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writetomyheart2020-06-23 08:43 pm
bluedreaming) wrote in writetomyheart2020-06-23 08:43 pm
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[team four] thin floors and tall ceilings vi
Continued from part v. And with this instalment, this particular WIP is officially complete! (Post on Ao3.)
Harry/Draco; PG; 1352 words
“Is that a doughnut?” Hermione exclaims. Guiltily, Draco tucks it back into the paper sack, half-finished, and wipes his sticky fingers on the napkin.
“I apologise —,” he begins, but Hermione waves him off. The frame rate on the screen flickers with the quick motion of her hand. It’s strange, Draco thinks, comparing it to the green hue of a floo call. More convenient, though. Their flat doesn’t even have a fireplace, just a makeshift brazier that he uses for unavoidable calls.
“No, no,” she interrupts, leaning towards her camera. “Harry was raving about this doughnut shop you have there, so I’m curious.” She grins, and Draco smiles back. There are so many good things about his life now, and Hermione’s friendship is one of them.
“I’ll have to send you some,” he says, considering. Perhaps if he puts them under stasis and then sends them by swift?
“Or,” Hermione says, breaking into his side-tracked train of thought, “I was thinking of popping over for a visit now that I’m wrapping up this project.” She waves her hand at the scrolls of parchment heaped up on one side of her desk, and the stack of books threatening to tumble off the other. “I’ve always wanted to take the inter-continental train.”
Draco can’t help but feel his heart leap at the chance to show Hermione around their part of the city; share a little of the place he’s somehow learned to call home. He’ll miss it—He shuts that thought down and refocuses on the screen.
“I do have a little surprise I’m working on, for which I might like your input,” he says, laughing when Hermione’s metaphorical ears perk up.
“Done,” Hermione says, nodding. “I’ll see about next weekend, I think. Does that work?”
Draco mentally scrolls through their exam schedules, but can’t think of any conflicts. “I’ll have to double-check with Harry, but I think that will work.” He pauses, looking again at all the reference material, and the documents on his screen next to the video chat.
“Thank you again for letting me monopolise your thesis project with this family magic study,” he says, trying not to fumble with the words. It’s difficult to express how much working together with Hermione has helped, deconstructing the whole bulwark of the pureblood understanding of family magic, and rebuilding it into something that will let him move forward. They’ve managed to piece together an arithmancy-based core of the traditions and practices while separating them from all their supremacist and discriminatory trappings.
Hermione’s gaze goes soft, but her answering smile is wide. “I may have been helping you out,” she says, “But this research has also gotten me a research fellowship, so I’ve you to thank just as much.”
***
Regardless, or perhaps despite, Parry’s polite scepticism of Draco’s plans, the Head Elf has sent Ceri over to assist him in setting up, “and running daily operations,” Ceri adds, bustling around the space. Ceri is quite a tall house elf and ruthlessly efficient. Draco finds himself almost bemused at how quickly he finds himself relegated to assistant. He suspects that Parry may have been glad, after all, to have a position like this open up: Ceri certainly seems to be an aspiring Head Elf candidate.
“Everything is in hand,” Ceri replies politely, after the third time Draco tries to offer some advice about the fact that the coffee shop will be serving primarily non-magical customers. Draco has to admit that he’s probably less knowledgeable about this than Ceri, and reassures himself that if Parry thinks Ceri won’t stand out to non-magical customers, then Parry is perhaps correct. Their opening, more understated than grand, is on track for tomorrow.
A thermos of coffee in hand, Draco retreats through the magnetised doorway into the library proper, wandering towards the children’s story area for a moment, before curving away towards the study tables that line the massive concrete staircase along the far wall. Both he and Harry like to spread their books out on these tables, looking out over other library patrons studying on the steps below, or outside the wall of glass to the city beyond. Draco doesn’t have his textbooks with him right now since he thought he would be busier with the coffee shop preparations, so he pulls out his mobile and headphones. It’s been a few days since he’s enjoyed kitten videos.
***
Harry sighs, rummaging idly through his papers though he’s not getting any studying done and he knows it. The library just isn’t the same without a coffee shop—he’s inevitably finished drinking the thermos he brings with him before he’s properly into the flow of things, and the café further down the road, while pleasant enough, is too far for a quick jog. Regretfully, he tucks the empty thermos back into his satchel.
Harry is half-way down the next page when his mobile buzzes in his pocket. He glances around, but there’s no one sitting at his table, and the people on the steps above and below him seem to be occupied. A quick wandless Muffliato is enough to avoid disturbing anyone.
“Draco?” he says, answering. “Is something up?” Draco doesn’t usually call—he prefers video messages. While he insists it’s because texting is tiresome, Harry’s pretty sure he just likes seeing Harry’s face. The loose papers tucked between the pages of his textbook crinkle as he flips the pages, waiting for Draco’s response.
