I suppose I should tell myself “shame on thee, for completely abandoning this fic for ages!” buuuut….no.

Well, I am sorry though. I hadn’t meant to…completely forget about it… just… being very busy. But I will warn you that this won’t be updated anytime soon either. Maybe I’ll continue during summer, or over winter break, hopefully.

Disclaimer: No own HP canon.

~!~

“Draco, stop sulking, we’re working here, on a schedule, baby, we need focus!” Su snapped as Draco glared.

“I am focused! Look, the lobsters in the oven, the soups are on the boil, the vegetables in the crisper, how much more focused do you want?” the chef growled, throwing an onion over his diminutive boss’ head to Wayne.

“I want you so focused, that you forget who Cho Chang is! That’s how focused I want!”

“Cho? Cho who?” Draco snarled back.

Castor rolled his eyes and pulled a fuming Su Li back with a hand.

“Darling, he’s in his mood again. Best let him boil a few potatoes or something until he’s calm.”

“He’s embarrassing like this! Do you know, five of the diners have already asked me if something was wrong in the kitchen? Why? Why?! Because the phrase “matrice, femme fetide” was spelled out on their salads and soups with croutons!!” Su shrieked.

Castor snorted and guiltily tried to hide his smirk. Behind Su, Orla was shaking over a bowl of cream and Wayne had stuffed a rag into his mouth to keep from laughing out loud.

“I had a ball trying to convince Mrs. Whittaker that those words weren’t meant for her! And don’t you start laughing, Castor D. Warrington!”

“Who’s to say I didn’t mean them?” Draco grumbled, stir-frying shrimp without pause.

“To make things worse, Natalie Macdonald called me earlier to discuss you and Hopkins’ little detour. You know how much I don’t get along with her, and yet, you went and did something that prompted me into a full half-hour phone conversation with her!” Su ranted. Castor started dragging her from the kitchen.

“Su, the tables need wiping. Get to it, would you?” Castor muttered hastily in her ear. Su stilled.

“Ah yes. The tables,” she said aloud, her voice taking on an eerie sort of tinge. “The tables. They need wiping. Well I don’t really care right now!”

Castor winced.

“Darling, I really don’t think-”

“Hello, do I look like I care what you think?! I’m in a tower of BLEEDING rage!!” Su roared.

“Stop it, Su, you’re scaring me,” Draco said in a monotone. “Orla, get those tomatoes in the pans.”

“Why is he so calm? I swear to God, I-”

“Look Su, it was an accident. It won’t happen again. Now just get back out there and…bus tables or something,” Draco sighed with annoyance. Su swelled, and Castor gave her one final push out the door before she exploded.

“Let me at that-that over-grown, pus-headed, scrangly, ferret-gone-bad, that no good, little, two bit-”

“Su!”

“What!!”

“Cho’s here to pay the bill,” exasperated, Castor pointed at the former Ravenclaw, who stood meekly in the doorway.

“Hey, Su, Warrington,” Cho said weakly.

Su stopped ranting and turned to stare at Cho. For a second, she was silent, and then she sniffed and began crying, running to the other woman.

“Waaah!! Choo! They’re all picking on me!!”

“What! I never-” Castor sputtered, looking affronted. Su just sniffed and glared at him from behind Cho. Unhappily, Castor straightened his tie and vest and stalked into the kitchen huffily.

Cho raised an eyebrow. “You’re not going to kill me?”

Su looked puzzled. “Why would I do that?”

“Well,” Cho began ticking off reasons on her finger. “One, I come into your restaurant a bloody mess, two, I eat all your food, three, I pass out without paying, four, I try to skip out on the bill, and five, I caused unwanted confrontation with Natalie Macdonald. You sure you don’t want to, I don’t know…boil me?”

Su shook her head. “You did not look a mess, love. You looked like your lovely self. You didn’t eat all the food; the back fridge contains the leftovers, if you want them. You’re here to pay the bill, aren’t you? And anyways, it was mainly Malfoy’s fault. Boil? No. Julienne? Maybe a little bit, but I can’t cook.”

Cho giggled and pulled out her purse. “Alright, where do I pay?”

~

Draco snuck a look as Castor slunk into the kitchen.

“How’s she?” he asked causally.

“I didn’t pick on her,” Castor muttered. “It’s all your fault.”

“What’s she doing?”

“Talking to Cho bloody Chang. It’s always Cho this, Chang that, I swear-”

“Chang? What’s she come here for?” Draco growled, and proceeded to stalk out. Castor motioned and Wayne grabbed onto Draco.

“She’s paying her bill, you paranoidal pish-stick. Have you got the roast duck yet?” Castor snapped.

