"You Britons really need to learn to adopt Muggle fashions," I was telling Aunt Louise as we walked down Diagon Alley. She had decided I needed more robes because most of my clothes were just too Muggle-ish. "They're pretty and perfect camouflage."

"I don't think anyone here needs camouflage, Melissa. We are almost completely separated from their world."

"Yes, and that's the problem. That's exactly the problem. You all don't coexist here like we do."

"You mean pretend to be Muggles? No, I'm afraid we don't."

I put my arms on my hips in frustration and then folded them. "I'm not attacking your culture—"

"My culture? I thought it was our culture."

"Yes, I'm sorry, it is. I mean I'm not attacking British culture but… robes? Honestly, they're so tacky compared to today's fashions. I bet the French don't wear robes. Look at these shoes! Pilgrims wore these shoes! You have to agree that it's a little outdated. My purse clashes with everything."

"Then we'll buy you a new purse, but don't expect me to go into a Muggle store with you."

"I wouldn't," I grumbled. She'd look ridiculous anyway, I thought, staring at her long light pink dress robes.

We stepped into Madam Malkin's where Aunt Louise immediately spotted some purses in the front.

"Oh look," she said. "This one turns different colors depending on your mood. See, green means happy. It's all on this sheet."

"That's not tacky," I muttered sarcastically.

I could tell she heard me because she made a face and went to the next one.

"And look at this little purse," she pointed to a pouch. "Right here it says you could fit a hippogriff inside of it! Imagine that! I wonder if they've ever tried to."

"Auntie Louise," I sighed. "I could never wear that on my shoulder. I'd have to hold that thing wherever I go. And it looks… too shiny."

"That's because it says here that it's made from unicorn hairs. I wonder what's the price." She bent down and then jumped back up with an "Oh!"

"Nevermind," she mumbled, moving on.

"So what's been happening with your Death Eater friend?" she asked conversationally.

"I don't know," I shrugged. "He's kind of depressing."

I hadn't seen him in the Leaky Cauldron since our walk down Diagon Alley but it had only been three days. I was wondering if I would see him tonight.

"He's the quiet type, is he?" she asked knowingly.

"No, he's more like… the depressing, drunk type."

"Well, don't let him get you too down," advised as she patted my hand. "Look at this robe. It's very silky and black, your favorite color."

I had to bite back that I wouldn't dare be draped in black silk in the middle of summer and steered her to some semi-transparent shawls instead.

~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-

I was pleased to find him that night sitting at his favorite table and actually looking sober.

"He's been waiting for you," Tom said gruffly. "I think you should be more careful. I saw the two of you the other night. But it's up to you to decide whether you're going to listen to an old man."

"I'll be careful," I reassured him.

When I finally reached where he was sitting, I noticed that he had been watching me.

"When do you get off?" he asked.

"Umm, seeing as I just came in, probably in four or five hours."

"Can't you get off earlier?"

"Probably," I half-heartedly guessed. I'd have to give Tom a fake excuse.

"Do you want to do something with me tonight?"

His calm demeanor barely hid his anticipation and simultaneous fear of rejection. Deep inside, I knew that this was what I had hoped for but now that the moment had actually arrived, warning lights went off in my head.

"I… I don't know." Looking at him, I was sure he wouldn't ask me again. "Okay," I conceded, my voice remarkably small.

~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-

He was costing me a few hours pay. I had told him that I didn't really need it, but I was trying to make enough spending money so that I wouldn't have to ask my parents for every little luxury. That money would have gone to something good.

We were inside a dark, very expensive restaurant. The deep forest green booth cushions felt like new velvet as I moved my fingesr over them, not the kind of velvet that flattened and cracked after several people had sat on it but a far more expensive variety. Our triangular glasses glinted in the small light, his with a green olive in it. Here he looked much more relaxed, his arm spread over his seat as he reclined himself and looked up at me on his opposite side. We had just ordered. He asked for the usual while I opted for something significantly cheaper.

"You don't have to worry about that," he said once the waiters had left with our menus. "Obviously, I'll be paying for everything."

I tried not to shift uncomfortably in my seat. "This is a nice place," I said. The restaurant somehow made me feel very small.

"I like you," he replied. "You have no idea who I am."

"Yes, well…" That wasn't a very good reason for liking someone.

"I mean, you actually think I'm a good guy."

