Harry stared at the cans of beans on the shelf. Just how many types of bean were there? It seemed excessive at this point, honestly.

He picked three random ones and threw them into his cart next to the new lightbulbs for the We're Open! sign, some tinsel, and about fifty-yards-worth of garland. But he still had to look for proper cages for the Pygmy puffs to live in, a new music player to replace the one Verity had accidentally blown out, some No-Slip Elixir for the stairs, and—of course—a mallet to bash his head in when this was all over.

Harry hated shopping. It really lost its shine once you had to do it every bloody week to avoid starving to death. It was better, though, than his morning spent talking to Rita Skeeter about a press release for the grand reopening.

Three hours he'd spent there, a sheen of sweat on his brow and seeping through his shirt, Rita taking his statement about the shop without much hassle, but then turning the story to Fred and George and how everyone was getting on without Fred and how tragic the whole thing was, and Harry had decided sometime around 4 o'clock that maybe his mallet would be best used on her, instead. But even that was better than his afternoon spent using an entire Potion's Shop's stock of Scrubs Ahoy to spruce up Wheezes.

He'd dumped it on the floor, the shelves, the walls, and the stairs with enough gusto to cover the place in about two hours, but it has felt like working for the Dursleys again.

Then he'd gone to print out some of the signs Dean had designed for them.

There was one that read, 'Now hiring!,' in bright purple lettering, another saying, 'Come back December 5th for the grand reopening!' with lots of confetti, and a third that advertised the Pygmy Puffs, 'Meet your new best friend!' with a sketch of Elton on it.

They looked great, but after squabbling with the prints' shop for thirty minutes over sizing, and price-per-print, and Harry trying to explain why he didn't need a bulk order of any of the signs, he'd been ready to go home and curl up on the sofa for the next week and a half.

It was stacking up to be the worst day of his life and it wasn't even half over yet.

And, yes, that included that one when he died.

When he finally got back to the shop, it was all clean, and Verity was levitating the last bobble onto the giant tree he'd begged Hagrid to bring them.

"Don't you look fetching," she said.

"I've heard misery compliments my complexion."

She grinned, turning to the register to count up the week's profits. Elton was resting on her shoulder, nibbling on a chunk of celery.

"Everything all set up?" he asked.

"Floor is clean, lights are lit, posters are posted, stairs are unslippified."

He grunted in approval, resting his aching head against the wall. "Did the twins ever have a protocol for making Christmas crackers?"

"Big explosions, unnecessary gimmicks, and a load of disclaimers on the packaging, why?"

"I figure that's one of the easiest places to start with manufacturing. We don't have any leftovers from the last few years, do we?"

"Technically, yes, but unless you fancy your tongue getting tied up into the shape of a Christmas tree, or getting introduced to their er..." she gestured vaguely to Harry's lower half, "rather more intimate version of a Nutcracker, I don't recommend them."

"You're joking, aren't you?"

"Less than I'd like to be."

He blew out a puff of air, sinking to the floor in defeat.

"The hack stopped by again today."

Harry's eyes slid open. "Malfoy? What did he want?"

"Said he was just doing a round of inspections but dropped off a note when he didn't find you."

"What did it say?"

"You think I read other people's personal mail?"

Harry gave her a look.

"He doesn't want you owling him about any non-professional business between the hours of nine and five."

"That's... I don't think I've ever done that before. I'm not sure I've owled him at all."

"Well, it's almost five. I suppose you can ask what it's about now. I'll close up the shop."

"So early?"

"We're not exactly bursting with visitors."

It hit him then that the shop had been open all day. When he'd cleaned it top to bottom, when he'd repainted, when he'd nearly broken his back on the stairs, and when he'd hung all the posters in the windows. Even now, though he'd been sitting there for a not-insignificant amount of time, nobody had come in.

Everything suddenly seemed that much harder.

Harry patted his knees, standing. "Right, then. I'll floo home and call Malfoy. You lock up, and er... well I suppose that's all, really.

"Sounds like a plan."

He stopped halfway to the back fireplace, turning over his shoulder. "Say, Verity?"

"Yeah?"

"Who handles the salary payments here?"

Her eyes twinkled. "I do."

"Uh-huh. And the raises?"

"Also me."

Harry snorted. "So, it's safe to assume you're being adequately compensated for your time here?"

"Very safe, Mr Potter."

"Cheers. That'll be all, Verity."

ϟ ϟ ϟ

He made sure to wait until 5:01, but he didn't write to Malfoy. He called him.

"Draco Malfoy speaking."

"You came by the shop."

There was a long pause, and then Malfoy's voice crackled through the phone again. "How'd you get my number, Potter? I've told you I don't enjoy talking like this."

"It wasn't hard to find, seeing as it's your work phone and I'm your client."

"Ah. And why are you calling?"

"You came by the shop."

"So I did."

"What did you want?"

"I left a note. Didn't the manager witch give it to you?"

Harry puffed out a sigh, collapsing back on his sofa. "Yeah, but I don't understand. I've never owled you before, and certainly not about anything unrelated to work."

"I was simply taking precautions."

"Whatever."

They did not speak for a long moment.

"My hatred for this method of communication grows with every passing second."

"Er... sorry about that. We could meet up in person."

"To discuss what, exactly?"

Harry thought for a moment. "I still need some help with ideas for the shop."

"From me?"

"Why not?"

Another very long pause and Malfoy took a heavy breath. "Salazar help me. Fine, yes. Shall I floo through?"

