Chapter Text
It had been 8 years since Harry Potter went to school at Hogwarts, and 7 since the defeat of Voldemort.
Harry Potter was now 25 years old. A skilled auror, he had been trained well enough that he had risen the ranks quite a bit in the Aurors office.
Ever since the day Voldemort finally perished, Harry has stayed firm in his convictions. He decided to continue to pursue those who bring harm to others. Being an auror is not an easy job, but it is an important one. He has accepted many jobs, and has hunted down many dark wizards, investigated many crimes, and is one of the greatest aurors in Britain.
Yet, for someone so accomplished, Harry still finds himself taking on dreadfully dull cases from time to time.
“Mr. Potter.”
Vanessa Weston, Harry's assistant, and at times, his messenger, returned to his office and handed him a thin file.
“What's this, Vanessa?” Harry grabbed the file and began to scan it.
“It won't be your favorite case, sir, but the Minister specifically asked for you on this case.” She responded. “It's a burglary case. Supposedly, the minister's own son reported it.”
“Tch.” Harry set the file down. “Seriously? Burglary? Why does the minister want me on this case? I've done my share of grunt work by this point”
“Well, it's his own son that was affected, sir. He probably wants the best we've got.”
“What a load of-” Harry sighed. “Come on Vanessa, let's go.” He stood up and grabbed his jacket and threw it on. “Typical politicians.” He muttered.
“The crime happened at Diagon Alley, at Madam Malkin's. Supposedly, the minister's son was robbed while shopping for his final year of Hogwarts. He's been pointing the finger at Madam Malkin's assistant.”
Harry sighed deeply and ran his hands through his hair.
“And pray tell, when did this happen?"
“Just this morning. The minister knew you weren't currently working a case so he convinced the department head to have you take this case.”
Harry is silent for a moment.
“This is why I hate politicians, Vanessa.”
Vanessa furrowed her eyebrows.
“I know of your distaste for politicians, Sir, but you work for the Ministry. You knew what you were getting into.”
“Damnit, I miss Kingsley. A shame he retired so early.”
Vanessa just rolled her eyes.
She held out her arm. “Now, let's go. Madam Malkin and her assistant are still at their shop, and its past closing. Let's not keep them waiting.”
Harry linked arms with her.
“Ready?” He asked. Vanessa nodded her head, and they apparated to Diagon Alley.
“I haven't been here in awhile." Harry mumbled. “Not since Ginny broke it off with me.”
“It's already been 8 months sir, would you let it go already?” Vanessa chided.
“I am over it, Vanessa.” Harry retorted. “Things just didn't work out. Ron and I are as strong as ever and that's all that matters.”
“Yet, you seemed quite upset to find out Ginny had already moved on to another boy.” Vanessa quipped.
Harry had no response.
The pair headed down the familiar street, and Harry couldn't help but look at all the familiar shops. He had never been here this late before. With most of the shops closed, and a nearly empty street, it was like a ghost town compared to what he was used to. They passed by the Leaky Cauldron, where he hadn't been since the last time he saw Hagrid, which had been over a year now.
His life had been consumed by work. Things have been going way too fast for his liking, and he hadn't been able to see some of his friends for months. It didn't help that Hermione and Ron were currently overseas on vacation, but even before the vacation they rarely saw each other. Ron, at least, he sees at work as a fellow Auror, but with Harry having risen to a higher position, they rarely work together. Hermione being a ministry official has its moments as well, but not as much as he'd like.
Harry scratched his thin beard as Madam Malkins came into view. The shop's purple front gave him a whiff of nostalgia. It's too bad that he has to come back to settle a burglary.
Madam Malkin was standing outside with a tall, lanky teenager.
“I suppose that is the minister's son. What's his name, Vanessa?”
Vanessa glared at him.
“Potter, you are supposed to know these things.” She reamed quietly. “It's Wesley.”
“You know I hate those who think they are better because of their birth status.”
