A Practical Decision
The next morning, Andrea met Draco outside the floo and promptly handed over at least half the items from his list the previous day. He stared at her, barely managing to hold it all. Where the hell had she gotten all this? And who was…
“You’re sure he’s okay with spending this kind of money?”
Andrea smiled as if she knew something he didn’t—which she did, dammit. She took pity on him and shrunk all the supplies down so they could fit into his bag and he was more than happy to accept that but she paused. Considering him carefully, she undid the charm—nearly bursting his bag, mind you— and cast a much more complicated one on the items while they were still in the bag. Draco raised an eyebrow at her, but she just smiled.
“I’m good at what I do, remember? And the supplies will unshrink on their own once you pull them out of the bag. Watch your fingers, but it should be a lot easier for you. Was I right in assuming you wouldn’t be able to unshrink them?”
His face burned, but Draco nodded. How did she know about that? His benefactor/client didn’t know about that, right? Who the hell would hire a potioneer who, for all intents and purposes, couldn’t even do basic magic? If Draco had had his way, absolutely no one would be any the wiser. It was because some of his coworkers did know that he had to constantly watch his back.
“Thanks.”
After that morning’s encounter, in which Andrea had bestowed a large latte upon him that he chose not to question, Draco made the rest of the trek into work without issue. He carefully stepped into his office—very on edge and looking for anything that was different or out of place. His eyes landed on his desk.
A pair of new, high-quality dragonhide gloves was sitting in the center of his desk with a small, purple origami bow placed on top.
His gut sank in immediate realization of how much those had to have cost and how they were definitely not necessary for his potions making, but his chest fluttered despite the dread as he realized they were for him . They even looked custom made… Sighing, he approached the desk, only to find a small note beside them.
Stop panicking. Mr. Doe requested these for you and said it was a precaution against any future attacks from “nasty little shits”. He said you would know what that meant.
Draco smiled a bit to himself, fingering the healed patch of skin on his wrist as he remembered the rush of magic over his skin. In hindsight, it had been vaguely pleasant and he wondered if it had been intentional. Healing everything from his back to his wrist hardly seemed— Wait.
It’d been his left wrist.
The Auror had touched his Dark Mark and hadn’t even reacted to it. Draco hadn’t noticed at the time because he’d been too busy bleeding out and trying to maintain his composure but what was he supposed to do with that information now? No one, not even the healers at St. Mungo’s, could touch his mark without flinching or wincing. It was a contact reaction, not something mental. Even if the Auror had been prepared ahead of time, he should still have had a similar reaction to everyone else who had ever touched it.
He filed that realization away because he didn’t know what else to do with it. Taking a sip of the coffee Andrea had given him, he moved to his work table and began pulling out supplies and putting them away in their proper places. Iguana blood in the drawer behind his desk. Chizpurfle fangs in the dark storage cabinet beneath his bookshelf. Niffler’s Fancy and Occamy eggs each in their own bottled containers on the shelf beside his brewing stand.
It was only then, with his hand on a bottle of Finke River water, did he stop to look at the quality of the items. This bottle had been imported from Australia only yesterday. The iguana blood was from a Blue Cayman ground iguana, one of the rarest in the world—and, Draco was pretty sure, an endangered species—and the pickled occamy eggs were dated somewhere between the thirteenth and fourteenth century.
These were high quality ingredients. Very high. Possibly the best that money could buy.His estimated total for all the supplies had been lofty before, but these? A single one of these ingredients was worth more than an entire year of rent at his new place. And there were far more here than he ever could need for the Wolfsbane potions, which meant that he might even be able to use these for other brews. Half-used ingredients rarely had the same resale value, so it was unlikely that his benefactor would want them back.
He took a deep breath, fighting not to become overwhelmed.
Draco did not know what to do with this newfound information or how to even begin to process it—like anything else this morning, apparently—so he did the only thing he could and began prepping ingredients. By lunch, he’d begun another trial of Wolfsbane potion. On top of starting the old one from scratch again, he’d decided to move forward with one of the ingredients Andrea had brought him for a faster batch that would be ready before the full moon. This one had a primary ingredient of Pink Bittercress and burnt Biteweed. He hoped the acetic properties of the two would create a similar compound to monkshood, but not too similar. Hopefully.
