A/N: Inspired by the song Good Flame by James McLean. - I wrote a little piece that was supposed to be a one-shot to this song, but it all spiralled and turned into this multi-chapter story. The original piece will be inserted as a chapter later in the story.
This is going to be a SLOW BURN Dramione story, with lots of angst, eventual romance/fluff, a little bit of SMUT, a good helping of friendly banter, and a sprinkle of mystery.
Most of it will be from Draco's POV, but I will have some chapters with other character's POVs too.
I will attempt to update once a week, but can't promise anything, because we all know life can get busy sometimes.
CW: mentions angst/depression
I will update tags and warnings as I go.
This first chapter is only a prologue-esque chapter to set the scene. There will be a big time-jump after it, to get us to where the story actually begins. I hope you enjoy!
ooo
Draco was unpacking a delivery of potion ingredients, carefully waving his wand to levitate the intricate bottles and small jars onto the big shelves in front of him. It was a tedious job, and yet he couldn't quite suppress the small excited flutter in his chest as he spotted the small vial of Moondew and the little sachet filled with Chizpurfles fangs; both rare ingredients that Mr. Edwards had ordered specifically at Draco's request. Now he could finally start experimenting with the rather outdated recipe for the Wiggenweld Potion that he had memorised from his old school book. It was less than perfect and could really do with a complete overhaul.
He smirked as he set the two ingredients aside. With any luck he could finish work a little early tonight and delve straight into perfecting the complex solution.
He had worked at Slugs and Jiggers for just under four months now and was already revolutionising the place. The little Apothecary was located at the far end of Diagon Alley and didn't get as much exposure as some of the bigger shops further down the road, but Draco didn't care. He had taken it upon himself to reform the little shop in the hope that it would draw in some more customers. If they couldn't be the biggest or fanciest apothecary, then at least they could be the one that offered the best quality potions.
He had started as a shop assistant at first, helping with simple, and mostly boring tasks, such as writing out labels for freshly bottled tinctures, filing potions requests, unpacking and storing potions ingredients, and a lot of general cleaning and organising chores. He had worked hard, always arrived early for his shifts and sometimes stayed until late into the night, assisting Mr. Edwards in brewing his potions. Draco was eager to learn and determined to prove his worth to his employer, and it wasn't until long before the old man began to notice Draco's efforts.
Alden Edwards was a kind man, who didn't believe in prejudice. He had of course known the name Malfoy long before Draco had applied for the job, but he never once made Draco feel lesser because of it. Instead, he had recognised Draco's willingness to change and immediately decided to take the young wizard under his wing. He continuously encouraged him to evolve, told him to dream and strive for more, and so, after only a few weeks of observing Draco's calculating eyes and greedy ears soaking up any information that they could get from the old Potions Master, he offered to take him on as his apprentice. He had even gone as far as to help Draco apply with the Potions Association to work towards his master's degree in potion brewing. If everything went as planned the young wizard would receive his official title as Potions Master in only three years' time.
Draco still couldn't believe his luck. Not even a year ago he had thought his life was practically over. After his release from Azkaban there was nothing left for him in the magical world. All hope had been sucked out of him during his stay at the harrowing place, slowly turning him into an empty shell, too weak to live, too scared to allow himself to feel. Emotions of any kind were a dangerous thing in that place.
He felt a cold shiver run down his spine as he remembered the desperation he had felt. How he didn't know whether the darkness around him was real, or if it had been a figment of his imagination, nurtured by the suffocating darkness in his head. He remembered the cold, damp stone floor he used to sit on, cowering in a corner, arms wrapped tightly around his frail body and lips pressed firmly together in the fear that his soul might be sucked from him if he even as much as uttered a sigh.
He knew he had been lucky. All he got was a measly eighteen-month sentence. He had expected a much harsher punishment for his crimes, maybe even a life-sentence, but once again Harry-bloody-Potter and his two annoying sidekicks saved the day.
Out of the sheer goodness of their hearts, the blasted trio had testified for him. They had pledged in front of the entire Wizengamot that he, Draco Malfoy, had helped them escape from his home when they got caught by snatchers. It had been a far cry from the truth. Not that he didn't want to help. He was going to act, truly, he was; and he knew that Granger had seen him raise his wand just before Potter and Weasley burst through the door to save her, but he was still not sure what exactly he would have done. He had always been a self-preserving coward and he would have been a fool to take on his aunt. She would have killed him without a moment's hesitation, had he tried to get in her way.
So he had stood and watched as she tortured Granger, marked her as filthy; a mark that he knew she would wear for the rest of her life. And he had done nothing. Not until it was already too late. And still, the infuriating witch decided to speak out for him and save him from a horrific fate.
He was thankful of course, but he was also bloody furious.