The two approached Madam Malkin and the teen. As they approached, they heard the kid named Wesley yelling at Malkin.
“-amily will sue you for all you're worth!” He yelled. Harry could put together what he was saying by the tone of his voice and the last few words of that sentence.
“Hey!” Vanessa shouted. Malkin and Wesley turned to face them. “We're with the Ministry. Could you quit yelling at the old lady, you oaf?”
Wesley sputtered at the word oaf.
“What did you call me?” He asked, gobsmacked. “Do you know who I am?”
“We know very well who you are.” Harry responded as they arrived in front of the shop. “Wesley, right? Son of the Minister of Magic?” Harry asked. “I'm Potter, the deputy head of the Aurors office. We were asked to investigate a robbery. I assume this is it?” Wesley smirked in response.
“Of course. This establishment robbed me! I paid for six robes for the upcoming school year and received just one! Then, when I asked for my money back, they refused, and lied saying I paid for only one.”
“You liar!” Malkin snapped back. Despite her advancing age and short stature, she hadn't lost her energy. “You only paid for one and you know it!”
“You two, please!” Vanessa clapped her hands. “Let's settle down.” Wesley shot her a look.
“It was the assistant! She's the one who sold me the robes!” He complained.
“And you only bought one! I checked the register and we don't have your money! What reason would my assistant have to take your money?!”
Before Wesley could reply, Harry stepped in between the two.
“Enough.” Harry looked over. “Vanessa, take statements from these two.” He looked over at Malkin. “Madam Malkin, is your assistant in the shop?”
Malkin smiled at Harry.
“She is, I asked her to wait for the Aurors office to send someone so she could make her own statement. You're free to go in, Mr. Potter.” She motioned towards the unlocked door. “Its good to see you.”
Harry simply nodded and smiled back, carefully not to show favoritism towards her. He nodded back at Vanessa who began to take Wesley's statement.
He entered the store, and was hit by the smell of fabric and perfume. He looked around, and saw the very stool upon which Malkin stood when he first entered this shop 15 years ago. The wall was lined with robes. Dress robes, school robes, laces, and other knickknacks. Harry felt a gryffindor robe, before moving towards the back of the store.
He heard some movement in the back corner, so he followed the noise to a section with scarves. It seems like Malkin has expanded in recent years outside of just robes, selling scarves from all 4 Hogwarts houses. They looked handmade even. Getting distracted, he felt the quality, and it was one of the most superbly made scarves he had ever felt.
As he was looking at the scarves, barely paying any attention, he shifted out into the walkway, where he promptly made contact with something that nearly fell over.
“Ouch!”
Harry turned to the sound of the noise.
“Oh sorry, are you–”
Harry froze.
As he looked to see who he had struck, he was stunned to see the person in front of him.
Blonde hair that bordered on white at times, pale blue eyes that seemed like they could pierce through you, and of course, her signature hoop earrings.
Harry was shocked to see Draco Malfoy standing in front of him.
She was wearing a thick green turtleneck and comfortable looking black sweatpants, and had a colorful apron adorning her. Shockingly casual clothing for someone he has never seen in casual clothing.
“P-Potter?!” She stammered out.
“M-Malfoy?!” Harry returned. Both of them stood there in shock for a moment, before Malfoy's face turned from shock to annoyance.
“Of course you're the one who showed up, Potter.” She huffed. “It couldn't have been a regular Auror.”
“Hey, for your information. I didn't want to be here either.” Harry shot back. “I was asked specifically by the minister to take over questioning in this case “
Draco folded her arms.
“Of course. The Ministry's golden boy has been summoned to solve a robbery case for a couple robes.”
“Six robes. Robes are expensive.”
“I know. I work here.” She scoffed. “Whatever. I'm sure you'll be awarded another medal for your efforts, Potter.”
“Is this how you treat all your customers?” Harry shot back. “Great customer service.”
