Hey there! This is my first Harry Potter fic. I've just finished school and I'm making plans for next year so I'm not sure how often this story will be uploaded. I really hope you enjoy it :)

Chapter 1

After the war, everything changed for Draco Malfoy. He became quiet, reserved and extremely wary of almost everything. He sold Malfoy Manor and bought a serene, elegant mansion called Brooke Manor. As the name suggested, there was a quiet, softly flowing river on the property, surrounded by trees and a great stretch of land. He had planned on turning the stretch into a quidditch pitch when he first looked at the plot, but now it seemed rather pointless, as he had no one else to play quidditch with.

Narcissa, his mother, visited him on occasion at his new home. When he first obtained it, she had helped him enormously with decorating the expansive interior and even recommended some landscape artists when they were both at a loss with the design of the exterior of the huge plot of land. She had reconciled her relationship with her sister, Andromeda and moved in with her to assist in looking after Teddy. Teddy Lupin was Nymphadora (Andromeda's daughter) and Remus's son, and she had ended up with him when they had both died in the Final Battle and he had no one else to go to, not that she minded though. Narcissa also helped Andromeda with the loss of her daughter and son-in-law.

Lucius, his father, had died in the Final Battle. It had taken him shorter than he had expected to get over his death. A part of him recognised what a bad influence his father had been on him. He had been brought up as a spoilt, stuck-up pureblood child. His father was also the main reason behind him receiving the Dark Mark, apart from the Dark Lord himself of course. He found himself feeling greatly relieved that Potter had offed the Dark Lord, because otherwise he would still be grovelling and trembling at the evil man's feet in fear and submission, obeying his every command. His Dark Mark had faded and was just visible. He hated it so much. It reminded him of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, his father, and what he had to do to survive that awful time.

Draco had pursued a mastery in Potions in honour of his godfather, Severus Snape, who had died of a fatal bite from Nagini, the Dark Lord's serpent familiar. He also felt a passion for the subject, and even since his time at Hogwarts, he found himself wanting to spend his life working in the field. The amount of possibilities in Potions were endless, and he hoped to even create his own potions, much like his godfather had done.

After completing his mastery, which had taken him four years, Draco had decided to open his own store called Perfect Potions, selling different types of potions and taking orders from hospitals in need of regular deliveries. He had found a small shop space just off Diagon Alley for sale, thankfully not anywhere near Knockturn Alley. He had bought it immediately after seeing it, as he liked the intimate but seemingly large feeling of the space. He had set up fairly quickly and spent some time brewing potions so that he would have a good stock when the store opened. His mother occasionally came to the shop to help him and he asked his old friend, Blaise, from Hogwarts to help him a few times a week so he could get on his feet.

He enjoyed her visits to his manor and his store immensely, but he often caught himself feeling rather lonely, him being the only one working at his store most of the time, and in Brooke Manor besides the two house elves that kept the property in working order. Their names were Poppy and Daisy. He treated them well, as he had long ago made a promise to himself that he would never treat a house elf as he witnessed his father do with their countless house elves growing up.

His mother continued to help him brew after his store was opened and he honestly appreciated any help he could get. Between restocking the shelves, brewing orders for St Mungo's and another smaller hospital, creating modified potions for customers both regularly and irregularly, and experimenting with his own potions, he felt like he barely had time for himself. He took most of the weekend off, brewing in advance for anyone in need on Friday, opening half day on Saturday, and closing the rest of the weekend.

It had taken him a while to get many customers in the shop and orders from regulars and hospitals, as most people were wary of him. They all knew him as Draco Malfoy, pureblood heir to the Malfoy line, a Death Eater. The people that showed up at first knew about what had happened at his trial. Potter had come barging in like the showman he was, spoke for both him and his mother, explaining how they had both saved his life on separate occasions, and left. They were both let off with a large fine to pay, which was bearable, as they were one of the richest families in Great Britain.

He had then built a name for himself, slowly earning trust and gaining more customers. In truth, he didn't really need to work, as he had a fortune behind his name, but he found that he enjoyed helping people while doing his favourite thing, which was brewing. Even though he was let off by the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, he still felt terrible about his actions and felt that serving the community was a good way to make up for what he had done.

Draco had seen Potter around a few times in Diagon Alley, at bars, and even in his own shop, as well as in the newspapers, where he always seemed to be. The papers were relentless in publishing every single fact that they could find out about the Golden Boy. He felt slightly bad for Potter because he knew how it felt when it was his own family being shamed in the Daily Prophet, not that they had gone through anything like the constant scrutiny of Potter's life since before and after the war ended. From what he got from the few newspapers that he did manage to read since Hogwarts, Potter had completed his Auror training over the standard three years alongside his best friend Ron Weasley and then started as a fulltime Auror. Two years later, (the year after he opened his store) Ginny, his fiancé at the time, broke things off with him for good.

A few days after this incident, Potter himself had walked into his very shop, glancing around nervously as people stared at him. He looked awful. There were bags under his eyes, his hair hung limp and dull on his head and he was wearing a hoodie and sweats (yes yes, they were muggle, but Draco knew pretty much everything there was to know about style). He looked like he was out of it. He came up to the counter and, without really realising who he was talking to, he began to mumble about needing peace and something for sleep. Draco, instantly realising what he was after, asked, "How many doses do you need? And how strong? Do you have any allergies?" These were the standard questions he generally asked all his customers. It ensured he made no mistakes with their orders.

Potter gazed up at him slowly. "As many as you can give me and as strong as I can get," he replied, fiddling with his hands in his pockets. "I think I have an allergy to life and happiness, but besides from that, none." Draco was slightly shocked to hear this coming out of the Saviour of the Wizarding Worlds' mouth, but he said nothing as he turned and grabbed what Potter required.

"I can give you a month's dose of calming drought but only a weeks' worth of dreamless sleep, as it's addictive," he said politely. He harboured no ill feelings towards the man standing directly in front of him now, and he was quite glad for it, or this situation could have turned awful.

"I don't really care about how addictive it is," Potter suddenly hissed. His eyes were wide and slightly fearful. "I really need it, please give me more than this."

"I'm sorry, but I'm legally not allowed to give you more than that at a time, and -"

Potter stopped him mid-sentence, hope flaring in his emerald eyes. "At a time? So, I could come back and get more from you any time?" Draco sighed quietly. He could tell that this would be a slightly difficult situation to control.

"well, yes, but it's not a great idea to –" he started fruitlessly.

He was interrupted almost instantly. "Oh, fantastic, thanks! See you soon then." He dumped a small purse of coins on the counter and grabbed his potions, before making for the door hastily. Draco frowned at his retreating form and began counting the coins in the purse. Each calming drought was two galleons because it was the strongest brew he could make, and each dreamless sleep potion was four galleons. It was quite expensive; this was to try and discourage people from buying too much of it. Potter's total had come to 96 galleons, and he had given him 104 galleons. So, what was he meant to do with the extra galleons?