By six o’clock that evening, Draco realized he’d never even stopped for lunch. He was just cleaning up the last of his cutting boards when the sharp crack of Apparition made him jump and he turned just in time to see the Auror knocking on his open door.
“Hey, I’m glad I caught you. Do you have a minute?”
Draco was beyond suspicious and very aware that they were likely alone in the office—and that the Auror had used the words ‘caught you’. He was grateful for the ingredients, though, and for the gloves so he merely shrugged. As the man stepped into the room, Draco felt the wards relax.
That was weird. His wards were supposed to strengthen against all magic regardless of who or how Draco felt about the person and they even stiffened around Andrea, who Draco had no reason to fear. Was it some kind of dampening charm?
“What did you want to talk to me about?”
He was making a guess that the man wanted to talk, but he was praying that was all he wanted. This was so not the time for this Auror to suddenly decide that sexual favors were the best way for Draco to repay the debt he now owed.
“Um… I have a request. But I know that it’s going to take a lot of convincing and a lot of trust from you that I haven’t earned yet, so… Do you have any dinner plans?”
“You want to get to know each other?”
Draco couldn’t hide the incredulity in his tone, though he wasn’t really trying to. This was the most bizarre cross between a business meeting and a first date that he’d ever been on and he still wasn’t sure he even wanted to be here. Granted, the quaint little hole-in-the-wall bar was both Muggle and high quality so he had no safety-related complaints. But, still the Auror across from him was acting… shifty.
“Yes, and I know how it sounds. But, like I said, I have a request and I know that you have no reason to trust me currently. So, aside from my identity—which I am withholding to protect the child in question, not as some sort of leverage—you can ask me anything.”
Anything? Draco considered the man across from him very carefully. His first instinct was, of course, to ask him to drop the glamour because Draco’s curiosity had become insatiable but he knew that would shut this conversation down far too quickly. He’d been given an olive branch, and he wasn’t sure that he wanted to reject it yet.
“What’s the request that you’re so sure I’ll refuse?”
At least he could know what he was getting himself into. The Auror sighed and Draco was struck for possibly the tenth time that night by the thought that he should have demanded a third party be present. His mind suggested Andrea, but then again she was employed by the Auror. She was far from impartial, even if he did respect her.
“That’s fair. I did say anything and I should have expected nothing less. Before I tell you, though, just remember that I know it’s asking a lot and that I brought you here to build trust. I’m not expecting you to agree immediately, I’m just asking you to give it—and me—a chance, okay?”
Draco nodded, but he was becoming increasingly suspicious. What was all this talk about trust? They were business associates at best and if the request had anything to do with the potion then Draco was, by contract, obligated to accommodate it.
“Let me ward your office.”
Draco choked on his drink. He nearly spit it everywhere as the alcohol caught in his throat, burning for far too long in one spot. What the fuck ? This man, a complete stranger who wouldn’t even give his name, was expecting Draco to just let him mess with the wards around his office? No, not even mess with— replace.
“You understand how absolutely insane that is, right?”
The man evidently did have some comprehension of the fact because he flushed ever so slightly and averted his eyes to the table. Good, Draco couldn’t help thinking, he should be embarrassed. Even if he was an Auror, he had no right to go poking around Draco’s workspace let alone do anything remotely magical to it.
“I do,” His tone, unfortunately, reinforced that. “Which is why I was hoping to build a little more trust before bringing it up. But I said you could ask me anything and I wanted to prove that I meant it, so… Will you at least hear me out?”
This was a very bad idea and Draco could feel the apprehension prickling in his fingertips. He hadn’t eaten anything since the coffee Andrea had given him, though, and they’d already ordered so it would be a shame to reject free food… Plus he was still fighting that gut instinct that screamed at him not to piss his client off. He couldn’t lose this contract.
“Fine, order me another drink and I’ll listen.”
The Auror subtly drew his wand and pressed it to the menu that was displayed on their table near the wall. As Draco watched, the man uttered a soft incantation and spoke quietly to the paper before reholstering his wand and settling back into the booth. Maybe this place wasn’t as Muggle as it seemed?