“Only the ones who walk into me!” She spat back
“You were standing in the middle of an aisle!"
“And if you weren't staring at the scarves, you would've seen me!”
Harry didn't have a response to that one. She was right, after all.
“My apologies.” He bit his tongue. “The quality of these scarves surprised me. They're really well made.”
Draco, for whatever reason turned pink, and looked at the floor.
Harry found himself distracted by her. He hadn't seen her since the Battle of Hogwarts, and the day that she had saved him, when she declared to Voldemort that he was dead. Standing here looking at her, he realized he had never gotten to thank her for that.
And here she stood, similar, and yet different from the Draco Malfoy he knew. She was still clearly arrogant, yes, and her personality hadn't changed much, but Harry had never seen her looking so casual.
Her hoop earrings, a staple of her look, were at least familiar.
Draco, for her part, noticed him sizing her up.
“What?” She demanded. Harry shook his head.
“Nothing.”
“Then stop staring at me and get on with it, Potter. I haven't got all day.”
“Im just trying to figure out what you're doing here.” He looked at her again, and a scowl crossed her face.
“What does it look like I'm doing Potter? I'm working.” She replied. “Try it sometime.”
“I am working, and talking to you is a part of that. I'm the Deputy Head of the Aurors office, I'll have you know.”
“And yet…” Her scowl turned into a taunting smile. “You still haven't learned to look where you're walking.”
“You're insufferable.” Harry rubbed his eyebrows.
“And you're still irritating.”
Harry found himself trying to reconcile the woman in front of him with the one he remembered from his Hogwarts years. He hadn't spoken to her in years, but he had heard things. Everyone had heard the things said about the Malfoys after the war, and the Malfoy name had become nearly poison. They had come to financial ruin, and they had lost nearly all of the influence that had once come with the name.
He'd never particularly cared to investigate the matter himself. He figured things would sort themselves out. Besides, it wasn't like he was close with Malfoy at any point in time.
“How long have you been working here?” Harry asked, pulling out a small notepad and pen.
Draco's expression changed.
“Why?”
“Because I'm investigating.” He paused. “Also, I'm curious.”
“Curiosity is a terrible habit, Potter.” Draco quipped.
“Malfoy.”
“Potter.”
Harry sighed into his hand.
“Can you answer a question without making it unnecessarily difficult?” Harry asked.
“Can you ask a question without sounding like an uppity prick?”
Harry stared at her, ignoring her last jab. Malfoy stared back, before huffing and turning around to look at the worktable behind her.
“Several months.” She muttered.
“Really?” Harry replied. Draco made another face.
“Yes, you dolt.”
Harry paused for a moment.
“Do you enjoy it?”
The question seemed to catch Draco off guard, who looked shocked.
“I beg your pardon?”
“The work. Do you enjoy your job?” Harry reiterated.
Draco looked at him as if he had asked if she enjoyed eating dirt.
“It's a job, Potter. I'm not going to enjoy every moment of my employment.”
“That's not what I asked. I asked if you enjoyed it.” Harry reiterated again.
Draco looked at him, face neutral.
“Well it's the answer you're getting.” She turned back and sat at the worktable, and shuffled some things around. Harry sat down opposite her. He noticed the darkening circles under her eyes and the tiredness that bled from her.
Harry knew that look, because it's one he saw often in the mirror.
“Look, I'm not here to poke in your business. These questions are pretty basic questions in cases such as this. I'm here because the minister's son claims he paid for six robes and only received one.” Harry paused as Malfoy looked back up at him, her expression sour. “Just help me out here and answer some questions.”
“That dolt is a liar.” She sneered. “An incorrigible, filthy-”
“Ok, so I see there is some hostility.” Harry shifted his glasses. “Were you the one who handled the transaction?”
“Yes.” She scoffed. “He said he wanted six, but he only paid for one. He said he'd give us the money for the rest later, because he was waiting for his allowance. He came back today, apparently under the assumption he paid for all six.” She pulled out a small receipt. “This is proof of his purchase.”
