DRARRY - Wonderful Wheezes

Chapter Twelve

Draco broke away like he was yanking a cord from an outlet, the light in the room fading, and Harry realised there was a problem.

In the few moments of complete, overwhelming feeling, when his accidental magic had turned on all the lights, it had also cleared the orange stuff from the rest of the room. Including the windows.

Cameras flashed at them, and Draco jerked back, doing his best to hide right in front of the door, hoping he wouldn't be seen. But every square inch of the windows was suddenly filled with faces, so it was very unlikely that it worked.

"Fuck!" he breathed, and Harry was too stunned to agree. "Potter, I've got to— fuck! If they got a picture..." he was wringing his hands, looking like he'd begin pacing if he could.

Harry stayed still, lying on the floor, not entirely sure he could process what had happened.

"Are you just going to sit there? We need to spell blinds on the window— no! Wait, no, because then they'll tell the Prophet and they'll for sure know we were... I have to go. I have to talk to my boss, and, and, I don't know, fucking bribe Rita fucking Skeeter and shit! I'm going to lose my job over this. You're going to lose your job over this."

Draco had his wand out, and he was gesticulating about with it frantically, and then he focused on Harry one more time.

"I have to go, Potter. Don't owl me—not about anything. We can't risk it right now. I'll get in touch at some point. Just, stay calm, and don't do anything."

And then he was gone. And Harry was still sitting alone on the floor while a hundred faces peered in at him, and Verity and Luna tried to steer people away.

And all he could think was that Draco had called him Harry once. Just the one time.

He Disapparated.

ϟ ϟ ϟ

Another owl tapped its beak on Harry's window, and he hurled his shoe at the glass so hard it sprang back and hit in the thigh. As he hopped about, clutching at his leg, he almost felt bad for the whole thing. It wasn't the owl's fault, after all.

Two more flew up beside the first, and he spelled a curtain over the window, and a charm to block the sound.

The first letter had come at 6 o'clock that morning.

Ginny and Ron sat with him around the kitchen table in the pre-dawn dark, still in their pyjamas, mugs of tea clutched in their hands, reading aloud the ones that Harry was too scared to open himself. The owls had woken them up too.

"Mister Potter," said Ginny, "In light of recent events, we regret to inform you that Draco L. Malfoy is no longer working for the British Ministry of Magic—"

"Bugger," Ron cursed.

"—and thus can no longer provide the service of unbiased inspection for Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes (WWW). All past assessments that Mister Malfoy provided regarding the shop's aptitude will henceforth be void. The Ministry cannot currently offer a replacement, but will notify you if that changes prior to the week proceeding December 31st, 1999, when the final claim will have to be filed regarding the quality of WWW's products and services, and its economic value."

"The grand re-opening was supposed to be on the 11th," said Harry. "Without an inspector attending and seeing how many people are interested... even if we could find one by the 24th, what good would it do?"

"With how many people were in the shop yesterday—" Ginny started.

He cut her off. "To see me. That will lose its appeal eventually if I'm there often enough, and it won't work if I'm not. There's no way anyone competent would think that was a good business strategy: to whore out Harry Potter."