Monday, July 7th, 2003.
That Monday morning saw Draco come early to his office. Too early.
For the last time.
That day, he would pass the physical ownership of the company to his mother. It was scheduled for nine o'clock.
It was seven o'clock, and he was sitting at the desk he'd picked himself when recasting and looking at the burnt marks that had stained the wood facing him.
He passed a finger on it; it didn't leave a track any more.
The oath was gone.
He would never have to sit here ever again.
He stayed there, still, waiting for his mother to show up for almost two hours.
Her assistant - despicable little … - had taken care of everything; she only needed to come.
He only needed to go.
A single and sharp knock announced her arrival five minutes before nine. He stood and went to open the door stiffly.
He stepped aside but remained silent. She wore some black professional robes with her usual grace and looked determined. Her gaze stopped on his eyes, and she gave him a brief nod as she made her way inside.
She didn't speak and went to sit at the desk he was all too relieved to leave behind.
She frowned slightly at the burnt marks but still didn't utter a single word. She didn't speak when she waved her wand over the shrunken stationery she pulled out of a small bag he hadn't seen hanging on her wrist.
The silence grew heavy.
When her despicable assistant made an appearance at the door, files already in hand, he took it as his cue to depart.
She didn't lift her head.
Draco walked away.
He passed the reception desk, entered the lift, walked out of it and was soon in the street.
He found himself wandering muggle London feeling numb.
Not even the sheer excitement and joy he'd felt the previous evening managed to pass through this state.
It felt like all feelings had just left him at the same time a huge weight he didn't remember carrying had lifted off his shoulders.
He could breathe.
But he felt nothing.
No pain, no anger, no annoyance, no headache, no need to do anything. No urgency.
No joy.
Nothing.
He frowned, realising he'd passed the Ministry's public entrance and was walking towards the Leaky Cauldron where he definitely didn't want to go.
What to do now, though?
The muggle side of the city felt all too frantic. Too hurrying, too loud.
When it'd been an excellent environment to release his nerves in the past, it seemed that it didn't help with numbness.
He should be jumping in place in happiness.
He guessed that his mother's behaviour had squashed the relief and joy he ought to be feeling.
Sighing, he turned back around and headed back to Blaise's.
Tracey entered Hermione's office this morning, bearing news she usually sent via note.
"Mr Nott's control report arrived this morning." She said, a file in her hand and readjusting her glasses with the other. She looked … weird. "He's scheduled in this afternoon for signing."
Hermione frowned before answering. "I'll look into it. Thank you, Tracey." She said but the witch didn't move. "You've read it?" Hermione asked, already knowing the answer.
"It's spotless." Tracey answered, looking at her pointedly.
"Is it now?" Hermione's frown would undoubtedly match that of her assistant/receptionist if things continued this way.
"Yes." Tracey answered curtly, definitely irritated. Hermione was starting to see what this all was about. She also realised that Tracey was privy to information that had definitely not been told to her. Although it seemed she hadn't told anyone, she was still meddling somehow.
"What time is he supposed to come in for signing?" Hermione asked.
"Three o'clock."
"Well," She smirked. "Perhaps there's going to be one of those surprise controls while he's in here then."
She was rewarded with the first direct and unhidden smirk Tracey had ever given her. It changed her entire face.
Hermione smiled back. After a pause she frowned, and started but Tracey seemed to know exactly what she was thinking.
"If I were the type to gossip I'd have a large press business surpassing by far Witch Weekly by now." She said sternly.
Hermione chuckled. "True."
"I'll tell Astoria now, if you don't mind." The witch said, her mirth quite evident.
"Please do." Hermione nodded, thanking, yet again, Merlin for Tracey Davis as the witch scurried out of her office with a satisfied jog.
It didn't take long for Astoria to storm in herself, not bothering with knocking - Blaise definitely rubbed off on her - a giant smile on her face as well.
The day started in an interesting mood at the Law Enforcement department.
"I took the liberty to send someone for Flint too." She said.
Hermione chuckled. "Little vengeance over an ex?"