Harry looked at the receipt. It was labeled a week ago, and in fact, it said six robes, with only one being paid for and 5 being on the order with “Payment Pending” being there in place of the money spent.
“So when did this happen?”
“It's on the receipt, Potter. He came in, like, a week ago.” She pointed to the date on the receipt. “Eight days ago, to be exact, and he paid for one robe, with the promise to pay the others, and came back today for them, and when we asked for payment, he said we cheated him.”
Harry sighed.
“Alright, can you explain the transaction more in depth? You were the one to check him out, correct?”
Draco nodded.
“I was.”
“Can you recount the situation to me?”
“Ugh.” Draco leaned back in her chair. “He came in, and was, I don't know, he was acting weird. Like, sorta huffy and impatient. Madam Malkim was helping a customer, and I was stocking the store when he came in. I went to the counter to help him out.” She paused for a moment. “He said he wanted to place an order for some robes. Ravenclaw robes. He told me that he didn't have the money for all six, but would have it soon. He had the money for one, so he paid for one, and he said he'd come back with the money.”
Harry took notes.
“Anything else you're not telling me?” He asked. Draco huffed.
“Nothing that's any of your business.” She replied.
Harry rolled his eyes.
“Malfoy, if you're innocent, you need to help me out here, otherwise you might get convicted of something.”
“What, after all these years of standing up to authority figures, you suddenly side with the very people you hated?” Malfoy laughed. “How rich.” A vein popped in Harry's temple at the suggestion.
“Malfoy, I'm TRYING to help you. You think I like that kid?” He said, exasperated. “He actually reminds me of you.”
Draco, clearly irritated, did not respond. She clearly recognized the similarities too.
“Come on. What else happened? One doesn't just forget whether they paid for that many robes.” Harry continued. “What happened?”
Draco bit her fingernail, embarrassment showing on her face. A rare look for the girl.
“Fine.” She spat. “He tried to make a move on me and I told him to go to hell.”
Harry looked at her for a minute.
“He…” Harry started. Draco smirked at his stunned face.
“He tried to take me out for a date, telling me about his minister father and all of his connections and that he knew the famous Harry Potter.” She sat back up in her chair. “He didn't know who I was. I turned him down, obviously.”
Harry put the pieces together in his head. A spoiled brat, turned down by Malfoy, the furthest thing from gentle.
“...What EXACTLY did you say when you turned him down?”
“That's none of your business, Potter.” She replied, a haughty smile gracing her features.
Exasperated, Harry stood up.
“Fine. Last question, were there any witnesses other than yourself and Malkin?”
“There was the lady Malkin was working on fixing her robes.”
“Who was it?”
“No idea.”
“Why not? You don't even know what she looked like?”
“No, Potter! I was working! Something that you seem to find endlessly fascinating!”
Harry could picture Hermione telling him to stay calm.
“Im only asking because it's relevant to the investigation. It's my job.”
Malfoy laughed, somewhat cruelly.
“Well, forgive me for failing to appreciate the privilege of being interrogated by the famous Harry Potter.” She fell into a mocking bow.
“I'm not interrogating you, Malfoy.” Harry closed his notes.
“Oh, forgive me. I must have mistaken the notebook, the questions, and the general air of suspicion for an interrogation.”
Harry glanced down at the notebook in his hand.
“It's called taking a statement.”
“How thrilling.”
“You know, if you had spent half as much time answering questions as you do arguing with me, we could have finished ten minutes ago.” Harry responded, exasperated. “Does arguing with me give you some sense of joy?”
“In fact, it does!” Draco smiled. “If you spent half as much time thinking about the questions you were asking me, then this conversation wouldn't be taking so long either.”
Harry stared at her.
Draco stared back.
…
“Right.” Harry muttered. “Im going to speak to Madam Malkin.”
