Work Text:
Sarah was excited – very, very excited, some would even say (and did indeed say fairly often during the past week) unreasonably excited, given that she was excited ‘only because of a job at a dingy apothecary.’ But how could she not be? It was her first-ever job, her first ever experience as a proper adult. It’s not like she was about to work here forever, just long enough to make some money and move to the US (there were so many opportunities for a young, intelligent witch in the US! America had amazing big cities and nightlife and big corporations and huge magical population and boys who like British accents and…yes, she will be moving to the US).
She won’t be one of those people who will just become stuck and never see the world. She was going to make something of herself in the future and this was the beginning, the second step in the Grand Plan (first, of course, was successfully leaving Hogwarts with 6 N.E.W.T.S in her pocket).
So, her excitement was, in her opinion, very much justified, and she didn’t care at all that drowsy people were throwing her weird glances as she was strutting down the street to the small apothecary, awake and energized as if it were a sunny summer afternoon and not a bleary autumn morning.
By the time she knocked on the locked front door of her place of work, she couldn’t stop smiling broadly.
No one came to open the door, so after a minute, she tried again. The owner of the store sent her a letter the previous day, apologizing for not being present on her first day – ‘unfortunately, I will be otherwise occupied. Please, do not worry, my brewer comes to work at 5 AM every morning, so he shall be there to open the door for you. Please, reserve your judgment about him.’ In that letter, the owner also assured her that by the time the store opens (7.00 on a dot), his assistant will be there to help her at the front of the store, so she was only a bit nervous (it was her first job, after all…also she didn’t know what to think about the ‘reserve judgment’ part of the letter. Sounded ominous. Maybe the brewer had suffered an accident that left him disabled? Maybe he has a speech impediment?)
“Where is that brewer?” she mumbled underneath her breath, smile sliding from her face after another minute has gone by. She knew it was only 6 AM, so she was 40 minutes early, but Sarah wanted to acquaint herself with the store (and the brewer) and not rush through the introduction. She wondered if she was maybe doing something wrong. Can he not hear the knocking?
The curtain on the inner side of the glass door moved slightly to the side, and a pair of grey eyes were suddenly observing her through the windowpane. Her smiled returned at full strength but the grey eyes only narrowed in annoyance. The curtain was back in its place and Sarah could hear the man grumbling as the lock clicked, door opening to reveal a lanky young man, maybe 5-6 years her senior, looking at her with utter disdain (Oh, maybe the owner meant the brewer was just incredibly cranky). He seemed vaguely familiar, with his sharp features and almost-white hair, but she couldn’t for the love of Merlin remember where she would see him. She didn’t think he was famous – famous people did not work at small, little, inconsequential apothecaries. Maybe she just noticed him on the street somewhere and remembered him – her brain was weird like that (she once forgot how her second cousin looked, but could still give a detailed description of a random woman that sold her magically-altered candles in her second year).
“What the fuck are you waiting for?” the man snapped, “Come in.”
“Oh, sorry, sir,” Sarah startled, embarrassed by being caught staring, (Very impolite, Sarah, never mind him being rude, you have to be better!) and followed the man inside the store, jumping slightly as the door forcefully shut behind her by itself.
She looked around, trying to seem inconspicuous. Not that it really mattered, the man walked purposefully through the aisle, his back towards her and seemed set on completely ignoring her presence. Sarah had to bite her tongue to prevent herself from speaking – she was often told she talked too much, and she really didn’t want to be told off by this strange unfriendly man first thing in the morning. Somehow, she knew the man wouldn’t appreciate her talkative nature and saw no reason in aggravating him more than she already did (her mere presence sufficed for that, it seemed).
Consciously pulling her thoughts away from the man, she had to admit that the shop was quite beautiful – old, but it certainly possessed character. Rows upon rows of bottled potions, herbs hanging from the ceiling, jars of lizard eyes and frog legs, and glass containers of powders. Dark yellow lighting provided the space with a kind of a mysterious, gothic atmosphere but the space as a whole did not feel cold and hostile in the slightest, though Sarah generally preferred open spaces and natural sunshine.
They stopped at the counter behind which Sarah would be located for most of her shifts. Exciting!
The man finally turned to face her and – and nothing. He measured her with his freezing eyes. Sarah found that highly discomfiting, so she hurried to fill the heavy silence.
“Sir, I am-”
“What you are is early,” he interrupted her introductions, “Did Heller not tell you to come 20 minutes before we open for customers?”
Rude, Sarah thought, you are exceptionally rude. “Pardon me, sir,” was what she said out loud, “I merely wanted to acquaint myself with the store and other employees.”
His face contorted into an ugly grimace at that (She considered him quite attractive up to that point, but hostility was not attractive to her. Not. At. All.) “Sarah Hollywell, I am the only employee who is here at this hour. You will meet your colleagues when they come.”
“Well,” she smiled sweetly, desperately trying to hold on to her positive attitude, “you are here, and you are an employee, are you not? Which reminds me…I didn’t catch your name?”
“You didn’t –” he seemed as if he was genuinely surprised that she did not recognize him. Did she miss something? “All right, all the better. Did you sign the paper?”
