"Is that you?" I asked casually to the groggy figure, dressed in once black-now grey clothes, that stood before me taking my order for a fresh batch of figgery cloves.

"What do you mean Potter?" The man asked, "Of course its me, now if you please; can you pay and get the hell out of here?"

I reeled at the older version of the Draco I had last seen atop the tower. I opened my big mouth to say something, but before any syllables were uttered I heard a rather nasty, pointed voice shout from a far corner, "Now Draco, don't be so rude to our customers! Or you will loose your meagre job!"

I halted. How dare someone talk to another human being like that? It was un-just and impolite, especially in front of another person. Then it hit me; Vernon, Petunia, Dudley, Voldemort, Crabbe, Goyle, Blaise, Snape.

Like a punch in the face I realised; The prince of Slytherin had finally got his comeuppance. He had finally been reduced to what I had been forced to believe I was for the whole of my life.

How could it be though, that as I stood like a shadow watching this one-sided argument between Draco and his boss unfold, that I felt sickened by the treatment that he was being shown.

"- I am sorry Sir, its just that me and him, we have history!"

"I don't care about your past relationships," The man stood up and made his way to the counter. As I saw him for the first time I was reminded of a complete and utter Indian slug-beetle; the beady, dark blue eyes and sweating-greying skin that bulged and fluctuated disgustingly, "So don't bring them into my- Oh hello Mr. Potter!"

The attitude of the slug vanished, changed and moulded in to fake kindness. Me, being a 'typical' Gryffindor pouted but played along, until the conversation between slave and master was forgotten and all that was left was me, being overly nice to this beast of a man.

It didn't take long until I was able to leave the shop, but that didn't mean I wasn't still bothered by the owner of 'Rare and Relish'. Or maybe it was that in the beginning I was worried about Draco, which led me to be worried about what the man might do to him. Whatever it was, I certainly couldn't help myself from eventually loosing sleep, food and mental health over what could have happened to that git of a boy I used to be taunted by.

It was when I left my house one day to visit Diagon Alley, that the thoughts, dreams and memory of that five minute slot of my life, in that shop came flooding back to me like water through a broken dam. I couldn't help myself as my feet took heed and went straight towards that blacked out shop. I couldn't help myself from peering, staring and eventually glaring in the direction of the slaving away Draco.

It broke my heart to see him reduced to this. Where was the fire? The rage? The pride?

Where ever it was, it couldn't be far. And like the man I am; I knew I was going to find it.