Draco and the two other occupants of the room stared as Castor in a foul temper whirled out the door with salads on his arms.

“What’s got him?” Orla asked, crossing her pale arms over her chest and raising a dark eyebrow. Draco shrugged.

“Don’ know. What’s a pish-stick?”

“Something ugly, fat, and omelet,” Wayne replied wisely.

“Really? Thought it was fish sticks with piss,” Orla said.

“No, no. It’s omelet.”

“Shut up, you morons. A pish-stick is…a… oh get back to work,” Draco said, rolling his eyes.

~

“So you met Harry, eh?” Su mused over her tea. She and Cho were sitting at one of the tables in the corner of the café. Orla had taken time out of the kitchen to help in the outside so that Su could take her break.

“Yeah, seems to be a bit…funny, that chap,” Cho admitted. “Still sweet as ever, but a bit, gone?”

Su snorted and drank her tea. “Least you can say. You know all that Dark Lord stuff got to him eventually. You weren’t there seventh year, when we all thought he was goner.”

“I heard it was a bad year,” Cho prompted. “How bad?”

Su’s face darkened. “It was Us that were hit worst. We were the ones with all the training remember? The ones with all the right motives, and apparently, that called for most action. You were lucky to have been gone.” She grinned wryly at her old friend.

Cho’s head lowered. “I wouldn’t have left…I-I shouldn’t have…should have helped…” Su reached over and patted her hand.

“You had to. And besides, we all knew you were more fitted to saving lives than taking them. You would have hated it, or worse, gone further than Harry did,” Su quipped. Cho grinned.

“I did read about you guys though, in the papers. The public couldn’t seemed to love you or hate you, but either way, couldn’t get enough of you guys,” Cho commented with a smile.

Su sighed and rolled her eyes. “Oh, yeah, definitely. Still get fan letters or hate mail in the morning sometimes.”

“I can still remember that time I picked up the Daily Prophet and saw the words ‘Draco Malfoy’ emblazoned across the top though. Thought he was dead,” Cho admiited wryly.

“No, but he might as well have been, going through all that.” Su paused as she stared out the window. “That was one of the worst times for all of Us, actually.”

Silence filled their space as Orla set a plate of cookies down.

“Chef sends his regards.”

“They’re poisoned, aren’t they?” Cho asked doubtfully. Orla grinned.

“He expected that. He says he thinks you’ll be able to manage to cyanide.”

She left and the two ladies stared hard at the innocent, almond-scented cookies.

“I think he’s joking,” Su said in more of a question.

~

Meanwhile, on the other side of the street, Harry was leaning against the window, ladle in hand and chin propped up in the other one, a slightly dazed smile on his face. Once in awhile, he would shift hands and sigh dreamily, ignoring the hazelnut sauce that trailed down his stained front.

“Harry, are done with that damned trout yet?! That batty old- Harry? Potter, you fink!” Natalie’s voice gave into an exasperated sigh. “You useless git! Just look at this!” she cried with dismay, gesturing wildly around the disastrous kitchen. Harry turned and gave her a distracted look.

“Hmm? Oh, yeah. The trout. Uuuhhhhhm… it’s in the rice cooker, I think.”

“Harry. We don’t have a goddamn rice cooker. You’ve put the bleeding trout in the,” Natalie stopped for a moment, located a round, white machine in the corner of the room, and grimaced at the smell emanating from the vents. “-air purifier. Oh that is just disgusting.”

“Sorry. Say, do you think Cho would like a rice cooker?”

“What? Sorry, I’m busy scraping chicken of sea out of my five-hundred dollar air cleaner to think about your school crush’s eating preferences,” Natalie snapped back, hurriedly dumping the fish fillet onto a plate and sprinkling some parsley over it. Hey, air purifiers were clean, right? So the fish should really be extra clean, right?

“Tuna.”

“What?!”

“Tuna’s chicken of the sea. Trout is chicken of…of…rivers. And lakes.”

Natalie stared at the besotted man who had returned to doodling hearts on the window with a tube of…hang on…wasn’t that her lipstick?! She looked around the kitchen, which was already in enough disorder as it was, without the chef’s attention.

“Harry, this is so coming out of your paycheck,” she said in a flat voice before storming out of the kitchen and telling everyone that the chef was incapacitated and that if they didn’t want to see the emergency surgery she was about to perform on him with a drill and three different bread knives, then they had better leave. Now. As soon as they paid their bills.

She so needed a fag.

~!~

Ehm. Yes. more randomness and Cho finally pays her bill. Yay! Yes, yes that was a dark subplot you spotted there! Aren’t I subtle! XD. Anyways. I hope to finish this fic someday, but maybe way, way later. Thank you much, if you read this fic at all though!