Chapter 4

Draco's point of view

"There's so many boxes," Genevieve groaned, floating three heavy crates from the back of the store, her expression one of exaggerated indignation.

"And?" I teased, unable to keep the grin from spreading across my face as I watched her.

"It's going to take forever," she replied dramatically, her voice dripping with mock misery.

I chuckled, crossing my arms. "It's not, and you know it. We've already put away more than half of them."

"Ugh, let me moan. It's far too early for this," she whined, though she did keep on levitating the boxes.

"As the shop manager, it's expected that you put your wand to good use," I said with a mock sternness, raising an eyebrow at her.

"This is abuse," she huffed, narrowing her eyes. "I'm going to tell Blaise about this. He'll put a stop to your tyrannical rule."

I raised an eyebrow. "I dare you."

She shot me a playful glare, eyes narrowing as she floated another box over to the shelf. "You're lucky I like you," she muttered, but there was a glint of mischief in her expression. "Otherwise, I'd be causing a scene."

I leaned against the counter, arms crossed, watching her struggle with the boxes. "I'll buy you lunch. How's that sound?"

She paused for a moment, considering the offer. "Hmmm... lunch, you say?" she drawled, opening the boxes and floating the stock into place on the shelves with a little more care than necessary. "Fine. But if I'm getting lunch, I'm picking the place. And you're paying for dessert."

"Deal," I said with a grin, happy to give in on that one. "Now, let's finish these boxes, and you can pick out whatever fancy meal you want."

Genevieve let out a dramatic sigh. "You're lucky I'm a professional." She floated the contents of next box onto the shelves with a flourish, clearly trying to make it look more difficult than it was. "But don't forget: Blaise is still going to hear about this."

I rolled my eyes but couldn't stop the laugh that bubbled up. "Sure, sure. Tell Blaise. He'll probably just laugh and let you continue your 'suffering.'"

She gave me a mock salute as she levitated another boxes contents to their homes. "You're lucky I'm not telling him about your whole 'shop manager' comment. That was pretty embarrassing."

"Hey, I've got to keep up the act," I shot back, smirking. "It's important to maintain a sense of authority around here."

Genevieve snorted. "Authority? Right. Well, get to work then, 'boss.'"

"Only if you promise not to complain anymore," I teased.

"Ugh, you're impossible," she groaned, but her smile told me she was enjoying this much more than she let on. We finished ten minutes later, with her pointedly ignoring my told you so look.

"It's all looking good in the back," Neville said, coming from where he'd been arranging the boxes in the back. "I've labelled them and stacked them so that the items you'll run out of first are closer to the door."

"Thank you so much, Neville, for staying behind and helping," I said, offering him a grateful smile.

"Oh, it's nothing," he shrugged, clearly embarrassed by the praise. "I'm just delaying a dreaded suit fitting. I'm not a fan of being prodded and poked. I still remember how awful it was getting fitted for the school robes. It was horrible." He shuddered at the memory, making me laugh.

"It won't be that bad," I said, trying to reassure him. "Where are you going?"

"Not to Madam Malkin's, that's for sure," Neville chuckled, his face scrunching up at the thought. "She always makes it feel like you're on display, you know? Too much measuring and pinning... it's a bit much for me."

I smiled, imagining Neville in one of those over-the-top fittings. "I can't imagine you in one of those fancy, too-tight suits they try to shove on you."

He grinned sheepishly. "Well, I'm hoping they have something a bit more... comfortable. You know, something that doesn't feel like it's cutting off my circulation every time I move."

"Good luck with that," I teased. "Just don't let them talk you into anything too flashy."

Neville laughed. "I'll try. I'm just hoping it's relatively quick and painless, so I can get back to work and avoid spending the rest of my afternoon in a fitting room."

"Fair enough," I agreed, glancing at the clock. "I won't keep you if you're going to be late."

"Thanks," he said with a grateful smile. "But, hey, maybe you could come with me?"

I raised an eyebrow at him. "You want me to come with you to a suit fitting?"

Neville looked down at his feet, teetering awkwardly. "Well, not for the whole thing. Just maybe at the start... when I'm picking out the suit. You know, to make sure I don't accidentally get something that looks like it belongs on a clown."

I laughed at his serious tone. "Alright, alright. I'll tag along if you really want me to."

"Thank you," he said, letting out a sigh of relief. "Not sure I could survive it alone." He joked

"I don't, my mother joins me," I said, chuckling as I finished up tidying some of the shelves. I turned back to Genevieve, "You good to handle the shop for a couple of hours?"

"Of course," she dusted her hands on her apron, "go have fun."

XXXX

And fun we had. Neville and I had agreed to kick things off with a bit of mischief. He tried on the most ridiculous suits, each one more outlandish than the last. It was nearly impossible to keep a straight face as we told the saleswoman they were almost perfect.