"Why don't we meet out? We could get food. Someplace Muggle, if you like."

Malfoy's reply was a bit strangled. "Very well, yes. I can meet you in an hour."

It was closer to two hours before Harry found the posh little bistro in Muggle London. Malfoy was there waiting, looking a little green in the face.

"Potter," he said when Harry sat. "I wasn't sure I'd be seeing you."

"I'm not so talented with maps. What's good here?"

"Anything, really."

He had not anticipated this being so painfully awkward. He and Malfoy had got on fine after the Quidditch match! Well... okay, perhaps that was a bit of a stretch. But they'd been talking, at least.

"That's an idea, you know," Malfoy said.

"What is?"

"Some sort of map thing. For Wheezes. But I suppose it'd have to be a joke map to sell, lead you all sorts of horrid places."

Harry leaned forward in interest, forgetting his menu. "Not necessarily. No, I like that, that's good." He thought of the Marauder's Map and wondered, not for the first time, how his father and his friends had managed to create it.

"We could do a map of Hogwarts, or Hogsmeade, or something," he continued. "Some of the passages, maybe. Course, not all of them, or McGonagall would get on my arse about it, and I suspect the students wouldn't enjoy their secrets being closed off. Maybe a modified Four-Point Spell."

"You'd need something closer to a Tracking Spell, but I think you're onto something."

"Okay, okay. Yeah. What else have you got rattling about in that brain of yours?"

"Not much of interest, I'm afraid."

The waiter came and took their orders with little fanfare, and the food showed up shortly after.

"They were always into pranks, weren't they?" Draco asked later on.

"And skipping class. Lots of sweets to get you sick, Daydream Charms, and Fireworks... and snooping equipment. Headless Hats and Extendable Ears—" Harry caught himself, thinking of that time he'd used the ear on Draco in Borgin and Burkes, and nearly blushed, only just managing to stop himself. "Er, yeah, all sorts."

"And they sold some Muggle things as well, didn't they? Card tricks and whatnot."

"Oh, I hadn't thought of that. Yeah, I guess it was something of a novelty item. I know enough about them to come up with some card trick instructions, and I could have Dean design the packaging and picture explanations..."

"And it's nearly Christmas. There's got to be something to do with that."

"I already asked Verity about crackers and such. Hmm... prank gift wrap, maybe? If I were them, I'd probably make it blow snot in the giftee's faces, but I'm not so sure I'd like that."

"Incinerating, perhaps? For those who can't think of holiday gifts."

"Or talking. But that would get pretty annoying when you had to cut it up."

"Then what about something with baubles for their trees? Those could talk, or glow, or sing songs."

Harry laughed. "How are you coming up with these so fast. I've spent weeks, and I..."

"I just think of what would annoy me most and go with that."

"Tosser. Those could all work, though. And something for the tree topper, maybe."

"Talk, glow, sing, once again."

"Yes, but talk how?"

"Hurling insults? Flirting?"

"That would sell. That would definitely sell."

Draco was smiling at him just a bit, looking far too pleased. "Then the sweets. Lots of things you can do with Christmas sweets. Fudge and candy canes, edible decorations, toffee, and chocolate oranges..."

"And lots of pranks to pull. Turning people into something festive, like a reindeer. Maybe some treats shaped like fairy lights that make you glow from inside for a while, all different colours. Or fever-inducing drinking chocolate!"

"See, Potter. You're not bad at this either."

Harry found himself grinning, and he kept it up until they finished their meal a while later.

He and Draco walked slowly to the nearest Apparition Point, their arms accidentally brushing against each other on occasion. The wind stung in Harry's eyes, but it was otherwise an almost-pretty night. The snow on the ground was old and grey, but it reflected light from the lampposts so that it almost seemed bright enough for the sun to still be up.

It felt freeing, walking on a street where people could see him but no one was interested in asking for an autograph. Harry wasn't sure when the last time he'd been able to do that was. He could see why Draco preferred non-magical parts of the world, now.

They stopped by the side of a building near the Apparation Point, which was nicely hidden from sight by any Muggles who might be passing by.

"Well," said Draco.

"Well."

They looked at everything except each other's faces for a while before Harry finally got up the nerve to speak again.

"Why'd you really leave that note? I mean, why'd you even stop by the shop in the first place?"

"I told you—"

"Precautions, right. I got that."

Draco's face was inscrutable, twisted in thought and refusing to meet Harry's eyes. When he finally did, all the breath left him in a gust.

Harry was pretty sure no one had ever looked at him like that.

"So why do you keep asking, Potter?"

"Cause I think maybe there's a better answer I'm still waiting for."

Draco's lips twitched as if he wasn't sure whether to find this humorous. Harry didn't think it was funny at all.

"You know what I told you about bias?" he asked.

"Mm."

"How I'm the only person at the entire British Ministry in my department who could be allowed to make judgement on your shop?"

"Right."

"I'm just making sure no one has any reason to think I'm... no longer unbiased."

Harry thought for a moment, his brain feeling slow and muddled. "But I could write you? So long as no one saw it and thought we were unprofessional. So long as it wasn't between the hours of nine and five."

"Yes."

"And did you have reason to think you might... become biased in the near future?"

This conversation was melting his head. Maybe that was intentional.

"Precautions," Draco said, so low Harry nearly didn't hear him.

"Right... precautions. I'll see you Monday, Malfoy."

"So you will."

They stared a moment more, and then he was gone with a pop. Harry made the long walk home in silence, and he couldn't stop smiling.

Maybe not the worst day of his life, after all.