Astoria snorted. "Only trying to send those two blackmailers in Azkaban." She said, her eyes taking a darker shade as she said the last word.
"Fair enough." Hermione could only agree.
"The oath is broken now, it's not like they have anything." Astoria continued. "Nobody is going to believe them now."
Hermione cocked an eyebrow at her; why was she justifying herself?
"You're still supposed to ask your superior, though." She said, squinting at Astoria.
"Well, perhaps I'm in to steal your job." The pretty witch smirked.
"Right well, good luck with that." Hermione chuckled. If only she knew.
Draco found himself at a loss as to what to do once he was finally home on the couch with a cup of coffee.
Wait, home?
Damn. Blaise's home. Who was about to get engaged.
He needed to find a place.
Not on his first ever day of freedom, though.
Absolute freedom, not only oath freedom.
Complete utter freedom.
He could start on his own business right then.
Or, he could fuck off. Go to the Ministry and ask for an international tourism Portkey. Go to Paris, wander the magical city, then head to Italy and then perhaps Greece.
He could go to Alexandria and drown in the knowledge.
None of this seemed too appealing alone, though.
Blaise would never leave Astoria now to come with him, and frankly, Draco didn't think he could bear with him twenty-four seven.
Hermione came to mind, but Draco smothered the thought.
She'd never leave her job, first.
And second, she'd never go with him.
Even if her peck meant that she was perhaps interested, a trip across the world wasn't something she'd agree to.
She had too many responsibilities.
She had never taken a holiday, why would she start now?
He had smothered the thought for Salazar's sake.
And he had to establish himself on his own before thinking of anything holiday-related anyway.
Then, perhaps Hermione … smothered, idiot.
How was he supposed to finance a trip across the world without an income anyway? He had money, alright, but not nearly enough to throw it by the window all day on vacation for the rest of his life.
Right, he'd said he'd open a potion shop.
He wanted to open a potion shop.
He had the ingredients, he'd worked on his rusting, although Blaise's kitchen counter was not ideal.
He needed a place with a laboratory. And a shop.
Well, it wasn't like there were many places to start with now, was there?
He forgot about the cup of coffee and accioed Prophet and quill, ready to find a place.
Hermione received a red note from under the door: Nott had arrived. She stood right away and walked towards the reception desk in what she hoped was a confident step, trying to muster as much powerfulness in her posture as she could.
She forgot the pretence as soon as she caught sight of him.
He was there, in the seat facing a scowling Tracey and looking right at Hermione.
He was smirking. The bastard was smirking.
"Good afternoon." Hermione smirked herself, walking to stand beside him. "Please make sure to read everything. I'd hate to have you come back tomorrow."
He snorted.
"Don't forget clause seventeenth article seven." She continued, pointing at the parchment in his grasp. If he barely repressed the jerk of his hand away from her, Hermione decided she hadn't noticed. "I believe it's of utmost importance. Ah, here." She smiled this time, a fake and ugly smile, her finger on the parchment just under his disdainful sneer.
He paled. Good.
"Surprise controls?" He startled, and his sneer morphed into an outraged snarl. "I haven't given your department reason to have those in over three years!"
"Are you sure?" She asked innocently. He growled, actually growled, glaring at her with hate.
"When?" He hissed between his teeth.
"Well, if I told you, it wouldn't be a surprise now, would it?" She kept smiling, not deflating under the threat in his eyes; this time, he'd get a piece of his own shit. Perhaps then he'd tell everyone that no one, no one, messed with Hermione Granger - or anyone she cared about - and walked out with just a slap on the wrist.
Astoria received her own red note but waited for a little before coming to see the idiot. She had to calm her breathing first. She hadn't actually seen the bastard since the commemoration, but with what he'd tried to do to Draco, she had a disturbing urge to barge out of her office and strangle him.
When she eventually walked out, poised, she had to stare.
She blinked multiple times, dumbfounded at Hermione's behaviour. The cold sneer on her face, the malicious glint in her eyes and the cold - oh so cold - but honeyed tone she employed were the most foreign things to see on the Hermione Granger's face. Astoria had never once in her life seen her like that.