“Ah, yes!” She started to rummage through her bag. Her parents were surprised that a small apothecary like this one required her to sign a confidentiality agreement, as was she, but they gathered that this store might just have a few famous (and pureblood) customers who liked their privacy when buying contraceptive potions and the like.
She handed it to the white-haired man, who examined her signature, upon which he handed her the parchment back, “You will give this to Lloyd, that’s Heller’s assistant who will come later. With that out of the way and you aware of the consequences of sharing information about any customers or employees without their permission…” he gave a meaningful glance, “My name is Draco. Malfoy.”
Sarah’s eyes nearly fell out of her sockets and she took an involuntary step back. She might have cursed herself for being so impolite, but she was in a presence of a Death Eater. Her reaction was completely predictable. The man, Draco Malfoy, seemed to think the same, as he did not seem surprised by her reaction in the slightest. Suddenly, everything about the ‘reserve judgment’ thing made sense. She consciously steeled herself and tried to heed the advice.
“E-Excuse me for my reaction,” came out of Sarah’s mouth when she recovered from her initial shock, “but I was not aware you are allow- I mean, that you are working…here.”
“Yes, that is kind of the point. I was ordered to inform you I am under Ministry restrictions. I cannot wear a Glamour; cannot harm you or anybody in any way, and I have been working here for more than 3 years during which I had no problems with following my parole conditions.” Mr. Malfoy seemed unhappy but resigned as he spoke the obviously pre-prepared phrases. “You have signed the confidentiality agreement, which means you shall not tell anyone I work here. As you can imagine, customers would be…discouraged from visiting this apothecary, were they aware who brews its potions.”
Sarah certainly could imagine that. She wondered why Mr. Heller even accepted him as the brewer. She suspected it had something to do with the fact that the Malfoys, despite all their faults, used to be a very influential family. It was not hard to imagine Mrs. Malfoy cashing in on some favours other people owed the family.
“I see,” said Sarah eventually, “Well, nice to meet you, Mr. Malfoy. I look forward to our cooperation.”
“Do not worry, Sarah Hollywell, you will not see me, nor interact with me very often. I spend the majority of my time in the lab. Today is an exception. Heller did not anticipate he would be absent this morning.”
“O-okay,” stuttered Sarah “Will you…show me around now?”
Malfoy looked at her as if she was crazy “You will not see me,” he repeated slowly, obviously thinking her a child, “nor interact with me very often.”
Then, he turned around and Sarah watched as the curtain dividing the main shop from the employee-only area moved out of the way as he walked through the frame. She did not see him use his wand, nor hands. Curious…dangerous.
“Do whatever, look at the labels, or familiarize yourself with the layout,” he added while he made his way to a heavy wooden door at the back of the shop. “Wait for Lloyd. I shall be in the lab.”
Positive attitude. You’re excited. This will be so much fun, she persuaded herself.
“Great.” Sarah answered aloud to nobody in particular.
One month in, Sarah almost forgot about the Death Eater brewing potions in a small room at the back of the store. She happily helped the customers, met all her co-workers, and discovered a lot about them during lunch breaks. She was glad to find out that, though they were significantly older than her, there was never any awkward silence when they all munched on their sandwiches.
There were two older men, Derek and Michael, who delivered new goods every second day (always at 11 AM so they could have tea and lunch with her in the small kitchen); Emily and Lloyd, Heller’s two assistants who helped the owner manage the store or give a helping hand in the front; and Florian, the second cashier but she only saw him briefly when they exchanged places behind the cash register.
Draco Malfoy, as far as she was aware, did not interact with anyone. He never joined them for lunch, he never ventured to the public area of the shop (except after and before opening hours), and he did not voluntarily talk with anyone. Sarah only saw him in short flashes (when she went to the loo and he was in the middle of preparing his tea, or when he opened the front door of the shop for her if she was early – in these cases he then quickly disappeared back to his lab, the door slammed shut behind the back of his perfectly buttoned robes) and she did not particularly mind it because when she or anyone was interacting with him, one simple observation could be made: Draco Malfoy seemed to communicate exclusively with scathing glances, condescending smirks, and freezingly posh, brutal sentences.
Sarah liked warm people, therefore she did not much care for Draco Malfoy.
Thinking of warm people, here was one coming through the front door right now – a man in his twenties, short light-brown hair, yellow-blue eyes, dressed in black coat and beige slacks. When he saw her looking at him, his mouth turned up into a nice, genuine smile.
Such a warm smile, much better than Malfoy’s permanent scowl.
“Hi, welcome to Heller’s Potions and Apothecary,” said Sarah when he stood in front of the counter, “How can I help you?”
“Hello, you are the new one, Sarah, I believe?”
Sarah was quite surprised. “Oh, yes. Started working here about a month ago. How did you know my name?”
“Let’s say I know people who visit here often” the man smiled, “As to how you could help me – do you think you could fetch me your brewer?”
“Our-our brewer, sir?” Someone has come to see Draco Malfoy? Sarah wondered if this man was someone from the authorities. Or was something wrong with the potions? Did Malfoy fuck up?
