A/N: This came about from a challenge in a Dramione writers' group and is several months in the making. The theme was 'Something's Brewing', and I was given the prompt of Invisibility Potion. It was first hosted on A03, but I decided to start uploading chapters here, too. It's still a wip but I've only a few chapters left to write - there will be 31 all up (I think) and a smidge over 100k words altogether.
Please note this work is not betaed - I've done my best to catch errors and misspellings, so please forgive me if the odd one has slipped through unnoticed!
"Hey, Malfoy."
Draco looked up and squinted, trying to identify the two — or was it four? — people standing in front of him.
Then he noted the red hair and identical visages regarding him solemnly. What in Merlin's name are those two doing here? This seedy Muggle pub, whatever it was called, was the last place he'd have expected to see anyone from the Wizarding world.
"Weasley. Weasley," he said, nodding carefully at them both. Moving his head too quickly was apt to cause the room to start spinning, and he'd rather avoid that particular experience.
The twins looked at each other, then back at him. "We'd like to buy you a drink," one of them said.
"Whaffor?" Draco said, slurring slightly despite his best efforts to speak clearly. "I mean, I'm all for a free drink, but why would you two wanna do anyfing—anything for me?"
"Well, we just thought it's a bit pathetic for you to be drinking on your own," the other one said. "So we thought we'd join you."
So they were only offering because they felt sorry for him? They thought he looked pathetic, did they? Well, true enough, he was a bit pathetic these days, but he didn't care to be reminded of that fact, much less by Weasleys.
"I don' need your pity," Draco said.
"Well that's just too bad, because we're going to give it to you anyway," the first one said again.
Draco wished he could tell them apart, so he could address them properly when he invited them to fuck off and leave him to wallow alone.
It was then that he noticed the two Weasleys both had drinks in their hands. One of the drinks was placed before him, and he stared at it for a moment, suddenly suspicious.
"It's not poison," one said, grinning. "Just bourbon."
"Well, actually, given it's the cheap stuff, brother, one might argue it is poison—"
"—or at least, utter shite."
"Could you at leas' tell me who's who?" Draco grumbled. "It's bloody in'furatin', not knowin' which of you is Gorge and which is Fed."
"He's more pissed than we thought, Forge."
"That he is, Gred. Maybe we shouldn't be giving him any more."
Gred — Must be Fred, didn't they always have that habit of swapping the first letters of their names about? reached for the glass in front of Draco, as if to take it away.
Draco, his reflexes still sharp despite the large volume of alcohol he had imbibed that evening, shot out his hand and snatched it up before Fred could grasp it, then brought it to his mouth and downed the liquid. He barely tasted it, which was testament either to his level of inebriation or the low quality of the alcohol — he wasn't sure which. Didn't much care either way.
"Fanks, Fed. Gorge. You gonna finish yours?"
The twins looked at each other, picked up their glasses and clinked them together. "Your health," they toasted, and swallowed their drinks in an almost singular motion before banging the empties on the tabletop.
"How bou' annuver round?" Draco suggested. He started to raise one arm from where it had been anchoring him to the tabletop, intending to flag down the publican, and immediately felt his balance start to waver.
"Whoops."
"As amusing as it is to see you in this state, I think it's time you went home to sleep it off," George said.
"M'fine," Draco insisted, even though he knew he was not fine. He wasn't sure he'd even be able to make it to the door under his own power.
"Come on, we'll give you a hand," Fred said, not unkindly.
He and his brother moved around the table, each grabbing Draco by one arm, and helped him to stand. The movement caused the room to tip alarmingly, and he found himself very grateful they were there.
"Off we go, Malfoy."
Draco was half-carried across the floor and through the front entrance. He stumbled again going down the steps, and was keenly aware he'd probably have done serious damage to his well-sculpted face had he attempted to navigate them on his own.
"You're a long way from Wiltshire," Fred said as they continued to lead Draco along the footpath.
"Don' live there any more. 'M stayin' somewhere near here. The manor was too empty, too much dar' magic," Draco explained. "Was awful. Hated it."
"Where is 'near here' exactly?" George asked.
Draco looked blearily around, trying to make sense of the distorted shapes around him. "Dunno."
"That's not very helpful," Fred said, unhelpfully. "Try and recognise something, will you? You're getting heavy."
"Just lemme here, then. Bugger off," Draco said. "Everyone else does."
They had come to a low wall, and Draco found himself lowered on to it, with Fred and George keeping their hands on his shoulders to prevent him from tumbling backwards into the garden beyond.
