sassy_cissa (sassy_cissa) wrote in slythindor100, @ 2006-05-10 23:03:00 |
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Current location: | IU |
Entry tags: | challenge #26, challenge #27 |
The Waitress and the Bet (parts 1 & 2)
Original poster: physixxx
Title: The Waitress and the Bet (parts 1 & 2)
Author: Ian Anon aka physixxx
Pairing: H/D (implied)
Rating: PG-13 (to be self)
Word Count: 1 --> 128; 2 --> 545
Author's Notes: This covers both Challenge #27 (semi-songfic) and Challenge #26 ("This isn't what you think it is!").
Summary: Draco hates his co-worker and contemplates Avada Kedavra as a solution.
Disclaimer: <-- Absolutely pointless, I could still be sued. EMBRACE THE ILLEGALITY OF FANFICTION!!!!
1.
“I hate that bint!”
“No you don’t.”
“No, really. I do. Trust!”
“Draco, you barely know her.”
“I know her enough to want the troll-ish renter dead!”
“- gasp - Draco!”
“That sodding slag!”
“That’s awfully harsh, Draco...”
“I’d be nice about it, Potter.”
“Really? By murdering the poor woman??”
“Quite. I’d... I’d do it fast.”
“Oh, by all that’s magical –!”
“No, really I would. A nice, clean Avada Kedavra. It’d be an Act of Kindness.”
“She can’t be that bad, can she?”
“She’s a ruddy grimalkin!!”
“... ‘Grimalkin’ ...? Who in the hell uses that word anymore?”
“I’m surprised you even know what it means...”
“Hey hey HEY... I’m not the one you hate.”
“Apparently you’re working to rectify that.”
“...”
“...”
“... bint ...”
2.
Mel slammed the spatula on the bell. Its ring was as annoying as his voice was gruff.
“Vera,” he gruffed. “You’re up!”
He slid the two plates on the counter under some heated lamps as he glared out in to the restaurant. The restaurant was one of those 24-hour dives, as dingy and greasy as the apron that draped over his rotund belly and saggy chest. He was older, burly, and surly, with tattoos covering his ample forearms and a cigar in desperate need of an ashtray.
If Mel was tetchy, then Vera was titchy, her diminutive form seemed to scamper about much like a rat – no, a rat was too harsh a word. Mouse? Yes, she was like a mouse, easily likable to most. Vera often carried her plates perilously, dropping them frequently – and sometimes on her customers. But, Draco, at least, liked her. No, it was a certain redhead that held all of Draco’s (not-so) pent-up acrimony.
In one of the side-booths, a gum-smacking woman with far too much make-up and a tall, domed, and lacquered beehive blonde ‘do sat across from Draco, his own hair a stringy, greasy mess that hung heavy under his paper cap. He managed to look both indignant and undignified with his shoulders hunched over and his elbows on the table.
“I hate that bitch, Flo,” Draco finally said, gawking at the redhead who seemed to float from table to table, guest to guest; happily refilling waters, taking food orders, smiling, laughing
“Honey, don’t we all?”
Flo exhaled cigarette smoke from her pursed lips, ignoring the patrons behind her and their obviously fake coughs.
“How rude!” one lady hissed, turning back to face her friend.
Draco could give you a thousand reasons why he hated the hag: she was pretty, she was witty, she was better at her job than Draco, the punters liked her more, she was a spunky, plucky redhead who didn’t take shite from anyone, she looked at Harry one-too-many-times when he came to ‘visit’ Draco (more like check-up on him, but more on that later).
The redhead sidled up to Draco and Flo’s table, the smile she wore for her customers faded into a grimace with every step. Arms crossed, foot tapping, she peered down at Draco with squinted eyes.
“May we help you?” Draco asked, looking rather nonplussed.
“If you got time to lean, you got time to clean,” she said, far-too haughty for Draco’s taste.
Draco looked at Flo, who simply looked away as with pursed lips.
“This isn't what you think it is,” he said, bringing his hand to his chest. “I’m not leaning. I’m sitting.”
“It’s an expression, Dray,” she said, using the name Harry suggested (oh, the humiliation! “Dray”, indeed!). “You’d know that if you’d pull the tiara outta your ass.”
Both Flo and Draco gasped, one slightly admiring while the other utterly offended.
“Oh, and you’re seated, Dray,” the redhead said with a smirk, turning her heels and walking off to the waitress station.
A vein pulsated on the side of Draco’s forehead, beating angrily at the injustice of it all. He scowled, counting to ten under his breath.
“I’m going to kill her, Flo,” he announced, finally. “Just you wait.”
The rhythmic staccato of Flo’s gum-smacking seemed to fade as Draco began to think about how he could murder his co-worker and not lose the bet with Harry Potter.
Next: The Bet aka Why the FUCK did Draco Get a Job at an American diner!??!!?!?