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Potter’s Blooms and Bouquets: Enchanted flowers for magical customers. Harry leant back, finally satisfied. He wanted to take a final moment to admire the comfortable atmosphere within his new Diagon Alley emporium. Enchanted fairy lights sparkled here and there, giving the space a cosy, homely feel. Tall vases of flowers stood proudly on every surface, their gauzy shimmer a clue to their charmed nature.
This was wizarding London’s very first enchanted flower shop and today was Blooms and Bouquets first day in business. The floor had been swept, the Groats and Sickles counted into the till and his pavement sign had been freshly painted with an elegant lily. It was stood beside him now, ready to be taken outside.
There really wasn’t much else for it, Harry thought, nervous nargles churning inside his tummy. It really was time to open to the wizarding public. It was now or never. With a flick of his wand, Harry changed the sign from closed to open and opened the door, pulling out the pavement sign behind him.
Blooms and Bouquets was the culmination of several years of hard work from both Neville and himself: a fusion of his good friend’s magi-herbological skills and Harry’s deep desire for a tranquil existence. He desperately craved a life that was the antithesis of the strife and danger of the Aurors and there was nothing more calming than flowers. Nev and he had been lucky enough to find a wonderful location too. The emporium was sandwiched snugly between Wizarding Wheezes and the Magical Menagerie, so the shop would have plenty of passing trade.
Harry lined up the pavement sign neatly, skimming it lightly over a puddle. It seemed such a pity the day was drizzly- that’d keep the customers at home- but Ron had promised to call in during his lunch and…
Suddenly, out of absolutely nowhere, a whirlwind of wizard came crashing into Harry’s left side, sending the pair of them stumbling.
Harry managed to right himself, throwing his arms out to steady the lithe, woollen-coated man that had tripped into him. The wizard’s arms were solid and muscular beneath Harry’s hands. He carried an old-fashioned leather satchel that flew straight open, scattering parchments, quills and books all over the wet pavement.
“Steady,” Harry said, laughing and righting them both. “Bit early in the day for falling into my arms but I'm not adverse-” With a swirl of his wand, Harry swooped up the wizard’s runaway papers and Accio’ed them into a pile in his hands
“Salazar,” laughed the wizard, his voice a pleasant rumble. “I don’t normally make a habit of running into chaps like this. Damp pavement, new boots… I do apologise. I’ve come this way every morning, have done for years but the fates were conspiring against me this morning. Slept in, sick owl… You know how it is… Looks like you’re my hero today, Mr…?”
Harry looked into the face of the wizard that stood before him. He had the same immaculate white-blond hair as ever, every stand still perfect and touchably soft. The man’s eyes were the same slate grey too but his face was perhaps less angular than it had been as a teenager.
Of all the people in the entire wizarding universe, the very last person that Harry had expected to have run into him on his very first day as a magical florist was Draco Malfoy.
“Potter. Harry Potter… But I don’t think we need introductions, do we Draco? Come on, lets get ourselves inside. These parchments will be ruined if we don’t get a Drying Spell on them soon.”
~@~
Harry sat Draco down in one of the armchairs inside his small office while he fixed a Drying and Repair spell upon Draco’s papers. They all appeared very ancient, covered in an undecipherable runic language that Harry didn’t recognise at all.
“This spell should take a few minutes to set,” Harry said, looking up at Draco from the tiny sink. “Can I get you a cup of tea while you’re waiting? I know you’re already late but-”
“Please,” Draco replied, gazing around at the gently undulating mural of lavender and pansies that Luna had hand-painted on his wall. “I’m already late so a few more minutes can’t possibly hurt.”
“Today is my first day,” Harry said, tapping his wand on the teapot to fill it with steaming water. He carried it over to the small round table that he had seated Draco at, before placing it carefully down between the pair of them. Rummaging in the cupboard, Harry located the two teacups he wanted too. “And so you’ve got the honour of being the first customer to enter Blooms and Bouquets.”