“I’m afraid our brewer is not available as of this moment, I apologize.” Whoever this man was, she received strict instructions from Mr. Heller ‘Draco Malfoy cannot come to the public part of the store during opening hours – he is to be unavailable if anyone asks for the brewer.’ “If you wish to talk to him about a wrongly brewed potion, you explain what the problem was to me, or I can give you a complaint form to fill in.”
“Oh,” the word came out of the man as a laugh, “no, Ms. Sarah-”
“Sarah is fine sir.”
“-Sarah then, I don’t have problems with any potions your brewer makes. On the contrary actually. Just…just go to him and say that his most loyal customer is at the front and to check his coat pocket, please.”
She found this a most peculiar request, but the store was empty except for the warm man, so she politely asked him to wait for a second and promptly disappeared behind the curtain behind her to the back of the store.
The lab door was firmly closed, as always, but she could hear the faint bubbling of a potion and the sound of a quick knife cutting from inside.
She knocked at the door loudly one, two, three, four times so she could not possibly be ignored. As expected, the door opened a moment later with an irritated “WHAT” coming from the man who stood in them.
“Mr. Malfoy, sorry for interrupting-”
“You better be,” he grumbled but let her continue,
“-but there is a man at the counter, says to tell you he’s your ‘most loyal customer’ and that you should check the pocket of your coat.”
As she was speaking, something astonishing happened to Mr. Malfoy’s eyes. Gone was the cold greyness of a winter storm, something else, something almost warm, replaced them for a moment as he looked behind her, though he couldn’t possibly see through the curtain. The man recovered quickly, storm back and mixed with irritation by the time she finished. But she noticed the brief change. She was observant…except the times she was not.
“Fuuuck, not again.”
Okay, Sarah though, not the answer I was expecting. It was said with such an exasperated tone (and the head tilted to the ceiling – a gesture she never saw him do before) she could hardly believe the sound came from the pale, posh throat.
He left the door open as he quickly retreated to look for his coat.
The lab was clean but not very spacious. There were shelves with empty bottles of various sizes, a half-open door leading to a cupboard, and two tables, potions bubbling on one of them, a board with half-cut Valerian root on the other.
“I’m going to fucking shove you down his throat one day!” Mr. Malfoy suddenly exclaimed, coat in his hands.
“What?!”
“Not you,” Mr. Malfoy smirked at how terrified Sarah looked, “Go and bring ‘my most loyal customer’ here, please.”
She was still quite shocked by his earlier statement, as well as by the fact that the man actually said please, therefore the fact that she maybe shouldn't allow a customer to enter the employees-only area did not occur to her until it was too late. The man just smiled at her sweetly and followed her as if it was normal which did not really help her realize her potential mistake.
“Hi,” said the warm man to Mr. Malfoy.
“You do realize this is the twentieth time this has happened, right?” Malfoy said, looking at the other man with a steel gaze (Sarah was sure the number he’s given was completely accurate. Mr. Malfoy just seemed like a person who kept a score for everything), “And it’s more and more frequent, too. You’re supposed to become better at guarding her as time passes, not worse.”
He grabbed the man’s sleeve and pushed his coat into his hands, “She’s sleeping.” It still sounded angry, but there wasn’t nearly as much venom as Sarah was used to. Or maybe she was just confused. She had absolutely no idea what was going on – she only deduced that the warm man probably wasn’t Mr. Malfoy’s parole officer and that what Mr. Malfoy had in his coat was probably alive.
Most of her attention was centred around the interaction between the two men. Mr. Malfoy, who usually refused to touch people with a one-meter stick, was still holding the man’s sleeve lightly and the warm man didn’t complain at all. Rather, he seemed to be unconsciously leaning towards Mr. Malfoy, smiling softly.
Both completely ignored her. She bet she could be making the most animated faces right now and they would still be oblivious to her presence.
“You know how she is,” the warm man was saying now, “your coat is the warmest and she enjoys feeling like she’s giving you-”
“Harry, do not”
“She likes giving you emotional support,” the warm man, Harry, was grinning now, looking directly into Malfoy’s eyes. A challenge.
“Fuck right off with emotional support, or I will support the transport into your grave,” Malfoy quipped back, then all three of them noticed that the coat stirring by itself. A head poked out of the pocked.
“Oh, she’s awake,” Harry stated happily.
“A snake!” Sarah squeaked out loud, Malfoy has a fricking black, very not-little, snake in his pocket!
That attracted the men’s attention to her. They both looked momentarily startled by her presence.
“What are you still doing here?” snapped Malfoy, “don’t you have customers?”
“Draco,” Harry admonished warningly, but there was no real weight to it, “it’s alright. Sorry for interrupting you from your duties,” he said, looking at her, “I’ll just extract Pia from this coat, and I’ll be on my way.”
“Oh, that’s okay, Mr-” she did not want to say his name if he didn’t introduce himself.
“Right, sorry, I’m Harry, no need for Misters.”
She took his extended hand and blushed slightly at how strong and dry it was.
“Okay, Harry.”
“You imbecile, stop with the incessant flirting and give me back my coat.”
The snake now circled around Harry’s arm, her head hidden in the crook of the man’s neck and looked quite pleased with her position.
“And you,” Malfoy addressed Sarah, “Behind the counter now.”
He looked angry, so she turned on her heels and hurried back to the public part of the shop, which was, surprisingly, still empty.