Neville stepped out in a neon green suit, his face somehow completely serious as he adjusted the collar. "What do you think? Classic enough for a wedding?"

I stared at him for a beat, then burst out laughing. "Mate, you look like Professor Trelawney. If you're trying to make a statement, it's definitely... loud."

He grinned, completely unfazed. "Yeah, but imagine the wedding photos. You wouldn't be able to miss me, would you?"

I raised an eyebrow and shook my head chuckling. Neville snorted, then grabbed a chartreuse suit from the rack, holding it up like it was the most elegant thing he'd ever seen. "Alright, how about this one? A little more subtle?"

"Subtle?" I shook my head, still chuckling. "You'll blind people."

"Fine, fine," he said, tossing it aside, clearly enjoying the whole thing. "But seriously now, what would you wear?"

I raised an eyebrow. "Something classic, expensive but simple."

He shot me a sceptical look. "Can you even see that here?"

I smirked and walked over to the rack I'd immediately spotted the second we'd entered. "This one," I said, pulling a sharp black suit from the selection. "Nice, simple, and not likely to give people nightmares."

Neville glanced at it and nodded in approval. "Now that's more like it." He took the suit from me and inspected it. "Yeah, this might just be it."

"Go try it on," I said, crossing my arms.

A few minutes later, Neville emerged from the fitting room, looking sharp in the perfectly fitted black suit. "Well, this works, right?"

"Yeah," I said, nodding with approval. "Much better. Now you just need to make sure your fiancée doesn't want you in a pink tux." I couldn't help but joke.

"Wouldn't surprise me," he muttered with a grin.

I chuckled. "Right, well I'd better head back to the shop. Got work to do." I started gathering my things.

"Thanks for coming, mate," Neville said, his grin widening. "I really appreciate it."

"No worries, it was really fun," I hadn't had this much fun in ages I realised. With the opening of the shop, I hadn't had time for anything else.

"Right," Neville said, about to head back into the changing rooms, "Hannah's sending out the invitations sometime this week, so keep an eye out for it. And, well, I'll see you soon."

"Sounds good," I said, giving him a small wave. "See you around, Neville."

With a final nod, I left the store, feeling more carefree than I had stepping into it.

Hermione's point of view

Richard Barker was a lucky man. Lucky that I had been slightly late to work, and even luckier that he'd managed to slip the files I'd requested on Friday onto my desk before I arrived. They sat there, untouched and innocent, as if they had been waiting there all weekend. Feeling unusually light-hearted after a pleasant weekend, I decided to show some goodwill. As I passed out the memos in the morning meeting, I gave him a simple, unexpected thank you. He looked taken aback, almost waiting for a reproachful glance or a subtle hint of 'I know what you did,' but I just moved on to the next person.

He was also fortunate that, on this rare occasion, he had actually done his job properly, instead of the usual half-hearted attempt. After the meeting, I sat at my desk, opened the first few files, and dove into my work—evaluating the claims and sending out letters to arrange interviews. I had received a few responses over the weekend, most of them vague and evasive. Wonderful. Now I'd have to coordinate with the Aurors to see if someone could be available to escort staff on impromptu visits.

For lunch, I remained at my desk, content to immerse myself in the files, making notes and highlighting the ones with the most potential for rule-breaking.

The last file of the day was the one for ZM Potions. I flipped it open and froze. There, tucked inside, was an insert from the Daily Mail, featuring Draco Malfoy and Blaise Zabini grinning proudly on the front page. The two former Slytherins had opened a new shop last Thursday, which immediately raised doubts about the credibility of the claim. The complaint had been sent to the department just hours after the store's grand opening. The timing seemed far too convenient to be truthful—it was highly likely that someone had rushed to lodge a complaint, clearly not having forgiven the former Death Eaters. It was a spiteful move but one that I still had to investigate. I quickly drafted a letter and tossed it into the corresponding tray before glancing up at the clock. Crap, I was late to intercept Harry.

I packed up quickly, ignoring the surprised look of my colleagues who were also leaving at a respectable time, and caught the lift up to the atrium. Harry always left his office at five to five, and took five minutes to reach the floo. I was almost too late, but out the corner of my eye I spotted his scruffy hair waiting in a queue.

"Harry! Harry!" I called out, shoving my way through the throngs of people. Elbows jostled my sides yet it was all in vain as I was about three metres from him, when he'd disappeared in a puff of green flames. Deciding not to go to his house unannounced, I floundered unsure of what to do. My feet itched to go upstairs and find something to do in the stack of paperwork waiting for me on my desk, my head told me there was no point as the pressing matter was talking to the Aurors and they always left as soon as they could. My heart told me to go home. I was still nervous, I wasn't sure which version of Ron I would be getting. The soft, caring, warm husband I had loved for years or the angry, drunk, volatile stranger who had started to darken our home. I steeled my nerves, and joined one of the queues to the floo taking it straight to the apartment. All the lights were off, everything dark. I walked through the rooms, hoping that he was there, maybe he was sleeping. But no...Ron wasn't here. I could feel my heart sinking, the familiar numbness creeping in. I was so tired. Dragging my feet, quickly changing into a set of warm tartan pyjamas I crawled in-between the cold sheets and stared at the ceiling.