She had cursed him with her kindness. His very own curse. Forced to relive that night over and over again in his dreams. Watching how his aunt torture her, and knowing that he hadn't done anything to help. And now he would have to live with the knowledge that she had yet again bested him. She was the better person. Willing to help a man who would have let her die on his drawing room floor in order to keep himself safe.
Sometimes he resented her for it. Resented her for the soul-shattering guilt she had made him feel. A guilt he would carry around with him for the rest of his life.
Draco shook his head violently, trying to stop his mind from spiralling and suppressing the heavy feeling of regret that had settled like lead in his stomach.
He was here now. That was all that mattered. And he was lucky to be so, because for a long time it hadn't been at all clear whether he would make it out of darkness unscathed.
After his release from Azkaban thirteen months ago, it had taken him a substantial amount of time to find his feet in this new and unknown post-war world. The first thing he had done with his newly gained freedom, was to find himself a new home. With his father behind bars for the next 30 years, his mother had decided to relocate to one of the Malfoy estates in the south of France. She had taken most of the family's house-elves with her, leaving only a choice few to keep the Manor in reasonable condition and take care of her son upon his return. Draco, however, had no intention to ever move back to Malfoy Manor. Too many horrific memories had been tied to the place and he was more than ready to leave the ghosts of the past where they belonged.
He had found himself a spacious Maisonette at the outskirts of Wizarding London, which was close enough to Diagon Alley for him to walk there, should he ever feel the need to abandon his strongly engrained pure-blood ways of apparating or using the floo network anywhere he went.
After securing himself a place to live, the unrelenting, anxiety-inducing question of 'what next?' had paralysed him. He didn't know what he wanted from his future. Had no hopes or dreams.
His upbringing had never allowed for those. It had always been clear that his loyalty would lie with his family and what duties he had to fulfil. It had been expected of him to uphold the family's traditions and their good name. He would marry young. Not for love of course, only for money and blood-status. His parents would choose a suitable match for him, they would be wed and he would sire an heir to continue family's blood-line, and eventually he would replace his father as the head of the family and take over the family business. It had always been his only prospect. His future set in stone, and there was nothing he could have done about it, no matter how much he had wanted to rebel against it.
But then the war came and changed everything. His father's unwavering allegiance to the Dark Lord had cost the family their high social status after the war, and with it most of their money and influence at the ministry. No one wanted to be associated with the name Malfoy anymore, the family business had been dissolved and for the first time in his life, Draco had been free to do whatever he wanted. Not that he knew what that was.
Unable to decide what to do next, he had fallen into a mind-numbing routine of procrastination, resolutely avoiding the question at hand by wasting his days doing nothing. He stayed in his home all day, hiding from the outside world and turned to Firewhisky as his sole companion more often than he would like to admit.
It had been a slow, but steady downward spiral. A self-destructive path of unhealthy habits and soul-destroying patterns. Anything to drown out the demons of the past.
It wasn't until a few months prior that his life finally took a turn for the better. He had strolled aimlessly down Diagon Alley, not really having a destination in mind, when he spotted the 'now hiring' sign in the window of the old apothecary. With a rather uncharacteristic rush of spontaneity, he decided to apply for the position, thinking that he wouldn't have a chance to be offered the job anyway, and was shocked to receive an owl with the confirmation that he was hired only three days later.
And that's how he had ended up here.
Draco was just about to place the last few vials of Horklum juice carefully onto the wooden shelf in the back of the shop, when the little bell above the front door chimed.
"Ah, Miss Granger! What a lovely surprise." He heard Mr. Edward's voice from behind the counter. "How can I help you today?"
Draco's hand froze in mid-air at the mention of the familiar name. Surely he must have misheard. He had been thinking about her and now his mind was playing tricks on him. She couldn't be here.
He shifted slightly to the left to chance a glance towards the front of the shop and drew in a sharp breath when he spotted the young witch.
Hermione Granger was standing at the desk, hair as wild and untamed as ever, and a shy smile adorning her soft, delicate features.
"Good morning, Mr. Edwards" she greeted politely. "I was going to pick up some more dreamless sleep potion if you have any in stock?
"Naturally, my dear" the old man nodded "Nightmares bothering you again?" He tutted compassionately. "No surprise at this time of the year."
Hermione gave a non-committal shrug, her smile faltering a little, and Draco felt his stomach clench. It was May. The anniversary of the Battle of Hogwarts had only been a couple of weeks prior, and Draco had been waking up panting and drenched in sweat almost every night since. Apparently, he wasn't the only one who was plagued by blood-curdling nightmares about the event.
"You know." he heard the old Potions Master say, "if you're having trouble falling asleep, you should try this." He watched the old man walk over to a shelf to the left side of the room and pull out a small vial filled with a murky purple liquid.
