A/N: I'm so sorry, readers, I have failed you! *sobs* I couldn't work any Dramione sexy times into this chapter! But I promise, absolutely promise, that sexy times will feature in chapter six. In the meantime, I hope you enjoy this feeble effort below...

Draco bought a hat.

This was after he and Hermione had a heated discussion about transfiguring the colour and cut of his hair and adding something that sounded like a goat to his chin. But when faced between a rock and a hard place, he decided that keeping his sexy blonde 'do was more important to him than hat hair. So Hermione would just have to deal with it.

He flatly refused to buy a garish baseball or trucker's cap with logos such as 'YOLO', 'Yuck Fou' or 'Vodka Made Me do It', although he lingered slightly over 'I'm the Boss.' Hermione, who had hoped to nip into a nearby convenience store and quickly buy the first thing she got her hands on, sighed and took him to a more reputable establishment that sold actual, proper hats.

As luck would have it, a reputable establishment was but a short distance away. 'Messrs Pierce & Farraday – Hatters to Gentlemen of Discerning Tastes since 1802' had a discreet emporium in one of the posher parts of the City of London. Its shiny black door stood next to a window display. The minimalist display consisted of a thin, three-twigged branch, upon which were perched a top hat, a bowler and a fascinator made from wild goose feathers that, ironically, looked like a bird's nest.

Hermione had a quick look at the miniscule price tag attached to the fascinator. It cost £1,450.00. She snorted. Draco should be right at home here.

When Draco strode confidently into the tiny shop, he was almost immediately fawned upon by a dapper little chap in a three-piece suit, scarlet bow tie and shoes so shiny that had he been wearing a skirt, one could have seen what colour underwear he was wearing. Or, indeed, if he was wearing any at all.

'Good morning, sir, madam, and welcome to our humble establishment!' he gushed, and blow Hermione down if he didn't bow to them. 'My name is Jameson. If you require any assistance whatsoever, I shall be pleased to offer my services.'

'Uh, I'm not Troy Fendalton,' Draco said cautiously.

Jameson looked alarmed. 'Indeed not, sir,' he said. 'Pardon me for asking, sir, but should I know this Mr Fendalton chap?'

Draco smiled in relief. 'Absolutely not,' he said. 'I'm looking for a hat. My girlfriend and I' – he pulled Hermione gently in to his side, and Jameson beamed at her – 'will take a look around ourselves to start with and call upon you later.'

'Yes, of course, sir! Men's hats are just this way, if you'll follow me.'

They followed Jameson through a maze of shelves all heaving with hats, boxes and hatboxes until they reached their destination.

And Then There Were Hats!

They scrutinised tweed hats, top hats, bowler hats, trilbies, panamas and straw hats, flat caps, fur hats, fedoras and homburgs, pork pies, beanies, engineer caps and cotton hats. Draco ignored the baseball caps.

'Hermione? How about this one?'

She turned around from examining a cute little Sherlock Holmes deerstalker and rolled her eyes. 'Be serious, Draco.'

'What? It matches my shirt.'

Hermione took the grey rabbit-felt Ascot top hat off his head and put it back. 'You need something more casual. Let's take a look at the fedoras. They're quite stylish.'

Draco thoughtfully perused the selection and tried on a black Regent fedora. It had a reasonable brim that partly obscured his face, especially if he pulled it over one eye. This, of course, made him look so sexy that Hermione practically felt her knickers melting off.

'Oh, if I may say so, sir, that hat looks divine on you,' gushed Jameson, popping out from behind an umbrella display. Obviously the fedora was doing things to his knickers, too.

'We'll put this in the 'maybe' pile,' said Draco. Jameson rushed up on his shiny shoes and carried the fedora off like it was the Crown Jewels.

Next, Draco stopped at an interesting choice: something that looked like a very expensive cowboy hat except it had a wide flat downturned brim, instead of a brim that curled up on the sides. Draco picked it up and looked underneath. 'Akubra,' he read out. 'What's that?'

Hermione had no idea, so she was happy when Jameson popped up from behind the umbrella display again and said 'It's the traditional Australian outback hat, sir. Very rugged. It's made from stiff felt, and has a thin kangaroo-leather belt. And if you take a wee look on the side, sir, you'll see that the belt is augmented by a genuine Australian opal.'