Draco sipped his tea and considered Harry’s emporium. “A floristry business? I have to say, I’m surprised Harry. Like every wizard in England I’ve followed your exploits in the Prophet. Breaking that illegal potions ring… The magical beasts fighting syndicate… You’ve been quite the hero over the last few years.”
Harry smiled, complimented that Draco had followed his cases. “Never liked the danger though. Caught a muscle-melting hex in my leg a year or so back. I ended up in St. Mungos for months while they grew most of my thigh back. I haven’t been the same since. An Auror that can’t run has no place in the field, so I've had to rethink my life goals a bit.”
“But flowers? Your shop is quite beautiful but I’m sure that the Potter that I recall from school wasn’t a particular Herbology enthusiast?”
“Well, that was a result of my stay in hospital,” Harry replied, motioning with his hand at the multicoloured blooms that surrounded them both. “I spent a lot of time observing my fellow patients. How their eyes lit up when their friends and family visited. The flowers they brought… Well, it sounds daft but I felt like they were like a little piece of love that the visitors left behind.”
Draco looked on warmly, not embarrassed whatsoever by Harry’s words. He took a swallow of his tea before he spoke. “That’s not daft at all. You found your passion, Harry. That’s what makes life worth living! I’m the Professor of Viking and Celtic Magic over at the Wizarding Department in the British Museum, and I adore it. When you enjoy your work then everyday is a joy. That’s where I was heading when we had our little run-in a few moments ago.”
“Oh, yes! I know the place,” Harry said. “I’ve visited there a few times with Teddy. Those Egyptians certainly had some awe-inspiring magic. I’d love to visit there again.”
Harry was little unnerved by how convivial this conversation with his old nemesis actually felt. Malfoy was as damnably attractive as he’d been at school but all the wizard’s old haughtiness was entirely absent. Indeed, had this been one of Harry’s rare Wandr dates, he might have had high hopes for a second round.
“Oh I concur,” Draco agreed, placing his empty teacup down with elegant fingers. “But right now I’m more interested in these stunning blossoms. I’ve never quite seen anything like them before? Correct me if I’m wrong but are they enchanted?”
“They certainly are,” Harry said, standing up. He padded over to a display of tulips and picked a delicate stem. He passed it over to Draco shyly. “These flowers have been charmed like a mood ring. They colour to reflect the feelings of their owner’s heart. So… A wonderful gift for a chap to give to his beloved.”
The two men watched as the bloom turned a subtle pink in Draco’s hands. “That’s exquisite,” Draco murmured, “I’ve not seen such a sweet charm as this in a long time.”
Harry couldn’t help but feel a pang of regret at the flower’s colouring. Pink was the symbolic shade of romantic attraction; Draco obviously had an object of affection locked within his heart already.
“The magic is all Neville’s doing,” Harry answered contemplatively. “He took the magi-herbological skills that he learnt as a Hogwarts Professor and fused them with Muggle flowers. All I ever did was take a floristry course with Luna.”
“Colour me impressed,” Draco said, picking up his pile of parchments and books before shrinking them to fit inside his satchel. “There’s a certain special wedding that I’m attending in two months and I’m in charge of making sure the flowers meet the bride’s approval. She’s quite the most splendid witch in all of existence and I don’t want her to enjoy anything less than the best. Potter, I do believe that you might be the wizard for the job. I’m meeting her for dinner. May I buy a dozen of these tulips?”
Harry agreed, simultaneously excited to have make a sale but disappointed at Draco’s words.
The wizard was getting married. Malfoy was obviously in love, Harry thought as he wrapped the blooms in gossamer tissue paper and pressed a stay-fresh charm on them. It was disappointing fact but couldn’t really be denied.
Draco’s eyes had lit up like everlasting flames when he talked about his bride. Harry wondered idly who the lucky witch might possibly be. It seemed a little odd that she was letting her fiancé arrange the flowers for their ceremony but Draco and his darling were obviously both very aristocratic; perhaps it was a Pureblood tradition?
