Draco’s lab is very closed in. The stone walls are lined with shelves that jut out into the tiny space. I don’t want to touch anything on those shelves, in fear of Draco’s harsh words. Last week I knocked over a potions bottle, and he yelled at me. He said I was incompetent, a walking disaster, a disgrace to my pure-blood heritage.
I didn’t tell him that sometimes, I agree.
So today, afraid of messing things up again, I stay in a small space near the center of the room. I hold my pot of honking daffodils, clutching the ceramic base to my chest. The flowers tickle my chin, but every time I fidget Draco berates me.
I fidget anyway, moving the plant and shuffling my feet. I’m trying to be patient, but I’m nervous in the potions lab, and the pollen in the plant is making me want to sneeze.
“Stop it!” Draco snaps. He scowls at me. “Can’t you hold still, Longbottom?”
“Sorry,” I say in a small voice.
Draco goes back to stirring his potion. He’s let his blond hair grow a bit long, and he ties it back in a ponytail when he works. A few strands fall across his face, and he pushes them behind his ear impatiently. He is rather attractive, but I could never tell him that. He’d never want to be with a clutz like me, anyway.
I let out a quiet sigh, and let my mind wander. For some reason, Draco likes keeping me waiting, and I might as well think about other things besides, you know, not messing up his lab.
---
It’s been like this for a while. Draco makes potions, and I am an herbalist. When he needs a particular plant for a potion, I grow it, and bring it to him. He keeps me waiting for a rather long time, then interrogates me about the properties of the plant, and how it was grown. Eventually, he takes it and sends me away, usually with a new request.
He’s changed since the war. He is even harsher, and more impatient than he was when we were at Hogwarts, but he has lost much of the Malfoy pride. This is probably because he has also lost much of the Malfoy wealth. Much of the estate was destroyed during the war, and when Aurors found the dungeons and Dark artifacts beneath the remains of the Manor, the rest was taken as evidence of Death Eater activities.
Now he does this, and he treats me like his minion. I grow plants, research their properties, and create hybrids, and he uses them in potions. He sells them to St. Mungo’s and various apothecaries, and I get a few galleons out of it.
So, we’ve been working together like this for a few years now, and I still don’t know much about him. He’s very private, and never talks about anything with me but plants and potions. He purposefully makes me feel uncomfortable, with his cold stares and harsh demeanor. He may be attractive, but he’s still a git.
---
The potion is bubbling now, and Draco finally turns his attention to me.
“Let me see it.”
I hand him the honking daffodils, and he examines them in the low light, one eyebrow raised.
“What is this?” he asks, pointing to something in the middle of the plant.
I lean forward to see better. There are small brown marks on a few of the leaves.
“It’s been out of direct sunlight for an hour now,” I explain. “If you put it in a window, those will fade away.”
There are, of course, no windows in the lab, but he nods anyway. He puts a preservation spell on the plant and turns away from me.
“This is a restorative draught. I need to ground up the petals of the daffodil. It will thicken the potion. You said last month that there are tiny vibrating hairs on the plant. They should help to churn the potion. This one needs to boil for a long time.”
He said all of this without looking at me. I nodded. I still don’t know much about potions, but everything he said about the honking daffodil was true.
“Bubotuber has restorative properties too, and of course Mandrake. Mandrakes take a long time to grow, though. I’ve crossed the Muggle juniper plant with some of the magical restorative plants, though, and it seems to speed up the growth.”
Draco looks interested. He begins picking the petals off the daffodils. “How fast would Mandrake grow?” He askes.
“I’m not really sure yet,” I reply.
“Test it,” he demands.
“You can’t just order me-“ his glare stops me from saying something stupid. “I can do that,” I say. I turn to leave.
“Oh, and Longbottom?”
“Yeah?”
“You look like you haven’t slept in a month. Before you start the Mandrake research, take a few days off. You look like you can use it.”
I can’t hide my shock that he actually seems concerned, and he doesn’t say anything else.
---
It’s late when I get home. The house is small and uncluttered. I try not to be too sentimental, so I don’t hold on to things. Not since Dean left, anyway.
I make dinner, but I only eat half of it. I haven’t eaten or slept properly in a long time. I should take care of myself. I’m probably going to make myself sick. But it hardly seems worth it, when all I’ve got is this house and my plants, and a crappy job with Draco Malfoy.
My friends have drifted away. They’ve all got their own lives, families, jobs. I felt like a burden so often, hanging on them. I haven’t seen Ron or Harry or Seamus or even Lavender since… well, since Dean left.
I clean up my dishes and go to bed, carefully removing and folding my robes. When Dean was here, I would have just let my clothes fall haphazardly to the floor, desperate for his touch, his kisses. Now I place them neatly in the laundry basket in the corner. No reason to make a mess, right.
I crawl beneath the blankets, staying on my side of the bed, even though he isn’t here any more, and it doesn’t matter if I spread my legs out.
At least I don’t cry at night anymore.
---
It occurs to me over the next few days that I have nothing to do and no one to do it with. I have nothing to do but tend my plants and think. So that’s what I do.
