A/N: What's this? Two uploads not a month apart? Who would've thought! As always thank you so much for your continued love and support. I honestly cannot believe that so many people read this :D. I hope you enjoy this chapter (more of a filler than anything, we all know what you really is coming soon... shhh). Also FF is being really weird; all the word counts of my documents keep changing or it changes the document into html/code (I don't know I'm not good at computers). Anyway: I hope you enjoy this chapter of And Malfoy Caught the Snitch! Love, CrazyAsACupcake x
The fourth floor of Harrods is packed. People are skirting around each other, standing shoulder to shoulder, back to back, in the aisles as they picked up ornaments and toys to show the people they were stood with. Kids run up and down the main aisle, in and out of the Christmas Grotto as they tried to catch glimpses of Father Christmas (which was impossible, but they're children; how would they know?) before running back to their families.
Hermione bounces on the balls of her feet as they look through the entrance of the Christmas Grotto: at the fake snow and icicles hanging from the ceiling; at the blue lights that leave the area with a cold-yet-friendly feeling; at the Harrods workers at their stalls, demonstrating colour changing markers, and remote controlled cars; at the line of people waiting to see Santa. This is probably the only thing she likes about Harrods – at least in this section they aren't trying to rip people off. At least this section is just about the joy of children, not the joy of making rich people richer (although it still is, in a way, just not to the same extent).
She looks up at Malfoy, at the way he's sneering at the children running from demonstration to demonstration, and she laughs.
"What's the matter, Malfoy? Do you not like children?"
"Not in the slightest." A child nearly runs into him and he steps backwards, which makes Hermione snort.
"Why not?" She starts through the section, weaving past a gaggle of children playing with the magic markers. She desperately wants to have a go; she always wanted a set of them, but her parents saw them as a waste.
"They're sticky, rude, scruffy," he sidesteps a child holding her breath while her parents try to coax her out of the store. "They do that." He stops by the colour changing markers, his head tilted as he looks at the children drawing. Hermione can see his eyes light up as the white marker causes the other colours to vanish, as the black marker turns pink.
"Would you like to try them, sir?" The woman behind the stall smiles, pulling a blank sheet of paper from the pile beside her. Hermione moves back to his side, her shoulder brushing his arm as they watch the woman demonstrating the pens and how to use them. "There you go," the woman says with a smile, putting the pens in front of him.
He uncaps a red pen and hands it to Hermione, which makes her roll her eyes, but she scribbles a doodle on the page regardless. She draws an apple, using the white to add a shine. Or at least that's what she thought it would do; instead, the red part she draws over turns green.
"Keep going," he smirks, and as she scribbles over the top of the apple, it slowly changes to a dark green colour.
"Ha ha," Hermione says, shoving him.
"Green apples are the best." He takes the red pen from in front of her and writes beside her apple in cursive.
Green Red – always.
He takes the white pen and strikes through the words, leaving a green streak in the middle of the red.
She scoffs. "You wish."
The woman smiles at them, watching the exchange but pretending not to. "These are on sale today for £11.99 instead of their normal price of £17.95." She points to the sign that is at the front of the stand. "And in the set you get three white pens, eleven colour changing pens – like this red one – and eleven vanishing colour pens."
Malfoy looks at Hermione, and Hermione looks at him.
"Do you want one?" He asks. "I'll buy you one if you do."
"Do you?" Hermione draws absent swirls on the paper, making patterns on the top with the white marker.
"I'm asking you."
"It's your money, you should decide." She scribbles a background and writes her name over the top.
He watches her for a second, then turns to the woman. "We'll take one, please."
The woman grins. "Perfect! Just take it to the counter when you're ready to pay." She hands him an unopened box. "Merry Christmas!"
"Merry Christmas to you, too." Malfoy smiles, taking the box from her. "Come on, Granger." He takes her gently by the elbow, walking her away from the table.
"Thank you, and Merry Christmas!" She says, smiling at the woman behind the stall before allowing herself to be pulled away by Malfoy.