Thanks to that, she could hear the quiet muttering of the two in the back, catching something about Malfoy ‘knowing Harry doesn’t even know how to flirt’ and something about ‘arseholes’ from Malfoy. Typical.
The bell above the door rang as two elderly witches came into the apothecary, so Sarah redirected her attention to them and didn’t hear anything else from the back. Just as she was helping one of the witches pack her purchase, Harry appeared beside her - the snake slithering from his neck underneath his coat - quickly thanked her for her help, and disappeared through the door.
That afternoon after her shift, Sarah wondered how someone so cold and rude like Malfoy befriended (because those men obviously knew each other well) someone so kind and warm like Harry.
In the following two months, nothing extremely interesting happened (certainly nothing that would measure up to Draco Malfoy having a friend. And just randomly having said friend’s snake in his fricking pocket!). Sarah was on the first name basis with several regular customers, happily bantered with other employees (save Malfoy, of course), and was finally confident enough to say she knew most of the ingredients, herbs and potions that could be found in the store. Harry came by four times during that period. Once, he only bought some Dittany and quickly disappeared (Sarah wondered if this was because the store was absolutely packed with customers), and the other three times, he asked to see Malfoy again. She always quickly ran to knock on the lab, Malfoy’s ‘WHAT’ followed by the softened ‘let him come to the back’ quickly becoming familiar for her to hear. Ten or so minutes later, Harry always appeared by her side, thanked her for letting him bother her, and walked out of the shop (this, too, was a routine of sorts by now).
After Harry’s third visit, she could not stop herself and asked Florian if he ever met Mr. Harry too (Harry always appeared when there were only her and Malfoy in the shop, so she guessed Florian, as the second shift cashier, would be the best person to ask).
“Oh, thank Merlin,” he answered to her inquiry, “You saw him too. I was beginning to worry I was hallucinating him. He always comes when it’s just me and Malfoy, and I couldn’t ask Helga – that’s the cashier that was here before you, horrid woman – because she barely even knew I existed.”
“So? Is him coming to the back normal or I shouldn’t’ve let him go there?”
“It’s fine. Mr. Heller knows about him – kind of, anyways – and he never complained much. That Harry guy has too much natural charm about him, let me tell you. I’ve been in love with my wife for 20 years, but his smile just melts something inside me. Bet Heller’s the same.”
Sarah blushed because she absolutely felt it too. Warm, warm Mr. Harry.
Florian laughed at her expression and stalked off, happy to be done with his shift.
What are you doing?! Get back behind the counter! Sarah persuaded herself but it was no good. She was too curious to let this go, so instead of walking away, she sneaked closer to the back door of the shop. It wasn’t fully closed, which was what initially attracted her attention as she was leaving the loo. Thinking Derek or Michael forgot to close it on their way out, she intended to go and fix their mistake, but then she heard Malfoy’s voice coming from the outside.
That was the moment she was supposed to leave it be. But it was Malfoy, and she wouldn’t be able to stop thinking about it for the next week if she didn’t investigate properly because, as it was, there was no one Malfoy could possibly be speaking to out there. The back door led nowhere but to a small, closed-off space behind the store which was specifically designed for Derek and Michael to apparate to when bringing supplies, or alternatively, allowed the employees to apparate from if they didn’t want to go through the front door (Sarah never took advantage of this opportunity, as she very much enjoyed the walk from the shop to the Apparition point).
“…want you to take a big breath for me, okay?” she could hear Malfoy say in a controlled, soothing voice.
It was not very loud, so she came even closer and peeked through the gap between the door, praying Malfoy wasn’t looking in that direction. He wasn’t.
Sarah’s eyebrows subconsciously furrowed in confusion.
Malfoy was leaning on the wall in the corner of the little space, intently looking at his feet (Phew! She was lucky). In his hand, he held a rectangular black thing with a shiny side that was pressed to his ear. It took Sarah a moment before she identified it as a mobile phone, similar to one her best friend – a Muggleborn called Ria – showed her. Secretly proud of herself for recognizing the device and even knowing what it was used for, she strained her ear to hear who he was talking to (Because with whom could Malfoy, a pureblood extraordinaire, be possibly talking to on a muggle device?)
“–very well. Now, 5 things you can smell.” A moment of indistinct murmuring from the phone followed. Malfoy asked about 5 things the other person could see, hear, and describe. Sarah’s mouth fell open in surprise as she recognized a coping technique used during panic attacks.
“Better?” Malfoy inquired softly and let out a relieved breath as the other person answered. Sarah could swear there was a hint of smile on Malfoy’s features, but with his face hidden, she couldn’t be sure.
“It’s perfectly fine, Harry, you know I’m happy when you call and let me help.” Ah, Mr. Harry. Sarah was not really surprised by that. Mr. Harry was probably the only person that could make Malfoy’s voice so…full of humanity.
As she was wondering what could possibly make the kind, smiley Mr. Harry so distressed to have a panic attack, Malfoy seemed to be ending the conversation. There were few sentences she didn’t catch but the “I love you too. Make yourself some tea and wait for me to come home, you berk,” really shattered any thought process that was currently happening in her brain.
Malfoy and Harry?!
