Disclaimer: I own nothing! Well, not nothing… but you get the point.
A small frown tugged at the corners of her mouth as she thumbed through the rack of clothing. She shook her head curtly at the cheery sales girl who asked if she needed help. Hermione needed help, but not from some blonde bimbo in a muggle shop.
She definitely did not belong in this store. The pounding beat of the music was making her head throb, and she was sick and tired of the vast array of skimpy clothing. Then again, she didn't really belong anywhere in Portland, in Oregon, in America. After her seventh year at Hogwarts, though, Hermione knew that she needed to leave her past behind. If only Harry and Ron…
Hermione mentally shook herself for allowing her thoughts to stray to her friends, and turned her attention back to the scanty, barely-there clothes. She sighed, but forced herself to continue searching; after all, she was going on her first official date on Friday – just two days away.
Hermione let her thoughts drift to Tom, the American who had asked her out – he was handsome (tall, dark, and handsome, to be exact). He worked at the Starbucks that she always went to on her way to work at the art museum in Portland. She had always thought that he flirted with her, but she didn't want to fool herself, and so thought nothing of his smiles and winks. Needless to say, she had been completely shocked when he asked her to dinner and a movie.
She had agreed, of course. Harry had never shown the slightest bit of interest in her, and Ron – well he had, but then came Lavender, and after her, Hannah Abbot. While other boys at school may have been interested, Hermione was, of course, too busy studying and helping Harry that she never really gave them any thought.
And now, Hermione thought as she pulled a strappy black dress off the rack to examine, I'm going on my first date ever. She felt butterflies explode in her stomach at the very thought of it.
At the same moment, Hermione felt someone lightly stroke her arm, causing her to jump back, nearly colliding with another shopper. After apologizing profusely, she turned towards the person who had touched her. She found herself face to face with a pale, skinny boy with straggly, greasy black hair. Hermione immediately found herself thinking of Snape. But this boy was much younger. Probably even younger than me, Hermione thought.
The boy stepped closer to her and pried the dress that Hermione was holding out of her hand. He peered at it closely, squinting his watery brown eyes. Turning back to Hermione, he leaned over to talk to her, further closing the gap between them. "I think," he said, his voice a hoarse whisper, "that you would look absolutely stunning in this." Hermione tried not to gag. He reached out and entwined his finger in one of Hermione's unruly brown curls. "Why don't you and I go see how it looks on y-"
He stopped mid-sentence and turned around to see who had tapped him on the shoulder. Hermione recoiled, but did not leave, as she was curious to see what was going on. A tall blonde was standing on the other side of the creepy boy, but the two were around the same height, and Hermione couldn't see the newcomer's face. When he began talking, though, Hermione was shocked to hear a familiar British accent.
"Excuse me, sir," the voice said. Hermione was trying to pinpoint the owner of the voice. It sounded vaguely – or maybe not-so-vaguely – familiar. She wasn't left guessing for long. The blonde brushed the other boy aside, saying, "Is there something that you need from my girlfriend and me?"
Hermione hardly registered the fact that this person had just referred to her as his girlfriend. She was staring open-mouthed at him, completely shocked. The blonde spoke again, this time to Hermione. "Baby, is this man botheri-" He stopped short, having finally looked at Hermione. After a moment of awkward silence, in which Hermione and none other than Draco Malfoy stared at each other and the creepy black-haired boy tried to edge away, Malfoy shattered the quiet. Turning back to the boy, Malfoy snatched Hermione's dress out of his hands and practically yelled, "Just go, moron."
Malfoy turned to face Hermione once again. He looked a little uncomfortable. "Hello, Granger," he drawled. Hermione was still staring disbelievingly at him. She finally overcame her shock and spoke.
"Malfoy?" Her voice was more high-pitched than usual. "What – How – You- " She cleared her throat. Malfoy smirked. Hermione tried again. "I thought you were dead!" she blurted out. Malfoy's smirk faded and she clapped a hand over her mouth, cursing her bluntness. "Sorry," she whispered.
He shrugged and stuck his hands in his pockets. He smirked humorlessly and muttered to himself. "Huh, you disappear from school after sixth year, and automatically everyone assumes that you're dead. Typical." Directing his attention to Hermione, he shook his blonde head ever so slightly. "You should never assume, Granger. I escaped from the Dark Lord after the," he paused, "incident at the end of sixth year."
Hermione eyed him suspiciously. "What, exactly, are you doing here? And why are you in a women's clothing store? Why are you even in a muggle mall?" she queried.
Malfoy looked at her like she was dense. "Because, they're after me," he explained slowly. "Right now."
Hermione's eyes widened. Just my luck, she thought to herself. I come here to escape all the madness, and I have to bump into a runaway ex-Deatheater of all people! She glanced at his pale, un-tattooed arm. Okay, so he's not a Deatheater. But the Deatheaters are after him, and that doesn't exactly make me safe!
"Oh, bugger," she sighed. She took her dress from Malfoy, grabbed his arm, and lugged him towards the dressing rooms. When they approached the attendant, Hermione plastered a simpering smile onto her face. "Just one thing to try on!" she announced to the clerk. She gave a fake giggle. "Oh, and, it's alright if my boyfriend comes with me, right? He wants to…help," she finished lamely, blushing furiously. The attendant raised an eyebrow at the couple. Hermione averted her eyes as she became an ever-deepening shade of red, while Malfoy smirked.
The attendant shrugged and handed Hermione a plastic number one. "Far left dressing room, please."
A/N: Hey everyone! This is my second attempt at a story (first attempt at a chapter story)! Please let me know what you think so that I can continue/make adjustments/delete it or whatever. I would really appreciate any kind of comments. Thanks! Amy
