Chérie, parchments and quills

Welcome to my Chérie, parchments and quills story. I hope you enjoy reading my Drarry fanfiction and are kind enough to leave lots of comments if you do XD.

I will say this now, I DO NOT OWN HARRY POTTER IN ANY WAY SHAPE OR FORM, AND THIS IF FOR ENTERTAINMENT PURPOSES ONLY. I thank Joanne Kathleen Rowling, for her wonderful Harry Potter book series, that with out such, this fanfiction would never have existed.

Warnings:

-Bad language and cursing.
-Scenes including arousal - but no actual sex scenes.
-Mentions of post traumatic stress disorder - PTSD.
-Mentions refusal of work due to mental health reasons.

I also mention things that occurred in the Harry potter book - or that occurred in Harry's and Draco's life from cannon.

Draco and Harry are thirty-years-old in this story, they both still have some scars left over from the war and that, but otherwise it's about finding love through a magical connected parchment. I got the idea through a film called 'You've got mail', a film I also do not own in any way shape or form.

Without further ado, welcome to chapter one,
I hope you enjoy my story. x

...

Chérie, parchments and quills
Chapter one - Le'Amortentia

The door chimed three sickly-sweet tones, and Harry Potter's eyes roamed as he slowly entered Le'Amortentia, tapping a purple and silver voucher against his left hand nervously. Sucking his bottom lip, his eyes widened to better absorb his new surroundings. He wondered then, whether he still had time to change his mind and quickly make his exit?

The room was certainly unconventional for a dating service, with its medieval vibe: bare stone walls, stained glass tracery windows on the side he just entered with the wooden door, and a wooden reception desk with blue and purple flowers. He turned, walking slowly backwards to admire the windows - the grey sky outside did not match the now blinding bright sunlight glowing through them ... charms, most likely. As he walked backward, he hit something behind him. Turning quickly, and ran his hand down the high-backed wooden chair with its black and purple .

Hesitating at first before finally sitting down on the chair he'd bumped into, he sighed in resignation. Why did he let Ron and Hermione talk him into this? He supposed, he'd only accepted to come because it was rude to decline a birthday gift. Although ... he secretly felt that this was the worst gift he had ever received - It was an invasion of his life choices to be frank, and his friends never left well enough alone. Yes, he wanted to find love, but he wanted to find it like a normal human being and not through some strange magical dating service. Hermione, especially, invested far too much of her time worrying about him and his future, coming up with crazy idea to 'get him laid'. It was almost as mortifying as sitting here waiting to be set up with a date - surely this was for desperate, insane, unattractive people.

His eyes roamed again, and he found himself tapping his foot as he became restless. Out of nowhere, flashes of a sexual nature invaded his mind, and a twitch bellow his waist made him shift back in the chair. Harry rubbed his eyes - chalking it up to boredom, and scratched his jaw line with the slight stubble. His attention was then stolen by the strange purple flowers near the windows - they sat in round terracotta vases, almost alluring in nature and seemed to move like a breeze on a hot day. Harry felt a little hot and had to restrain from fanning his face with the voucher. He fidgeted in his seat, aware of a growing tightness in his boxers, but he couldn't figure out why his body was acting so strangely.

The sounds of shoes clicking into the room turned his head, and a middle age woman wearing ... a purple and black medieval dress, walked into the room smiling joyfully. Harry suddenly felt like she wanted to play with him. Her crazy black curly hair - half clipped up, came down to her waist. She wore big purple love-heart reading glasses, and purple gem earrings.

"Welcome to Le'Amortentia. I'm Malaise Vixen, how may I help you today sir."

Harry blinked, he remembered to smile and nod politely, but he forgot how to use his voice. Either his ears were failing him or she sounded far away and airy. He was still shocked at her creepily cheery mannerism however, her strange appearance, wide dark-blue eyes that never blinked, and her big white teeth that beamed at him framed by her far too happy smile.

"Ah, you have a voucher! Perfect!" Malaise squealed at him, smacking him straight out of his rude staring and into embarrassment. "Just drop it into that cauldron and we'll get started!" Malaise pointed to the table in front on him, and he swore she battered her eyes at him – flirting.

"C-Cauldron?" As Harry looked, he noticed that a small cauldron had indeed appeared. He chuckled nervously, berating himself for acting like twat, and dropped in his voucher.

Suddenly a puff of purple smoke rose from a cauldron over on the reception desk, and just like that, Malaise was holding parchment and reading over it while he tried to pull himself together.

"Right, come through Mr Potter! Don't be nervous now. You're probably feeling a little out of sorts due to the Crelamotia flowers. Terrible this time of year, absolutely terrible! Yes, August comes and they fill everyone's heads with fluff. I blame the latona - invisible little spores with a mind of their own, but the flowers are ones of love and everyone reacts differently."

She led Harry to another room - similar to the reception room in fact, but this one actually had two comfortable purple and black fleur-de-lis couches and an oval glass table between them. The windows were most certainly charmed in this room, seeing as they were against an inside wall yet still glowed as if the sun was passing through them.

