#im pretty sure i reblogged this already
Draco:If you and a same sex friend are eating out and request one check and the waiter sets it down in front of you, they’ve decided you’re the top.
Narcissa:*remembers all the times that she and Hermione went to cafes and the waiters put the check in front of Hermione despite the fact that Narcissa is famously rich*
Narcissa:Ok, first of all…
@naralanis@rubikanon one of you please write this. Or both. I needs it.
Ask and ye shall receive, @dancewiththepen ! I went a slightly different way, I think, but here ya go:
“It’s true, I’m telling you!”
Narcissa can only roll her eyes, but Hermione is laughing uproariously across from her, and Potter and Draco, at the table next to theirs, are so terribly red and wheezing they might need medical attention–Draco’s shoulders are shaking so badly the teacup in his hand is sloshing dangerously over the space between their tables.
Narcissa, for one, is not as amused.
“If you and a same-sex friend are eating out… whoever gets the check put right in front of them, they’re the top. The waiter has judged it so.” Draco insists, grinning like an idiot.
“How terribly antiquated,” Narcissa drawls, taking a polite sip of her tea. Someone has to remember their manners here, after all.
“Oh, it’s all in good fun, Cissy,” Hermione quips, wiping a tear from the corner of her eye, still giggling. “I wonder who the waiter will determine is the top between the two of you,” she says, waggling her brows towards Draco and Potter.
“Bold of you to assume I haven’t paid already, Granger,” Draco says with a wink. “I took care of it when I pretended to go to the loo a few minutes ago.”
“You!” Potter yelps, punching Draco lightly on the shoulder. “I knewit!”
“Hm, that kind of subterfuge is definitely Toppish Behaviour, methinks,” Hermione laughs.
“I wonder,” Potter says, brow raised and looking directly at Hermione. “Who will get the check at yourtable.”
Draco barks out a laugh. “Are you kidding me, Potter? That woman” he gestures towards his mother dramatically, “is Narcissa Malfoy. The Ice Queen, the last Heiress of the Noble House of Black, the richestwitch in Britain.” He fakes a grimace. “No offence, ‘Mione.”
“None taken,” Hermione says, leaning back leisurely on her chair, looking smug. Narcissa feels her cheeks reddening, and thinks back on the last few month–all their little outings, their little dates, lunches, brunches, and dinners.
Oh no.
“I think I’ll pop to the ladies’ room for a moment,” she squeaks, beginning to stand–it’s a last ditch effort, but it’s all she’s got. Hermione sees right through her ruse, dashing a hand out to stop her with a gentle grasp of her palm.
“I don’t think so, Cissy, Draco has unfortunately revealed your little ruse.”
Narcissa sits back down, glaring daggers at Draco, who seems to not understand what is happening. Potter looks delighted, and Hermione? Hermione looks absolutely insufferable.
The wait is eternal and torturous. Narcissa sees the waiter come to their table with the check, and the approach seems to happen in slow motion. She can feelHermione’s smug little grin, and the anticipation that comes from their neighboring is palpable, and there’s nothing, nothingNarcissa can do to stop the waiter from placing the check right in front of Hermione like he doesn’t know the implications of what he has just done.
Everything stops. Hermione’s still smirking. Draco’s grin wilts into an astonished grimace, and Potter releases an honest-to-Merlin guffaw. Narcissa’s already turning in her seat before anyone can say anything.
“Mother??”
“Alright, FIRST OF ALL!!”
Welp, I tried!
Thank you so much for this, dear author.
