24. A Thousand Times I've Seen You Standing

Weeks passed, and soon summer faded into fall. Despite not using magic, Belle proved herself to be an asset to Flourish and Blotts, and the owner Mr. Tinley decided to keep her on past the school rush and asked her to work full-time. Though Belle was nervous he would discover that she was a Muggle, Mr. Tinley said he'd always known.

"I figured you were probably a Squib, but it doesn't bother me that you're a Muggle," Mr. Tinley said after he asked her if she'd like to stay on for the fall. "If you ask me, it's a good thing. I hope it'll promote interracial cooperation and acceptance." And he never brought it up again.

Belle enjoyed what she did, and as she became more confident with her English, she began to approach Mr. Tinley with ideas to bring business into the store year-round. She suggested having sales on certain types of books during certain months and that, to sell more fiction, they have a weekly story circle for children still too young for Hogwarts. After Belle read the story, those in attendance would receive 20 percent off their purchase of the book. It rapidly brought more business into the store as young mothers were enamored with the books that Belle selected.

"You've really added a woman's touch to this place," one young witch said as she coddled her son. "I always thought this place was so disorganized and that it was just where I'd go to get my textbooks when I was in school. You've certainly proved me wrong."

Though Belle was working full-time, she used her nights and sometimes her downtime at work to study for the GSCE exams. She didn't see herself getting a different job, but she wanted to prove to herself that she could take the exam and succeed. That the owner of the bookshop in Muggle London would have been lucky to have her.

One day in late October, when it was especially slow, Belle had her study materials to the side of the counter. Though she was trying to pay attention to the door and to the arrival of any potential customers, she was so engrossed in what she was reading that she didn't hear him until he spoke.

"Excuse me," said a high, cold voice, "I was hoping you could direct me to the Potions and Apothecary study section? If you have time."

Belle bit back a retort, remembering that she needed to be polite to customers, when her brain registered the voice. She looked up, and indeed, it was Draco Malfoy.

"Draco," she breathed, snapping her book shut. "It's good to see you. 'Ow 'ave you been?" She walked around the counter to face him and gazed at him, observing how he had changed.

His face was gaunter, as though he had eaten too little, and his plain black robes were stained and a little loose. His hair was still styled, combed over and shorter rather than slicked back. All the same, he still held his shoulders back, as though he were nobility, and there was no mistaking his proud demeanor when he spoke.

"I'm fine, thank you. The Potions and Apothecary section?"

"Oui. Follow me."

She led him toward the front of the store. "These books focus on advanced potion-making, and these ones focus on recent apothecarial breakthroughs and trends. Please let me know if you 'ave any questions." Then, leaving him to his browsing, she returned to the counter.

After several minutes, Draco returned to the counter, a couple books in hand. "I'll take these, please," he said.

"Certainly, monsieur," Belle said, as she rang them up and wrapped them. "Zat will be six Galleons and eleven Sickles, please."

Draco handed her six Galleons before digging around his robes. "I should have a few Sickles somewhere." He rummaged around for a few minutes, finding nothing. His cheeks turned pale pink. Belle's heart went out to him.

"I can make a note zat you will come in tomorrow to settle ze balance," she offered. "Zat is, if you need ze books today."

He glared at her. "I don't need your pity or your charity," he spat. "Just place the books on hold for me until Monday, and I'll come back for them then."

Belle stared at him, hard, before sighing. "As you wish, Monsieur Malfoy. I will keep zem behind ze counter for you. Is zair anything else with which I can 'elp you?"

"No, mademoiselle. There is not."

"Zen good day, monsieur."

She turned back to her study materials as she heard the bell ding. But the silence felt off, so she looked up. Draco was standing by the door, one hand on the handle. Belle cocked her head to the side.

"Monsieur, are you sure zair is nothing else?"

He turned around, looked at Belle, his face stony. He walked toward the counter. "Some months ago, I said things that hurt you."

Draco paused. Belle sighed. "Yes, Draco, you did."

"I want to make amends."

Belle looked at him, really looked at him. Not only was he gaunter, but he had circles under his eyes, and there were a couple spots of his robes that were wearing thin. "You left your parents," she said.

It was a statement, not a question. Draco winced. "Is it that obvious?"

Belle smiled. "Only because I know you, Draco."

There was a pause, and he stared at the ground, suddenly very interested in the hem of his robes. "Your English has improved," he said.

She laughed. "I would hope so! I've been working 'ere since July, and I 'ave 'ad to interact with customers every day."

Silence. Draco still stared at the ground. Belle bit her lip. He had finally left his parents' sphere of influence, for Merlin only knew what reason, but he still wasn't opening up to her.