Draco chose not to comment on the fact that he hadn’t been asked what he wanted to drink. He also chose not to focus on that subtle display of authority.
“Alright, explain.”
With a deep breath, the Auror leaned back into his seat. He seemed to be bracing himself for a long winded explanation or for a tedious argument but Draco refused to take the bait and comment on it. Instead, he just raised an eyebrow and waited.
“Okay, well…”
Draco kept waiting, but the silence dragged on.
“Strong start. I’m already swaying under the force of your persuasion.”
The Auror glared at him, but for some reason Draco couldn’t find an undercurrent of anger in it no matter how hard he searched. Was it possible that the man wasn’t actually annoyed by his sass?
“Eloquent as always, Malfoy. I was actually debating on where to start but since you’re in such a patient mood I’ll just cut to the chase. The wards on your office are layered well, I’ll admit, and they compliment each other with an almost scary kind of precision that I’m sure took a lot of research. But, they’re all external and their magic comes from charmed objects—don’t interrupt me, I’m not asking why—which is not as strong as a ward cast by a witch or wizard. It just isn’t.”
The man paused as if giving him an opening to speak. Draco had many, many questions and arguments to make, but he’d been explicitly told not to interrupt so he kept his mouth shut and merely waited for the rest of the explanation.
“Now, there are two lines of reasoning here: one of which I think will appeal to you, and one that I was told to tell you. Which would you like first?”
“Told?”
It wasn’t supposed to be an answer to the question, which Draco only realized he’d been asked after the word left his lips. He’d wanted to ask what the man meant by ‘told to tell him’ and who the hell knew about their little agreement because he’d been so secretive in the beginning. Apparently, he’d chosen his answer, though.
“Okay, a close friend of mine who is already aware of the situation and who is incredibly intelligent assured me that this logic wouldn’t fail. I’m not so certain, but… She said that I could replace whatever ingredients or body parts get destroyed the next time a potion gets sabotaged—and she’s right, I can and I would—but that would just make you feel more indebted to me than you probably already do. Again, her words, not mine.”
Their drinks arrived, interrupting the speech that Draco was being given. There was a whiskey sour placed in front of his host along with a shot of something dark and golden. In front of him, the server placed a pina colada. What the hell? Literally no one but Pansy had ever so much as guessed at his preference for sweet drinks and Merlin knows she never talked to Aurors.
The server smiled at them both and retrieved their empty glasses before moving back to the kitchens. As soon as she disappeared, Draco raised an eyebrow in question at the drink.
“Just a guess, you can order something else if you don’t like it. Anyways,” The Auror quickly downed his shot, but Draco merely watched. “She said that would probably make sense to you. And she argued that if I just added to the wards, then you wouldn’t have to risk losing body parts or being late on a potions order or something. She also suggested having Andy do the wards because she thought you might trust that a little more but I haven’t involved her because I wasn’t sure if you’d want her to know.”
“And the reason that you think will appeal to me?”
Draco could see the shot taking effect on the man and he wondered why the Auror evidently needed the liquid courage. So far, his arguments had been logical. If he hadn’t brought up this friend suggesting Andrea, he might have thought the friend was Andrea because they seemed to have a fair bit of understanding of how his mind worked. At least on the surface.
“Ah, yes, that. Well, logic aside, I argued for a more emotional approach. The reason I thought would appeal to you—because it’s honest and because I think you value that—” He downed the rest of his drink. “Is because I want to be able to protect you.”
Draco’s entire world jerked to a grinding halt. His skin flushed and the dulled, subdued ache in his chest flared to life as those words fought to register in his mind. He swallowed hard, his mouth suddenly dry, and he took a sip of his drink just to delay having to respond before he remembered what it was. The sweet mix of pineapple, coconut, and rum should have strengthened his suspicion but it just intensified his emotions. This was the same man who had somehow guessed at his sweet tooth.
“Why?”
His voice was choked and he prayed that the Auror wouldn’t notice but there wasn’t much he could do even if he did. The words were still ricocheting around in his skull like curses. No, not like curses—it wasn’t painful—like healing charms and cushioning spells and relaxation draughts. Merlin, the alcohol was really getting to him.
