasing Harry's attention, "but I suppose at this late hour I'd recommend a cookie with some warm milk."

"Uh, sure," Harry murmured. His eyes lingered on the man's face. "How much?"

The man had the same neat blonde hair Harry had seen yesterday, with a few loose strands resting on his nose bridge and around his empty grey eyes. His features were quite sharp and felt familiar but Harry couldn't place his finger on it.

"Four pounds."

His voice too . . . that drawl was definitely something Harry had heard before . . . but where?

As he placed a five pound note on the counter, Harry decided that he had to know who this man was.

"So, what's your name?"

The blonde took the note and started to search through a cash register for change, which was just out of Harry's sight, but after a few seconds the man's eyes met his. Their eyes locked and it quickly became apparent that he had somewhat of disliking towards Harry or what he'd just asked.

"Malfoy."

Malfoy? Harry had to be dreaming. There was no possible way that the Draco Malfoy, son of Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy, a man who had anything he could ever need at the snap of his fingers, was working at a Muggle cafe.

"Nice name," Harry mumbled unsurely, "it's quite unique?"

"Unique?" the man scoffed. "Has someone hit you with the Memory Charm?"