"I 'ave my lunch break in an hour, and I didn't pack anything today. Why don't you meet me at that new pub down the street then? I zink it's called ze 'Orned Dragon? My treat."

He lifted his head sharply, his eyes flashing with condescension. "Maybe you didn't hear me. I said I didn't need your charity or your pity."

Belle inhaled sharply. "Well, maybe if you let go of some of your pride, you'd realize I don't pity you, and this isn't charity! It's compassion."

Again, there was silence. Belle closed her eyes and pinched the bridge of her nose. Thank Merlin there weren't other customers in the store right now.

"Draco, you just said you wanted to make amends. Do you really want to keep pushing me away?" she asked.

He met her gaze for the briefest of moments. "No," he said quietly. "I don't."

"Zen will you meet me at ze 'Orned Dragon in an hour?"

A curt nod. "Yes."

Finally, they were getting somewhere. "Wonderful," she said. "I'll see you soon."

Then, deliberately, she returned her attention to her study materials, even though she could still feel Draco's gaze on her. After a minute, the bell at the door clinked, and Belle released the breath that she'd been holding.

HP*BATB*HP*BATB*HP*BATB

The next hour was the longest of Draco's life. For the past two months, he'd been working up the courage to stop in Flourish and Blotts to talk to Belle. A week ago, he'd nearly walked inside, holding a red rose, but he saw that she was with a customer. So instead, he'd tossed the rose in the gutter and continued walking.

Finally, though, she arrived. He stood up and gestured toward the booth that he had taken, and she slid down across from him.

"What would you like to drink?" he asked, in French.

"Je veut boire du l'eau," she said. "Just water."

Draco signaled their server, who returned with two waters. He sipped from his and slid Belle's closer to her.

"It's good to see you," Belle said. "And I'm glad to see you 'ad ze courage to strike out on your own. What prompted you to make zat decision?"

He was silent, his jaw clenched.

"You said you wanted to make amends, Draco," Belle reminded him. "If you want to be part of my life, I need to know you trust me, zat you can be vulnerable with me. Zat's how you can make amends."

"You really want to know?" he said coolly.

"Yes, I do."

"It sounds trite, but I realized one day that I could invest all the energy I'd been putting into forgetting my pain into something productive that would give me the resources to build an independent life."

"You mentioned you are working as an apothecary?" Belle said, as she took a sip of water.

He nodded. "Yes. I apprenticed as an apothecary when I finished school so that I would have something to list on my CV—my curriculum vitae—when I eventually joined the Ministry. Working as an apothecary would have given me more credibility if I went into patent law specializing in potions."

She frowned. "Did you ever want to do that?"

His mouth quirked ever so slightly. "Not really. It was Mother's idea. The patent law, that is. I always liked potions well enough."

Silence fell between them, and Belle took another sip of her water.

"We should order some food," Draco said. "I know you have to get back to work soon." He snapped his fingers, and their server came over to take their order. Once she had left, Draco folded his hands together. This was hard.

"Belle," he began, "would you—would you have dinner with me tomorrow night?"

She looked at him a moment, and then slowly shook her head. "I'm sorry, Draco. No."

"Why not?"

"Zair is too much pain. It was only when I began working for Mr. Tinley and I found purpose in my life zat I was able to heal, and to move on."

"You're seeing someone?"

Belle shook her head. "No, all I mean to say is zat it took me time to heal from your cruelty and rejection."

Their food came then. They ate in tense silence for a few minutes. Belle began pushing the food on her plate around with a fork. Draco's back stiffened.

When their server stopped by next, Belle asked for a takeaway box. Then she tossed a couple Galleons onto the table. "Zat should cover my portion," she said.

"I don't need your charity," he said coldly.

She glared at him. "Zis is not for you. It is for me. Zis was not, what do you call it? A date? Yes, zis was not a date, Draco. And so, I pay my share. I have ze ability to take care of myself, but apparently, unlike you I also still have the 'umility to know when I need 'elp, and ze strength to recognize when some-sing is an attack and when it is not."

"I'm not feeling attacked," he hissed.

Belle closed her eyes for a moment, pinched her nose, and then looked at him. Hard. "Draco," she said plainly, "zis is ze very sing zat I was talking about. Vulnerability and authenticity are so important if we are ever going to be in each other's lives again."

After Belle had stormed off, Draco looked down at the galleons. Bollocks.