“Do give her my regards.” Draco replied flippantly.
Harry turned to the door. With his back turned to her, he replied.
“For what it's worth, the receipt backs up your story.”
Draco didn't reply for a moment.
“Of course it does.”
“But I haven't finished investigating. I can't just take your word for it.”
As he was heading towards the door, Draco replied.
“You really are a miserable git, Potter.”
“So I've been told.”
Harry couldn't help but smile as he left the shop.
____________________________________
The scene outside was interesting. Wesley was arguing with Vanessa, who was calmly standing there, taking heat from him. Malkin stood to the side, holding what Harry assumed was her ledger.
“I paid for six robes!” Wesley insisted. “I don't know how many times I need to say that.”
“And you have yet to show me a single bit of proof, Mr. Killiacs.” Vanessa replied. “No bank receipts, no proof of purchase, nothing.”
Harry stepped back into the conversation.
“Something tells me I missed a fascinating conversation.” Harry remarked.
“You picked a good time.” Vanessa responded. “Mr. Killiacs has failed to explain each time how he paid for the robes.”
“Excuse me?” Wesley interjected. “Do you know who my father is?!”
“Wesley.” Harry cut in. “We are well aware of who your father is.”
“Your father's position is why the deputy head of the Auror Office was assigned to investigate your complaint in the first place.” Vanessa cut in.
Harry turned to Malkin.
“Madam Malkin, could I see your ledger?”
Madam Malkin smiled.
“Certainly.”
Harry took a look over the ledger, and sure enough, the ledger corroborated Draco's story. Six robes, one paid for, the others awaiting payment.
“Let me ask you a few questions, Madam.” Harry opened his notepad again, and flipped to another page. “Were all six robes made?”
“Yes. He was given the one he paid for, the other five are currently in storage in the back.”
“You're positive you were not paid for the other five robes?”
Malkin nodded in response.
“So,” Harry continued. “You trust Miss Malfoy's character to not pocket the money and say he never paid?”
“She probably did do that!” Wesley interrupted.
“Quiet.” Vanessa pointed her wand at him. “Or I'll silence you myself.”
He stayed silent.
“Mr. Potter.” Malkin began. “You know the type of person Miss Malfoy is.”
Vanessa's ears perked up at that.
“She's feisty, sarcastic, unbelievably prideful, and can be insufferable at times.”
Harry nodded his head in agreeance.
“But she's also talented, and has an eye for sizing, and is very good at what she does. Her pride wouldn't allow her to steal someone's money. Why, her personality hasn't changed much since you met her here in this very shop 15 years ago.”
Vanessa's ears perked up more.
“Thank you, Miss Malkin.” Harry responded.
Harry turned to Wesley.
“Mr. Killiacs.” Harry said. “I have checked the ledger myself, seen the receipts, and I have established that you did not pay for these robes that you claimed to have.”
Wesley's face grew angry.
“So you're just going to take their word over mine?”
Harry shook his head.
“No, but they have proof that you haven't paid your bill in full. You don't have any proof that you paid your bill. All the evidence stacks to the contrary.”
Wesley got up in Harry's face.
“I was told the robes would be ready for me when I returned!” He snapped.
“They are ready. They're in the back of the shop.” Harry replied.
“I paid for them!”
“As I've said Mr. Killiacs, the ledger shows you didn't pay for them, it aligns with Miss Malfoy's story and her receipt. Are you expecting to receive robes, even though you never paid for them?”
“Thats not what I said.” Wesley shot back.
“Then perhaps, tell me what you are saying.”
Wesley looked around, fury on his face.
“Potter.” He spat furiously. “You said the assistant's last name is Malfoy, yes?” He laughed haughtily. "You really put it past a Malfoy to steal? You're awfully eager to defend her, considering her families past.”
Harry's expression hardened.