Sarah had silently backed away from the door, mouth gaping like a fish, which was rather unattractive, she was sure, but she could not give a damn at that moment.
She had to get away before she was discovered. Malfoy would be angry enough if he caught her eavesdropping on a conversation of any kind but this…Sarah was genuinely afraid he might kill her for overhearing something so private (She was a witness to several rows Malfoy had with Derek over undelivered ingredients and wrong-shaped potion bottles, and it was brutal. There was no doubt about it, Malfoy could kill her with nothing but a few cutting sentences and she would be found sprawled over the crates of Sleeping Draught – expression of dread and a not quickly enough spoken apology on her unmoving face).
Though she managed to quietly find her way back to the front shop unharmed and undiscovered, she spent the rest of the day jumping at every sound that came from the back.
Sarah was trying really hard to not let the fact that Malfoy was in a relationship change her perception of the man (or both the men, really). It was just jarring, imagining Malfoy softly smiling and whispering sweet nothings into somebody’s ear while peacefully lying on a couch, or laughing at a joke with his partner, or making someone breakfast, or let someone mess up his hair…it was hard to imagine Malfoy doing anything mundane and nice in general.
She wanted to think that maybe Malfoy was the same person at home as he was at work (not because she wished Harry ill, only because Malfoy being anybody else than a condescending prick messed with her head). She tried to imagine he was cold and hostile, annoying and generally unpleasant, and that Harry was only putting up with his moods out of kindness, that he was going to break up with Malfoy the moment he realizes he is not a good person to be around.
But anybody with a brain could see that was not the case. Malfoy was exasperated but not angry when his boyfriend’s snake smuggled himself into his workplace, Malfoy probably learned to work with muggle technology so his boyfriend could reach him at work quickly, Malfoy was patiently talking Harry out of a panic attack, told him he loved him...
Despite trying to control her curiosity, she began to look for excuses to see the two men together every time Harry came into the apothecary (she justified her weird interest in their relationship by suggesting that seeing two people who were very likely in love with each other was a compensation for her being single). She noticed how Malfoy’s shoulders relaxed when Harry got close, how his frown softened subtly (so subtly she wouldn’t notice weren’t she looking so carefully) after Harry walked into the room. She noticed Harry blushing when Malfoy touched his arm, and the fond expression on his face as Malfoy told him what potions he was currently working on. And Malfoy was definitely a bit less prickish on the days Harry came into the shop.
After Christmas, Malfoy started wearing a gold chain around his neck. It was so thin and delicate Sarah wouldn’t have noticed it if she didn’t catch him touching it sometimes.
“Nice necklace, Christmas gift?” she asked once (She started trying to talk to him more, in an effort to see if he would show her just a bit of the person he had had to be to make someone like Harry fall in love with him). Malfoy shot her a dark look and buttoned his robes high up to his neck since then. But she knew the chain was still there, even though a week later, she wasn’t sure if it was a Christmas gift or something much more significant because she spotted the same chain, except in silver, on Harry’s neck.
By the end of February, Sarah is considered a highly efficient and trusted employee, so when Emily announces she has to leave for a month due to personal reasons, Heller asks Sarah to take over some of Emily’s workload until she comes back. Sarah doesn’t mind – she will receive higher pay during that month and everything she will have to do is place some orders and fill in paperwork. Entirely manageable, Sarah thinks, and at this pace, the magical community in the US will be welcoming a new face in less than a year!
That’s why she’s opening the door to the apothecary before 5 in the morning. She usually delt with the paperwork right after her morning shift but today, she had work in the afternoon, so everything had to be done until then. In a completely predictable course of events, she forgot a rather important parchment in Heller’s office, so she had to leave her house extra early in the morning to go and get it, planning to finish up the papers in the store. She was sure Fabian wouldn’t mind the extra company. And Malfoy…Malfoy would be surprised and annoyed that she was there when he comes to work. But then he will hide in the lab, so it was going to be fine.
The apothecary was dark, just some potions on the shelves shining ominously – Sarah was already used to that, but she couldn’t help being extra quiet when making her way to the counter.
She moved the curtain between the shop and the employees-only area and jumped in surprise. The back of the shop was already lit up and somebody was laughing in the kitchen. She heard the faint sound of boiling water.
Later, Sarah would claim she genuinely can’t say why she chose to hold her breath and eavesdrop but in reality, she was very much aware of her actions – she was curious. For the first time ever, she heard Draco Malfoy’s laugh. What more, it was miles away from a derisive, mocking sound she imagined his laugh to be. This sound was loud and open and joyous. It was a laugh of utter contentment and happiness.
“If you ever meet that woman again, please record it. You’re pants at transfiguration, Harry, how did you even manage to do that?”
“Well, she was a mean old bitch. She had no right to just follow me for half an hour demand I let her into my home because she’s ‘a huge fan’.”
“So, transfiguring her hat into a muggle fan was the first thing you could think of?”
“Well, obviously.”
“Sorry, you’re right. It should have been obvious to me.”