She hugs his arm, leaning her head against him. "Thank you, Malfoy," she murmurs against his coat. She kisses his arm, more his coat – which, when after she does it, she realises is such a weird thing to do.
"You're welcome, Granger." He smiles, and they make their way through the Christmas Grotto, just before they pass the ornaments. Hermione looks at the baubles as they pass, then stops.
"Look at him," she whispers, pointing at the tiny brown Harrods bear with the string on his head. "He's amazing."
"So, get one."
"I can't. I need to get my mum something, still." She stares at the bear, stroking it's cheek gently with her finger. She turns back to him with a smile. "It doesn't matter."
"You sure?" He asks, frowning. She looks at the crease between his eyebrows, and she wants to smooth it out. She wants to put a kiss right between his eyebrows to see if that will make him stop frowning, to see if it will make his face relax.
He's so much prettier when he's relaxed.
"Positive." She smiles again, and he smiles back, and she notices the dimples on his cheeks. She remembers back to seeing him on the Quidditch pitch the day of the Slytherin/Gryffindor match, how, for the first time in six years, she had actually seen the peaceful side to him.
On the other side of the Grotto, where the tills are, there is a massive display of fluffy bears, which makes Hermione light up. "Look at him!"
"I'm looking," Malfoy responds drily.
"Me and my mum love the Harrods bears."
"So get one."
"She's probably already got one." She fiddles with his little red waistcoat. "He's great, isn't he?"
"I never would've thought you would be into stuff like this, Granger."
"I'm allowed to be smart and serious and fun and cute," she snaps. "There's nothing forcing me to be one or the other."
"I didn't say there was, I said I never thought you'd like this."
"Well, I do."
"And that's great."
She looks at the queue at the counter. Despite the floor being absolutely heaving with people, there was barely anyone in line to buy anything. That's what happens when everything is so heinously overpriced, she thinks to herself.
"Go pay." She pushes him towards the queue, and he looks back at her.
"With which one?" He pulls his 'wallet' out, looking at the different notes inside.
She leans over his open coin purse, chewing the inside of her lip. She pulls out a purple note. "This one." She hands it to him and he nods, joining the queue. She watches as he reaches the front of the line, watches the man behind the till scan the pens, watches as Malfoy hands the note over. She watches as the man slips the box into a bag before he hands Malfoy his change and receipt.
Malfoy walks back over, handing her the bag. "Present."
"Thank you very much, Mister Malfoy," she grins as she takes the bag from him. If they were a couple, or if they were in a movie, they would probably kiss right now. Just a light peck, an affectionate kiss, a kiss full of love and adoration. She wants to kiss him, to say thank you for getting me something I've wanted for so long.
But she doesn't, because they aren't a couple, and they aren't in a movie. They're just two friends Christmas shopping. And it hurts to admit it, but it's true.
"What now, Granger?" He asks, starting out of the section. She pushes her curls out of her face with her right hand, accidentally smacking herself in the face with one of her bags, which makes him laugh.
"My mum's present. Down to the first floor." She chews her lip as she looks at the store map, thinking that there is absolutely no way she will be able to afford to get her mum anything.
He reads the map over her head. "Can we go to third, first?"
"Why?"
"I want to buy your parents a thank you gift, slash Christmas present." He points at where it says Home on the map. "Home accessories make anyone happy."
And so they go down to the third floor, where they wander aisle by aisle, section by section, until Malfoy spots it. An XL throw, in deep green. He runs his fingertips across it.
"This is nice," he murmurs, more to himself than Hermione, which doesn't matter because she's more intrigued by a yellow and blue cushion on the other side of the stand. He picks up the bundled throw, turning it in his hands to find the price.
£399.
He nods, disappearing to the counter without a second word to Hermione. He stands in the queue with the blanket tucked under his arm, counting the different notes – now that he's looked at them properly he can see the numbers in the corner.
