A/N: This is an AU of "What if Harry never went to Hogwarts?" sort. It's eventual slash (Lord Voldemort/Harry Potter) and a slow burn.

Before you ask, Ian is the wizard from the Prisoner of Azkaban movie, the one performing wandless magic and reading "A Brief History of Time" in the Leaky Cauldron.

I'm looking for a BETA for this story as well, so if you wish to help or know someone, PM me :)

...

Harry had a tiny flat tucked away above a convenience store in Streatham Hill, London; with a bedroom that barely fit a bed in it and a kitchen that doubled as a living room, as there was a grand total of three rooms in the flat including the bathroom and the previously mentioned bedroom.

So really the living area was an old sofa pushed against a wall, a rocky coffee table that you basically had step over to get to the bathroom and the two-by-three space that you called the kitchen with puke-green cupboards and a fridge that sometimes let out strange noises.

It had a nice little balcony in the bedroom though, which was very green thanks to the odd collection of plants Harry kept on it.

Harry's friends didn't like his flat, but he thought it had character. Then again, he lived in a cupboard under the stairs until the Dursley's realised he was growing too big for it (which took longer than one would've thought, as Harry was always small for his age), so it wasn't surprising he didn't mind the tight space.

He lived there since the Dursleys made him move out at eighteen, as soon as he finished Sixth Form. Harry didn't want to go to University, much to the disappointment of his teachers. He wasn't academic at all, never enjoyed school in terms of having to learn what he was told and then taking exams in it. However, he was smart and if he was curious about something, he spent all his time researching it.

Harry knew a lot of things about the stuff he liked, but if he found something boring then it was likely he didn't have a clue about it.

That trait annoyed his oldest friend greatly. Ian was Harry's old science teacher at Stonewall Secondary. When Harry took up the Physics A-Level at the Stonewall Sixth Form, Ian was the teacher he got. He was an eccentric, rather young teacher (who favoured Harry during class, to which Harry remained oblivious).

Ian, or Mr Brown, as Harry used to have to call him, had a knack for recommending Harry books he'd like. He fed Harry's obsession with learning everything there was about the subject Harry was obsessing over. However, he also tended to force his student into researching things that Harry found unnecessary or boring, if only to keep his grades at a good average.

Case and point: it was a great struggle for both parties for Harry to scrape a 'C' in Chemistry at GCSE.

Nevertheless, Ian never gave up. A few months after Harry enrolled to Stonewall, he also admitted why he took such interest in Harry. It may have took a freak out and a half on the behalf of the boy (eleven year old Harry thought Ian was being perverted and almost admitted his suspicions to the Head of Year), for Ian to finally come out with it, but he did.

Ian was magical and so was Harry.

Ian told Harry how he, himself, was a muggleborn ("It's when a wizard is born to muggles, keep up Harry – yes muggles are non-magical folk, isn't it obvious?") and that Harry was a half-blood. It took a few more years before he told Harry about the night the Potter's died. However, he spoke of Hogwarts ("Load of bollocks, that school. Greatest in Europe, my hairy arse – I don't think they updated the syllabus since the goblin wars that Binns keeps talking about. Fine castle though, you should've seen it.") and admitted he wasn't sure why Harry didn't get his letter, because he clearly had more than enough magic.

That was the birth of Harry's first and longest obsession.

Harry learnt everything Ian knew about magic. The older man admitted to his experiments with trying to break down magic with science – which is how he came about being adept with wandless magic. Understanding magic at its base level made Ian more in control with it and thus, he could perform most magic wandlessly and wordlessly. He only really needed his wand for the stronger spells, which he barely used anyway since he returned to the muggle world.

He passed on his knowledge to Harry, who soaked it up like a sponge and never bothered to go to Diagon Alley to get a wand. He seemed to have a bigger knack for it than Ian, which annoyed the other man greatly.

Their friendship continued after Harry left sixth form and became more casual. Ian finally convinced Harry to call him by his first name and frequently visited his flat if only to complain about how small it was. Harry developed selective hearing when it came to it.

Harry was twenty-two when magic became something more than just experiments and an easier way to stir his tea.

He was at work, which for him meant doing almost everything at "Lynda's Flower Shop". Lynda was a sweet old lady who started it almost fifty years ago. She passed ownership up to her son, Mitchell, who had no clue about how to run it and thus hired eighteen year old Harry.

It started off with Harry being on the till and unloading deliveries. Mitchell loved flowers and had a knack for arranging them and taking care of plants, but he didn't have a head for running a business. Gradually, Harry started to do all the paperwork and accountancy while Mitchell created beautiful bouquets and talked to the clients.

It was an early Wednesday afternoon, the air was warm, but not overbearingly so. The shop wasn't busy and Harry was checking over the invoices while behind the till. Mitchell was off to deliver flowers for a wedding and was due to return just before the closing time.

Harry didn't mind days like that. Slow, not overly challenging. He liked being kept busy at work, but sometimes it was nice to catch a break.

The bell above the door rang around two o'clock. A tall, thin man walked into the shop, looking like he wanted to be anywhere but there. He wore an all-black suit, with an open robe over it and his platinum hair was slicked back.

"Hi, can I help you with something?" Harry asked, pushing the invoices to once side.

The man approached the counter, lips pursed in distaste. Harry thought it was awfully rude. "Yes, I'm looking for Mitchell Cornfoot."

"I'm afraid he's out on a delivery at the moment and won't return until late. Is it something I can help you with?" Harry said evenly.

"I had an order of plants from Cornfoot." The main said curtly. "For Malfoy."

Harry nodded. "I'll check if Mitchell left them in the back for you, please wait a minute."

"Do hurry up, I don't want to be here any longer than necessary."