Sarah, standing behind the corner, listened to the conversation in awe. Malfoy was speaking in a light tone, the ever-present strain gone from his voice and it was obvious he was sporting a big smile (Sarah couldn’t really imagine Malfoy with a big smile. Every image her brain came up with seemed wrong and unnatural somehow). The biggest mystery was the other voice, though, because it wasn’t Harry’s. Well, it definitely didn’t belong to the Harry she already met. This voice was a bit higher, vowels more unrounded. Harry was a common name, so it’s not like it would be surprising if someone was friendly with two people called Harry, but this…this was Draco Malfoy.
The kettle started whistling, which made the two men pause their conversation for a bit. She heard a chair squeak as it was pushed from the table and the clink of a spoon hitting a teacup.
“I swear, if that hand comes anywhere near my arse, it will be nicely marked with mysterious third-degree burns in a second.”
“I don’t think you pouring hot water on my hand is very mysterious, love.”
“Well, the Healers in St. Mungo’s will hardly believe that the Great Harry Potter had his hand burned when assaul-”
Sarah’s mouth caught up with her brain.
“HARRY POTTER?” it gasped, totally without her permission.
A lot has happened in quick succession after that: Sarah put her hand in front of her mouth (knowing it was too late…but it was the thought that counted), a cup shattered on the kitchen floor, a chair fell, two male voices made distressed sounds. There was a quick shuffling of feet and then they barged out of the kitchen. Two completely confused and angry (was she also seeing fear?) pair of eyes found hers.
“Merlin,” she whispered and tried to make herself as small as possible.
Harry Potter, Harry POTTER, let out a faint “Draco?” but the man ignored him.
“Fuck,” he said instead, “Fuck!”
Then he grabbed her bicep with one hand and lightly pushed Harry’s shoulder with the other, dragging them both into the kitchen.
The door slammed and she just about managed to not step on the fragments of the broken teacup when she was pushed into one of two still-standing chairs. Malfoy did not give a damn about the shards. They crunched beneath his shoes.
For a moment, the only sound in the room was harsh, distressed breathing.
Malfoy was standing on the shards, leaning on the table with his hands.
Harry stood still by the door.
“Harry,” Malfoy said in a controlled tone, “you have to-”
“Oh, fucking hell, Draco.” He finally unfroze, walked around Malfoy and sat heavily on a chair facing Sarah. “I – I should, shouldn’t I.”
“I know you don’t like doing it but my wand…”
Harry just nodded and his wand appeared in his hand.
“Wait!” Sarah raised both of her hands in a calming gesture, realizing what they were about to do, “I – I won’t tell, you don’t have to obliviate me, I swear. I was just…very surprised.”
“You don’t understand!” Harry was getting frantic. He obviously didn’t like the idea of obliviating anyone but her promise of silence wasn’t enough. “We have to. If this gets out-”
Malfoy walked to his side and touched the back of Harry’s neck – it was an open act of reassurance. There was nothing inherently intimate about it, just fingers lightly touching a spot under Harry’s mess of a hair, but Sarah still averted her eyes. Harry, on the other hand, relaxed instantly when exposed to the familiar touch.
“Harry will be slaughtered in the papers, Hollywell.” Malfoy looked at her now. “You can’t imagine what it would be like. We’re not ready for that.”
He was right. She couldn’t imagine. But that still wouldn’t stop her from trying to dissuade them from obliviating her.
“I can swear on my magic,” she said, taking her time to look both of them in the eyes. Still not used to being in the presence of Harry Potter, her heart rate picked up slightly when she found forest green instead of yellow-blue when looking at him. Malfoy’s eyes were easier, grey and guarded as ever.
“Why, though? It will be easier if you just forget this. You wouldn’t have to deal with the temptation to tell,” Malfoy stood his ground.
“I…I don’t want anybody messing with my brain. My memories. Just the idea of being forced to forget something makes me want to puke.”
“What, are you going to tell us some pitiful sob story about your mother being Obliviated to make us feel sorry for you?” Malfoy spat maliciously.
“No. I just don’t like it.”
Harry looked at Malfoy. They seemed to go through a whole argument, using just their eyes and muscles on their faces. Eventually, Harry said out loud: “I would do it. I realize just as well as you what a risk it is. But the idea of doing that to someone against their will…”
“I know.” Fingers tightened on Harry’s neck. Malfoy thought hard for a moment, brows furrowed.
“Swear on it right now.”
Sarah did. She swore never revealing their relationship and never intentionally doing anything that would put their secret in danger. She swore on her magic and the well-being of her family. Air around them flickered. The adrenaline stopped rushing into their veins and all of them exhaled shakily.
Sarah slumped in her chair, relieved but still in shock from what just happened (and was still happening).
After a moment, Harry collected himself and an unexpected mischievous smile appeared on his face. Malfoy and Sarah didn’t have to wonder about its presence for long, though, because Harry suddenly sat back in his chair and his hand shot disturbingly quickly forward, wrapping itself around the other man’s waist and successfully tugging him downward until Harry had a whole dismayed Malfoy sitting sideways on his lap.
“Salazar help me, I’m going to fucking kill you,” he said but didn’t stand up.
“I have no idea why you would do that. She swore on her magic. It’s nice to finally be ourselves in front of someone.”
Harry’s comment wasn’t answered but the man on his lap wriggled to make himself more comfortable. The warning look he shot to Sarah promised murder if she so much as opened her mouth, so she just smiled sweetly.