"Lovely! Take a seat then." Malaise pointed to the opposite couch, and once he'd sat down, she did the same. "How are you feeling now Mr Potter?"

Harry blinked and realised that yes, actually, now that she mentioned it, he did feel much better - much more himself. Malaise seem a little less eccentric and unlikely to jump him at any second now that they were away from the reception room. She was still in strange clothes, but she was not unpleasant to look at, and her dress did match the going theme. It was almost like he had been hyper-sensitive and aroused, but at least he could blame the flowers - apparently.

"A little nervous." He admitted, and offered her a shy smile. He wasn't about to admit how he'd been feeling a moment ago though.

"Let me guess. Your friends decided that you needed company in the form of a life partner. They brought you a voucher and then forced you redeem it?" Malaise said confidently, crossing her legs under the fabric of her long dress.

"Yes. That about sums it up, yeah. How did you-"

"You're not the first, and you won't be the last Mr Potter. Pushy, we-have-your-best-interests-at-heart friends, are the most common reason for nervous, hesitant customers. However, your voucher was purchased under a name not your own, and I may or may not remember the people who came and purchased it for one Mr Potter." She winked at him and smiled. "Says here you have the full secret parchment service. I'm not surprised. I am assuming your friends recognised the needs to keep your renowned name from influencing any potential suitors."

Harry nodded. Malaise seemed to be covering everything well enough, but he hadn't really listened to Hermione explaining it to him a couple days ago.

"What is the secret parchment service exactly? How does it work?" Harry asked, subconsciously biting his lip.

"Ah, well, once you have chosen your possible secret chèrie- an anonymous person that piques your interest, someone you would like to correspond with, we will write to said person to see if they would like to hear from you. We'll send you a package if they agree to be your chérie, and you will be given a magical parchment that has a partner piece. You'll be able to communicate via that parchment to your secret chérie directly, but there are rules. You must not share your real name, give personal addresses, or share any other information that gives away your identity or location. These are the pre-terms set between you both, that you both wish to remain anonymous and do not ask or actively seek out such information. Apart from that, what you wish to talk about is indubitably private between you both. You can talk about hobbies, feelings, general daily things and dislikes for example, and it is like a secret rendezvous between you are your chérie, and not even Le'Amortentia is privy to what the two of you talk about. The idea is that you feel comfortable knowing your identity is assuredly concealed, but also granting you and your Chérie the means to discover each other on a much deeper level in privacy. If such a time comes to pass in which you no longer wish to communicate with them, you can let us know and we can kindly reject them on your behalf. Likewise, if you both decide you wish to meet, we will arrange for you both to meet here in the safety of one of our meeting rooms."

Harry once again nodded. This actually didn't sound too bad, and he found himself gaining an interest as he started to relax. "How do you pick a ... chérie?"

"Yes, chérie! It is a French term of endearment, and we used 'sweetheart' as our chosen endearment here at Le'Amortentia. I will ask you some questions, we'll get you set up into our records, and then I will bring you ten possible matches. You can choose up to three at a time, but I recommend one to start with. A lot of new clients get a little overwhelmed with more than one. You might find that communicating with one person can take up enough of your spare time as it is. Is that okay Mr Potter? You do not have to use our service, but I think you'll find there isn't anything to lose. You might even find someone interesting."

Harry bit his gum, thinking it over for a moment, and then nodded. He'd come this far, it seemed safe and anonymous enough that no one would know it was Harry Potter 'The-Boy-Who-Lived-Twice'. His previous dates had been more interested in his fame then in him - a fame Harry hadn't chosen nor wanted.

"Might as well give it go." He shrugged, smiling at Malaise. Malaise smiled and a quill appeared with a small pile of parchment.

"Now, the questions I will ask are to find you the best match. No need to be embarrassed, believe me, I've heard it all before. Just answer as best and as truthfully as you can, okay?"

Harry, once again nodded, wondering what she was about to ask him. His fingers twined together nervously, and he hoped it wouldn't be to embarrassing. Malaise started with the usually questions: names, address, and age for example - assuring him that this information was solely for Le'Amortentia's records and would remain secret and confidential to anyone else. Then she started asking other questions for his profile.

"What age range would you be happy with in a partner?" Malaise smiled affably, her wide blue eyes peering up at him over her purple spectacles as she leaned over the parchment.

'I guess I'm really about to do this. No going back now.' Harry thought. He partially believed that, as interesting and anonymous as this was, it most likely wouldn't result in anything more than correspondence with a few creepy guys. They could literally write nothing but lies to him. Another part of himself however, was immensely curious.

The pen hovered in Malaise's hand above the parchment she was writing on, and he suddenly realised he hadn't answered her yet.

"My age." He blurted, before quickly scraping to correct his thoughts and cover up his moment of inattention. "So, Thirty? I suppose ... twenty-eight to thirty-two would be okay." Harry answered.

"Great! What gender, sexual orientation, and blood status - included magical creatures' blood, would you be happy dating?" Malaise asked.

Harry frowned. He may have gotten away with his loss of awareness just now, but wasn't this a bloody awkward question?

