(HP) Because Potter Is Allergic to Poppies

Apothecaries and Answers

"Fill this order for me, Apprentice Healer Malfoy."

Draco grimaced as Healer Farion thrust the list of ingredients into his hand. She was an older woman who never seemed to take notice of the apprentices or even journeymagi except as bodies to do her bidding. Draco preferred that attitude, sometimes, to the scorn and superiority complexes of some Healers, but it was particularly offensive just now. He had been casting Cleaning Charms on the hospital windows, yes, but his mind was busy with possible solutions to the mystery surrounding Potter.

It was pure luck that he managed to glance down at the list and recognize the handwriting there
before Healer Farion got out of sight. She had a brisk stride and had nearly reached the corner of the corridor. Draco swallowed his shock and raised his voice.

"Healer! Can I know who wrote this for you? The last time I went to the ingredients stores, they
asked me that," Draco added, lying his arse off. But since he was skilled at lying and the Healers never dealt with the lesser functionaries who controlled Potions ingredients when they could get someone else to do it for them, he was fairly safe.

Farion sighed and stared over her shoulder at him, giving, without effort, the impression that he'd thoroughly disrupted her Very Important Thoughts. Draco admired the effect and memorized it to copy at a later date. 

"It was Apprentice Healer Varden, Malfoy, if you must know. Now, don't hesitate any longer. I doubt that even you would appreciate patients dying because of your laziness."

She vanished, and Draco scowled at her back. So she did share the common attitude towards he as a jumped-up Death Eater. Well, that was good to know in case he had to come into closer contact with her.

He looked back at the list of ingredients and raised his eyebrows.

The handwriting was the same as that on the list of potions Sabian had found near Mallow's Potions cupboard.

* 

"It doesn't sound good, Harry. Malfoy."

Weasley broke off in the middle of his report, or whatever it was, to Potter so that he could scowl
at Draco. Draco raised his eyebrows back and pushed the tray of food into the room. There, he
cast the charms that would find the Merlin's Tears and any sign of the base of Peleus's Revenge.
He didn't find anything, and handed the plate of chicken and bread over to Potter with a magnificent nod.

Potter caught his eye with a stare that said he knew what Draco was doing in regards to Weasley
and didn't approve of the increased dramatic gestures. Draco looked back innocently and pulled out the list that Healer Farion had given him. He'd cast a Copying Charm on it and given the copy to the keepers of the ingredients cupboards. That way, Farion couldn't say that he hadn't done his duty, and Apprentice Healer Varden, if she was watching, wouldn't detect anything suspicious in his movements.

"What is this?" Potter said, but luckily he grasped the significance at once. "That handwriting looks the same as on the other parchment."

Draco nodded. "And one of the Healers told me that the handwriting belongs to an Apprentice

Healer called Varden."

"That's our murderer, then." Weasley leaned back in his chair, looking so cheerful that Draco

almost felt it would be a shame to tell him the truth. Almost. "Should have known that it would be easy to find once we applied ourselves."

Draco started to snap back to correct him about who had done the work and applied himself, but Potter interrupted him, still faithfully maintaining his role of peacemaker.