Unmoved by the opal and unsure what an outback was, Draco nevertheless tried the hat on.

'Oh, yes,' he said, looking at his reflection.

'Oh, yes!' trilled Jameson.

'Oh, yes,' smiled Hermione. The hat's brim was large and cast a shadow on Draco's face. This lent an air of mystery to him that increased his sexiness by a thousand percent.

'Excellent,' said Draco. To Jameson: 'I'll take this Australian thingy.'

'Wonderful choice, sir,' beamed Jameson, and the two ambled off to the cash register.

Hermione followed, but something was niggling at her. Unable to put her finger on it exactly, she went with her instinct and took out her phone, brought up Instagram and started scrolling through pictures posted by Troy Fendalton.

It didn't take long before she found the source of her niggle: in at least a third of Troy's photos, he was wearing an Akruba hat, a.k.a. an Australian thingy.

'Draco!' she called out. 'WAIT!'

Back to the drawing board, Hermione and Draco took a short stroll through the boaters and panamas. Draco tried on a Classic panama hat in cream with a black leather headband. The brim was wide, and could be turned either up or down, or up in the back and down in the front. And vice versa, of course.

'Handwoven in Ecuador, sir, using centuries-old hatmaking techniques,' assured Jameson.

Hermione scrutinised Draco. Its light colour made it an ideal summer hat. It was versatile, and had the all-important wide brim. On Draco, it made him look like a model.

'Sold,' she said.

The cost of the hat (£265.00) was a pittance compared to what it cost Draco's pride, but needs must when the Devil drives, as Hermione reminded him.

Outside, Hermione couldn't help but notice that while the hat may have made Draco less conspicuous to Troy Fendalton fans, he was certainly attracting more than his fair share of admiring glances from women. She supposed she should be grateful that they didn't demand selfies with him or slip their phone numbers into his pockets. She sighed. Honestly. Letting Draco Malfoy loose in Muggle London was starting to become a major pain in the arse.

At least Draco was happy. Far from bemoaning the state his hair was going to be in at the end of the day, he was preening like one of those ridiculous white peacocks that strutted around Malfoy Manor like they owned the bloody place.

'What would you like to do now?' asked Hermione. No point trying to resurrect her tour schedule; it was fucked.

He grinned. 'Let's buy a SmartFone.'

Finding a shop that sold mobile phones was easy; just throw a stone down a street and you'd hit one. Hermione steered Draco in to one of the larger premises that sold phones, phones and only phones. Everything was white and bright, and the atmosphere was pulsing with loud electronic music that drilled a hole right into your head. Hermione could feel her pulse synchronising with the music's bass. She wondered what would happen to her if there was a power outage and the music stopped.

Soon, Draco was thoughtfully perusing a long line of display phones tethered to a backlit bench. He picked one up at random, and saw that it was attached to the table by a cable.

'What's the point of tying the phone to the desk?'

'So it doesn't get stolen. It's an anti-theft device.'

Privately, Draco thought magic was the winner here. If you had something you didn't want nicked, you could imbue it with all sorts of charms or curses, ranging from mildly ticklish to limb-amputating.

He poked some of the buttons. Nothing worked.

'Nothing works!' he complained.

'These are just display phones, Draco. They're here to help you decide what model you want. The important stuff is what's inside the phone.'

'Okay.' He tried to prise the one he held apart. 'It won't let me.'

Hermione prayed for strength. See the writing on the display table? That describes what's inside each phone. We compare the information next to each model of phone to work out what you want.'

'Oh,' said Draco.'

'So,' Hermione said,' what do you want?'

'A phone.'

Hermione pinched the bridge of her nose. 'What do you want to do with your phone?'

Draco thought back to his conversation with Daisy. 'So it can play the games that Daisy showed me.'

Hermione perused the phone specifications and pointed Draco to a phone. 'This one should be appropriate.'

Draco squinted at the specs. 'What does '4G mean?'

'Um… it basically means that the phone uses the latest wireless technology, which for you, means games can be installed and played faster on the phone.'

'That's good, right?'

She smiled. It must be like being in a foreign country for him, sometimes. 'That's good.'

'And 'Main Camera: 20MP + 12MP dual main camera with second generation Leica lens?''

'It means you can take photos with the phone.'