“Tea?” Harry asked.
“Salazar, yes.” Malfoy waved his hand carelessly and three cups shot out of the cupboard, the kettle flying after them and filling them with tea, still warm.
With another wave of hand, the teacups made their way onto the table, two on one side, one on the other. Sarah took hers with a polite ‘thank you’ and didn’t even bother to comment on the show of wandless magic. Working with Malfoy, she noticed he did that quite often. She guessed she would try to learn some wandless magic too, were she as powerful and as Malfoy apparently was. And with a tracked wand, it must also feel good to be able to do magic without the Ministry basically looking over your shoulder.
She was not scared of Malfoy cursing her, even with his talent for wandless magic. It was a bit hard to fear a man who was currently sitting on his boyfriend’s lap, trying to hide his blush because said boyfriend just pressed a kiss into his shoulder.
A dangerous Death Eater Draco Malfoy, Sarah thought gleefully, The Prophet can kiss my arse if this is what a dangerous Death Eater looks like.
“Have a nice afternoon, Draco.”
A pause.
“You too, Hollywell.”
The back door clicked shut and the crack of Apparition could be heard from the outside a moment later.
Sarah turned around to continue gathering the papers she needed go through that afternoon and found a gaping Lloyd standing in the kitchen entrance.
“What did you do?!” he asked incredulously.
She gave him an innocent smile “I don’t know what you mean.”
“What – What do you mean you don’t know what I mean?” Lloyd strode to her, nearly screaming, “You just called him his first name and he – he didn’t even make his ‘You will be dead in 3 seconds if you don’t get out of my sight’ face! So, what did you do?”
“Nothing, he’s just not that bad. If you look past-”
“Past his whole damn personality?”
“Something like that.” Sarah grinned and quickly retreated to Heller’s office for the rest of the papers, leaving poor Lloyd to stare after her.
If she thought about it properly, she could see why Lloyd was so distressed by Draco being anything but unfriendly. The thing is, she almost forgot what it’s like to see him only as a mere caricature of who he really was, as nothing more but a stereotypical pureblood, posh prick because since that day she shared tea with him and Harry, Draco started acting more and more like his apparently true self around her.
She came to find out that didn’t necessarily mean he was not an arsehole most of the time, because he was. Snide comments, smirks and death threats were an essential part of his personality. It was one of those things he didn’t lose when putting on a public persona. But when you knew him, as Sarah was getting to know him, you realized he was all bark, no bite.
She was sure he could bite if he wanted to, but most of the time, he just found pleasure in pissing people off. And when she started laughing at his comments, he didn’t stop making them and didn’t get angry at her for not taking him seriously. It made her realize it was not only his defence mechanism but mainly just his sense of humour. His and Harry’s ‘battles of wit’ were now her favourite thing to listen to (she did not know if that disturbed her or not. She never liked dark humour before).
Apart from that, he reluctantly let her know him as a man who loved cooking with his boyfriend (“Partner, Hollywell, partner. Boyfriends is such a dreadful way to call two adults in a relationship.”) but who frequently forgot to bring food into work (hence Harry coming to the store so often); a man who secretly despised pureblood customs and spent a great deal of time re-learning everything he knew about the world after the war; a man who hated showing his feelings but still couldn’t help blushing and smiling and letting his eyes shine when it came to his partner.
There were things she still didn’t like about him. Even though she tried to understand, she didn’t like how he acted towards other people, she hated his arrogance, haughtiness, and unamiable spirit. She didn’t like that every time she asked something remotely personal (“What did you do yesterday?” “Are you feeling well?” “Where do you live?” “What’s the story behind the necklace, then?”) he reverted right back into his unpleasant self and refused to give a proper answer. She didn’t like that he absolutely never called her by her first name (even though he allowed her to call him by his). He also never laughed or got even vaguely vulnerable with her, no matter how hard she tried. She supposed those were the things only Harry could force out of him.
Harry was not around as often, but she learned quite a bit about him too. She came to know him not as a warm man, or the hero of the wizarding world, but as a kind, anxious man who just wanted to make people around him happy.
She once overheard (this time it was truly an accident) Draco chastising him for wanting to care for everyone else and forgetting about himself.
Harry sputtered, “Draco, you tell me that all the time, but I really don’t think it’s true.”
Draco smacked him across the head with a stirring rod he was about to use, “Shut up. I’m making you take an hour-long bath with me this evening and I don’t care if you think relaxing is beneath you.”
Harry liked to smile and listen to funny stories. His words of comfort were often clumsy, but he always offered them if he felt she needed to hear them. He laughed at her jokes and called her Sarah or friend or, one time, sunshine.
Sometimes, he didn’t come to the apothecary for weeks and she had no idea why (When she asked Draco, he told her not to worry about it. She saw concern and love in his eyes, so she didn’t think they were fighting). When he finally visited again, he seemed normal, happy and warm as always, but there were remnants of exhaustion in his Polyjuiced yellow-blue eyes.
And because she amicably interacted with Draco now, she could see that there were weeks when he was distant (more than usual) and quieter as well. He sported black circles underneath his eyes, wore his robes like armour, and she caught him violently digging his fingers into his left forearm. Harry came to visit more often during those weeks.