"I wouldn't go that far… worth talking to, I guess."

He gestured with his hand dismissively. "Whatever. Same thing. I'm saying I almost feel normal with you."

If we were anywhere else, his arrogance would have amused me, but here it felt like our entire surroundings agreed.

"So what do you do here in Britain, anyway?" he asked, his voice so completely haughty. "Other than working at the pub."

"I spend time with my aunt. She never married so I don't have any cousins. I play with her cats. They're a lot of fun."

"Sounds exciting," he said, looking around.

"I might travel in a few months. I have a few other relatives in Europe."

"So you are seeing the world." I had his attention again.

"No, I'm just visiting relatives really."

"No, that's okay… that's admirable."

"Why were you so bitter about it then?"

"Just seems like a lot of people come back with the wrong ideas – Quirrell, The Dark Lord."

"So you think they did have the wrong ideas?"

"Yeah, I guess. It's what everyone keeps telling me. He was a bastard, anyway."

"Lord Voldemort?"

Draco winced at the name. "Yeah. He betrayed my parents. We were slaving for him and he would've killed us if we stopped being useful. He didn't respect us. He didn't respect anyone."

As I looked at him, I could see him bristling with hurt pride.

"You're very proud of your family, aren't you?"

"Of course I'm proud. We're one of the greatest pureblood houses left, but he didn't care. We thought he did, but he didn't."

I remembered hearing that the Death Eaters were obsessed with bloodlines, and his statement about being a pureblood disturbed me. No one cared about that kind of thing back home. I doubted there were any purebloods in Massachusetts anyway. I decided I'd ask him about this stupid fixation later.

The waitress came to us with two large plates.

"Finally!" he said. "I was starving!"

I doubted that he had ever come close to starving.

"What is that?" he asked, looking at my plate with a frown. "Is that a salad?"

"Well, yeah, I think so. It looked good on the menu. See, it's got a lot of interesting fruits."

I tasted the sauce with the chicken strips. "Not bad," I replied.

He didn't seem convinced. "Let me taste it." He took a few bites and then grimaced again.

"Why did you get that thing? Here, take some of this." Then he placed half of the food from his plate onto a spare plate and slid it to me. It was true that his order looked much better and there was so much of it that the two of us could easily be filled. Yet I couldn't help but object.

"No," I smiled. "This is really good. I'm telling you, I'm fine."

"Are you serious?" He frowned, still staring at the salad. "No, my food is much better. Never get a salad when you're eating with me."

"I guess I won't," I happily murmured under mouthfuls of his delicious pork.

~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-

The conversation of bloodlines turned up a lot faster than I had imagined. Guessing that he was obsessed with it, I'm sure he wanted to know, and it seemed that Draco didn't really waste time with anything.

"So are you are a pureblood?" He asked at the end of our dinner.

"I don't think anyone in Massachusetts is a pureblood anymore," I cautiously replied. "We're all for mixing in the US because there weren't many witches and wizards in the beginning. I come from a famous line from my mother's side though, at least famous back home. Have you ever heard of the Salem witches?"

He didn't show any signs of recognition.

"I guess they don't teach that kind of stuff at your school."

"No, our history teacher was just really boring."

"Well, they were persecuted by the Muggles. What's interesting is that my father's side goes back to those persecutors."

"That's horrible."

"Actually, I think it's kind of romantic. It's like Romeo and Juliet, you know?"

"Who?"

I smiled and shook my head. Of course he wouldn't know. "A famous Muggle story."

"You guys are really into Muggles, then, aren't you?"

"We try not to discriminate." I couldn't look at him when I said that. I noticed him grow quiet, and when I did look back up at him, he was staring out of the window.

"I guess this means our dinner is done?" I asked him quietly. It seemed to jerk him out of his thoughts.

He reluctantly blinked back at me, and then, rather slowly, said, "No."

"No," he repeated. "I don't care if you're a Muggle lover or half a Mudblood. Actually," here he looked back out the window, "did you know that the Dark Lord was half Mudblood too? And some of the Death Eaters like Snape… but he wasn't one…"

I vaguely remembered that name, but I was too surprised by his reply to ask any questions. I guess people could really change? After all, it had been two years, and I was probably one of the few people that even paid attention to him now. If you talk about getting a wake up call, he'd practically been thrown out of his bed.

"So what are we going to do now?" I asked.

"You want to go back to my place?" He replied.