Ron didn't come home.

XXXX

He was back in the morning, his clothes ruffled and stinking of stale alcohol. He did greet me warmly, pressing an affectionate kiss to my forehead before stripping and jumping in the shower. I watched from the bed, as he lathered shampoo into his fine ginger hair. The years had aged him, his once taut stomach had bloated from excessive drinking, and the slightly bronzed skin that he'd gotten in his quidditch years had faded and he was pale. Even the freckles he'd had seemed to be blanched from his skin. When I used to look at him during the early years of our marriage, I'd felt my stomach heat with desire and now there was nothing, not even a stirring of lust. Panic flared, and then that's when I found myself crawling out of bed, opening the shower door and stepping into the steam. His blue eyes widened in shock, but he didn't hesitate pulling me into him and pressing kisses into my neck. His hands wrapped around, squeezing my arse. In one motion, I was pressed into the wall and he was in me, thrusting deep. I hung on, arms around his neck as he ground into me. With a grunt, he nestled his face into the crook of my shoulder and pressed a delicate kiss on my skin before letting me settle my feet on the ground.

"Well that was a surprise," he smiled lazily. I felt my cheeks heat up, the hot water beating down on my shoulders. At no point had I felt... the lust, for want of a better word. But I did feel the warmth of love, at feeling close to him. And maybe it was because I hadn't slept and that I had been worried sick about where he had been all night. I hadn't felt like this last weekend, so nothing to be worried about right? I pushed all my worries to the side and slid my hands down his arms, lifting myself up to give him one final kiss before I stepped out of the shower and dried off.

Draco's point of view

"We have a problem." It was the day after Neville's suit fitting, and I'd just wandered into the store mid-afternoon after a lazy morning. Genevieve had insisted I take the time off. She wouldn't take no for an answer—threatened to hex my balls off if I showed up before noon, so naturally, I'd gotten there at 12:01.

Blaise was standing in the doorway to his office, holding a thick letter of parchment in one hand. He beckoned me in with a casual gesture.

"What's wrong?" I asked, already sensing the tension in his posture.

"Take a look for yourself." He passed me the letter, and I sat down, feeling my good mood evaporate as I read the words.

To the Proprietors of ZM Potions,

As you may be aware, a new legislation has been passed to protect the welfare of animals. Please see document 1a enclosed with this letter. It is imperative that all consumable products sold by ZM Potions adhere to the guidelines set out in document 1b, also enclosed.

It has come to our attention that there is a possible breach of these guidelines. To ensure compliance, the Department of Animal Welfare will be conducting a mandatory inspection of your establishment.

Please advise available dates within the next week in which this inspection can be carried out. Note that failure to comply will result in the immediate shutdown of your business until we can ensure that no illegal activity is taking place.

Kind regards,

Hermione Weasley
Head of the Animal Welfare Department
Ministry of Magic

"Fuck. 'Possible breach' my arse." I muttered, slamming the letter down on the desk. "Someone must've complained."

Blaise didn't look surprised. His eyes narrowed as he took in the words. "What do you want to do?"

I ran a hand through my hair, trying to focus as the reality of the situation settled in. "We can't avoid the inspection, and we can't just sit here hoping it'll go away. We need to get ahead of this. We'll cross-check everything with the guidelines and schedule the inspection sooner rather than later. The longer this hangs over us, the worse it'll get."

Blaise nodded. "Right, but we should make sure we're ready for it."

"Exactly," I said, standing up, pacing in front of the desk. "We'll go over the stock and all supplier contracts after we close. We'll compile everything—our certificates of authenticity, the full supplier list, product details. Everything. We need to be over-prepared, and we need to show the Ministry that we're compliant, no exceptions."

Blaise looked at me, his usual calm demeanour bordering on concern. "Okay, but—calm down a bit. You've gone all intense again."

I sighed, dropping back into my seat. "Sorry. It's just… I can't risk this. Not after everything we've built here."

"Understood," Blaise said, his voice low. He poured himself a drink, the glass clinking as he set it down on the desk. "But you've got to keep it together. Panicking won't help."

I exhaled, trying to rein in the nerves that were suddenly clawing at me. "I'll start pulling together the documents. You check in with the suppliers, make sure their paperwork's in order. If there's a single slip-up, we'll catch it now."