Harry supposed he’d have to learn these things if he were to succeed in the world of magical floristry. Draco handed over three Galleons for the bouquet and took hold of them with a generous grace.
“Their scent is just divine,” Draco said, holding them close to his body. “Apologies once more for out little mishap outside, Harry… I do assure that I’m normally the epitome of grace. And thank you for saving my parchments. No doubt I’ll see you again soon. I do hope that Circe brings you every luck in the world with your new business.”
“Thank you,” Harry replied. “I hope the bride enjoys her flowers.”
Harry watched as Draco turned and walked to the exit. Before he swung the door wide, he looked back at Harry once more. For half a second Draco looked like he was about to say something else. But whatever it was, he seemed to think better of it. Draco gave an enigmatic half-smile, nodded goodbye and then disappeared out into the rainy London morning.
~@~
For the next hour or so, Harry couldn’t help but dwell on his short interlude with Draco.
The wizard was so changed from the arrogant schoolboy of the past but Merlin, the same could be said of him. Harry imagined telling the hot-headed Gryffindor of his youth of his flower-shop fate; he doubted that the seventeen year old him would have given a particularly polite answer. Draco had obviously matured into a very affable, interesting- and very attractive- wizard. Perhaps when Draco next visited, he might bring his bride-to-be. Harry vaguely remembered some talk in the Prophet about Malfoy getting engaged Astoria Greengrass but he’d thought all that gossip had died a death years ago.
Or maybe it was a decorous young, socialite, fresh from Hogwarts and primed to carry the on Malfoy name? The thoughts whirled around his brain, not giving Harry a moments peace. That was definitely one thing that the seventeen year old him would still recognise: Draco Malfoy had always been a fixation that was hard to shift indeed.
Still, this was his first day of business and Blooms and Bouquets wouldn’t run itself.
True to his word, Ron soon came to visit and he brought Hermione with him. Luna and Neville followed not long after. The excitement of the day soon overtook him and Harry soon forgot about Draco’s mysterious fiancée. He greeted a steady stream of customers as they browsed his flowers, gave advice and took orders at the till.
By the end of the day Harry felt exhausted but also proud. If Blooms and Bouquets could maintain this level of interest, Neville and he would easily achieve their dreams.
~@~
Draco returned early the following day.
Harry had only just unspelled the door and taken out his pavement sign when the wizard strode into his shop, wearing the same warm woollen coat as the previous day.
“And was your first day as splendid as you hoped, Harry?” Draco asked, casting his eyes over the freshly-refilled stock. “I must admit, I recommended the place to a few of my colleagues. Everyone who saw the tulips loved them.”
“We did sell out,” Harry admitted, feeling more pleased than he cared to admit by Draco’s patronage of his business. “But more importantly, did the bride-to-be enjoy her flowers?”
“She thought they were beautiful,” Draco replied, finding Harry’s eyes with his own.
Draco looked very handsome today, Harry thought. He had wrapped a long navy scarf around his neck which brought out the colour of his eyes. Even more attractive was the small blush that topped his cheekbones when he spoke; it was obviously cold outside. Harry tried not to stare.
“But she wasn’t sure that they were right for her wedding day. Tulips aren’t the most traditional of wedding flowers. And well… We both through those particular flowers were quite demonstrative. The bride wasn’t overly keen on showing all of her feelings for her feelings for her beloved to the whole world...”
Draco’s words trailed off, and Harry watched (a little jealously) as his cheeks grew pinker still. It was blatant, Harry decided. The wizard before him was recalling the strong reaction the tulips had had the previous day, and his own very public show of attraction.
Draco must be quite besotted with his mystery witch.
“Not to worry,” Harry said brightly, hoping his smile wasn’t as much of a grimace as it felt. He was, after all, a floristry professional and selling flowers was his job. “Neville and I have designed the most perfect flower for the more traditional bride.” He walked Draco over to a collection of immaculately sculpted roses, charmed a deep, passionate red.
