Harry Potter: A Typical Man(SI OC)

I had no idea what to expect when Snape and Jon told me to suit up.

"Tonight," Jon said, clapping me on the shoulder, "we're taking you out for a proper lads' night. Muggle style."

I'd never heard those two words in that order before — Muggle and style — but apparently, that meant clothes that actually fit, no robes, and hair that didn't look like it had been combed with a cauldron brush. So now here I was, sitting in the back seat of a muggle vehicle — a Jaguar, apparently — driven by my godfather who looked like he belonged on a billboard for high-end cologne.

I still hadn't fully recovered from that.

Jon and Cedric were in another vehicle — an Aston Martin — ahead of us. Not the infamous GTR Jon used during his more unhinged escapades. When Snape asked why not the Godzilla, Jon just grinned and said, "They're not ready for the Godzilla yet."

I blinked. "Godzilla? Isn't that… a creature? Like a giant lizard thing?"

Snape glanced at me through the rearview mirror. "Godzilla is a metaphor. A beast of speed and power. The GTR is its namesake — fast, feral, and not for the faint-hearted."

"...So it's a car that's been named after a destructive monster?"

"Precisely."

I leaned back slowly. "Right. No pressure, then."

We pulled up in front of a sleek, warm-lit restaurant that looked nothing like the dusty old pubs I'd expected. This wasn't the Leaky Cauldron. This was something entirely different — modern, elegant, and somehow… alive.

We walked in like a gang of well-dressed outlaws. Jon in a dark blazer, Cedric looking like a GQ model from the countryside, and Snape—my actual professor—striding in with the calm confidence of a Bond villain on his day off.

I noticed heads turn. Actual heads. Women looking up from their tables. A hostess smiling a little too widely. A group of women in the corner whispering and glancing over. I was still reeling.

We got a table near the open windows, the city lights glittering behind us like a fallen constellation.

"I didn't know muggles could cook like this," Cedric said, flipping open the menu. "Look at this—steak with actual sauce? Merlin's nuts!"

Jon laughed. "Welcome to the revolution."

Snape just raised an eyebrow. "Order something that doesn't scream you grew up in a magical broom cupboard."

"I'll take the cheeseburger," Cedric said proudly.

"I'll take what he's having," I added, still overwhelmed.

Jon ordered something with too many syllables, and Snape? He barely glanced at the menu before telling the waitress, "Surprise me."

The waitress, who looked like she stepped out of a romance film, blushed. Blushed. I stared. Then Cedric tried to flirt.

"Tough job here, huh? Bet it's nice seeing handsome wizards walk in once in a while."

She blinked. "I'm sorry… who?"

Jon coughed to hide his laughter. Snape just tilted his head slightly and gave her one of his cold-smirked nods.

"Thank you," he said softly, "and take your time. We're not in a rush."

She looked like she was about to faint.

"...ARE YOU KIDDING ME?!" Cedric whisper-shouted as she walked away, red in the face.

"Cedric," I said, still in shock, "did you see that? Did Snape just woo a woman? Like… effortlessly?"

Snape didn't even blink. "She has excellent taste."

Jon sipped his drink, clearly enjoying this too much. "You haven't even seen half of what he can do. Trust me."

"Are you sure he's not under Polyjuice?" I asked.

"He's a man of many layers," Jon said, putting his hand over his heart. "And you, my dear Draco, are finally seeing the outer shell crack."

Snape gave Jon a sideways glance. "You're one to talk, Mr. 'Secretly a walking arsenal of magical warfare.'"

The food arrived.

And I forgot the world existed for the next ten minutes.

Burgers that melted in my mouth. Fries that didn't taste like conjured parchment. Sizzling meat, sauce, the crunch of fresh vegetables. And cold drinks that fizzed on my tongue like spells of joy.

"I have been betrayed by the wizarding world," I said, mouth half-full. "We could've had this? And we settled for pumpkin juice and boiled beef?"

"Dark times," Cedric said solemnly, licking his fingers. "We lived in darkness."