I think about the friends I’ve lost touch with, about… Dean.
It had all seemed so perfect. We let the events of the war slide to the back or our memories, and focused on each other. Our relationship was sweet and passionate, and all I needed was him. He got me to open up, to trust people, to love him.
Then he left. One day, he just packed up his things and left, and then I had nothing. He said he was depressed and needed to figure things out. I don’t know where he is now.
And Merlin, it hurt. I don’t know how long I cried after that, but eventually there were no more tears left to cry.
I became reclusive. That’s when I lost touch with everyone.
So now, with nothing left to do and no one left to see, I go back to my plants, because they, at least, still need me.
---
I go back to Draco’s lab to give a report on the progress of the Mandrake experiment. I always say I can just owl this sort of thing to him, but he always insists that I go to the lab. I don’t argue much, because I don’t get out of my house nearly enough.
“What have you found?” he asks.
“Not too much yet,” I reply. “The roots have been growing at an accelerated rate. I had to re-plant all of the Mandrakes last week, except for one. That one I intend to do some more experimentation on, to find out why.”
Draco nods. “Did you take a few days off?” he asks.
“One,” I reply.
“You don’t look like it,” Draco comments.
There is a long silence. I watch the boiling cauldron, because I don’t want to look at him, don’t want him to see how much I’ve been hurt.
Draco’s words are harsh, and he probably doesn’t realize how they can hurt sometimes. I know I haven’t been taking care of myself, but I don’t need him to point out my flaws.
Or maybe he does know. He places a hand on my chin and forces me to look up at him. It is an intimate and uncomfortable gesture, and it makes me uncomfortable; but I’m almost sure I see a flicker of concern in his eyes.
“You didn’t go out, did you?” he asks.
“What I did and didn’t do isn’t any concern of yours,” I say, narrowing my eyes. I know I’m not threatening in any way, but maybe he’ll get the hint and stop talking about it.
“Go out with your friends tonight,” he says.
“I don’t have any left,” I whisper. I leave, not sure if he even heard that.
---
The next time I see Draco I bring one of the Mandrakes. He examines the plant and asks me questions about its health and usefulness. I answer as best as I can.
“This looks like it will work out fine,” Draco says, fingering the leaves lightly.
“Yes,” I say. I pick up the pot. “I should go then.”
“No, stay,” Draco says.
I pause, unsure. “Why?”
He shrugs. “It’s not like you need to be anywhere.”
I don’t fight it. After a long, uncomfortable silence, he says, “Do you still see the Gryffindors sometimes?”
“No,” I say. “Do you see the Slytherins?”
Draco takes a deep breath. “Not often.”
“Do our houses even matter anymore?” I ask. My voice is soft and shaky, and I hate how nervous I get when we talk about anything other than plants and potions.
“I suppose not,” Draco says.
“I’m alone a lot,” I admit. “But it’s all right… I have my… my plants.”
I don’t look at him. Some part of me can’t believe I just admitted that, and another part thinks that I’ve been trying to for a long time.
“You shouldn’t be,” Draco says.
Then he is too close to me. He raises his hand as if to touch me, but seems to change his mind.
“Let me take you out,” he says.
I’m aware that he’s handing me an escape, but it can slip through my fingers too easily. I should take it. I nod slowly, before I can change my mind.
---
We meet at the restaurant, a nice place on the edge of Diagon Alley. I order a salad and chicken, but don’t eat much of it, despite Draco’s prodding.
“Did you eat earlier today?” he asks.
I consider lying, but I’ve never been very good at that. “No.”
“You look miserable. Surely, being with me can’t be that bad.”
“I… no, it’s not,” I say. “I just haven’t… felt very well lately.”
“Are you sick?”
“No. Maybe. I don’t think so.”
Draco gives me an exasperated look. “Okay, Longbottom, I tried. If you don’t want to talk, I won’t make you.
But it doesn’t make it easy to work with you when I know you don’t want to be around me.”
“Why don’t you find someone else to grow your plants then?” I demand.
“Because you’re the best at it,” he says with a shrug.
I think this is the first time he’s complimented me.
---
Draco walks with me to the fireplace. I’ll floo home, but he says he’d rather Apparate. It’s less messy.
He stands close to me. “I want to help you.”
I look at the floor. “I don’t need pity.”
He takes a deep breath. He almost seems nervous, but he can’t be, really. This is Draco, after all. “I know,” he says. “You need a boyfriend.”
For a moment, I’m not sure I heard right. I look up, and his expression is expectant. “Are… are you offering?” I ask.
Draco smirks. “Maybe.”
He touches my cheek. His hands are surprisingly soft. He holds my chin steady and leans forward to kiss me. Without thinking, I kiss him back. It is light, and it is good. I can’t remember the last time I was kissed.
“I’d like to see you again. Like this, I mean, not for work,” Draco says. He steps back. “I’ll give you time to think about it. Owl me.”
He Apparates away, and I am left stunned; but I already know my answer.
I owl him the next morning.
Yes. Would tonight be okay?
Please let me know what you think!