"What do you mean?" George said.
"Seems like th' whole wiz'rding world hates me," Draco said, sighing heavily. "Mos' of you fink I'm a Def—Death Eater, an' the rest fink I'm a blood traitor."
"I don't think that's true. Not everyone hates you," said Fred.
"We don't," added George.
"Why not?" Draco said, lifting his head, which felt very heavy, to look at them. "I poisoned your brother. You, Fed—Fred—you nearly died during the battle, when that wall collapsed."
"You didn't fire the curse that caused the wall to go," Fred argued. "And you didn't intend for Ronnekins to drink that mead. You did some shitty things, but you had your reasons."
"Yeah, well…" The night air was finally beginning to clear Draco's head, and while he was still spectacularly pissed, the sheen that clouded his mind had started to dissipate, making it easier to form coherent thoughts.
"No one would care if anythin' happened to me. If I dis'ppeared from the face of the earth, I don' fink anyone would even notice. And if they did, they'd probably throw a great big bloody party."
Now that he was more aware of himself, Draco realised he felt rather ill. In fact—
He twisted his body and vomited enthusiastically into the greenery behind him while Fred and George continued to hold him in place. Once the retching subsided, he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, righted himself and sighed again, embarrassed at the loss of his dignity.
"Sorry you had to see that."
"Not the first time we've seen someone in your state, Malfoy, and it certainly won't be the last," said George. "Now, do you think you can figure out where you live?"
Draco looked around him again, and recognised the street. "Yeah. End of the block, an' then a left. It's 'bout halfway down."
"Grand. Shall we go?"
The idea of a Sobering Potion, about a litre of water, and sleep sounded divine, but first he needed to get there. And he was aware that although his mind was in a more functional state, he couldn't say the same for his motor skills.
The Weasley twins helped him stand, and Draco took a few careful, experimental steps. It was difficult, but he found putting one foot in front of the other was no longer the impossible task it had been when he was dragged from the pub.
The trio made their way slowly up the street, Fred and George bookending Draco as they went. Not wanting to suffer the heavy silence, Draco turned to Fred and said, "How are you, anyway? With your recovery, and everything?"
Fred had very nearly been killed when the stone wall crumbled right where he was standing. By some miracle, he had ended up wedged in a very small pocket beneath the rubble, badly injured but alive. Percy, who had been with him, had managed to move enough of the mess with his wand to pull Fred clear, and then rushed him to a corner of the castle that was free of fighting. Even then, he had barely made it.
"I have my good days and bad days," Fred replied. "Lots of nightmares, but I think the worst part is that people treat me like I'm made of glass. I just want to move on with my life as best I can, run Wheezes with George here, and get back to normal, whatever that is. But it's like… it's like people are afraid of me."
"I think I can understand that," Draco said. "For diff'rnt reasons, o'viously. But in a way, you've been osr'cised, too. 'Cause you almost died and now… I s'pose it's like being a ghost, but alive. People see through you, even though you're right there."
"That's very profound, Malfoy," Fred said.
Draco looked at him sharply, thinking he must be taking the piss, but his expression was serious and contemplative.
"You're not a bad bloke, you know," George said. "I mean, you were a right dickhead in school, but circumstances change. People can change. What we do when we're young and stupid doesn't have to define us for our whole lives. It's what we choose to do as adults that does that."
"Maybe for you two, and for ever'one who fought against You-Know—against Voldemort. But for people like me… I don't think there's much hope. I'm tainted forever. 'Tween my family legacy and the part I played in the war… I think I'd be better off as a ghost."
They had reached the gate leading to the small flat where Draco was living — hiding, really — and he fumbled in his trousers for the house key.
He turned to the twins. "Thank you for looking out for me tonight. And for—" his throat hitched as he was suddenly overcome with emotion. He swallowed it down and continued, "For your kind words. They're 'preciated, even if I feel like this is it for me."
"Take care, Malfoy," George said.
"And keep your chin up," Fred added.
Draco nodded and bid the twins goodnight. He let himself into the house, feeling bone-weary, unbelievably exhausted. Not just because of how drunk he still was, but because life in general had become so stagnant.
He went into the bathroom to wash his face and rinse his mouth, then drank as much water as he thought his stomach would be able to handle without revolting on him. Then he dug in a cabinet for a vial of Sobering Potion — of which he had an ample supply, given how much he drank these days — and swallowed it down, grimacing at the bitter taste.
