An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
Carey ‘W’Recs Wednesday(｡•̀ᴗ-)✧ presents: The Plot
tigersilver
Chapters: 16/16 Fandom: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter, Arthur Weasley/Molly Weasley Characters: Draco Malfoy, Harry Potter, Arthur Weasley, Molly Weasley, BuyItFromBob (OC), The Barbican Librarian (OC) Additional Tags: Fluff, Romance, Humor, Light-Hearted, POV Multiple, Harry Potter Epilogue What Epilogue | EWE, Ministry of Magic Employee Harry Potter, Ministry of Magic Employee Draco Malfoy, Draco Malfoy is an Honorary Weasley, Matchmaking Weasleys, Pining Harry Potter, Pining Draco Malfoy, Draco Malfoy is NOT clueless about Muggle things, Misuse of Muggle Artefacts Office, Muggle Technology, Portkeys (Harry Potter), Post-Second Wizarding War with Voldemort (Harry Potter), H/D Career Fair 2023
Summary:
Draco has a sticky ball of words in his head. Harry's been out of the loop but a bit wanting. Arthur and Molly (and Cissy, by Merlin!) have a Plan, lawks a'mussy. BuyItFromBob is enigmatic and Muggle objects continue to present some difficulties. But all will be well in the end, because the War is over and life is there to be lived. Of course, it always helps to know a good Librarian.
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Excerpt:
Draco whizzes through the door of the Barbican bright and early Monday morning, having left a message on Mr Weasley’s lovely Muggle voice mail machine via floo call, saying he would be slightly delayed reporting into work.
“Oh, super!” he exclaims, vastly relieved to see a familiar face. “I was hoping to find you.” He gulps, dropping his satchel to the floor with a thud and bends in, dropping his voice to a more confidential level. “I need help, desperately.”
“And a lovely morning to you, as well,” the librarian chuckles richly, also leaning forward across the service desk. “Sounds utterly dire. How may I help?”
Draco opens his mouth but says nothing for a moment; he’s really not sure where to begin. Yesterday evening had been such an utter disaster and he’d been off-kilter and berating himself ever since. But something had to be done, and immediately.
“I--you see--there’s this bloke. This chap, who I know; have known for a long time--we have history together, you could say?” he bursts out, grabbing stray words out of the giant tangle of thoughts and fears and feelings pressing against the aching inside of his furrowed forehead. “Not always such a good history, either, but far better now, at least I hope so, and I have--I have bolloxed it up and don’t know how to go about fixing it, and he’s--he’s different from me.”
“Really?” The librarian seems intrigued. “How so?”
“Well, he’s been brought up Mug--er! I mean, he’s an orphan, very young when it happened, only a little baby, and his aunt and uncle, his dead mum’s family, they weren’t very--they didn’t care for him. I mean to say, not at all. The bastards. They simply didn’t want him! Kept him dressed in bloody rags and barely fed him. I hate them--the thought of it just--just! Argh!”
Draco stops stock still, caught up in all the repressed rage he feels whenever he thinks too hard on Harry’s Muggle family.
“I see,” the librarian says softly, stunningly angular face falling instantly into lines of sympathy. “I am so sorry to hear of it. Your poor friend.”
“Yes!” Draco nods vigorously. “So, he’s not like me, because my parents were strict but at least they loved me--or my own mum always has, that I do know. They certainly didn’t starve me or anything like. I had all the things I could want, toys and games and broom--ah! Bother! Point is, this chap, he didn’t have any of that, and also--also? I work with him now and it was a such a stupid, stupid thing we had a brangle over, and I--”
“Need a bit of guidance, perhaps?”
“Yes, exactly! That’s why I’ve come.” Draco straightens his stooped shoulders. “I cannot simply let it go, you see. You were the first person I thought of, honestly, because you were such a help to me last week, and I thought perhaps the library might have a book or two. Surely other people have also been in my same situation?”
“Tell me,” the librarian asks softly, “is this bloke of yours a mate, a co-worker, or?”
“...Or?” Draco echoes, the tips of his ears instantly a’fire. “Or what? What do you mean?”