It was getting to his companion too, apparently, because the man didn’t even try to meet his eyes or hide the emotion in his voice as he answered.
“Because I have a bit of a complex around people getting hurt because of me,” he stated, as if that were the most normal thing in the world. “And because you’ve been hurt enough.”
The second part was quieter, added like an afterthought or a footnote of what was really motivating him. Draco cursed himself for thinking that way, but it felt so… sincere. There was a weight in that second part that screamed of knowledge and understanding and regret that Draco couldn’t even begin to understand.
He took another sip of his drink, trying to weigh his options. It was an incredibly bad idea and a little voice in the back of his mind was already suggesting all the ways that this man could screw him over with the wards. The alcohol was settling in his stomach—actually settling, this time—and his entire nervous system was on fire just from hearing that first phrase still. I want to be able to protect you . Oh this was such a bad idea…
“Okay.”
During his internal chaos, Draco had hardly looked at the man seated across from him. His face was flushed and not just from alcohol, it seemed, and he was clutching his empty glass like some kind of grounding object. At the sound of Draco’s voice, however, his head shot up. It was decidedly unfair how hopeful those eyes looked…
“What did you say?”
“I said okay. I’ll let you put up more wards and I’ll take down the few existing ones that would interfere with that. But I’m leaving the rest of them up, and I want you to key them to my magical signature as well as yours. That’s my compromise, do we have a deal?”
“Oh my god yes absolutely—”
They stopped, both immediately aware of the server who had just moved within earshot. Draco noted the Muggled expression ‘oh my god’ absentmindedly, wondering if the man across from him was a Muggleborn, but then again even Draco had begun adopting a mixture of expressions after the war. It was inconclusive at best, he decided, and he turned his attention to the approaching server.
The woman was carrying two enormous plates of food and set one—a lobster and pasta dish—in front of the Auror. Decadence and indulgence were clearly the two main themes here. His stomach panged when he realized that the other plate of bread and pasta was for him. He hadn’t had non-microwavable pasta in years .
Draco only vaguely listened as the server asked if there was anything else they needed, how the drinks were, etc. He let the Auror answer because he was overwhelmed by everything at the moment and he honestly just wanted to eat his food in peace. Once the woman had moved away out of earshot again, the Auror met his gaze.
“Thank you, Draco, for trusting me.”
A part of him fought to deny that statement and protest that he wasn’t trusting anyone, he was just making a smart business decision that would save him from any less forgiving potion contracts. It wasn’t worth the conflict, though, so he just gave a nod and began to eat.
He supposed he could have continued the conversation and tested the waters to see just how far that ‘ask me anything’ would stretch, but he didn’t feel like it. The pasta was heavy and delicious and it settled his stomach like some kind of medicine. Alcohol was a good numbing agent, but carbs Draco decided were the ultimate source of internal comfort and he was content to just relish the feeling.
“Just out of curiosity…”
Draco looked up, but even with all the bread and pasta he’d eaten the alcohol was still running rampant in his veins. If he looked hard, he could have sworn he saw a hint of playfulness in the man’s eyes. As if sensing his attention, the man smiled.
“Purely for the sake of scientific research, which line of reasoning would you say managed to convince you?”
Again, he felt a flush creep up into his cheeks but he didn’t bother trying to hide it. He took another sip of his pina colada, pretending to truly consider and weigh the question. As if it even was a question, honestly. I want to be able to protect you . Without even realizing what he was doing, he let a small smile slip out onto his face.
“Definitely your friend’s. I never make decisions based on emotion or intuition.”
But they were both smiling now. Another server came to collect their plates, this time interrupting nothing but a comfortable silence. The Auror didn’t pay for the meal, from what Draco could see, but that didn’t seem to be an issue and he wondered if the man was a regular and had a tab of some kind. Maybe he’d investigate that later.
“Thank you for dinner, Mr. Doe.”
Another unfairly bright smile turned to him as they exited the bar/restaurant, whichever it was. The man was leading him, Draco realized, without even seeming to be aware of it. He wasn’t protesting, though. As they reached the closest public floo, the man stepped away to let him through.