“Allow me to show you the Infinity Rose,” Harry said, carefully removing a stem from the vase and passing it to Draco. “As long as the marriage remains true, this rose will bloom forever. The bride could have a rose from her bouquet on her dressing table for the rest of her life and it’d never wilt or fade. A truly romantic gift.”
“This rose is glorious,” Draco admired, “and I truly think that she’ll love them. Can I buy a dozen to show to her? I’m meeting her after work for wedding-planning over wine and nibbles… I really think she’ll be awed by them.”
Harry agreed, and wrapped the roses ready for Draco to take away with him.
This witch really was the luckiest lady in existence, Harry thought grumpily. He could only hope that she appreciated what a wonderful catch she’d got with Draco Malfoy.
~@~
Draco retuned for a third time the following day.
Harry had only just finished Scourgifying the windows clean and topping up the greetings-parchments when Draco walked through his door, making the bell ring cheerfully.
“You’ll start to think I can’t keep away,” Draco said bashfully, entering Blooms and Bouquets with a clatter of boots on the polished stone floor. Harry watched as Draco spelled his hair neat and tidy. “You’ll have to excuse my appearance; it’s a blustery day outside.”
“You already looked great to me-” Harry began, before mentally charming his mouth tight shut. After all, Draco was just being cordial: he didn’t need to witness Harry’s pathetically obvious crush. The man was engaged to be married, for Merlin’s sake!
The pair of them were quiet for a long moment before Draco cleared his throat, casting his eyes all around the boutique. He appeared to want to look anywhere but in Harry’s direction.
“The roses,” Draco began, finally finding Harry’s eyes, “were a huge hit. The bride-to-be loved them immensely and we’ve decided to use them in all of the wedding bouquets. But we need something lighter though, to go alongside them. My girl wants classical, but also rustic and chic… What other flowers can you show me that’ll work well with roses?”
Harry knew precisely the flower that Draco ought to see; indeed, they were his own personal favourite. “Lilies,” Harry replied, empathically, walking Draco and he over to their prominent display. “The pointed leaves of the flower are a classic shape within a wedding bouquet… Their pinks and mauves will visually lighten up the red of the roses. And the best part of Blooms and Bouquets lilies? They’re infused with Amortentia.”
As Harry watched, Draco raised the lily to his nose and took a deep sniff. His eyes widened in surprise: manifestly the scent was very familiar.
“What a wonderfully clever idea,” Draco enthused, his features soft with pleasure. He breathed deeply and closed his eyes. “I can smell broomstick oil and lavender … And the chocolate pudding that the Elves used to make back home at the Manor… There’s something else there, something new… Something floral. I just can’t place it. It’s so familiar.”
Harry shivered ever so slightly as he took the lily out of Draco’s hand, and took a deep breath himself. The Amortentia smelt much the same as ever for him too, like Treacle Tart, clean bedlinen and Earl Grey tea, but there was something new for him too: the smell of ancient incomprehensible parchments and posh woollen coats.
Salazar. The Amortentia smelt like Draco.
The question was on the very tip of Harry’s tongue: what is it that you smell? But Harry couldn’t find the words. The question tangled and twisted inside his mind, leaving him mute. Before him, Draco seemed to wake from his stupor and took two steps backwards, his pointy features a mask of surprise.
“That’s… That’s an immensely powerful piece of magic,” Draco stuttered out eventually, his face flooding with a deep pink flush. “I’d like to take a dozen… For the wedding, or course… For the bouquets.”
For the wedding. For the bouquets. That was a clear message to stay professional. Harry took a deep breath, pulling air deep into his lungs, over and over again until he felt like he could function reasonably once more. “I’ll wrap them up,” Harry muttered, his voice full of fake joviality. “I hope the bride like them as much as you seemed to, Draco. Three Galleons, please.”
It was an unsubtle dismissal of his customer. Draco placed the coins in Harry’s hand and picked up his flowers, but then he wavered, waiting by the door in silence for what seemed like an age.