"And sandwiches wrapped in sadness," Jon added.

"This is why revolutions start," I muttered.

We talked, joked, laughed — real laughter — and it was strange how natural it felt. Just… sitting there. No robes. No House rivalry. No 'proper posture' or blood status lectures.

Just four blokes. Eating. Drinking. Existing.

I wasn't Draco Malfoy, heir of the ancient house.

I was Draco. Thirteen. Full stomach. Fanta in hand.

Jon raised his glass. "To boys' nights. To madness. And to the slow but inevitable corruption of one Malfoy at a time."

"Cheers," we all echoed.

Then the waitress came back with dessert menus — and this time, she leaned in closer to Snape and said, "Would you like something sweet, sir?" in a tone that could curdle cream.

Cedric sputtered. "He's not even trying!"

"She finds sarcasm arousing, apparently," I muttered.

Jon leaned over to me. "Let it go, Draco. You're witnessing something unnatural. Just enjoy it."

Snape didn't even smirk — he just raised an eyebrow and said, "Surprise me again."

I could feel Cedric physically die inside.

We got our desserts. They were incredible. Something with chocolate and lava and a scoop of frozen divinity. By the time we were licking our spoons clean, Cedric had collapsed in defeat.

"He's the alpha," he moaned. "He wins. I'm done."

I leaned back in my chair, stomach full, nerves buzzing, eyes wide. "I don't know what kind of curse tonight is… but I like it."

And then Cedric grinned like a man possessed.

"You ready for the real fun?" he asked, bouncing like a child before Christmas.

"The what?" I asked.

"Cars," Snape said, standing up and adjusting his jacket. "The night has just begun."

I blinked. "Are we… racing?"

Jon smirked. "Oh Draco… welcome to the dark side."

And with that, the four of us walked out into the glowing city night.

…Ready to burn rubber and rewrite destinies.

-----

Draco:

If you had told me a year ago that my godfather — the greasiest, grumpiest, least socially appealing professor in Hogwarts — would be racing through the heart of Muggle London in a sleek black Jaguar, flirting with Muggle women while being chased by flashing light-wielding magical Auror-equivalents called police, I'd have recommended you to St. Mungo's.

But here I was.

"Who are those guys?" I asked, staring at the fast-approaching blue lights in the rearview mirror.

"Police," Snape said flatly, shifting gears without missing a beat.

"What?! Like the Muggle Aurors?!"

"Exactly. They enforce laws. And we may have... broken a few."

"A few?! We've ignored speed limits, drifted through five red lights, and you literally high-fived a street vendor while sliding sideways past a hotdog stand!"

"Ah," he murmured, flicking on some classical music. "Six then."

I stared at him in horror. My godfather was smirking. SMIRKING. And driving like a lunatic on Felix Felicis.

Then he did it again.

He rolled the window down, leaned slightly, and winked at a group of Muggle women standing at a corner. One of them actually moaned. Another dropped her phone.

"...Are you putting them under a charm?"

"No magic," he said. "Just horsepower and confidence."

I clutched the dashboard. "I'm in a fever dream."

Cedric:

Meanwhile, in the Aston Martin with Jon, I was experiencing a crisis of masculinity.

"Did he just — he winked, Jon! And they swooned! I've spent years trying to flirt without stuttering and he just — what the bloody hell is going on?"

Jon was too busy laughing.

"Snape is the car," he said. "Man becomes a demigod behind the wheel. It's terrifying."

"AND UNFAIR!" I shouted as we made a sharp right turn that pinned me to the door.

We skidded around another corner, police sirens blaring behind us like angry dementors with speakers. I could see the smoke rising off Snape's tires in the distance.

Draco:

The police were close. Snape floored the accelerator and we tore through a tunnel, lights blurring above us.

"Uh… are we gonna, like, pull over? Maybe?" I asked.

"Draco," he said calmly, eyes sharp, "we've already committed about fifteen driving infractions, are being pursued by Muggle law enforcement, and you're wearing cologne that probably violates UN treaties. We are not pulling over. We're finishing the art piece."

