Title: The Destiny You SoldAuthor: trysloraWord Count:
In which Draco knits, Harry makes wands, and things get very tangled up between them.Author's Website: masterlist on AO3Why everyone should read this:
Such a fun and mega-hot fic! Love me some accidental bonding, and the dynamic here between Harry and Draco was fantastically hot. Plus, there are so many wonderful background characters and pairings that really make this universe feel real. Beautiful development of feelings, and an awesome ending. :)Excerpt:
Draco carefully unpacks the bin of bulky yarn, the strands thick and soft under his fingers. He lays some out on the tabletop, arrayed in a chaotic rainbow of colour to showcase each dye lot, then stows the rest safely in the cabinets beneath. The sign comes last: Thick For Her Pleasure, bulky weight, please touch. One corner of his lip lifts as he rolls his eyes at the name, but there’s nothing he can do since Millicent is in charge of naming the different fiber weights, and she claims the suggestive names sell more product.
She’s probably right, but it still rankles when Draco has to say so that’ll be two Thick For Her Pleasure to some old lady who reminds him of what he imagines a doting grandmother might be like.
Millicent, on the other hand, seems to find it amusing. Of course she does.
“This is the last box.” Greg sets it down next to the remaining empty table and opens it up, wincing slightly as he does so. “Bloody hell, that’s bright. Mil, what was Marc thinking when he made this?”
“He was thinking that folks like bright colours,” Millicent calls back from her spot behind the till. “What the bloody hell did you think he was thinking, Greg?”
“You should know by now not to ask ridiculous questions of the pregnant woman,” Draco murmurs.
“The pregnant woman has excellent hearing,” Millicent points out. “She also wants tea and ice cream, so we’ll be going out for a bit.” She moves slowly, her heavy belly leading the way as she walks over to join them. “Draco, finish setting up, and get all the prices marked. There might be some folks coming through this afternoon, but I’m sure it’ll be a slow day, and you’ve got the whole rest of the week to set up—we’re technically not open until Saturday. On the other hand, Saturday is the first Hogsmeade weekend, so you’d best get all the wrinkles worked out before you’re on your own with half of Hogwarts in here.”
Draco can’t think what half of Hogwarts would be doing in a yarn shop, but he nods to Millicent—he might be willing to provoke her, but he will not argue with her—just the same. “We wouldn’t want anyone to think our fibers are wrinkled, Millicent,” he says blandly, while Greg snorts and Millicent looks like she’s trying to hold back a laugh.
She pats him on the back. “I do like you,” she says. “Greg and I won’t be gone long, just an hour, maybe two. Oh, and don’t be surprised if Marc shows up. Said he’s got some information for you on the latest, some new sheep he’s been raising. He wants to bring his experimental lots here.”
Draco’s smile is thin but professional. “Of course, Millicent. Go get your ice cream,” and likely a quick pregnant shag, he thinks, from the way her hand is lingering on her husband’s arse. “I’ll take care of the shop.”
It is his shop after all. Oh, it belongs to Marcus Flint and Millicent Goyle, but in the end, this particular new shop is his. He helped finance the opening with his own meager available funds, and he will work in the shop while Millicent and Marcus provide the inventory. Hiring is up to him, should he decide he needs help, as are the hours, sales, promotions, and anything else that might occur. The only thing not under his control is the stock, the source of the yarn, and the bloody names Millicent attaches to each weight.
And the colours, he reminds himself, as he opens the last box wide. Kiss My Toes, sock weight, spoil your feet! He sighs as he places the sign in the centre of the table, then starts pulling skeins free. Not a single one of them is the same, a chaotic rush of colours that means that no two socks will ever be exactly alike. Not that Draco would ever knit a sock. Draco does not knit. But even he can see that there is nothing here that matches, and he wonders who they will appeal to.
Perhaps he needs to lure someone like Luna Lovegood into the shop; surely she’d be thrilled to find something like this.