'Uh-huh. And CPU?'

'I'm going to find a sales assistant.'

The best Hermione could unearth was an attitudinal punk of indeterminate gender with a tall, rainbow-coloured Mohawk and bits of metal piercing his or her eyebrows, nose, mouth and ears. Additionally, his or her earlobes were stretched by a large pair of stainless steel flesh tunnels. His or her name tag said 'Vic.'

Draco blinked.

Vic sniffed and wiped the back of his or her hand across his or her nose. 'This bird says yer want 'elp, yeah?' he or she mumbled.

Draco stared at his or her ears. 'Do those hurt?' he asked.

'Draco!' hissed Hermione.

'Um, can you explain what these phone terms mean?' he asked instead.

Vic sneered. 'Aint'cha ever 'ad a phone before?'

'No.'

Vic's mouth fell open. He or she had a pierced tongue, too. Hermione wondered, with a shudder, what else Vic had pierced. And whether they were turning septic.

'All righ' then, whaddya wanna know?'

Draco looked at the specs again. 'What does 'AMOLED display' mean?

Vic sighed. 'Well, yer see, AMOLED means 'active-matrix organic ligh'-emittin' diode'. It adds a layer of semiconducting film behin' the organic ligh'-emittin' diode panel which allows it to more quickly activate each pixel, yeah? The increased speed makes it ideal fer larger, 'igher definition displays wiv a lot of pixels. It's as much as a fousand times faster than a liquid crystal display, or LCD.'

Draco stared at Vic, aghast.

Hermione stepped in. 'Just give him the most expensive phone you've got,' she said. 'Along with every possible accessory.'

Draco nodded, satisfied.

Vic grunted and shuffled off to the storeroom.

Draco was now the happy owner of a top-of-the-range mobile phone, complete with leather case, car holder kit and charger (despite his obvious lack of a car), Bluetooth headset, headphones, speakers and a stylus pen. Hermione estimated that the entire kit and boodle cost him about the same amount of money it would take feed to feed a starving Third World village for a year. But he didn't blink an eye, simply handed over his royal purple Coutts World Card to Vic, whose eyebrow piercings shot up when he or she took it.

Hermione boggled. Draco had a credit card so exclusive that the Queen was one of the bank's clients. Cards were handed by invitation only.

Draco saw her staring. 'It's a Malfoy Enterprises expenses card. Mother and I each have one.'

Blimey, thought Hermione faintly.

Draco returned to his phone. 'I've got your number programmed,' he said. 'Can you give me Daisy's number?'

'What do you want her number for?' Hermione asked, surprised.

Draco grinned. 'So I can call her and tell her I got a phone!'

Hermione laughed. 'Oh, right.' She found it and texted Daisy's number to him.

'How are you going to charge the phone in the Wizarding world?' she asked.

Draco waved a hand airly. 'Don't bother me with trifles.'

'So! Where to next, angel?' Draco asked, draping an arm around Hermione.

She consulted her phone. 'Well,' she said doubtfully, 'I had thought about taking you to a film studio, which is about twenty minutes away by train. They have a tour where you can see how a popular film was made.'

Draco was keen. After discovering the TeeVee at Chateau Granger, he'd become fascinated by the programmes it broadcasted. He peppered Hermione with so many questions that even she grew tired of having to explain everything, and stomped off somewhere to read a book in peace and quiet. Luckily, Andrew was happy to take over as Chief TeeVee Educator. Films, he understood, were bigger forms of TeeVee programmes.

'Great!' he said. 'Where's the train station?'

'There's just one problem.'

'Oh, Granger, you've got to start looking on the bright side of things,' Draco admonished. 'Problems are just obstacles that haven't been overcome yet.'

'Really,' Hermione said sarcastically. 'Well, the obstacle with the film tour is that the film is The Soldier Prince. It's a fantasy movie about a Prince whose country is at war with another, and he fights incognito as an ordinary foot soldier. Lots of trolls, dragons, goblins, augmented elephants - you name it.'

'Sounds even better!'

'I'm not finished,' Hermione said darkly. 'Troy Fendalton had the lead role. It made him famous overnight.'

'So, what you're saying is…'

'If we go on the film studio tour, the chances of you being recognised, even with your hat, are practically guaranteed. If there are any hard-core fans in the tour group, I doubt you'll leave the studio unmolested.'