Draco had, though, right?
Well. Good.
Astoria hadn't managed to say a thing, not even when Nott had finished signing the papers and stalked away towards the lift, stomping his feet like a child. She only recovered when Hermione thanked Tracey and started to the elevator after he was gone.
"Where are you going?" Astoria blinked, making her boss halt slightly.
"I need a little fieldwork." Hermione answered from above her shoulder. "Aurory." She called in the lift, a glint in her eyes that Astoria liked very much and that set jaw that promised some kicking.
"Blooms?" Astoria couldn't help but smirk, thinking of what was about to happen to the old lady.
"Indeed." Her boss nodded as the doors closed on her.
Oh, someone was feeling good.
Astoria smirked for herself and had to refrain a little jump and giggle.
Being in love did tend to make people feel better, didn't it?
A little pinch of revenge couldn't do any bad either.
Tuesday, July 8th, 2003.
Draco slowly made his way down the main path of Hogsmeade. He hadn't found anything remotely interesting in the Prophet the previous afternoon, and this morning's edition's search had been just as fruitless.
Hogsmeade was starting to look like a dead end as well. The only available location for a shop was near Zonko's, right at the village's centre, facing Honeydukes.
All in all, there was too much passage for his taste. There would be too many of the curious idiots currently giving him pointed looks that could enter his future shop for nothing more than a good gossip they wouldn't find.
There was nothing for him there. As he reached the end of the most frequented area and could see Hog's Head from afar, a bald man frowned at him before whispering something to the old woman holding his arm.
Draco had been getting a lot of looks, come to think of it. This was not unusual, but people usually waited for him to pass before whispering at his back.
Perhaps there was another stupid article. After all, Blaise's aim the other night had been to make the front page of Witch Weekly.
Turning back around sharply, Draco made his way back to the post office, suddenly quite eager to see what they'd had to say about his outing of the Ministry with Astoria on his arm.
He grabbed the piece of garbage from the kiosk near the post office and burst out laughing.
He was not on the picture at all, and those who were had been shot on another day.
The bright smile on Hermione's face and the fake amorous glint in Blaise's eyes weren't even enough to quell Draco's amusement.
The head title sufficed; Draco didn't even read the paper and banished it with a swift of his wand, still stifling laugher as he walked the rest of the way to Hog's Head.
ZABINI SPOTTED ARMS IN ARMS WITH GRANGER! LOVE POTION OR CHEATING PLAYBOY? WHAT DO MALFOY AND GREENGRASS HAVE TO SAY ABOUT IT?
His godfather had been right for all those years after all, the world was definitely filled with dunderheads.
Draco was still smiling as he entered the dark pub and was greeted by a pair of piercing blue eyes a tad too knowing for the man's good.
"What?" He frowned.
"You know what." The other smirked, his eyebrows shooting up a second.
Draco rolled his eyes; he had a right to smile.
Wait, he was smiling out in the open? What the hell?
"Salazar …" His mumble was rewarded by a chuckle from the pub owner.
"Looking for something?" The last eventually asked.
"A shop." Draco sighed, taking a seat on a stool.
"There's the joined shop from here, but then it's a little far from the centre of the village." Aberforth answered, wiping a glass.
"From here?"
"Yes," He nodded, "Go outside, lad, see for yourself. It's been closed for ever, and no one's ever wanted to buy it. I could have extended the place but … seeing as you're about a fourth of my patrons." He shrugged, apparently not so bothered.
"Is it always this empty?" Draco frowned, realising that the place was, indeed, always empty when he set foot there.
"Wasn't since you guys decided to live here." The old man smirked, his eyes glinting.
"Err …" Draco grimaced, standing right back up. "I'll check the window."
"Do that."
Hermione walked out of Blooms' interrogation room in an atrocious mood. Which was putting it rather mildly as she stalked back angrily to the lift. She tapped her foot on the floor of the horribly bouncing cage in annoyance as it stopped at least four times before landing in the atrium.