“I stopped at the university to pick up a book, so I thought I might as well see if you’re at the library.” Draco sounds like he’s trying to suppress excitement. Either that, or something has upset him, but they’re better at communicating then they used to be. Harry is immediately suspicious.
“Right,” he says, wishing Draco was on the screen so he could see his expression. “So you want me to come to the foyer to meet you?”
“Yes, please, I’ll be there shortly.”
Draco ends the call before Harry’s even had a chance to ask for more details. He stares at his phone in passing offence before gathering his things together and ending the silencing spell. He’s not sure what Draco’s up to, but it’s not like he’s going to get any more studying done here anyway.
***
“Draco, you didn’t,” Harry begins, laughing as he stands in front of the newly opened coffee shop in the library foyer. “And is that—?”
He gestures at the barista working behind the counter, name tag Ceri clipped to a smart purple apron. Ceri nods in acknowledgement and continues to keep abreast of the short queue of customers with almost terrifying capability.
“Shh, don’t be a nuisance,” Draco says, grinning as he leans over to drape himself over Harry’s shoulder. He’s warm and familiar, though definitely more pointy-elbowed than soft. Harry doesn’t mind.
“But won’t people notice?” he asks, glancing around the foyer. The next customer steps up to the till, placing an order and paying with their mobile. Nothing hisses, explodes, or sparks, and the customer doesn’t even blink.
“Glamours,” Draco says, waving as though that explains everything. “And magic-corralling wards. Ceri is very capable.”
“Uh-huh,” Harry says, taking a sip of his coffee, perfectly brewed of course. Draco is infuriatingly perfect, and— “Wait, is this a gift for me or a project to impress Hermione?”
“Can’t something be both?” Draco retorts, giving him a gentle nudge in the shoulder. “You were right; this library needs a coffee shop.”
“And doughnuts,” Harry adds, trying and failing to nick a maple-walnut-glaze from Draco’s paper sack.
“Hey!” Draco protests. “Leave my doughnuts alone. If you want some, go wait with everyone else.” He waves at the queue and only laughs when Harry grumbles.
“It’s my coffee shop present,” Harry calls over his shoulder as he takes his place behind the last customer. Draco is leaning against the wall next to a book display case, primly wiping his fingers on a serviette.
“It’s my coffee shop,” he says and pops the last bite of doughnut into his mouth.
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elindar, you’re up!
Harry/Draco; PG; 1352 words
“Is that a doughnut?” Hermione exclaims. Guiltily, Draco tucks it back into the paper sack, half-finished, and wipes his sticky fingers on the napkin.
“I apologise —,” he begins, but Hermione waves him off. The frame rate on the screen flickers with the quick motion of her hand. It’s strange, Draco thinks, comparing it to the green hue of a floo call. More convenient, though. Their flat doesn’t even have a fireplace, just a makeshift brazier that he uses for unavoidable calls.
“No, no,” she interrupts, leaning towards her camera. “Harry was raving about this doughnut shop you have there, so I’m curious.” She grins, and Draco smiles back. There are so many good things about his life now, and Hermione’s friendship is one of them.
“I’ll have to send you some,” he says, considering. Perhaps if he puts them under stasis and then sends them by swift?
“Or,” Hermione says, breaking into his side-tracked train of thought, “I was thinking of popping over for a visit now that I’m wrapping up this project.” She waves her hand at the scrolls of parchment heaped up on one side of her desk, and the stack of books threatening to tumble off the other. “I’ve always wanted to take the inter-continental train.”
Draco can’t help but feel his heart leap at the chance to show Hermione around their part of the city; share a little of the place he’s somehow learned to call home. He’ll miss it—He shuts that thought down and refocuses on the screen.
“I do have a little surprise I’m working on, for which I might like your input,” he says, laughing when Hermione’s metaphorical ears perk up.
“Done,” Hermione says, nodding. “I’ll see about next weekend, I think. Does that work?”
Draco mentally scrolls through their exam schedules, but can’t think of any conflicts. “I’ll have to double-check with Harry, but I think that will work.” He pauses, looking again at all the reference material, and the documents on his screen next to the video chat.
“Thank you again for letting me monopolise your thesis project with this family magic study,” he says, trying not to fumble with the words. It’s difficult to express how much working together with Hermione has helped, deconstructing the whole bulwark of the pureblood understanding of family magic, and rebuilding it into something that will let him move forward. They’ve managed to piece together an arithmancy-based core of the traditions and practices while separating them from all their supremacist and discriminatory trappings.
