The owner of Quality Quidditch Supplies was torn between pleasure and, well, displeasure at seeing a certain Draco Malfoy enter his shop. Displeasure because Malfoy had kept hold of his superior attitude, even though he had lost everything else, from the war years. Pleasure because could he really be displeased with the man who had caused a certain Lucius Malfoy to spend a lot of money on excellent very expensive brooms - they hadn't needed to advertise for a long time afterwards. Even if said man had then been an extremely whiny child at the time. Speaking of which ...
"Broom now! Broom now! Broom now! Broom NOW! ..."
Draco winced. The owner of the shop felt very very close to changing his mind about pleasure or displeasure at Malfoy (in favour of displeasure) - he had never been caused to jump so high in his life (from shock). That is, until he remembered the Malfoy fortune. Malfoy might or might not want to spend his money on the most expensive brooms in existence but ...
Then he turned around. For the second time that day, his professional demeanour was replaced by pure shock.
"Mr. Malfoy!" he said sternly, hands on hips (Draco was strongly reminded of Hermione Granger), "What kind of establishment do you take this for. We have absolutely no interest in buying brooms (sotto voce: we have more than enough to get rid of thank you). We are a selling establishment. As I am sure you know. Are you trying to insult us?"
Quiet calm voice, thought Malfoy to himself remembering advice from a book (what else?) Granger had lent him - a book which just happened to deal with dealing with clinically insane people. Pacify him. Do not upset him. He is obviously under a lot of stress. I wonder what I should say first. Oh, I know ...
"Er," Draco said in his calmest quietest voice to the shop owner, "er hum?"
Oh dear, thought the shop owner. I've clearly just aggregated him. He obviously wasn't trying to insult me (who would try and sell broomsticks with faces anyway?). He is just mad. He's probably been under a lot of pressure lately. What did that TV program (wonderful, some Muggle contraptions, absolutely wonderful) say about calming people down? Hmm, think think. Ah, I've got it. A nice hot cup of Butterbeer. Yes, that's right.
So the shopkeeper put on his most ca-alming face (he looked like he had a severe headache) and invited Malfoy into the back of the shop.
On seeing the man's obviously pained face, Malfoy's apprehension had increased tenfold. Is there something wrong with my face, my tie, God-forbid, my hairstyle? What should I do? It took him a while to remember that the man had not had that face when they first came in so wasn't to do with his appearances (skin-deep hadn't Astoria called him just two weeks ago? He had taken it as a compliment - after all who could deny that his skin was very nice?). He had calmed down after that. I mean, even a pained madman can't be worse than a bad hairstyle? Can it?
For the shopkeeper's face had just increased in intensity of calming (bad headache) look. It was, after all, a very natural response to Draco's panicked face of only a few minutes ago (my hair, my tie, my face, what shall I do?). But it was important to calm people down. Especially if said people were from one of the richest families in England and in a shop. Taking this as motivation, the shopkeeper took a deep breath in. Then another one. And then another. In fact, he took so many that he looked like he was hyperventilating. Well, at least he looked like he was hyperventilating. A bit. To Draco.
And Draco had become noble in the time after the war (take that Gryffindors, he he). He wasn't going to let two kids (well one of them his kid but that was beside the point, he thought) to stay around in danger's way. No no. He must get them away from here. To safety. Especially so they don't cause me any trouble or make the situation worse he added to himself in his head (he he Draco - Slytherin to the core, Draco could swear the Gryffindors would have replied in response to that thought). But it was, unfortunately too late. The brooms (aka. kids were nowhere to be seen). Draco cast a quick protection charm (wherever they were, the monsters) over them before returning to the "mad" shopkeeper.
The "mad" shopkeeper was now feeling very worried. "He pulled his wand out on me. He did." he was thinking in a panicky tone. After all, what would follow? A snake charm? A levicorpus charm? Worst of all, the very worst, rictumsempra? (He wouldn't, he tried and failed to reassure himself, he wouldn't be so cruel as to try and make me laugh. No way. Not even a former Death Easter would be that cruel). (If Draco could have heard these thoughts he might have been justified in his belief in the shopkeeper's madness. But the shop wasn't mad as such - he had a phobia. A terrible one. Of laughing)
Arming himself (unostentatiously) with his wand, he invited Draco to the back of the shop. Foolish? Maybe. Kind? Not meant to be. No, the shopkeeper was doing the only thing he had ever heard of doing when dealing with someone mad in inviting Draco to have a Butterbeer at the back (and, the shopkeeper hoped, to be calmed down by it sufficiently to let them all get away alive - actually why haven't I just stunned him if that's what I wanted to do? - oh, alright then I'll be honest thought the shopkeeper. I'm sure he's not dangerous (typical recklessness Hermione, who had once given the shopkeeper private tutoring lessons on lecturing other people (he thought the ability might improve his sales - you know, by really annoying and scaring people - it didn't work), would have told him, sternly, with hands on hips. But I'm more than capable of doing that myself now, he mentally thought. Not that you are, are you, imaginary Hermione replied back).
And Draco was doing the only thing he knew in going along with it (humour him, humour him, calm face, quiet voice, SLOW walk, Draco reminded himself firmly before turning his attention back to the shopkeeper (whose internal dialogue had shown on his (the shopkeeper's not Draco's face) and further convinced Draco that the shopkeeper needed to be humoured ...). So both men made their way, very slowly, watching each other nervously, hands near wands, and VERY nervous, to the back of the shop ...
