TWATW-Chapter 11-Hair and Other Issues
By "Citrus Jam With a High Temperature"
The next morning, Hermione woke to the sound of water running. Malfoy was in the shower. She rubbed at her eyes for a moment, willing herself back to sleep. Instead, she lay there for two or three minutes before swinging herself down from her top bunk and getting dressed. At lunchtime the day before, she had managed to get Malfoy to sweep the floor and she had made them grilled cheese sandwiches. Oddly, he seemed to have never had one before and didn't complain that it wasn't "good" enough. (Or maybe he just really liked the dill pickle she had served on the side.) She was just putting her shoes on when the door to the bathroom swung open.
"Granger!" he said, startling her. And Hermione gasped. His hair had turned back to blond!
"What happened?" she asked in alarm.
"How should I know?" he retorted. "What kind of shampoo is this anyway?" He tossed a wet bottle to her.
Hermione looked it over. "It's just normal, generic brand shampoo," she replied, furrowing her brow. She took a look at the ingredients. "Methylchloroisothiazolinone!"
"What?" he barked, running his fingers through his pale hair.
"It's an ingredient in muggle shampoo," she explained, "but it seems like I heard once that it has spell reversing properties, which is why you're always supposed to keep a small bottle on you in case of emergencies."
Malfoy left the doorway and yanked the bottle from her hand. "What about your hair, then?" he asked, a frown creasing his features.
"It's naturally curly. The spell he used just enhanced that quality. Duh," she added as an afterthought.
"Bloody brilliant," he scoffed. "But now what am I supposed to do? Keep a low profile?"
"No," she retorted coolly. "We'll just have to buy some hair dye while we're out today."
Malfoy grimaced. "Not more red. I don't want to be a carrot top."
"Well," Hermione hesitated, "I suppose it doesn't have to be red. How about brown?"
He snorted. "And look like you?"
"Black?" Hermione tried again.
"And look like Saint Potter?" He shook his head. "I think I'll keep it blond and take my chances. If anyone asks, I bleached it."
Hermione huffed. "It's your funeral." She paused. "Do you hear that?"
"Great, now you're hearing things," Malfoy said, tilting his head and giving her a look of disgust.
"No, no," Hermione said. "I think there's someone at the door." Just then, the doorbell rang clearly throughout the house. "See?"
Malfoy merely shrugged. He followed her downstairs and she answered the door. "We're here about the floor," a man wearing a red cap said in a bored tone.
"Come on in," Hermione beckoned, motioning the man and his companions in.
"This the kitchen?" he asked, pointing.
"Why, yes it is," she answered.
"Not very bright, is he?" Malfoy asked in an undertone. Hermione sent him a glare.
"We'll get started then. You might want to get yourselves some breakfast elsewhere. We'll be at it all day," the man continued, either not hearing or choosing to ignore Malfoy.
"All right," Hermione answered. "Are you ready?" she asked, turning to Malfoy.
"Yeah," he answered, sneering. With one final glance at the men in their kitchen, they left and made their way into town. Almost automatically, Hermione pulled into a spot in front of the coffee shop they had visited the day before.
"Oh, no," Malfoy groaned. "Are we seriously going to see that nutso again?"
"Well, she seemed friendly enough," Hermione said delicately. "Besides, if you haven't noticed, we might be here awhile and could use a friend or two."
"The day I'm friends with her is the day I'm friends with you," he said darkly.
"When pigs fly, then?" she asked, smirking.
"Exactly, Granger, exactly." Unwillingly, he got out of the car and waited for her to go in first. Almost immediately, Fidget's head popped up from behind the counter and she waved cheerfully.
"Oh, I love the hair! I'll be with you in one second, dolls!" she said, balancing a stack of plates in one hand and a pitcher in the other. "What can I get for you?" she asked as soon as they were seated.
"I'll have a coffee and a raspberry scone," Hermione ordered politely.
"Thank you, Samantha." She winked. "And for you, Derek?" Fidget asked, smiling.
"The same," Malfoy replied, his arms crossed and his expression sour.
"Lovely," Fidget said, clapping her hands. "I'll be back in a jiffy."
"I don't trust her," Malfoy commented, his eyes trailing after the young woman clad in a black and white feather patterned dress.
"Do you trust anyone?" Hermione asked skeptically.
"Not really," he said, shrugging.
"Not even me?" she asked, resting her chin in her hand and fluttering her lashes at him.
Malfoy surveyed her coolly. "If I didn't know any better I'd say you were flirting with me," he remarked. Hermione scowled. "Of course I trust you; I trust you not to murder me in my sleep, and that's saying something."
Hermione snorted. "Good to know."
"I'm back!" Fidget said cheerfully, placing two steaming mugs and a couple of scones between them. "Say," she said, putting a finger to her chin, "you doing anything tonight?"