She wanted to know what was happening in their lives, but they never answered her questions and she received only sad, reassuring smiles (Harry), cold dismissals (Draco), or complete changes of subject (both) instead of an explanation.
When she saw a letter from a renowned Mind Healer in Draco’s lab, she decided it was better to leave it be and not pry.
She was officially an employee of Heller’s Potions and Apothecary for one year and one month when a sad truth dawned on her: even though she observed a lot about the two men and their relationship (It was certainly more than most people had the opportunity to see), it was always only just that – observations. They never volunteered information, they never sought her advice on personal matters (which restaurant would she recommend for a date was the most she ever helped with), and they were never vulnerable in front of her. Sarah could understand they guarded their privacy, but…she guessed she just supposed they were friends. And in her brain, being friends meant helping each other as much as making each other laugh.
The fact that Harry as well as Draco (who provided surprisingly sensible and well-spoken suggestions for every problem she presented him with) knew almost everything there was to know about her home life and struggles only made it worse. Sarah didn’t know how they were with their other friends or their family (Draco sometimes talked about what new robe his mother bought; Harry often mentioned Hermione, the Weasleys, Neville and a few others, but only in the context of what funny thing happened to them) but she was weirdly certain they kept a lot from them too.
They seemed to be most open with each other as if they believed no one else would truly understand, Sarah thought. It occurred to her that maybe she wouldn’t. Not at all. She didn’t fight through a war. She was on the far edge of it, yes, but she was small and protected by her parents. It touched her only barely.
Maybe she was wrong, and Harry and Draco talked about their problems, but only with their peers. Maybe she was wrong, but when she looked at them, at how they held each other even without touching, she was sure she got it right.
Her brain repeated this train of thought so often that, two weeks later, she couldn’t hold it in any longer (she was a talkative kind of girl, who wasn’t used to bottling her feelings) and asked Harry about it before she went notify Draco he came to visit.
“You have to understand,” Harry told her in the most serious tone she’s ever heard from him, “me and Draco, we’re it for each other. There’s never gonna be anyone else. We’re both pretty sure about that. Because where we are with each other now, for that to happen, we’ve had to talk our mouths dry, we’ve had to fight till our knuckles bled, we’ve had to bare our souls – Merlin that sound so weird but it’s true. He and I, we saw the best and the worst of each other. It’s overwhelming sometimes, how intense it all was…and is. And you wouldn’t believe it, seeing what a fucking domestic old couple we are now. But there’s no better feeling than being accepted as who you really are. It took all our raw love and all our competitiveness, because of course, we made it into a competition, to let ourselves be seen like that. So, I’m sorry if you feel like we don’t trust you enough to talk to you about personal stuff, but that really isn’t on purpose. That’s just…who we are, I guess. You’re a great friend, Sarah, so don’t worry about it, yeah?”
“I don’t understand, not really anyway, but I accept it,” was the only thing she could’ve said before letting him steer the conversation into lighter territory.
The Wizarding Times rustled as she turned the page. She was waiting for Mo, her boyfriend of one year, to come home from work. She was working at a Potions Research Institute and had a very flexible schedule. She liked to be home when he came from the night shift because that way, she could at least make him take a shower before he dived for the bed.
She skimmed through the articles before turning to the next page. Her heart did a flip. Well, hello there, she smiled at the page at a photo of Draco and Harry, standing with their arms around each other’s waist, I haven’t seen you in 2 years.
‘Britain’s wizarding community shocked: Harry Potter announces engagement to a former Death Eater’ bold letters on the top of the page screamed. Sarah’s brows furrowed as she saw how they chose to refer to Draco, but she continued reading anyway.
After she finished, she had to say the article was not as bad as it seemed from the title. It briefly reintroduced Harry and Draco to forgetful readers, describing their involvement in the war but also didn’t omit to remind the readers where they were now (Sarah let out a silent ‘no way’ as she read that Harry became a Defence Professor at Hogwarts). It included quotes from Hermione Granger-Weasley, Ron Weasley, Minerva McGonagall and the two men themselves.
“We’re simply it for each other,” Harry apparently said to the press. Sarah smiled broadly reliving the moment Harry told her the same thing.
“I’m not who I was when I was a small, stupid child,” Draco said, ‘in a sincere tone, but glaring challengingly at me, the taken-aback interviewer,’ “I am now a man who tries to atone for his mistakes. And I am a man who is pathetically, endlessly, frustratingly in love with this stupid sod.” The article informed the readers ‘the stupid sod’ was, of course, The Boy Who Lived, The Vanquisher of Voldemort, The Esteemed Professor, Harry Potter.
When Mo closed the door behind him, he found Sarah still staring at the article, smiling widely through her tears.
Noticing his presence, she looked into his eyes, searching for something.
“Are you my ‘it’?” she asked, more for herself than him.
Thinking about everything she observed during her two years at Heller’s Potions and Apothecary, she had to admit she and Mo had a long way to go before even thinking about being on the same level as Harry and Draco. Actually, she was pretty sure they’ll never get there, but that was okay. Love isn’t divided into levels. At least she didn’t have to fight Mo until her knuckles bled.