Abominably prejudiced and completely crazy was what that old cow was. Ugly too.
The old bint hadn't answered any of her questions, looking blindly at the ceiling until Hermione had eventually mentioned her heritage. Only then, after a whole hour of complete and frustrating silence, she'd started yelling, calling Hermione Mudblood and other niceties for fifteen minutes straight.
Looking back, it had been relatively easy to break the woman. Her 'testimony' - if one could call that screaming batch that - was enough to send her to Azkaban without a trail but just a deliberation from the Wizengamot.
Hermione finally arrived in the cafeteria for lunch under many looks and whispers, which was almost enough to make her snap. Taking a deep breath to calm her nerves as she ordered her sandwich, she realised that the looks had morphed and were different from what she'd been receiving the past few months.
People weren't sending her pitying glances, and fake worried whispers didn't catch Hermione's ears anytime she turned her back to someone.
They were more curious looks and gossipy babble now. And apparently, pointed fingers. Great.
Those idiots seemed to think they were sharing the juicy bits of the latest gossip, crucial pieces of information pouring from lips wet with delight.
Disgusting people.
It calmed her instantly as she decided to smirk her face off while she took a seat. She earned a couple of gasps. It was funny enough that they were wondering about her and Blaise.
Gossips had to be strong, though, for her to actually hear some of what they were saying. There must be another Witch Weekly article out there.
What with all the mess she'd made - or rather been pushed to make - the last few months, though, Hermione didn't think an article was needed for those idiots to gossip about her.
Between her scenes with Caroline, Judith and Martin, Harry - more than once - then Ron, when she'd exited the building with Blaise - twice - and Astoria going with Blaise regularly, then with Draco, and the fact that she'd certainly been seen at Weasley's Wizard Wheezes.
Oh, and charity, with the number of articles polluting the paper literature that had followed.
Hermione ought to have made a mess of stupid people's head.
She could barely repress her mocking chuckle.
When it had made her excessively angry in the past, it only made her chuckle secretly now.
Astoria was right. She was feeling better.
Until she stood from her seat and found herself face to face - although at a certain distance - with Harry. He looked particularly wary, tired and in a hurry. He spotted her instantly, though, and stopped in his tracks. He seemed about to come to her but hesitated, and still not quite sure if she could talk to him, Hermione kept going slowly. He gave her a polite nod she returned as they passed each other's way a few feet apart.
That definitely vanished the little smirk on her face.
Draco grimaced as he had to rub his pristine sleeve against the dirty window. The Scrougify had only wiped one coat of the dirt, and it wasn't sufficient for him to see anything.
He wrinkled his nose in disgust as he approached his face to peer inside. The view was of a dusty, dark and empty big room. There was a counter at the back and what looked like a storage room from which the door barely hung on its hinges.
Nothing that magic couldn't fix he guessed. Hoped.
It could do.
It was far away enough from the centre to avoid all the nasty people. At least the ones who would come or would take adventure so far away from Honeydukes would because they wanted to buy something, not because they wanted good gossip.
Gossips were lazy, after all.
They hadn't spotted him kissing Hermione in the middle of the path. They could have spotted the four of them a thousand times over at Hog's head, but no one ever bothered to go this far to have an insipid drink in a dim-lit and dusty pub.
Except for that bint Skeeter but that was dealt with. Well, according to Blaise.
A flash of seven bags of potion ingredients came to his mind, and Draco frowned. Perhaps it would be dealt with soon.
If not, Draco would have to remember to watch Blaise a little closer than usual.
Either way, the place was the best Draco could find in terms of location.
Hog's Head was no longer the badly reputed establishment it'd been during and before the war, what with Aberforth intervention in the battle of Hogwarts and all, but it was still widely deserted.
Lazy people didn't deserve to have good potions either, he decided.
He made his way back to the pub and its smirking owner. The last didn't let him speak and tossed him a piece of parchment with a property act and a sum on it before disappearing at the back.
Draco frowned at it as he made his way out and disapparated back to Blaise's.