Harry just wished that Draco would leave him in peace, even if only for a moment. He could hardly bear to look at Draco, even though he knew how terribly unfair he was being. It wasn’t Draco’s fault that Harry had fallen for him when he was already taken. When he was getting married.
At length, Draco spoke. “I’m that sure she will. Thank you, Harry.”
Draco’s footsteps retreated, but it wasn’t until the Blooms and Bouquets door had finally swung shut that Harry allowed himself to breath once more.
~@~
Harry slowly pulled out his pavement sign outside into the thin morning sun.
It was his fourth day in business and Blooms and Bouquets had flourished far more than Neville and he had ever dared imagine. The Prophet were sending a journalist over to to do a review, and they even had scored a lucrative Ministry contract. Harry knew that he should be beaming with happiness.
He wasn’t. All that Harry could think of was Draco’s absence. Eight forty-five was usually the time that the blond wizard walked past: his first customer of the day. Harry had even put off taking out the sign for a few minutes in hope of seeing Draco walking towards him.
No doubt Draco would take to Flooing into his Museum. That would be far easier than an awkward encounter with Harry each morning. Perhaps after Draco was married he wouldn’t even come through Diagon on his way to work any longer…
But then suddenly, Draco was there, rushing down the lane and over the cobbles. The wizard grinned wildly and he waved his arms. Papers threatened to fly out of his unpinned bag and his hair was mussy and wild. “Harry,” Draco shouted, “I wanted to see you, but then I slept in-”
Draco halted himself only at the very last moment. “I took the lilies to Pansy last night. We love them; she’s desperate for you to do the flowers for the wedding and made me promise talk to you immediately.”
Harry held the emporium door open for Draco, a hot arrow of disappointment running through his middle.
Draco hadn’t run all the way from his home for him. He’d only wanted to satisfy his fiancée. Pansy Parkinson. Harry might have known that she’d be the golden witch. Even at school she and Draco had always been together.
“I’m very pleased that your bride liked them,” Harry said, arranged his face to look more professional than he felt. With a swirl of his wand, an order-parchment and quill appeared on the small round table. “I’ll just need to take a few details about the wedding. Date, location and such like.”
Draco sat down beside Harry, his face confused.
“Pansy’s wedding is in two months: July tenth… She’s getting married in the Magical Atrium at the British Museum… But you must know that Pansy isn’t my bride, Harry. She’s marrying Theodore Nott-”
Harry felt his whole body tremble in shock. Draco wasn’t marrying? But he’d called Pansy his girl. Called her splendid and said he wanted her to have the very best.
“I’m paying for the wedding,” Draco said, pulling a Gringott’s bank-book out from his satchel. He placed it on the table and tapped it with a finger. “That’s my wedding gift. So take whatever you need. I’m determined to do everything right for Pans. She’s closer to my heart than any sister and I love her dearly. Couldn’t marry her though, Harry. I happen to prefer chaps.”
Draco opened the bank-book. He took out a stiff envelope and passed it over to Harry. Written on the front, in glowing calligraphic script, were the words Harry Potter. “I was wondering if you’d do me the honour of attending the wedding as my particular guest? You did say you wanted to visit my museum again. Maybe I’ll even give you a bit of a tour if we get a few spare minutes-”
“I can’t think of anything I’d enjoy more,” Harry replied. Draco gazed at him, his smile wide and genuine, and Harry felt his heart race in his chest. “And I promise you, the flowers will be breathtaking.”
“If they are anything near as impressive as the florist they will be,” Draco said smoothly, writing his Vault number on the order form. “Take whatever you need, Harry. I have to go to work, but dinner? Tomorrow? I can pick you up after work?”
“I’ll count down the hours,” Harry murmured, taking in Draco’s delighted expression. “It’s a date.” Draco left then, leaving behind only the faint scent of parchment and a million excited imaginings for the future in Harry’s head.
Draco and he were only just beginning. After all, love was the one flower that you had to let grow.