"Draco looked up from his worktable when the bell jingled. He didn't expect to see a small girl slip through the door. Not many folks wandered into his shop. If they came at all, they came with a purpose and left as soon as possible. The war was long over, but few people had forgotten.

"May I help you?" Draco asked out of politeness. He was surprised when the girl marched up to him and nodded.

"I hope you can, Mister. Dudo is in desperate need of a band-aid." The girl held up a tattered purple dragon and looked at him with concern.

Draco was impressed by the little girl's manners and enunciation. He couldn't remember speaking so well at such a young age. He took the stuffed dragon and examined it carefully. There were no rips or holes to be found, but he reached beneath the counter and pulled out a bandage anyway. The little girl stared at the bandage in horror and shook her head.

"No. Dudo needs a band-aid."

Draco cocked his head curiously. "And what is a band-aid if not a bandage?"

"A band-aid heals boo-boos on dragons. They're magical creatures, you know. They can't be healed in the same way we can. The only thing to heal a boo-boo on a dragon is a band-aid," she stated rather emphatically.

"Really?" Draco walked around his worktable and squatted in front of the girl. Her hair was shoulder length, with tiny ringlets framing her face, her eyes as blue as the sky, and her nose was sprinkled liberally with tiny freckles. Children had once annoyed Draco, but over the last few years he'd come to like them. Children were simple. They didn't judge you by your past or your name. "How did you learn so much about dragons?"

The girl smiled from ear to ear. "My Uncle's a dragon tamer. I'll be a dragon tamer too one day when I'm older. My mum says I can be whatever I want to be, as long as I want it badly enough and work hard for it."

"Hm. She does, does she? And where is your mum now? Does she know you're here?"

The little girl shook her head, her tiny eyebrows crinkling. "Mum's at St Mungo's having another baby. She was saying lots of bad words and something about hexing my dad's balls -- which is strange, because the only sport my dad likes is Quidditch and he only has a broom. I don't think he has any balls. But, for some reason, my uncle decided it was time to take a break and get some ice cream. I don't really know what ice cream has to do with my dad's balls, but... well, that's why I'm here."

Draco tried hard not to laugh. He found that he really liked this little girl. He took the dragon from her hands and handed her a piece of parchment and a quill. "Can you draw a band-aid for me? Perhaps I have one lying around; I just don't know what it's called."

The girl nodded and took the quill, her face pinched in concentration as she drew. When she was finished, she handed it to Draco with a hopeful look. "They're pink and have sticky stuff on the back to hold them on, and a nice puffy bandage in the middle for the boo-boo. Do you think you can find one?"

Draco took the piece of paper and nodded. "I'm sure I have one here somewhere." He stood and rounded the worktable again. He crouched down, pulling his wand from his sleeve. A few whispered words later and the parchment band-aid was transfigured into a real one. "Ah, here we go," he said triumphantly as he stood. The girl's face lit up like a lantern.

"Oh, thank you! That's just what Dudo needs!" She took the plaster and carefully placed it around the dragon's foot.

"What happened to him, anyway? Did he get into a fight with another dragon?"

"Oh, no. Dudo doesn't fight. He's a nice dragon. His foot got caught in a table crack at the Leaky Cauldron. Uncle Harry took my little brother to the loo for a nappy change, so I decided to come here for a band-aid. I thought, since you sold potions, you might have one. I guess Uncle Harry was right about you not being a bad man. My Dad will be glad when I tell him he no longer has to go to Hogsmeade to get his potions."

Draco tried not to let the words hurt him. Before he could processes who Uncle Harry might be, the man walked through the door.

"Lizzy, where on earth did you go? I've been looking all over!" The redheaded toddler resting on Potter's hip had tears rolling down his cheeks and Potter looked as though he was close to them himself.

"She came looking for a plaster for her dragon." Draco wasn't sure why he felt the need to protect the girl, but he did.

Harry turned as if he'd only just realised someone else was in the shop. "Draco. I'm sorry if she bothered—"

"She was no bother. The dragon is all fixed up and good as new." He smiled at the little girl who was now inching her way behind Draco's leg.

"Lizzy Rose Weasley you come out from behind him this instant!"

The girl peeked out but refused to budge. Draco couldn't help but laugh. He still liked her, despite the fact that she was a Weasley. Perhaps he'd changed more than he thought. "Potter, you look like you haven't slept in a month. I take it Granger was the one hexing balls, then?"

Potter’s mouth fell open and he looked down at Lizzy in horror. Draco just laughed. "She's a kid, Potter. Kids have no secrets. Why don't you come into the back and I can make you some tea. That one looks like he could use a nice clean cloth for his face." Draco didn't wait for Harry to answer. Lizzy was glued to his leg so he assumed Harry would follow.

The back of his shop contained not only his office, but a small apartment as well. He found living at the Manor to be tiresome these days, and much preferred to crawl into bed after a long day's work without listening to his parents nag him about how he was wasting his life on a failing Apothecary. He didn't understand it any more than they did. He just knew he had to do something or he'd go insane.

"I didn't know you lived here." Potter's tone was mildly shocked.

Draco shrugged. "How could you know when you purchase your potions from Hogsmeade?" Potter glared at the little girl and Draco had the urge to shield her from it. "It's understandable, you know. I'd probably do the same thing."

Once the kettle was on, he found a cloth and ran it under cool water. The day was especially warm and Draco assumed a cool cloth would feel nice. He reached out and wiped the tearstains off the little boy's cheeks and the drool from his chin. The toddler giggled. "There, all better."

Potter's mouth was hanging wide open again. "What?" Draco asked, perhaps a bit too defensively. "I'm not a monster, you know. I happen to like kids."

Potter's dumbfounded expression changed to an amazed one. "So I see. Apparently there's a lot I don't know about you."

"Of course there is. You don't know anything about me." Draco hadn't meant for it to sound so bitter, but he couldn't seem to help it. Lizzy stared up at him as if she were trying to sort out what had made him angry. He smiled down at her and patted her head just as the kettle whistled.

Potter surprised Draco by reaching for it first and pouring two cups of tea. "You know," he said as he handed one to Draco, "Hermione will be in hospital for a few days and I doubt Ron will be allowed to leave her side. I could probably use a bit of help with these two, if you're interested."

"I doubt Weasley would approve of the bad man at the Apothecary having anything to do with his children."

"If the bad man just happened to be at my house while his kids were there, he couldn't say much, now could he?"

Draco's eyebrows rose as he looked up from his tea. Potter was smirking – something Draco couldn't ever recall seeing. Lizzy tugged at his robe. "Say yes, Mister," she whispered. "Uncle Harry likes you."

"Lizzy!" Harry's blush confirmed her words.

Draco thought the prospect might be worth considering, if for no other reason than seeing Weasley’s face when he found out. He looked down at the little girl and smiled. "Thanks for the advice. Has anyone ever told you you're a bit like your mother?"

The little girl beamed as she answered. "All the time!" 
 
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