That done, he shuffled into his room and flopped down on the bed, not even bothering to get undressed or lift the covers. In moments, he was asleep. But even as he slumbered, troubled thoughts plagued his mind, and his rest was fitful and uneasy.
A few days later, Draco was startled and slightly apprehensive when someone knocked on his door.
Not many people knew where he was living, and he preferred to keep it that way. The press vultures knew he wasn't living at the manor, of course, but they hadn't yet discovered that he had been living in a Muggle neighbourhood since not long after the post-war trials ended.
Or, at least, they hadn't discovered his whereabouts until now.
Draco withdrew his wand and moved cautiously to the door. It was equally possible his visitor was a Muggle; perhaps even the postman. He had been delighted to know that Muggles could also order parcels from a shop via catalogues and have them delivered to their door. It saved him the trouble of having to venture out into the world too often, and gave him something to occupy his time when he wasn't pissed or sleeping off a hangover.
"Who is it?" he called.
"Fred and George," came the reply.
He took a step back in surprise. Why would the twins come to see him? Surely not to check on his welfare? He remembered them helping him get home, but hadn't expected to see or hear from them again after that.
Should I ask them a question to verify their identity? What if it's someone pretending to be them so they can...? No, that's stupid. And paranoid. Fuck it.
He opened the door.
Now that he was sober, he noticed one of them was missing an ear, and remembered that it had been George who had lost the appendage, the night the Order of the Phoenix had moved Potter from his relatives' house.
The twins looked relaxed and carefree, like standing on his doorstep was the most natural thing in the world. Also, they looked like they were up to something.
"What can I do for you?" he said.
"You can let us in—" George said.
"—so you can hear our proposition," finished Fred.
"Does this...proposition involve an experimental product?" Draco said as he moved back to let them step over the threshold.
"He's still sharp, Forge," said Fred.
"I'm glad, Gred. I'm glad. I was worried all that booze he drinks might have pickled his brain."
"You two are hilarious," Draco sniped as they made their way into his flat. "I hope your proposition involves more than just making fun of my unhealthy relationship with alcohol."
"Oh, you'll like this one. You could have some real fun with it," said George.
"And you can find out what people really think of you… if you're game enough," added Fred.
Draco's curiosity was well and truly piqued. That, and they were basically daring him to accept whatever plan they had in mind. Although he would always put self-preservation first, Draco was not one to back away from a challenge.
He flicked his wand and the kettle filled itself, landed on the hob and began to heat.
"Okay, I'll bite. Sit down while I make tea and you can tell me about it."
Draco indicated the small table that rested in the corner of the combined kitchen and dining area. Fred and George settled in, and Draco summoned a tin which, when opened, was almost overflowing with several types of biscuits.
"They're Muggle brands," he explained. "I'm rather addicted to them."
The twins examined the options with interest. "Do Muggles have lots of different types of biscuits?" asked Fred.
"Far more than in the wizarding world," Draco said. "The ones I have here are the best flavours, but if you wanted, you could have a different packet every day and it would take you more than a month to try them all."
The kettle sang, and he flicked his wand again to prepare tea. Fred and George were already tucking in. By the time the tea was poured, they had sampled the chocolate digestives, custard creams, jaffa cakes and were on to the jammy dodgers.
"These are great," George said around a mouthful. "We'll have to get some for the shop, brother."
"Indeed we will," Fred agreed.
"You haven't tried the Fox's chunky choc chip cookies yet," Draco said, pointing at one of the packets.
The twins immediately dived for the biscuits Draco had indicated, playfully shoving each other in an attempt to be the first to try them. They bit down, chewed, and moaned happily.
"So what's this proposition?" Draco asked.
"Oh, yes." Fred grinned. "We'd like you to test a product for us."
"We've already tested it on ourselves, of course," George said.
"But it'll be perfect for you, Malfoy," added Fred.
"It's an Invisibility Potion," they said together.
"Isn't there already an Invisibility Potion in existence?" Draco frowned.
"Well, yes—"
"—but ours is better. Lasts for over a day—"
"—and if you want to cancel the effect early, there's a counter-potion that negates the first one."
"And why do you think I'd want to be invisible?" Draco said. But despite his bluff, the idea immediately appealed to him. He was practically invisible to most of Wizarding society anyway. What would be the harm of actually being so?
"I think you know why," Fred said, his expression suddenly serious.
"It'd be a chance to really see people, without them being influenced by what they see," said George.
"It's tempting. But aren't there—ethical—issues? It'd feel like… well, like spying."