"Erm, well ... I'm gay. I'd prefer a male. Blood statues? Magical creatures' blood?" He frowned hoping he didn't look like a complete idiot.

"Pure-blood, half-blood, muggle born, unknown? And would you, for example, be happy with a werewolf, a veela, part veela, part giant, part goblin, elf-"

"Oh, erm..." He interrupted her. "I'm not sure. I don't mind muggle borns, half-bloods or pure-bloods ... but I'm not sure on the others. N-not that I have anything against them, I have friends that-"

"It's okay Mr Potter!" Malaise assured him quickly, picking up on his uncertainty and slight panic. "I will write down that you do not mind blood status, but that you would like to avoid magical creature blood for now. You can change your mind at any time, and do not feel bad. I am heterosexual, so I wouldn't want to date a woman, but that doesn't mean I dislike woman or have anything against them. I still have many female friends and acquaintances. You understand?"

Harry nodded - just going along with what Malaise said, but he wondered if he was being unfair to wizards with creature blood. He would date a wizard with lycanthropy, or one that had Veela blood for example - if they were the right man for him of course, but he didn't know about the others. Part giants put him in mind of Hagrid, and he shivered at the thought. Part goblin made him think of Professor Filius Flitwick, and he honestly wasn't sure how he would feel about the height difference. There were many other magical creatures that he had addressed in his life, and he had nothing against them at all, they were just like everyone else but -

Malaise's voice snapped him from his thoughts. "So, a gay or bisexual wizard, any blood status, but no magical creatures' blood for now?"

"Yeah, I think so." Harry answered, still unsure but happy to move on and get this over with.

"Lovely!"

Harry answered many questions after that, and they were a lot easier: height, hair colour, eye colour, physique, and then some stranger questions like: One sentence that your closest friends might use to explain you? What are you passionate about? What is your ultimate goal in life?

He must have been there for at least three hours before he was finally handed ten different possible matches, or possible secret chérie's. Malaise left him to go through them alone and only returned once with a cup of tea for him with a few biscuits. By the time he had finished his tea, he had already decided that he wasn't interest in seven of them. One of the aforementioned seven was into strange role play animal sex games - a rather big nope from Harry after nearly chocking on his biscuit. Another had an ultimate life goal of traveling the world to find new or extinct magical creatures, but Harry felt that it clashed with his own goals of having a crazy little family and keeping his job.

He was, finally, left with only three.

1:
A brown haired thirty-two-old man with green eyes, muggle born, with a passion for teaching magical children under eleven. Says he loves kids and wants his own family one day. His quote was – 'You can teach no one, only attempt to provide the conditions in which they can learn themselves.'

2:
Blond haired twenty-nine-year-old man with blue eyes, half- blood, with a passion for family, friends, and fun. His life goal was similar to Harry's, but he also wanted to make a different to people that struggled financially. His quote was – 'Life is not measured by the number of breaths we take, but by the moments that take our breath away.'

3:
Blond haired thirty-year-old man with grey eyes, pure-blood, with a passion for reading and aesthetics including nature, paintings, and poetry. His life goal was for a family, a chance to be loved and to love another without expectations, and a chance to be seen for who he is now and not who he was in his past. His quote was – 'Give me the storm and tempest of thought and action, rather than the dead calm of ignorance and faith! Banish me from Eden when you will; but first let me eat of the fruit of the tree of knowledge!'

It was really tough, choosing just one, but he kept being drawn to number three. It was the way he had written his life goal. Harry read the words again:

'My ultimate goal in life is to be seen for who I am and not what I once was - for my present and not my past. I want to one day wake up and find a smile on the pillow next to mine, a beautiful face looking at me with no hidden agenda or ulterior motive, but with unconditional love and passion. I'd like someone that can teach me how to love openly, and someone that lets me reflect that love in return.'

The sadness in his words, the hidden, desperate need to be seen for himself and not what others wanted to see - Harry could relate. 'I'd like someone that can teach me how to love...' That was almost screaming at Harry, playing with his annoying need to help others, but it also resounded with his own lack of experience in love. The quote was intriguing, and his passion of nature and aesthetics sounded peaceful - a life Harry certainly needed after the tempest rage of his own past. What sealed the deal however, was the last question: What do you want the person reading this to know? The thirty-year-old blond had answered:

'If they want someone perfect then I am not who they are searching for. I have made terrible mistakes and I will live with them until my last breath. My past is shrouded in darkness and I need that to be made clear; I have done bad things and my guilt will follow me to my grave. I am trying to atone for my past - I believe I have made much progress, and I am not the boy I once was. I am a better man today, but I cannot erase what did. I want a family, a life, but I need it to be real - fairy tales are not real, and if anyone chooses me as a possible suitor they need to understand this. I carry my scars, but I don't want them to be all I am, or all I have in this life.'

Harry shivered at the words. Perfect didn't exist, he knew that, and he certainly wasn't perfect himself. Perhaps he was mad for choosing someone that for all he knew could be a murderer, but the blond almost sounded like he had given up on love - that he was warning people away yet was desperate to be loved at the same time. It was a challenge, and that ... that was what drew Harry Potter in.