But on seeing Draco's despondent face, she put a comforting hand on his arm. 'If you really want to go, we could chance it… but you'd have to transfigure yourself.'

Draco sighed. Like every Hogwarts student, he'd practised his transfiguration skills on himself, so he knew what he looked like with different hairstyles and hair colours. In short, he looked nothing short of ridiculous, and his ego was far too fragile for him to look ridiculous, even in front of complete strangers in Muggle London.

But fret not – Draco had hatched a cunning plan.

'All right, love,' he pretend-sighed, and they looked for a public convenience where he could transfigure himself.

Draco fidgeted for the length of the entire train journey.

Hermione put down her phone, exasperated. 'What on earth is the matter with you?'

He glared at her. 'That public convenience,' he spat, 'was the filthiest, most revolting cesspit I have ever had the misfortune to set foot in. The smell alone nearly knocked me out! I can feel it seeping into my clothes. My skin!'

Hermione allowed herself a quick eye-roll for Draco's upper-class sensitivities. 'You're imagining it,' she assured him.

She took another look at his head and face. His hair was black and he jammed his panama on to try and hide as much of it as possible. After she explained clearly to him (and showed him photos on her phone) what a goatee, not a goat, was, he added this extra layer of disguise. Draco's transfigured appearance also transfigured his temper, and Hermione had the distinct impression that she was sitting next to a troll with toothache who had just stubbed his toe.

Thankfully, the stop for the film studio appeared.

A hub of people were waiting at the studio's main entrance for a guide to escort them along the tour. Hermione and Draco joined them. So far, so good, thought Hermione with relief. No-one gave Draco a second glance on the train, and neither did the people waiting for the tour (some of them hard-core, judging by their cosplay attire).

Soon, a handsome, hyperactive young man bounded up, wearing jeans and a t-shirt with the film studio's logo. 'Hello, everyone!' he called out. 'Welcome to Ten Oaks Film Studios! My name is Aiden, and I'll be your guide for the afternoon.' He winked at Hermione. She blushed. Draco seethed.

Aiden spent a few minutes giving respect to the cossie'd-up hard-core fans, launching into lingo that Hermione and most of the rest of the tour had no clues about. While waiting for Aiden for finish gushing, she looked around.

Hang on. Something's missing.

One wizard.

Aiden noticed Hermione looking around in confusion with her neck craned out. 'Is something wrong, Miss?' he asked worriedly. 'Have you lost something?'

'Yes! My boyfriend! He was here just a second ago!'

'Oh! Uh… is that him coming around the side of the entrance building?'

Hermione's mouth fell open. Draco ambled leisurely back to the group, looking much happier. The reason for this was because he'd bloody gone and transfigured himself back to his normal, gorgeous self. He kept the goatee, in case someone was actually paying attention to what he looked like before he did a bunk behind the building, but he lightened it to match his hair.

Hermione mentally catalogued the contents of her backpack. No sharp instruments were contained therein, worse luck. She'll just have to kill him with her bare hands instead.

'Are you all right, sir?' Aiden asked. 'Do you need the loo?'

The cosplayers snickered.

'Maybe later,' Draco said politely.

'Well then!' cheered Aiden. 'Let's begin! Follow me!'

The line of visitors trailed out behind their fearless leader, who escorted them into the bowels of the studio.

Hermione clasped Draco's hand and gouged her fingernails into his flesh. To his credit, he only whimpered a little.

'Why?' she spat.

'Love, you knew I was a shallow, pretentious prick. Are you really surprised?'

No, of course not. She glared at him all the same. 'Here's a Muggle saying: Pride goes before a fall. You'd do well to remember that.'

'Stop worrying,' he said indulgently. 'What's the worst that could happen?'

First stop was a gigantic room set out into large rectangles. Interior sets of the movies were set up in each one. 'Look Draco!' said Hermione, entranced. 'Here's the set of the King's throne room!'

It was large enough to stand over one hundred people comfortably. Airy and light, it had a intricately-patterned flagstone floor, massive sconces where fires burned brightly, and at the end, a large and luscious crystal throne sat on a set of red-carpeted steps.