"What art—?"

And then he drifted.

We slid through a T-junction sideways, like we were in a film. Sparks lit up the undercarriage, and then he flipped the car straight again like nothing happened.

Then he blew a kiss out the window to another pedestrian. Her friends screamed. One fainted.

"WHAT IN MERLIN'S NAME IS HAPPENING?!"

Cedric:

"I should've worked out more," I muttered bitterly, watching Snape's car ahead.

Jon raised an eyebrow. "Excuse me?"

"Clearly, Snape's charisma is directly proportional to his speed and jawline. I have to catch up."

"Mate, you're married."

"I can still look charming."

Jon cackled. "Good luck. Snape hasn't even started showing off yet."

Draco:

And then Snape… jumped a ramp.

I screamed.

I actually screamed.

The Jaguar flew. For a glorious second, we were airborne. Police tires squealed behind us, but we were already landing, gracefully, with minimal bounce.

Snape looked over at me, hair windblown, completely unfazed.

"Your silence is appreciated."

"I'm trying not to cry."

"You're welcome."

Then we spun around a fountain, somehow using the water as a visual enhancer. People cheered.

Who cheers during police chases?!

We drifted past another sidewalk, where a group of models — actual models I think — were posing near a café. Snape smirked and dropped the window again.

"Ladies," he said, voice silky and dark.

Two of them actually chased the car.

"I NEED TO KNOW YOUR CONDITIONER!" one screamed.

Cedric:

I was yelling the whole way.

Jon followed the chaos route with equal style, though slightly more grounded. We drifted through corners, evaded spike strips, and went off-road once — down a pedestrian plaza — where a guy with a pretzel cart actually handed Jon one mid-drive.

"Did… did that guy just tip you?"

"Maybe."

"I need to change my whole personality."

Draco:

"Teach me," I whispered.

"What?" Snape asked, still dodging cones.

"Teach me how to drive like this. And… flirt. Like that. So I can—when I'm older—I can… maybe woo someone."

He side-eyed me, actually touched.

"You want to impress Hermione Granger."

I looked away. "I want to not feel useless. I want to feel like I can protect her… and maybe deserve her."

Snape didn't laugh. He nodded once.

"Then pay attention."

He drifted again. Perfectly. Powerfully.

Cedric:

"You ready to see the gates of Valhalla?" I shouted.

Draco, through the comm, replied like a convert. "They're made of chrome and burn unleaded. And I love it."

We laughed, screamed, lived.

Jon:

"They've turned," I muttered to Snape. "You've corrupted them."

"Good," he said. "Now they can survive."

And we sped off into the neon-drenched madness of the city.

----

If someone had told me at Hogwarts that one day I'd be sitting in a damn muggle convertible—top down, breeze flying through my perfectly styled platinum hair, next to Jon Bloody Bonds of all people, while my godfather Severus Snape passed out cigars like some mafia don and Lord Cedric Greengrass—whose daughter Daphne was promised to Jon once he finished Hogwarts—grumbled like he sat on a blast-ended skrewt—I would've hexed them into next week.

And yet, here I was. Post-ride. Post-mayhem. Post-broom-trauma.

Parked just outside a gorgeous cliffside landscape—rolling green hills bathed in moonlight, shadows dancing under the glow of a full moon, a view so perfect it could slap a unicorn into tears—we looked like some cursedly attractive biker gang rejected by a muggle cologne commercial for being too dashing. Cedric had picked the spot, muttering something about the light being good for brooding. He does that now. Ever since Daphne got engaged, he broods like it's a side hustle.

Jon pulled out the beers—Muggle kind, ice-cold, straight from a cooler enchanted with AC runes. "Here," he said, tossing one to Cedric, who caught it midair like a seeker on stimulants. One floated to me, but Jon swatted it away with a flick.

"You're underage, Malfoy."

"I'm almost of age!" I protested, deeply offended.

Instead, I got handed a can. Red. Silver. Innocent-looking.

A Coke.

I cracked it open. Took a sip. My taste buds detonated.