"It's a solution containing valerian root, lavender and hops. You just put a couple of drops into your evening tea, and it should send you off into a peaceful slumber in no time." He handed her the small vial with a warm smile. "It's on the house." He added with a friendly wink. "It's a clever little mixture, really. My new apprentice designed it for his personal use, but I was so impressed by it, I decided to produce it for the shop."
Draco snatched his head back and retreated further into the corner of the little storeroom at the mention of his sleeping solution. His heart was thundering in his chest as he listened to the conversation in the front of the shop, silently willing the old man not to mention his name. He wasn't sure how Granger would react if she saw him here.
He listened as the man continued, a sad undertone in his low, crackly voice. "Merlin knows, we could use a good sleeping aid. There has been a shocking increase in requests for calming draughts and dreamless sleep potions these past few years."
"Oh... That's very kind of you." Granger replied awkwardly. "Thank you, Mr. Edwards" and Draco could hear as she began rummaging in her purse for some change.
"Of course, my dear" the kind man returned, wrapping the vials in front of him carefully and putting them into a brown paper bag. "You take care now." He said as he handed her the bag in return for the money.
Draco shifted his stance slightly to regain sight of her. He watched as she cast the old potions master another friendly smile and turned to go, her chestnut curls bouncing playfully around her shoulders.
He let out a deep breath, willing his racing heart to steady, as he watched her walk towards the heavy, wooden door.
She was just about to leave, her hand stretched out to reach for the wrought iron door handle, when Mr. Edwards turned towards the back of the shop. "Draco, if you could stock up the dreamless sleep potion, when you're done in there, please?" he called, giving the blonde a friendly smile "Miss Granger has just bought the last few vials."
Draco's insides froze. Eyes wide with shock and mouth slightly agape, he didn't dare to breathe as he watched the young witch come to a sudden halt. Deciding to take the plunge, he quickly grabbed a handful of bottles filled with Dreamless sleep potion and stepped out into the shop to put them on the shelf at the front. Keeping his gaze fixed to the floor, he tried to feign ignorance, as he watched out of the corners of his eyes, how the curly-haired witch turned her head slowly. Her eyes scanned the little shop briefly, an expression of confused puzzlement on her face, until they finally settled on him. She stared at him for a few heartbeats, her big, chocolate brown eyes wide, like a deer caught in the headlights, before her lips curved into a tentative smile.
"Malfoy." she said in polite greeting, declining her head slightly into his direction.
Draco's eyes shot up to meet hers and his stomach gave an uncomfortable jolt. "Granger." he rasped, drawing in a sharp breath as he shifted nervously from one foot to the other.
The little smile tugged on the corners of her lips, steadily growing bigger, her expression so pure and genuine, it felt like a punch in the gut. Draco's head was spinning and he was struggling to breathe. Was he having a panic attack?
The air between them felt thick like treacle, slowly clogging his airways and filling his lungs, drowning him. He was sure the observant witch would be able to hear his heart as it was hammering in his chest with such force that he thought it might crack his ribs.
He stared at her disbelievingly. How could she smile at him? How could she be willing to exchange pleasantries with him after everything he had done to her? All the horrible things he'd called her, the horrific slurs, the relentless bullying. He had made her life a living hell at any chance he had got back in school, and yet she was standing there smiling at him.
For a brief moment he wondered if she knew how much she had messed with his mind. Did she know how guilty he felt? What was he supposed to say to her? He would forever be in her debt and the thought of that sent a wave of anxiety through his body.
The seconds ticked by as they stood staring at each other in silence. Her gaze was soft, her warm, friendly eyes fixing him with a polite curiosity. She was waiting for him speak. But he didn't dare.
In the end it was her who broke the silence. "You look well, Malfoy. I'm glad you made it out of that horrible place in one piece."
Draco felt another bout of contrition course through him. Glad? If it had been anyone else in her place, they would have happily watched him rot in a cell for the rest of his life. But she was glad to see him well.
And then her gaze dropped, and she broke their eye contact, readying herself to leave.
A sudden rush of panic threatened to choke him and before he knew what he was doing he blurted out the only two words that he could think of. "Thank you!"
Her eyes shot back up to meet his, confusion etched into her soft gaze, her brows furrowed. "I don't-"
"For your testimony." He explained quickly, heat rushing in to his checks. Merlin, was it hot in here. He needed to get out and get some fresh air.
Trying to suppress the urge to storm out of the little shop and hide somewhere in a dark alley he tugged nervously at the collar of his shirt as she studied him with growing interest, the ghost of an enigmatic smile tugging on the corner of her lips. His skin was burning under her gaze, but he didn't waver.
When she finally spoke, her voice was calm and matter-of-factly. "All I did was speak the truth, Malfoy. It's not a big deal." she said, and with that she gave him another polite nod and swiftly turned around to leave through the exit of the shop. The little bell above the exit chimed as the door fell shut, and with one last glance at her chestnut curls she was gone.