Blaise gave a small nod, his eyes already scanning the piles of paperwork. "I'll make sure everything's airtight."

I stood up again, the sense of urgency creeping back in. "And we're scheduling that inspection as soon as possible. No point dragging it out."

"Agreed," Blaise said, his tone steady. "The sooner it's done, the sooner it's over."

I took the letter and crumpled it into a ball, my mind already racing through the steps we needed to take. It was Tuesday, it'd probably take two days to get everything together, we could schedule it for, "Friday?"

"Yeah, sure," he replied. "Wanna write the letter?"

I shot him a deadpan look. "No, you can."

He smirked, clearly used to the routine. "Figures," he muttered as he grabbed a fresh piece of parchment. With a flick of his wrist, the quill hovered in the air, and the ink began to flow smoothly across the paper.

I leaned back in my chair, watching him write. I hated that it had come to this—being put under a microscope, forced to justify every product and supplier we were working with. But I knew we couldn't afford to mess this up.

"Alright," Blaise said, finishing the letter and setting the quill down with a flourish. "Letter's done. I'll get it sent off."

"Good," I replied, standing up. "I'll start gathering the paperwork. We've got a lot to go over before Friday."

"Don't forget Neville's logs," Blaise reminded me, pushing back his chair. "He's the one who handled the last batch of imports. I'm sure nothing will be wrong, especially with Neville, and we did the background checks on the others but if something's off, we'll need to deal with it fast."

"Right. I'll get him to bring them in tonight." I rubbed my eyes, already feeling the weight of the long hours ahead.

Blaise grabbed his jacket from the back of the chair, his face a mask of calm determination. "Let's get to work, then."

As I made my way to my office, I knew we'd be burning the midnight oil for the next few nights. But I wasn't about to let some anonymous complaint jeopardize everything. I began pulling the big stack of documents from my safe, along with the certificates. Pulling up the list of everything we sell, I cross referenced it with where the ingredients were supplied and attached the certificates of authenticity and the documents on the procedures for acquisition of the raw produce. At some point Neville stopped by with his logs and a coffee, I worked through those checking them against our records.

By Thursday, I felt like I had little to show other than a growing pile of paperwork and an escalating sense of urgency. I checked in on Blaise's progress briefly and then locked myself away in my office again, determined to finish the mountain of work in front of me.

I didn't hear Genevieve's footsteps until she was standing in the doorway, her arms crossed and her brow arched.

"You need to go home," she said, leaning against the doorframe with a playful but pointed look.

I didn't look up immediately, just kept scribbling my notes, the rhythm of my pen scratching across paper. "Not until this is done," I muttered, not bothering to hide the frustration in my voice. I finally lifted my eyes to meet hers, offering a scowl. "Stop acting like you're in charge of me."

Her stance shifted slightly, her expression sharpening. "Don't do that, Draco."

I sighed, dropping my pen with a quiet thud on the desk. "Sorry. You know I didn't mean it." I leaned back in my chair, rubbing my eyes as if trying to push the fatigue away.

"I know," she said, stepping into the office with a small shake of her head. "But don't talk to me like that again. I thought we'd moved past this."

"Right. I'm sorry," I said, looking at her now, properly apologetic.

She tilted her head slightly, her lips curling up into a teasing smile. "We're friends, remember? I'll always forgive you for being a complete ass."

I couldn't help but chuckle dryly. "Gee, thanks."

She uncrossed her arms and took a step closer, glancing at the pile of paperwork on my desk with a sceptical frown. "If you're not going to leave, what can I help with?"

I waved a hand dismissively, not looking up from my work. "Not much, really. Just double-checking everything."

Her eyes narrowed, a hint of exasperation in her expression. "Translation: you're stressing yourself out further."

I let out a long breath, dropping my shoulders. "Sounds about right."

Genevieve took another step into the room coming around to kneel beside me, her gaze softer now but still insistent. "Go home, Draco," she said, her voice quiet but firm, cutting through the tension that had built up around me. "The inspection's tomorrow. We can't have you falling asleep on the job, I'll go through these and double check everything and you go home and sleep. You look awful."

I stared at the mountain of papers in front of me, willing myself to ignore the exhaustion creeping in. But her words landed heavy, and I knew she was right. I sighed deeply, finally meeting her eyes. "Alright, alright. But only because you're making me."

She gave me a small, approving nod, her lips twitching as if she were holding back a smile. "Good. You'll thank me later."

"No 'I told you so' tomorrow, you don't always have to be right you know."

"Oh but I do," she smiled cheekily, "now sod off and let me focus."

A/N: Chapter 4, done and dusted! Hope you enjoyed, now I just need to write Chapter 5...don't worry I have great ideas lined up for this whole fic and I can't wait to share it with you all! As always let me know what you think :)