“Thank you for making the logical decision, Mr. Malfoy.”
Draco woke up in a good mood. He hadn’t slept long, but he’d slept hard and it was the most refreshed he’d felt since discovering Muggle espresso shots. After last night’s dinner and ‘discussion’, Draco was almost happy to go to work and he made his way into his office in record time.
Unfortunately, he was not greeted by a glamoured man with money to burn.
“Somebody woke up on the right side of the bed.”
Kaiser was standing in the center of his workspace, eyeing his new ingredients with something between greed and suspicion. Of course it made no sense why Draco would suddenly have such amazing ingredients or why he now had his own personal Gatherer who had been hired outside of Whirlwind, but Draco didn’t even pretend to have an excuse for it.
“Can I help you?”
Kaiser’s brow pinched as Draco moved behind his desk and tried to subtly conceal some of the most valuable ingredient jars. If word got out that he had this stuff—and it would, if Kaiser had anything to say about it—there would be no end to the attempted bribery, break-ins, and pure theft that would befall his office. Dammit.
“Merely popping in to see how things are going. You’ve apparently found a source of supplemental income, somehow..?”
Draco stiffened, suddenly very aware that Kaiser had been already inside his office, waiting for him. They’d gotten in, presumably, without even trying and Draco’s wards hadn’t done a damn thing. What if Kaiser had put the dysprosium in his cauldron? The entire idea put him on edge, and Draco was beginning to wish that his benefactor would come sooner just so things like this would stop happening.
He didn’t have to explain the ingredients, though. From the moment he’d accepted the contract, Draco had tried to come up with a way to explain his sudden influx of cash that would appear on his monthly progress statements. Which, of course, came out on the fifth of every month. No wonder Kaiser had come poking around. The statement combined with these ingredients reeked of suspicion. But Draco didn’t have permission—or the desire, honestly—to reveal his benefactor.
“Things are going fine. Was there anything specific you wanted to ask me about?”
Kaiser’s frown deepened, but they apparently had no specific complaints. They couldn’t outright demand to know where Draco had gotten the ingredients or his newest client and they couldn’t make him break confidentiality, even if they wanted to. Draco was well aware that it was a norm at Whirlwind Industries for employees to discuss their work with one another. Potioneers would sneer and gossip about anyone who came in looking for an even slightly embarrassing brew and they would latch onto Draco’s newest client like hagravens.
“If that’s all, I really must be getting back to work.”
Kaiser took the dismissal silently, still frowning as they disappeared out into the hall. Forcing a deep breath, Draco managed to set down his bag before another voice accosted him.
“Hey, is the coast clear?”
Andrea’s perky short brown curls were quite possibly the only sight that Draco would have welcomed in that moment. He smiled despite himself and motioned for her to close the door behind her.
“Yes, they’re gone. I take it you haven’t found yourself a new friend?”
The Gatherer grinned and deposited herself on the settee she’d transfigured the day before, throwing her boots up on his desk in what was apparently now a habit. Draco didn’t exactly mind, though. It was endearing and reminded him a bit of Pansy’s rebellious spirit.
“Not really, but Blight and Blunder didn’t do me any favors either. They really hate you, you know that?”
“Bright and Bender,” Draco corrected. “And yes, I’m aware. I’m hardly anyone’s favorite here at Whirlwind and neither, by association, are you. Have you brought me any goodies today?”
Andrea rolled her eyes but pulled an oilskin packet out of her pocket and tossed it onto his desk. A coffee appeared in her hand—again from seemingly nowhere, Draco was really going to have to figure out how she was doing that—and she gestured for him to open it. He was hesitant and trying to remember if he’d put any live or harmful creatures on his list, but she merely waited. Finally, he caved and gave into his curiosity.
Untying the fastener, he opened it cautiously and tried to see inside. It was pitch black and he looked to Andrea for any final indication that he should be careful or that this thing could be damaged by him touching it. She was just watching him and sipping her coffee, though. He tipped the packet until the contents fell into his hands.