“Mr. Killiacs, we are discussing a purchase made eight days ago, not her family's history. If you are able to provide evidence that she stole from you, I would love to hear it. If you don't have any proof, her family history is irrelevant.”
“You expect me to believe a Malfoy wouldn't steal?”
Harry scoffed at him.
“Mr. Killiacs.” He said, quietly enough so that only Wesley heard it. “This wouldn't happen to have anything to do with her rejecting you, would it?”
Wesley turned a shade of white Harry didn't realize was possible.
“W-Whatever do you mean, Mr. Potter?”
“Oh, so it's Mr. Potter now, not just Potter.” Harry stepped back. “Mr. Killiacs, I'm going to give you the opportunity to settle this matter without taking it any further. Pay Madam Malkin what you owe her, and we'll consider the complaint resolved unless further evidence comes to light.”
Wesley stared daggers at Harry, the color returning to his face. Silently, he pulled out his wallet, and gave Malkin 35 gallons as payment. She went inside to gather the robes, giving a victorious smile as she went inside.
“My father will hear about this.” Wesley stated.
“I'm sure he will. If he asks, I'll be happy to explain exactly what happened.” Harry paused. “And next time, I suggest you go after someone your own age.”
Wesley turned his back on Harry.
“If you do this again, we will arrest you for attempting to commit fraud.” Vanessa told him sternly. Wesley flinched at that.
Malkin returned with the robes. Vanessa escorted Wesley away from the shop, helping him carry his new robes. Vanessa and Harry shared a knowing nod.
“Do you mind if I speak to Draco quickly, Ms. Malkin?”
“Of course, Mr. Potter. Thank you so much for your help today, I know he put you under a lot of pressure, being the minister's son.” She shook her head. “Trying to use his position, and for what?”
Harry gave an apologetic smile.
“Sorry, gotta keep that to myself. We don't need word getting out that the minister's rubbish son is a prick.”
Malkin nodded in understanding.
“Well, make sure Draco locks the door. It's time for me to go home.” Malkin waved, and apparated out of sight.
Harry headed inside the store again. He searched the store for a bit, before he found Draco leaning against a shelf full of tape measures, seemingly used to measure the length of robes or whatnot. Harry didn't have an eye for fashion so he never really bothered to figure out how those things worked.
“Malfoy.”
Draco looked up.
“You're back.” She looked more tired than ever. “Haven't had enough yet, Potter?”
She seemed to have meant to be provocative, but it came out as more of a tease.
“You're clear. He paid up. My assistant is escorting him away.”
A long sigh came from her.
“Yeah, I figured when Malkin came in and took the robes outside.” She looked around. “Did she leave?”
“Yeah. She told me to tell you to lock up the shop before you go home.”
“Figures.” Draco looked back at Harry, who was silent for a bit. “So what's gonna happen to him?”
Harry shook his head.
“He's being let off with a warning. As much as I hate it, he is the minister's son.” Draco looked annoyed.
“Not much you can do, can you then, Potter?”
Harry shook his head.
“Unfortunately.” He looked down. “Sorry.”
Draco's face lightened up a touch at the apology.
“Potter, apologizing to me?” She taunted. “How absurd!”
For once, the words came out jokingly, instead of rudely. Harry smiled at her.
“Anyways,” He said, glancing towards the door. “I should probably let you get on with your evening.”
“Probably.” Draco tilted her head. “However, I was beginning to have fun watching you try to conduct an investigation.”
“Were you being difficult earlier just to get a rise out of me?” Harry couldn't help the smile that came across his face. Draco clearly held back a smile. “Well, I'm glad my misery has been entertaining.”
“Oh, it was immensely entertaining.” She snickered.
Harry shook his head, smiling as he headed towards the door, before stopping halfway.”
“Actually, before I go, I have one more thing I want to ask you.”
Draco eyed him suspiciously. “If this is another question about that dolt-”
“It's not.” Harry cut her off. “I’m asking this out of curiosity, not because it's my job.” He gestured towards the work table. “Do you make the robes yourself?”