Hermione’s gaze goes soft, but her answering smile is wide. “I may have been helping you out,” she says, “But this research has also gotten me a research fellowship, so I’ve you to thank just as much.”
***
Regardless, or perhaps despite, Parry’s polite scepticism of Draco’s plans, the Head Elf has sent Ceri over to assist him in setting up, “and running daily operations,” Ceri adds, bustling around the space. Ceri is quite a tall house elf and ruthlessly efficient. Draco finds himself almost bemused at how quickly he finds himself relegated to assistant. He suspects that Parry may have been glad, after all, to have a position like this open up: Ceri certainly seems to be an aspiring Head Elf candidate.
“Everything is in hand,” Ceri replies politely, after the third time Draco tries to offer some advice about the fact that the coffee shop will be serving primarily non-magical customers. Draco has to admit that he’s probably less knowledgeable about this than Ceri, and reassures himself that if Parry thinks Ceri won’t stand out to non-magical customers, then Parry is perhaps correct. Their opening, more understated than grand, is on track for tomorrow.
A thermos of coffee in hand, Draco retreats through the magnetised doorway into the library proper, wandering towards the children’s story area for a moment, before curving away towards the study tables that line the massive concrete staircase along the far wall. Both he and Harry like to spread their books out on these tables, looking out over other library patrons studying on the steps below, or outside the wall of glass to the city beyond. Draco doesn’t have his textbooks with him right now since he thought he would be busier with the coffee shop preparations, so he pulls out his mobile and headphones. It’s been a few days since he’s enjoyed kitten videos.
***
Harry sighs, rummaging idly through his papers though he’s not getting any studying done and he knows it. The library just isn’t the same without a coffee shop—he’s inevitably finished drinking the thermos he brings with him before he’s properly into the flow of things, and the café further down the road, while pleasant enough, is too far for a quick jog. Regretfully, he tucks the empty thermos back into his satchel.
Harry is half-way down the next page when his mobile buzzes in his pocket. He glances around, but there’s no one sitting at his table, and the people on the steps above and below him seem to be occupied. A quick wandless Muffliato is enough to avoid disturbing anyone.
“Draco?” he says, answering. “Is something up?” Draco doesn’t usually call—he prefers video messages. While he insists it’s because texting is tiresome, Harry’s pretty sure he just likes seeing Harry’s face. The loose papers tucked between the pages of his textbook crinkle as he flips the pages, waiting for Draco’s response.
“I stopped at the university to pick up a book, so I thought I might as well see if you’re at the library.” Draco sounds like he’s trying to suppress excitement. Either that, or something has upset him, but they’re better at communicating then they used to be. Harry is immediately suspicious.
“Right,” he says, wishing Draco was on the screen so he could see his expression. “So you want me to come to the foyer to meet you?”
“Yes, please, I’ll be there shortly.”
Draco ends the call before Harry’s even had a chance to ask for more details. He stares at his phone in passing offence before gathering his things together and ending the silencing spell. He’s not sure what Draco’s up to, but it’s not like he’s going to get any more studying done here anyway.
***
“Draco, you didn’t,” Harry begins, laughing as he stands in front of the newly opened coffee shop in the library foyer. “And is that—?”
He gestures at the barista working behind the counter, name tag Ceri clipped to a smart purple apron. Ceri nods in acknowledgement and continues to keep abreast of the short queue of customers with almost terrifying capability.
“Shh, don’t be a nuisance,” Draco says, grinning as he leans over to drape himself over Harry’s shoulder. He’s warm and familiar, though definitely more pointy-elbowed than soft. Harry doesn’t mind.
“But won’t people notice?” he asks, glancing around the foyer. The next customer steps up to the till, placing an order and paying with their mobile. Nothing hisses, explodes, or sparks, and the customer doesn’t even blink.
“Glamours,” Draco says, waving as though that explains everything. “And magic-corralling wards. Ceri is very capable.”
“Uh-huh,” Harry says, taking a sip of his coffee, perfectly brewed of course. Draco is infuriatingly perfect, and— “Wait, is this a gift for me or a project to impress Hermione?”
“Can’t something be both?” Draco retorts, giving him a gentle nudge in the shoulder. “You were right; this library needs a coffee shop.”
“And doughnuts,” Harry adds, trying and failing to nick a maple-walnut-glaze from Draco’s paper sack.
“Hey!” Draco protests. “Leave my doughnuts alone. If you want some, go wait with everyone else.” He waves at the queue and only laughs when Harry grumbles.
“It’s my coffee shop present,” Harry calls over his shoulder as he takes his place behind the last customer. Draco is leaning against the wall next to a book display case, primly wiping his fingers on a serviette.
“It’s my coffee shop,” he says and pops the last bite of doughnut into his mouth.
elindar, you’re up!