Aiden bounded up the steps and stood next to the throne. 'Here is the throne of King Iolrath of The Azurelands, whose son Prince Gabriel went to fight the evil warlords of Aheocyre. As you may remember, the King sickened with fear and worry for his missing son, and eventually faded away, leaving the kingdom leaderless. The brave tracker Ailas was despatched to find him, at no matter the cost.'

The cosplayers nodded amongst themselves, and others got their phones and cameras out.

One of the cosplayers, a young woman wearing Ailas's costume of ripped leather leggings, boots, skin-tight bandage shirt and a dark cloak, asked 'Can we sit on the throne?'

Aiden laughed merrily. 'Of course you can! Go right ahead.'

The cosplayers dashed to the throne and took photos of each other sitting on it, pulling fearsome expressions. Ailas's pose looked like she was humping it.

'Anyone else?' asked Aiden.

Hermione nudged Draco. 'Want to have a go? I'll take a photo of you.'

He shrugged agreeably, and strolled up the steps. He sprawled elegantly on the large throne, resting one hand on a crystal armrest and propping up his elbow on the other. He used this hand to rest his chin, and smiled his panty-dropping smile beneath the Panama. He looked like he was born to sit on that throne. Smiling and shaking her head, Hermione took some photos.

Aiden was impressed. 'Wow,' he said with awe. 'Looks like you belong there.'

Ailas agreed. 'Yum,' she said to another female cosplayer, before catching Hermione's raised eyebrow. Instead of blushing, she smirked boldly back.

Whatever, Hermione thought. Draco can deal with her.

Next was the Costume Department. They toured another gigantic room, lined with rows upon rows of costumes, sorted and cross-referenced by creature type, roles, level of wear and tear, etc. Mannequins were placed in groups around the room, wearing a selection of the film's more recognisable costumes. Draco paused before an elaborate court gown that Ailas wore at the end of the movie when she and Gabriel returned victorious to the castle and he asked her to be his wife. He gently took down the crystal tiara from the mannequin's head and placed it on Hermione's curls.

'Hey, don't' –

Draco quietened her by placing a finger on her lips. Then he got out his phone, found the camera function, and carefully took a photo.

He showed her the image. He'd taken it in black-and-white; by purpose of design, she didn't know. She looked lovely in it.

Draco gently kissed her, and removed the tiara.

''Ere, can I have a photo in that?' asked Ailas the cosplayer, leering suggestively at him.

'Sure.' Draco casually tossed the tiara to her and wandered off. Ailas shrieked and scrambled to catch it, receiving a telling-off from Aiden, who didn't see Draco throw it.

Hermione smirked and took her boyfriend's hand as they went to inspect another group of mannequins.

The Armoury. All the male cosplayers perked up and puffed out when they saw the rows and rows and rows of fearsome-looking weapons. Aiden proudly showed them a window into the studio's real-life armoury, where a bloke in a film studio t-shirt, safety glasses and earplugs was sharpening a massive sword blade on a grinder.

Next, Aiden took them to a corner where dozens of intricately-designed types of chain mail were hanging. 'The studio prided itself on using props and costumes that were as authentic as possible. They didn't want to use fake rubbish that a five-year-old kid could recognise. This metal chain mail' – he took one down from the display wall – is one of our lighter ones, weighing in at around 10 kilograms. On top of the rest of the costume the battlers had to wear, along with special effects makeup and with weapons to carry and wield, only very strong and fit extras could cope with the demands of shooting the battle scenes.'

Aiden winked at Hermione. 'Would you like to hold it?'

Blushing, Hermione accepted the linked metal, and almost dropped it. Blimey, it was heavy!

Ailas scowled. 'Fer God's sake, it's easy ter see you wouldn't last five minutes on a battlefield. Give it 'ere.' She snatched the chain mail out of Hermione's hands and made a show of juggling it between hers. 'Easy,' she boasted.

'You think so?' asked Aiden. 'Wearing that chain mail plus your costume for up ten hours a day in the blazing sun, when you're not allowed to take the costume or make-up off because it took three hours to get you in to it? Rather you than me, love, is all I can say.'

Ailas looked put out. Hermione wondered if the girl underneath the costume realised that Ailas was a fictional character.

They moved over to the weapons racks. Aiden drew out two long swords with intricate hilts. 'As you can see, every sword was crafted from metal. Depending on their size, they could weigh between two to three kilograms each. Every one was made at our Armoury,' he said proudly.