Aberforth was practically giving the place away. The sum was ludicrously small.
Draco decided that, even if his fortune wasn't close to being what it used to, he could add a zero just for the man's patience and help.
He sent the check and signed parchment through the floo and sat back on the couch.
He had a shop.
He was free from the oath he'd thought he'd live with until he died and the atrocious company that came with it.
He was free to do whatever the hell he wanted, with whomever the hell he wanted.
Damn Hermione Granger.
Brilliant Hermione Granger, who'd had both ideas, break the oath, open a potion shop.
Soon, he'd be engrossed in potion making and selling, accounting and marketing of his own production.
He'd be behind the counter and sell the product of his own fucking sweat.
He was also smiling like a fool at the coffee table.
Another thank you note was in order, wasn't it?
Thursday, July 10th, 2003.
Hermione walked out of Kingsley's office, feeling somewhat unsettled.
She'd given him her report on Bloom's case. He'd frowned at her, asked why the hell she'd been the one interrogating. He hadn't waited for her to answer to tell her that whether it'd worked or not, she couldn't just compromise her position by being part of the actual investigation.
Something about conflicts she'd pretended not to understand.
It had worked, after all.
What had somehow unsettled her, though, was not his reprimand but the smirking 'good job' he'd given her as she'd walked out.
Perhaps the man had turned bipolar with age, either he was somehow, again, in agreement with her methods but couldn't voice it.
Maybe barging in there asking - no demanding – he appointed someone else to chair trials could actually work.
Or perhaps she was also going nuts.
She reached her office, not knowing what to do exactly.
Not five minutes after sitting down and picking some other paperwork, she received a letter colour coded for personal. It came flying in her office from under the door, as it now often did when Tracey judged something worth Hermione's interest, but not her leaving her chair. Hermione opened the seal idly, already recognising the handwriting and wondering why he would write.
Hermione,
I wanted to tell you that I am the proud owner of Aberforth's joined shop to Hog's Head and will be selling potions on short notice.
The place is crappy and dirty, but nothing that a few good household charms can't fix and once I've decided what the hell I'll sell and the name of the shop,
I'll finally be a potion shop owner and not the Head of a dreadful company.
Your idea, and your help.
Thank you again, for everything.
Don't forget to burn this letter.
Draco.
Hermione found herself smiling stupidly, the letter still in her hand when Astoria came in with what seemed to be the last reports from the Auror's department.
"What?" She frowned.
"Draco bought the shop adjoined to Hog's Head." Hermione explained, unable to keep the smile off her face.
"Oh, great!"
"Yes! Let's celebrate when he's ready to open!" came out of her mouth to her own blinking surprise. She frowned as Astoria grinned her face off. The witch refrained from saying anything as Hermione glared warningly.
It was indeed the first time in History Hermione invited the celebrating.
She found that she couldn't care less.
Draco,
Congratulations! I'm so happy for you!
As for a name, don't forget to put posh or fancy in it.
Let's celebrate the opening as soon as you're ready.
My pleasure, for the help, the idea, and the keeping of yet another one of your praises.
I think I'll steal your idea and have it framed.
Hermione.
Friday, July 11th, 2003.
Hermione,
The shop will be called fancy posh potions the day you put frantic bookworm on your office door.
Nevertheless, I spent yesterday and a good portion of the night tearing my mind off to clean the nasty place - I had no idea rodents could die from dirt -
and it's as clean as Blaise's carpet - before you split your drink on it, that is.
So, since it was your idea, after all, I thought that perhaps you'd like to be the first to see the place?
Before it gets invaded with Cupidos and bad jokes?
If so, would you join me there tomorrow afternoon at two o'clock?
I'll wait by Hog's Head.
Yours,
Draco.
Draco,
Head of Law Enforcement already screams frantic bookworm. Maybe just name it Draco Malfoy, and the place will also scream posh and fancy.
As for your rodent issues, I hope you've disinfected the place with sanitising charms. If so - and only if so - of course, I'd love to meet you there tomorrow.
See you then,
Yours,
Hermione.