"OH SWEET MILK OF MERLIN," I gasped. "What in the sacred underpants of Morgana is this flavor?!"

Jon chuckled. "Cherry vanilla coke. Muggles invented flavor combinations. Try root beer later. It'll melt your soul."

Cedric puffed on a cigar, rolled his eyes, and muttered, "I'm outnumbered. First I had one Snape in my life, now there's two. One used to be a greasy git at Hogwarts, and the other is my future son-in-law."

Snape, in all his leather-coated, jaguar-driving glory, took a long drag of his cigar. "Come now, Cedric. You married a Greengrass. You knew chaos came in the contract."

"Marriage didn't prepare me for car cults and soda worship."

"You love it," I sang, sipping more fizzy bliss.

"You're sniffing the upholstery again, Draco," Cedric sighed.

"You sniff new potion ingredients. Same thing."

Snape smirked. "He's not wrong."

I leapt out of the car dramatically, my blue leather jacket catching the golden light like I was modeling for a rebellious runway in Milan. "Why—WHY—are we still using brooms?! Look at this car. Look at it. This is divinity on wheels. This is mobility blessed by Aphrodite herself. This—" I patted the hood reverently, "—this is a Jaguar."

Cedric choked on his beer.

Jon added, "And it goes zero to sexy in three seconds."

I continued, now on my soapbox. "Brooms are ancient relics. Museum material. They belong next to cursed tiaras and one-eyed cauldrons. You ever sit on a broom for three hours? Your spine contorts into the shape of a question mark!"

"Not to mention the draft in awkward places," Jon muttered.

"And don't even get me started on wizarding fashion. Robes? Cloaks? Pointy hats?! We look like extras from a low-budget fantasy series. Meanwhile, this—" I spun dramatically, showing off my muggle ensemble. "This is ZARA. This is cashmere. Touch it, Cedric."

"I'm not touching you, Malfoy."

"Touch the fashion."

"No."

Snape, with one eyebrow raised like a sarcastic archangel, deadpanned, "I touched it earlier. It's soft."

"See? Thank you, godfather."

"I'm regretting that now."

"I want a membership card," I declared. "To the Muggle Life Appreciation Society."

Jon pulled out his phone, tapped a few buttons, and held up a glowing screen. "Welcome to the cult. You're a Premium Tier Member. You get 20% off at IKEA."

Cedric sighed. "I used to be a Lord. Now I'm part of a soda cult led by a man named Bonds."

We all laughed. Snape's laugh was rare, but when it happened, it hit like thunder wrapped in velvet. Cedric tried to hide his grin behind the cigar. Failed.

The full moon hung high above us now, casting a silver glow over the scene like some ancient enchantment brought to life. We looked good. Like, front cover of GQ Wizard Edition good.

Jon spoke again, softer now. "Weird, isn't it? How this all feels… normal?"

"It is normal," I said. "Just not 'Ministry-approved, regulated by goblins and grey beards' normal."

Cedric exhaled slowly. "You might be right. Don't let that get to your head."

"Too late."

"I'm going to exile myself now."

"I'll send postcards."

Eventually, we packed up. Jon tossed his cigar like a movie villain. Cedric flicked his into a conjured ashtray. I attempted flair and flung mine straight into my shoe. Cue Cedric's wheezing laughter.

"I hate all of you," I muttered.

"Welcome to the dark side," Jon grinned.

"With cars," Cedric added.

"With air-conditioning," I corrected.

And so we returned to the villa Daphne had bought in the Muggle British countryside—a stunning estate surrounded by wildflowers and hedges so clean they probably whispered etiquette rules to passing squirrels.

Snape's wedding venue. He was marrying Diana Rockford, a muggle-born legend in her own right, and the entire villa had been transformed into something out of a magical high-society fairytale.

A large banner swayed gently in the wind: "Welcome to the Snape-Rockford Wedding Grounds".

I grinned, feeling something weird in my chest. Possibly love. Or indigestion. Probably both.

This? This was living.

And I still had more Coke in the fridge.