'They're blunt along the edge and tip, and every actor that was required to wield a sword in the film was given extensive lessons and time to rehearse the fight scenes. Safety first!'

Aiden then looked at the cosplayers. 'Who wants to try them on for size? No epic battles, mind you. Just for posing for photos.'

The cosplayers scrambled over each other to get to them.

The group watched the cosplayers pose with the swords, Ailas testing Aiden's patience by swinging her sword a little more energetically than studio policy decreed. Eventually, Aiden wrestled the sword off her, and she bounced excitedly back to her female friend, who was standing next to Draco.

'Gawd, Saffron, that was – oops!'

And poor, apparently uncoordinated Ailas tripped over her boots and tumbled into Draco, sending them to the ground – knocking his Panama off.

Lying practically on his chest, Ailas looked sultrily at Draco's face – and her mouth fell open in shock. 'Oh, my Gawd,' she whispered.

'I'm not Troy Fendalton!' Draco said hastily.

Saffron peered at him. 'Oh, my Gawd!' she shrieked.

'Oh dear, is everyone all right?' fretted Aiden, coming to lend a hand to lever Ailas off Draco's person. 'Here's your hat, sir – oh, my God!'

Oh, my God indeed, thought Hermione grimly. 'He's not Troy Fendalton,' she insisted. 'He just looks like him.'

Her words sailed over the heads of the assembled.

'Oh, my Gawd! I just fell on top of Troy Fendalton!' Ailas screamed.

Draco and Hermione joined hands and backed slowly away. 'Uh, we have to go now,' said Hermione.

'No! You can't leave yet! This is a one-of-a-kind opportunity!' Aiden gushed, tears practically forming in his eyes. 'To think, I had the great Troy Fendalton on my tour – my boyfriend won't believe it when I tell him!'

Meanwhile, cameras and phones were flashing like crazy, and Ailas was slowly advancing on Draco, almost drooling.

'Thanks for everything! Bye!' Spinning around, Hermione dashed out of the armoury, dragging an unprepared Draco behind her.

They sprinted for the studio entrance, Hermione frantically trying to remember the path they took in reverse.

'They're gaining,' said Draco, looking behind him.

Shit. 'Can you reach your wand?' asked Hermione frantically.

'Yeah, I have it.'

'We'll have to apparate. Find a place where we can hide.'

Being a security-conscious film studio, every closed door they passed could only be accessed by a key card. Finally, they ran into the Costume Department and dived inbetween two rows of what looked like archery costumes. Draco unshrunk his wand with a wordless spell, yanked Hermione in to his side, and with a last look over his shoulder to make sure no Muggles were in sight, disapparated them.

They landed, out of breath, in the Granger's back yard.

Jean was in the kitchen, preparing dinner. 'Hello, you two!' she called out as Draco and Hermione trudged inside. 'How was your day?'

'Exhausting,' they mumbled together.

Draco looked at Hermione, feeling wretched. 'Love, I'm really sorry' –

'It's okay,' Hermione replied tiredly. 'Just, next time, please listen to me, okay?'

'Absolutely,' said Draco sincerely.

Jean looked up from chopping onions. 'Did you have some trouble?'

Hermione dragged herself across the kitchen to enter the living room. 'I need to use the Floo to explain to the Ministry of Magic why a bunch of Muggles on a film studio tour need to have their memories modified so they can stop wondering how two people completely disappeared within the space of a few seconds.' She left the kitchen.

Draco looked guiltily at Jean.

'Draco?' called Hermione from the living room. 'You can decide what we're going to do tomorrow!'

'Better make it good,' Jean recommended.

Up in his bedroom, Draco lay on his bed and stared at the photo he took of Hermione.

His queen.

He'd better pull out all the stops for tomorrow. Let's see, he thought, it should be something where he's not going to get recognised, but if push came to shove, he'd transfigure himself again. And stay that way.

An idea began to form in his handsome head. But he needed help.

He brought up Daisy's number on his phone, and dialled it.

A/N: I hope you enjoyed sight-seeing and shopping with Draco and Hermione! And thanks, once again, for the huge number of reviews, favourites and follows! I am humbled, absolutely humbled.