She blinked.
“Some of them. I mostly do alterations, fittings, and finishing work. Madam Malkin handles the difficult orders.”
“What of the scarves? They're new. I haven't seen them here before.”
Draco's expression changed so fast that Harry almost missed it. Her eyes flicked to the scarves and back to him.
“What of them? They're just scarves.”
“I was looking at them when I bumped into you. They're really well made.”
“Well yes.” She straightened slightly. “Obviously.”
Harry raised an eyebrow. Draco shrugged.
“It's Madam Malkins. Everything is of the highest quality.”
Harry chuckled.
“I'm aware. It's where I bought my robes after all.” Harry paused. “It's also where I met you, Draco.”
Draco froze for a moment, seemingly in shock that he both remembered that and that he referred to her by her nickname.
“...True.” She quickly studied his face, before averting her eyes.
“So, who makes the scarves?” Harry asked. Draco tilted her nose up.
“Wouldn't you like to know, Potter?” A small smile sat on her face.
Harry shook his head at her and looked closer at the scarves. The scarfs were of the four houses, but there were also some that were just simply colorful. A blue one intertwined with white and black, a yellow one that intertwined with orange and red. But the one that caught his attention was a green one intertwined with silver and a creme color. It was a beautifully made scarf, with perfect stitching and wonderful material.
“This is incredible!” He exclained. Draco was taken aback. “The material is soft, and yet warm and not flimsy. The stitching is great as well.” Harry smiled. “I certainly don't know much about fashion, but I can tell this was well made, especially compared to the rubbish I used to get at Christmas.”
Draco put her hands behind her back as he praised the scarf. He didn't notice her gaining color the more he spoke.
“Perhaps your relatives should've gotten better needles.” She stated.
“Perhaps.” Harry paused. “How much are these?” He asked.
Draco looked at him.
“You're buying it?”
“Of course? Why else would I ask?” He pulled out his wallet. Draco shook her head.
“No.” She pushed his wallet back. “Take it. As my…thanks.” She mumbled the last word.
Harry looked at her, seeing her embarrassed and blushing.
“Merlin's Beard, she's adorable.” Harry thought.
Harry caught himself thinking the unthinkable.
“What are you thanking me for? Doing my job?” Harry asked.
“For dealing with the Mr. Killiacs, Potter. Don't make me regret it.” She chided.
“I wouldn't dream of it.” Harry turned to the door. “Well, as my own thanks, I'll drop by sometime."
“Please don't.” Draco replied, but a small smile was on her lips. Harry wrapped the scarf around his neck.
“Seriously, this is excellent work. Whoever made this knew what they were doing.”
Draco busied herself with straightening a stack of fabric.
“One would hope so. We only sell the best here.” She grabbed a broom and started sweeping, avoiding eye contact with Harry.
Sensing her continued uneasiness, Harry started towards the door again.
“I'm glad you're doing ok.” Harry stopped in the doorway, the door half open. “And try to get some sleep, you look as exhausted as I feel.”
“I can worry about myself, Potter.” She brushed him off, but much gentler than usual.
Harry smiled.
“Goodnight, Draco.”
Draco, broom in hand, walked over to him.
“Try not to get your new scarf wet, Potter.”
“It's a scarf, not parchment.” He responded dryly.
“Some people have a penchant for ruining good things.” She cracked.
“Wait, are you referring to me-”
Draco shoved him out the door.
“Go away!” She locked the door as he left, but a playful smile was on her face as she did it.
Harry left feeling a lot more upbeat than the sour mood he arrived in, for some reason.
Meanwhile, Draco stood in the middle of the store, looking at the scarves.
She caught herself smiling, and instantly insulted herself for smiling at Harry Potter.
She found herself examining the stitching in one of the scarfs as she prepared to close up shop.
“Stupid Potter.”