"It is spying, if you want to split hairs," Fred replied. "Which is why it's not a product we would offer to just anyone, because it would be so easy to abuse. But we talked it over, and we think you could benefit from it."
"Think of it as being like therapy. A healing process," George said.
"Of all the people you'd trust with such a potion, you choose me? Draco Malfoy?" He stared at them, completely baffled. "Why?"
Fred and George looked at each other, silent communication seeming to pass between them. Draco supposed it must happen a lot. It made him envious — he'd always wanted a sibling, someone he could have a close bond with, but it had never eventuated. As someone who grew up getting whatever he wanted, it had been depressing to learn from an early age that there were some things money and status couldn't buy.
"We think you're a good person at heart," George said. "But you're going around in circles. You've convinced yourself that you're bad, that everyone hates you—"
"I am bad, and everyone does hate me," Draco insisted.
"Everyone doesn't hate you," Fred argued. "Hermione doesn't. Nor does Harry. If they hated you and thought you were bad, they wouldn't have spoken in your defense during your trial. And what about the ones you went about with in school - Nott, Parkinson, Zabini, that lot?"
"I still don't understand why Potter and Granger wasted their time on me. And as for my housemates, they've all done the smart thing and left England. Blaise is with his mother in Italy, Theo is studying in Germany, and Pansy is in America, taking the Wizarding fashion world by storm."
"Well, what about you? What do you want to do with your life?" George asked. "There must be something you wanted to do before the war came along and made a mess of everything."
Draco shrugged and glared down at the tabletop, beginning to regret having invited the Weasleys in. What was the point of talking about what he'd wanted? Before Voldemort returned, his parents pretty much had his life mapped out for him — he would take over the family businesses, make a respectable marriage, and produce an heir. But after the war, after his family's involvement with the Dark wizard had tainted everything. Even if he did suddenly have options beyond what his parents had initially planned, he was a social pariah and no one was likely to give him a chance to prove himself.
He wanted to be left alone. He wanted to forget his fall from grace. He wanted a drink. He wanted to not be Draco Malfoy any more.
"What I wanted to do with my life back when I had one is irrelevant," he snapped when Fred and George continued to look at him, waiting for his answer.
"You deserve a second chance, Malfoy. But you won't get it until you can convince yourself of that," Fred told him.
"Look, just take the potion." George withdrew a shrunken bag from the pocket of his coat and enlarged it. Something inside clinked.
"There's enough in there to have three sessions under its influence," Fred said. "Plus three counter-potions so you can cancel the effect whenever you're ready. If you let it wear out on its own, one dose will last thirty-six hours."
"You can ask us questions at any time with this," George added, handing Draco an ordinary-looking notebook. "It works in a similar way to how Riddle's diary functioned, but there's no piece of twisted and evil soul in it. We'll see whatever you write in it and can reply to you using our copy."
"Or just come to the shop. It shouldn't affect you in any way aside from making you invisible, but if you do notice anything, let us know. And if you don't feel right, take the counter-potion immediately," said Fred.
Draco reluctantly reached out and took the bag. He opened it, looked inside, and pulled out two vials. One of the options was a rich royal purple; while the other was a vibrant jade green.
"The purple one is the active potion, and the green is the counter," Fred explained.
"Is it a true Invisibility Potion, or does it just conceal my physical presence in an undisturbed space?" Draco asked as he examined the vials in his hand.
"The whole nine yards," George said, with a hint of pride in his voice. "No one will be able to hear you or feel your touch."
"What about detection or revealing spells? What effect will they have on the potion's abilities?"
"None. As far as most spells are concerned, there's nothing there to reveal," Fred said. "We've thoroughly tested all the detection and revealing spells we know, and they're ineffective on whoever is under the potion's influence."
"And objects? Can I pick things up while I'm under its effects? Open doors, and so on?"
"You can pick things up, but whatever you interact with will appear to move on its own, so I don't recommend it while anyone's looking. Of course, you can always cast an invisibility spell on objects to get around that problem, and you can sneak past people as they're going through doors," George answered.
Draco nodded. "Okay, that makes sense."
"So what do you say, Malfoy?" Fred pressed. "Will you try it out?"
He looked at the vial in his hand. Thought about what his life was like now, how much of an outcast he was. His previous thought reoccurred to him — he was practically invisible anyway.
"I don't have anything else to lose. Why the hell not?"
He removed the stopper and tipped it up in a salute to the twins. "Bottoms up." Draco lifted it to his lips, and drank.