“Simply,” the librarian blinks at him slowly, knowingly, but with that same kindness that attracted Draco from the start of their acquaintance, “due to your reaction. You seem…ah. How shall we say?”
A hand is waved at him expressively.
“Far more bothered than is warranted over a mere tiff with a co-worker. Or even a good mate.”
“Oh.”
“Yes, exactly." The librarian nods sharply. "I only enquire because there are indeed books on the very subject, stacks of them, many of them utter rubbish, to be brutal, but they aren’t all the same across the circumstances, you know? The advice--and the results of employing such advice--may vary. Do vary! No relationship is ever the same as the next, you understand?”
“Ye…es,” Draco replies slowly, considering his options carefully. He regards his new friend, head cocked. “But I haven’t mentioned having any romantic feelings for this chap. Not, erm, explicitly. Is this something that seems obvious to you?”
“A tad.” The librarian grins saucily at him. “A soupçon. The veriest smidge.” They pinch a thumb and forefinger together, just so.
“Ah.” Draco frowns, nonplussed. “I…um. Ah.”
“But it may also be only because I do believe I’m rather older than you are, ducks, and have been ‘round the block any number of times more than you.”
“Oh?” Draco raises a wary eyebrow. “You’ve done this same thing as well?”
“Of course I have,” the librarian laughs, “I would honestly be gobsmacked to meet anyone who hasn’t! It’s nothing to fret over, if you do have feelings, you know. Perfectly natural, to have an attraction and make a bit of a mess of it along the way. Happens all the time, really.”
“Well,” Draco says, after a moment, “do you think I can be helped by a book? Because I can’t think of what else to do right now. My mates are all at work and my mum’s abroad; I’ve not anyone else to ask.”
“Oh, but you’ve just talked it through with me, haven’t you? I am, am I not, an experienced elder, working in a profession that clearly pertains to conveying all manner of knowledge?”
“Yes?” Draco nods assent. “Ah...I dare say you are.”
“Exactly so! And I say--though it’s my personal opinion, mind, and not in the slightest bit anything officially sanctioned by the Barb; just a bit of advice--you shouldn’t fuss over finding any old book but take yourself off instead and go speak to your bloke, right now, this instant.”
“Now?”
“Yes, indeed. Have it over with so it doesn’t fester. Apologise, of course, for your part in the row, but do be sure to tell the poor man what you’ve told me just now. I think he might be very glad to be told how much you care.”
Draco opens his mouth to automatically object. And then shuts it again, just as quickly.
“Have a go at it, ducks,” the librarian carries on encouragingly, “and keep in mind your chap is likely just as wretched as you are right now. You don’t want that, do you?”
“No!”
Draco nearly shouts, but he's in a library and manages to restrain himself.
“Of course I don’t! But what if--what if he doesn’t care how much I care? Oh, that’s not what I meant--of course he would care; he’s rather brilliant about that, but--what if he’s not, er, attracted?”
“Then you shall know that, shan't you?” the librarian assures him sensibly. “For once and for all. Which is rather an improvement over your current state of misery, is it not?” They give Draco an expectant look.
“Ah…er.”
Draco swallows hard, bending over and fumbling at his satchel. He has himself a moment to breathe with his head down; it helps a great deal, oddly enough.
“I think. I do rather believe,” he says, slowly standing tall and meeting the librarian’s gaze dead-on, “you have the right of it, actually. My mum might even say the same sort of thing, if she were here.”
“I don’t doubt it. Now,” the librarian points a commanding finger toward the exit, “cheers. Be off with you. Best of luck!"
“Yes, alright--yes, I’m going--I’m really going--oh, Merlin, yes, I am! Cheers!”
Steeling his nerves and quelling what felt like a swarm of maniacal Pixies careening about his innards, Draco spins ‘round, settles his bag strap on his shoulder and seeks the most expedient path of exit.
His last glimpse of his brand new mate is of them heartily miming him a cheer and a dazzling beam of a smile. He smiles reflexively; perhaps there is hope for him this time as well.
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