'𝐓𝐈𝐒 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐒𝐄𝐀𝐒𝐎𝐍

Chapter 3

It had taken a while, but Draco had finally scrimped together enough to purchase his first textbook on healing. It was nothing fancy, just a basic introduction to wizard physiology and the magical maladies which affected it. More significantly, it was a book that all Healers-in-training would need to refer to in their first year of studies. Though Draco could not, at this point, foresee that he would ever be accepted into Healer training with his record, there was no one who could stop him from reading up and practicing some of the wandwork on his own.

Armed with his collection of Sickles and Knuts, Draco chose a time when human traffic would be the least before he entered Diagon Alley. He would never be able to prevent the public vitriol against him, but he could very well minimise his chances of being spat at or hexed. Sneaking into Flourish and Blotts with his hooded cloak and a shoddy Glamour covering his distinctive Malfoy hair, he didn't bother to remove his cloak, but made directly for the section of books on Ailments and Cures.

For years after that, Draco would wonder what would have happened if he had chosen another bookstore to purchase his book from, or if Perfidious Wigglecombe hadn't thrown that last tantrum just before Draco had ended his shift, resulting in him having to stay about an hour more to calm the hysterical old man down. If he had left on time, he would have been in and out before any of this happened.

Instead, Draco located his book just minutes before closing, and was about to head to the cashier when he heard his name being spoken.

"...charity for Malfoy."

Uncomprehending, Draco clutched his book to his chest.

"Explains why Harry's spending so much time with him all of a sudden. I expect he feels guilty, you know. For playing him during the war."

Pressing himself back against the stacks, Draco's heartbeat seemed to thunder in his ears.

"Oh?" the second voice seemed to perk up with interest. "Harry told you that?"

The first person snorted. "He didn't need to -- everyone knew it. He was so lovesick over Malfoy during the months leading up to the war; it was revolting to watch. It was a good thing Harry was able to end the charade by the time the real fighting started."

"So it was a love potion?"

"More like a carefully devised Order ploy. It worked, didn't it? Malfoy went belly-up on the details of the planned Death Eater raids. Even by the time the owls and Floo Network stopped working, we had enough to minimise losses." A laugh. "I'd always figured Malfoy was someone who would spread his legs easily. Something about that uptight personality of his -- you just need to get past the prickly exterior and he'd be ripe for the picking. But honestly, to lose his heart to the first person who showed interest in him? That's just bordering on desperate."

"Isn't Harry with the Aurors now? That sort of covert ops during the war must have placed him in good standing for the job."

"I wouldn't be surprised if he's investigating something right now... ex-Death Eaters, perhaps."

Their raucous laughter mixed with the noisy jangling of the chimes at the door, fading gradually as their feet clattered out into the winter's night.

Back in the bookstore, Draco's fingers were grasping his book so tightly they had started to tingle. The interior of the bookstore was hot -- almost claustrophobically so. But there was nothing that could warm up a heart that had gone cold.