It was a small bundle of shimmering, gossamer threads. They were so light that Draco wouldn’t have believed he was holding them if he couldn’t see them with his own eyes. Just as he was about to set the packet down and examine them, however, a little scrap of paper flitted out and landed on the desk.
Draco would know that neat, pointed scrawl anywhere.
He’d read it off a chalkboard for years and seen it in angry red ink on thousands of his assignments. Snape’s handwriting glared up at him from the page. It was a potion recipe, Draco realized, and one of the ingredients had been circled in a different color ink. Arachne’s Web .
“This wasn’t on my list.”
Andrea shrugged, eyes skirting over the strands of web as if these were common, everyday cobwebs. These couldn’t possibly be from the Arachne, could they? He tried to search her expression to see if this was some kind of joke, but she wasn’t paying attention to him. Instead, she’d raised her wand and somehow conjured another coffee. She placed it gingerly in front of him.
“No, and I actually had a lead on some really nice selkie teeth over in Winnipeg but he insisted this was a higher priority. He’s never pulled me off a lead before, so I didn’t argue. I didn’t read the paper—wasn’t sure if it was private or not—but he said you would probably need an extra set of hands for today so I’m all yours. What are we doing?”
Draco hadn’t done more than skim the recipe but from the sheer volume of ingredients alone he could guess that this was a very laborious potion. It didn’t have a title or a name, but he read through the ingredients again. Phoenix bone marrow, Dryad breath, Cuddlebane, Arachne’s Web, Dragonshide, Bleak Azolla… They were all ingredients with protective or shielding properties.
“It’s a recipe,” he finally offered, holding up the scrap of paper. “For a potion I’m guessing he wants me to make for whatever wards he has planned. There aren’t instructions but it’s my godfather’s handwriting so I can make a good guess at what he would have done. Can you start extracting the phoenix bone marrow?”
Andrea’s eyes widened in muted surprise, but she set down her coffee and moved to a side table Draco rarely used. Evidently, she was not just a Gatherer because she needed no instruction to prep the surface, clean her tools, or put on protective gloves. She retrieved the phoenix bones and began splitting them with the handle of her knife.
“So… I’m going to ask about the wards or the godfather. Which one would you like to explain?”
Draco glared at the scrap of paper, trying to imagine what measurement of Dryad breath Snape would have used. The official scale was in PSI (pressure per square inch) but that hardly translated well when you were using containment bubble charms to hold and measure the gas. He opted for two thumbs worth of gas and blew it gently into an empty cauldron.
“Earth to Draco? Wards or godfather, your choice.”
Andrea was American and explaining Snape would involve so much describing of the war… Draco sighed and began sectioning out pieces of azolla to be minced later.
“Wards, I guess. Mr. Doe—or whatever you want to call him—dropped by last night and took me to dinner. He made his case and asked me to let him ward my office to prevent future sabotage or any kind of dangerous reaction. I agreed. I’m guessing he needs this potion for whatever he has planned.”
For a minute, Draco thought he might get off scot free. Andrea seemed fully immersed in her marrow extraction and she didn’t immediately fire back with more questions, so maybe he’d escaped? He should have known better, though. She wasn’t letting him off, she was just considering her next question very carefully.
“And you still don’t know who he is?” Draco shook his head. “And you expect me to believe that you just agreed? I’ve known you for less than two days and I can already tell you’re an unhealthy level of paranoid. There’s no way in hell you would let a complete stranger cast their own wards on your office just because they bought you dinner.”
She was absolutely right and they both knew it. How was he supposed to explain the alcohol and the ‘ask me anything’ and the I want to be able to protect you ? Merlin… He was in over his head. Even now, the memory of those words sent warmth cascading down over his shoulders.
“You actually trust him, don’t you?”
Andrea was studying him intensely, but Draco realized too late to do anything about his expression. He didn’t have an answer or an explanation. Rather than fumble with arguments that had no foundation, he just redoubled his efforts de-leafing the azolla and stolidly refused to make eye contact.
“It was a practical decision, Andrea, and you’re being far too careful with those bones. Just get what you can, we don’t have time to waste. I’m afraid our employer has a rather optimistic understanding of brewing times—not to mention all the other brews I’m working on—and might very well expect the finished product by tonight.”