"Um," Hermione said uncomfortably. "No."
"Excellent! I'm having a get-together. You're more than welcome to come."
"I don't think…" Malfoy began.
"We can really talk, you know. And you can meet my friends," Fidget said. "You are new to the area, aren't you?"
"Well, yes," Hermione admitted.
"Excellent!" Fidget replied, putting her fingertips together. "Here's my address, and the party starts at seven. Be there or be square, I say." And, without waiting for their objections, she walked away from their table to help someone else.
"Well, this is freaking wonderful," Malfoy commented, making a face.
"Everything all right over there?" Fidget called from across the room.
Malfoy raised his mug. "This coffee, it's freaking wonderful!" he said, grimacing as soon as Fidget had turned away.
"You're a lovely, cool-headed, kind-hearted chap, you know that?" Hermione asked dryly.
"Why thank you, dearest," he said, giving her a contemptuous smile and taking a sip of coffee.
Hermione calmly finished off her scone. "Ready to go?" The day before she had received a phone call from the manager of the Pussy Willow asking if she could start that morning. Unfortunately, that left Malfoy to amuse himself while she worked. He wasn't about to spend the day at home with the flooring crew there (and without the possibility of a midday meal,) nor could he really travel farther than walking distance when it was Hermione who had the ever-important driving ability. So he had resolved to spend his day wandering the town.
Malfoy nodded and they began heading down the street to the bookstore. "Hold it one second," she said, as they neared a rubbish bin. Reaching in, she pulled out a copy of The Daily Prophet.
"Another one?" Malfoy asked skeptically, looking about to make sure they were alone.
Hermione nodded. "You know what this means, don't you?"
Malfoy scoffed. "That Snape's gone senile," he said.
"No," Hermione replied. "He's much too careful. He'd never leave something like this just lying about." She tucked a curl behind her ear. "No… whoever this is is a bit less concerned about exposure, and passes by this spot daily." She looked up at him. "It has to be Fidget."
"Yes, Samantha, I know. I'm not bloody-well blind, you know," he said rudely.
"Finally, we agree on something, then!" she said, beginning to scan the front page.
"Anything about yours truly?" Malfoy asked as they neared the bookstore.
Hermione nodded. "They're holding a funeral service for you."
Malfoy beamed. "For me? They shouldn't have."
"I wholly concur. They shouldn't have. There isn't a single thing about my death, though." A passerby sent them a look. "Oh well, I wasn't planning on pulling a Tom Sawyer anyway."
"Who?" Malfoy asked, scrunching up his brow.
Hermione shook her head. "You really need to read more, mate."
They entered the shop and the elderly man behind the counter jumped up immediately and grabbed their arms. "There isn't a moment to lose! I've got a group of Red Hat ladies coming in and I'm dangerously short-handed." He pushed an apron into each of their hands.
"But, I—" Malfoy began.
"Come on! I'll show you how to run the register," the man said, pulling them back behind the counter. "You just enter in the price and hit 'book sale,' got it? Then you push subtotal, tell the customer the price, then you hit either cash, credit, cheque, or gift card. If they need change, give it to them. Got it, good." The man hurried off to one of the other rooms so quickly that they didn't have a chance to say anything.
"Does he sodding think that I'm working here too?" Malfoy asked, in a dangerously low hiss.
"It would seem so…" Hermione said. "Here, I'll give you a brief overview of muggle currency." She showed him all of the different bills and coins. "To make change, you count up, don't subtract. It's a million times easier that way," she explained.
"Up?" he asked, staring at her incredulously.
"Yes, say someone hands you five quid. If their total was four pounds, fifty-five pence, then you hand them two of the 20p and a 5p. That's fifty-five, seventy-five, ninety-five, a pound. Get it?"
He shook his head. "No, are you barking mad?"
"You just count up from the total to the amount they're paying you," she rectified. "Trust me." She very quickly finished tying her apron. "Like it or not, you are going to stay here with me, Derek. Besides, you didn't really want to spend the whole day just wandering around, did you?" She poked him in the chest. "And we all know how much you like money, don't we?"
"Which is why I'm an heir," he said, scowling. "I am so not going to work here the whole day when I could be… I dunno, out eating an ice cream or something."
"Look," Hermione said, crossing her arms. "The money I deducted isn't going to last forever, okay? You can only take out so much and not look suspicious, especially if you're trying to avoid looking like you just faked your own death."
Malfoy puffed up his chest. "Fine," he growled.
"Good," she said, clapping him on the shoulder. "I'm glad that's settled, because I just saw someone heading this way wearing purple and red."
"Hooray," Malfoy mumbled.
A.N.: 9-7-2006 I just went back and fixed the problem with the currency. If it's still incorrect, somebody please let me know. I'm mostly just worried about the terminology now.