HP*BATB*HP*BATB*HP*BATB

The next day, during his morning break, Draco returned to Flourish and Blotts to pick up his books. He felt his heart drift down when he realized Belle was filling orders in the back and Mr. Tinley was managing the register. He quickly paid and returned to work, focusing all he could on the ingredients he was grinding and on the potions he was brewing, but his mind still kept drifting to what he could do to win Belle's favor. Going to Potter would make him look weak, and any books she wanted, she could purchase. But she didn't have magic.

After he'd breezed through the tasks that his manager had set him and made sure that all the stocks were full, Draco pulled out Advanced Potion-Making and other books he'd picked up in the last couple years. Perhaps giving himself, and Belle, a vial of liquid luck could fix things between them.

"Merlin, this is a nasty little potion," he said as he scanned the instructions. "It better damn well be worth it."

Over the next several months, Draco spent all his extra time at the apothecary shop. When he told his manager that he was intent on brewing a batch of Felix Felicis, the man was excited and gave Draco as much space and time as he needed to brew the potion correctly. as he needed and the time to check on the stewing potion and follow the steps exactly. Draco explained that he wished to brew two vials for personal purposes, but his manager simply waved it away.

"My boy," the apothecary said, "if you can brew this successfully—just imagine how much I can charge for a single vial of the stuff! From the batch you should have, you'll be able to give me at least six vials, even if you take a few for yourself. Besides, by taking the potion yourself, first, you'll be testing it for me."

Christmas came and went, and Draco earned an increase in his salary and began receiving commission on his more advanced potions. He bought real furniture for his flat, instead of objects that he had simply transfigured, and he hired Hannah Abbott to stop by his apartment every other week with some frozen meals and to do some cleaning. His flat still only had one bedroom, but it felt cozier, more like a home. And over time, as he continued to acclimate to monitoring his expenses and managing his money and working full-time, he missed the luxury of his parents' less. His mother wrote to him, and he finally responded. Though he refused to be on speaking terms with his father, his mother began visiting him once a week for dinner, and she also brought meals for him that Batty had made.

"Why don't you just have Batty here?" his mother asked one day in early March. "Then you wouldn't need to hire that Abbott girl to cook and clean for you. It would be cheaper. And Batty could do far more."

Draco thought back to the previous spring when he had had dinner with Belle and she had chastised him for his treatment of Batty. But she has feelings too, she'd said. And you're just ignoring her until you need her—treating her as though she were dirt!

"I think I'd like to know how Batty would feel about that arrangement," he said. "Batty! Come here, please."

Crack!

"You is calling, Master Malfoy?" Batty asked. "How is poor Batty being of service?"

Draco looked at the house-elf closely and noticed that her tea towel was stained, and that she quivered as he scrutinized her. "Batty, are you afraid of me?" he asked. "Be honest."

She squeaked and turned her large tennis ball eyes to him. "Master Malfoy is asking things that is getting Batty into trouble!" Her quivering grew worse, and when she began shaking like a leaf, she began hitting her head against the leg of the dining table. "Bad Batty! Bad Batty! Bad Batty!"

"Batty, please stop hurting yourself."

Immediately, Batty stopped. "Yes, Master Malfoy," she said weakly.

Draco got out of his chair and knelt on one knee. He could feel his mother's gaze drilling into him as he tossed aside years of breeding, but he thought of Belle, of how long he'd been spent on that damn potion to try to win her back, about the kind of man he wanted to be for her.

"Batty," he said, looking her in the eye, "I'm sorry for all the cruel things I've said and done to you." He took a deep breath. "Can you please forgive me?"

Her lip trembled, and her bulbous eyes glazed over with tears. Then she burst into sobs, her face in her hands.

"Batty?"

She looked up and sniffled, and her eyes shone with such happiness. "Master Malfoy is asking me for forgiveness!" she said. "Master Malfoy is treating me as an equal!"

She reached out to give Draco a hug, and even though he was still disgusted that her snot was getting on his robes and shoe, he bit the inside of his cheek to keep himself from saying anything. He hugged her back, and for the first time in a long time, a true smile crossed his face.

Draco's mother sniffed. "Honestly, Draco, you don't have to stoop to such means. You can just order her to come work for you."

He released Batty and stood up, looking at his mother. "No, I can't, Mother. Or rather, I won't. Batty," he asked, turning back to the elf, "will you come work for me here? Please?"

"Yes, Master Malfoy! Batty is being very happy to do that!"

Draco's mother gave him a wry smile. "Well, they do say you catch more flies with honey than with vinegar. A common phrase, but an apt one."

And as Batty zoomed around the room, beginning to clean and fluff the pillows, Draco felt a warm glow in his heart, a glow of hope.