The Wizard and the Wolf

Seasons Change, but People Don't

   The brisk fall air bit at Harry's cheeks as he made his way through the bustling crowd, people hurrying passed him in blurs of motion. He didn't mind it. If he was honest, he enjoyed the busy streets of Diagon Alley, and longed for the days where he shopped in preparation for the new year at Hogwarts. He chuckled at the thought, it's not like he didn't keep in touch with Ron, and Hermione. Sometimes he even spoke with Luna, or Neville. He never really did see his seventh year (McGonagall had let he, and Ron graduate. Hermione went back for her last year), but it was something else about Hogwarts that he longed for, he simply didn't know what it was.

   He finally managed to push his way through the crowd, and through the front doors of Weasley Wizard Wheezes. After the Battle of Hogwarts, Fred had offered him a job, most likely in attempt to keep him sane. Sadly, Harry wasn't very helpful in keeping Fred's sanity.

  "You're late." Muttered Fred, hauling the younger boy inside, it was considerably warmer in here, and Harry couldn't help but let out a sigh of relief. "That kid there just knocked over a display of color changing potions," Harry began to wonder what this had to do with him, but quickly put it together as Fred pressed a mop to his chest, grinning. "Have fun." He muttered to Harry, before rushing off to take care of something else. Harry sighed and busied himself with the task, they really needed a janitor. It was the busiest season of the year, what with Hogwarts starting soon, and they were a bit short on staff. Ron had refused to work for his brothers, claiming he was taking a "gap year" - it's a real thing in the muggle world! - before finding a job. So, George, and Fred, had been left with Harry, and a sixth year girl named Ainsley Hurst. Surprisingly, they didn't get many job applicants.

  "I keep telling 'em we should lock those up." Huffed Ainsley as she tiptoed around Harry, "the confusing confections as well! I was closing up last night and found a kid who'd accidentally locked himself in the closet, no idea where he was!" Harry chuckled, and looked up to find Ainsley struggling to reach a shelf.

   "I would help you, but . . . uh," Stuttered Harry, motioning to the mess. Apparently, prank potions were hard to clean, and, in retrospect, he should have worn gloves. Not only were his hands green, but these potions had an awful stench. He began to wonder if Fred and George had intentionally made their potions smell.

   Ainsley simply grinned, her bright lipstick contrasting with her dark complexion. "I'm not that short, Potter, I can jump." Harry smiled back, and was about to respond when something across the room caught his eye.

   Malfoy?

  What was he doing here? Harry knew he was being childish in this, but some petty grudges don't fade. Why was he talking to George, and, again, why was he here?

  Harry found himself hurrying to finish with the spilled potions, casting side glances at the blond. And when he was finally done, he practically flew to the other side of the store.

  "Look, I- Potter?" Malfoy broke off mid-sentence, looking surprised to see Harry. "Your hands are green."

  "Oh, so you're not entirely oblivious then?" Harry quipped. "But  we all know that you don't do pranks, so why are you here?"

  Malfoy appeared to be taken aback by the bluntness of the question, but quickly composed himself. "I . . . uh, I need a job. I heard you were short on staff." Now it was Harry's turn to be surprised. Didn't he have the Malfoy Fortune to fall back on? Maybe the ministry had decided to punish the Malfoys, after all.

  George turned to his brother, "we do need-"

  "No!" Replied Fred. "This is the little brat who tormented other students for fun!"

  "Fred, we tormented other students for fun." countered George, he turned Fred around so they could whisper privately. Private, of course, meant Harry included. "Besides, he always had his family fortune, he probably doesn't even know what a job is, we could hire him for cheap!"

   Fred sighed. "I am sick of cleaning up the aftermath of puking pastels, he can do it, if he's that desperate."

  "I'll have to put up with him!" Harry whined, he couldn't help sounding like a child.

"If you're all done standing about," Ainsley complained, intruding on their conversation, "we actually have work to do, and I'm being bombarded." She cast a questioning glance at Malfoy, before turning to assist the stampede of customers.  Harry sighed, and turned to face the blond. Could he work with him? If he was anything like he was in school, the answer was a firm no.

   "You're almost hired." Said Fred, twisting around to face Malfoy. "You can work today, and if you don't screw anything up, you can have the job."

  "We'll discuss pay later." Added George, pulling off his lanyard and tossing it at the newest 'almost employee'. Then, the two were off in different directions, resuming their work.

  "What the hell do I do now?" Malfoy asked of no one in particular,  looking a bit panicked at the lack of direction. Just then, a disheveled looking teenager walked up and tapped him on the shoulder.

  "Could you help me reach a shelf? My dragon won't fly up there for me." She said sweetly.

  Harry was about to inform her that she was, in fact, holding a lizard (which couldn't fly), but quickly stopped himself. Instead, he cast a look at Malfoy. "Well, you could start with that." he advised, and walked away feeling vaguely satisfied.

  xxx

  Hell. Draco was in Hell. At least that's what it felt like, looking at just how low he'd sunk. He was working for the Weasleys, for Merlin's sake! He had to admit, he knew this was coming. He knew his fathers acceptance wouldn't last for long, but it was Lucius' fault! Draco had been bitten as his fathers punishment. He'd hidden it, kept the curse a secret since sixth year. It was only after the war that word got out, the rest of the Death Eaters must have known, so, therefore, did their nuisance children.

  But, anyone allied with Voldemort was in Azkaban. Working for the Weasleys, working with Potter, didn't seem so bad from that perspective.

  "Hey, Malfoy, fireworks go over there." Snapped Potter as he walked by, carrying two large boxes in his arms. 
"Along with your brains, Potter?" Muttered Draco, pulling down the row of fireworks he'd just stacked. Potter let out a low whistle.
"Thought for someone so desperate for a job, you'd learn a few manners." 
"I'm not desperate. Plus, it's been like two hours." 
"You came here. Honestly, I'm surprised you didn't beg like a dog, Malfoy."  Draco went still,
"What, like your god-child? Sad you're still stuck living with a baby, and-" Before he could finish, Potter dropped the boxes and  slammed Draco into the nearest display, sending a few jars crashing to the ground. The store went silent, as did Draco.

  "I was not stuck with anything." Potter hissed, "and Teddy's not a werewolf. You say one more fowl thing about them, I will hurt you."

  "Hey!" Shouted George, forcefully pulling the angered boy off of Draco. "What's going on?"

Potter waited a moment, studying the look on Draco's face. If anything, Draco imagined he looked quite vulnerable. He hated that. Potter sighed heavily, "nothing."

  George would've pried, had there not been a stampede of customers at Ainsley's heels, calling for his attention. "Well, clean this up, and Draco? The fireworks don't go there." Draco nodded in acknowledgment, turning his attention back to stacking.

  "Why didn't you get me thrown out?"

  "I think I made my point clear." With that, Potter stalked away, forgetting about the boxes that he'd intended to unload.