Harry bit his lip, trying to stop himself from snapping back at the man, Malfoy was his name it seemed. He hurried to the back of the shop, leaving him alone at the front.

Usually the plants for special orders were on the shelves on the right side of the small room, however after a few minutes of searching, Harry found a crate for 'D. Malfoy' tucked away next to some boxes where it certainly didn't belong.

He did a quick survey of what was in the crate and noticed that two of the plants were not of muggle origins and all five of them were difficult to obtain in England. So Mitchell was dabbling with the wizarding world now? Harry's brow furrowed, he wasn't aware Mitchell even knew about wizards, nevermind worked with them.

It was something he should mention to Mitchell once he came back.

Deciding that it was a matter for later and that Malfoy was probably going to snap at him for taking his time, Harry hurried back to the front of the store.

"Finally," The blonde muttered when the crate was placed on the counter.

"Right, I'll just need you to sign off this form, it's just for the records and means you picked up the order." Harry signed and dated on his part before passing the form to Malfoy.

Malfoy took the biro he was handed sceptically, as if he was not used to using them. He scanned the form and his eyes paused where Harry signed his name. He looked up at him in confusion, frowning.

"Is something wrong?"

"Is your name really Harry Potter?"

"Yes." Harry replied slowly.

Malfoy didn't say anything else, just hurriedly signed the form. Harry handed him a copy and kept one to file away later.

Before he could say anything, both Malfoy and the crate were gone.

…

Harry saw Mitchell pull up in the delivery van just as came back from putting the day's earnings in the safe. Mitchell walked into the shop, cheery as can be and waved at Harry in greeting.

"The wedding went to swell, the bride looked so beautiful with her bouquet."

"I'm sure she did." Harry smiled. "Hey Mitchell, there is something though. A guy came in today to pick up an order."

Mitchell raised an eyebrow. "What's so special about that?"

"Well," Harry drawled. "I was not aware that we've expanded into magical plants, that's all."

The other man paled, mouth opening and closing as if he wanted to say something, but couldn't.

"You know," Harry continued. "I was not aware you knew about magic at all, Mitchell."

...

Draco returned to the Manor and dropped the plants off in his potions lab. He didn't like going to that awful place – Lynda's Flower Shop. It was so muggle that he was ashamed of doing business there. Howerver, it was the only place in all of Britain that could get him some specific plants. They weren't illegal, but those species did not like magic. Their potency decreased the longer they were kept in magical surroundings, which is why wizards didn't bother to deal with them- usually they lost most of their potency by the time they reached their client. There was no gold in that. Muggles did not know of some of them and the others they considered very exotic plants. He wouldn't be able to find them in any old flower shop. He was lucky to find Cornfoot, that squib had some uses.

What was more important though was the man that worked for Cornfoot.

Harry Potter.

Was is that Harry Potter? Draco wasn't sure, but he saw photographs of James Potter once and he saw some similarities. He couldn't see the scar, but then again that Potter's forehead was covered.

He looked about the same age as Draco, which would've been correct as they were meant to be at the same year at Hogwarts.

If it truly, definitely, was Harry Potter, the one that apparently rejected his Hogwarts letter – who even does that? - then what should Draco do?

There was always a chance it was a fluke and there was another Harry Potter living in London who just happened to look a little bit like James Potter.

Draco bit his lip as he cut up the plants for the potion. He should really tell someone, perhaps his Father would know what to do.

He threw the first plant into the potion and stirred thirty times clockwise. He decided to approach his Father with the matter as soon as the potion was finished.

…

There was tea, lots of it.

Harry and Mitchell were sat in the back room of the flower shop. They closed it all up and took refuge there, Mitchell nervously drinking large amounts of tea. Apparently it helped him get his thoughts straight.

Harry was perched on an old chair, his own mug in hand. He was still waiting for an explanation.

Mitchell finally took a deep breath and made eye contact with Harry. "I'm not really sure where to start."

"How do you know about magic?" Harry offered the first question.

"I'm a squib." Mitchell unwillingly admitted. His cheeks reddened as if he said something shameful, which in the wizarding community, it really was. "My parents left me in the care of Lynda when I was a baby, so she's like a mother to me. They were magical, and she was a squib who couldn't have children of her own."

Harry nodded solemnly, suddenly feeling guilty for asking. It felt intrusive.

"It was a normal flower shop at first, but in the past few years there started to be a demand for some plants...they have uses in potions, but they don't respond well to being in magical places for long. I had contacts in other countries through some friends and I ended up doing this on the side." Mitchell admitted. "I never really expected for you to find out."

"I was bound to eventually." Harry rolled his eyes.

Mitchell smiled weakly. "I guess. How are you taking it so well though?"

He got a shrug in response. "It's nothing really illegal. I was just surprised you knew about magic, which means you really know about me as well."

"Yeah, that may have swayed my decision to hire you a little." He laughed in embarrassment. "The Boy Who Lived working at a squib's florist shop. It sounds truly ridiculous. It was a good decision, though."

Harry hummed and took a sip of his tea. Mitchell smiled at him. "So are we good?"

"Yeah, we're good."

…

A/N: I hope you enjoyed this, although it is a little short. I will try to make future chapters a bit longer, but it really depends on where the plot takes me. I don't promise regular updates, but I will try to make them frequent at least.

There's a lot of back story that will slowly get explained in future chapters, I barely even mentioned what's going on in the Wizarding World and such! We are in for a long ride, so prepare yourselves as I might be throwing a lot of things at you.

Please review and let me know what you think, I haven't written a Harry Potter fanfiction in a long time, so I hope for some feedback as I write more!

I might raise the rating up as the chapters get put up, if I do, I will put up a warning at the top of the chapter, etc. For now it's T though, as nothing really happened yet.