Hermione doesn't notice he's gone until he's already back beside her, tucking the wallet back into his pocket. She sees the large bag in his hand, frowning. He wants to take her face in his hands and kiss her forehead so that she relaxes. He doesn't like it when she frowns, it makes her look meaner than she is.
She's so much prettier when she's relaxed.
"Did you get anything nice?" She asks, nodding to the bag.
"I got them a throw, for the living room or something," he points to the stand behind them.
She looks past him at the blanket. "It's nice." She goes over to one, feeling it in her hands and turning it. Her eyes widen when she sees the price, and she spins around to him in shock. "You spent £400 on it?" She hisses at him, quickly dropping the blanket back on the stand.
"What's wrong with that?" He asks, confused now.
"Do you know how much that is?"
He shrugs.
"That's -" She pauses, doing some mental maths. "That's the equivalent of eighty-one Galleons!"
"Oh, okay."
"Okay?" She repeats, dumbfounded.
"I had the money for it, what's the problem?"
"That's normally something you spend on your partner, or your family, not your friend's family."
"I don't think so." He shakes his head. "If I want to spend it on whoever I want, then I will."
She puts her face in her hands, taking several deep breaths, before pushing her hands through her hair. "Okay. I'm good. It's good."
"You're mad at me."
"I'm not, I just… It's a lot of money."
"A lot of money which I had."
She nods, taking one last look at the blanket, not daring to touch it. "It is nice. But you should know it won't last that long. Something's going to spill on it, or something like that."
He shrugs. "That's fine."
She rolls her eyes, unable to comprehend how someone can be okay spending £400 on something, knowing there is a high probability that it will be damaged or destroyed one way or another.
"First floor?" He asks, and she nods. He slings his arm around her shoulders, and she leans into him. She likes having him around, like her own personal heater. That, and he's not too bad to look at.
'Not too bad' she thinks to herself with a smirk. Admit it to yourself, Hermione. He's drop-dead gorgeous.
They step off the escalator into the Women's Luxury Jewellery department, once again wandering past counters holding things too expensive for Hermione to even begin to comprehend. She weaves her way past cabinets filled with diamonds and gold and her head begins to ache. She sees a bench (padded leather, of course) by the wall and sits in it for a moment, resting her head in her hands with her eyes closed as she thinks.
Malfoy, however, stands at a cabinet filled with earrings, taking his time looking at each pair before moving on to the next. He looks up and sees Hermione sat by the wall, looking like she's on the verge of a breakdown. He looks back at the earrings in the cabinet, then back at Hermione. The woman behind the counter smiles at him, and he smiles back.
"Would you like some help, sir?" She asks, coming over to the side of the counter he's on.
"Would I be able to have a look at these earrings?" He points at a pair of pink studs near the middle of the tray.
"Certainly," she smiles, pulling the tray from the cabinet. She points at the pink earrings. "These are made by Baccarat, they're gold plated. They're some of our best sellers at the moment."
He nods, looking at the price beside them. "Do you think they're good?"
She laughs. "I couldn't say, sir. Personally, I think they're perfect, especially for someone who doesn't have the time or ability to wear hoop or drop earrings. But, the final decision is down to you. If you think the person you're buying them for will like them, that's what matters."
He thinks for a moment, about when Hermione told him her favourite colour was pink, about when he saw her at the Yule Ball with the blue flower earrings.
"I'll buy them, please," he finally says, pulling his coin purse from his pocket.
"Are they for anyone special?" The woman asks as she slots the earrings in a little black box.
He looks up at Hermione, who is now watching him at the counter with a confused frown.
He smiles. "Yes, they are."
The woman smiles back, imputing the amount into the till. She follows Malfoy's gaze and sees Hermione, who averts her eyes quickly.
"I'm sure she'll love them," the woman says, turning back to Malfoy. "That will be £270, please."
He counts out the cash and hands it to the woman, and she hands him the box, which he drops into the bag with Hermione's parent's new blanket. He thanks the woman, takes his receipt, and walks over to Hermione.
"What did you buy?" Hermione asks when he stops in front of her, one hand in his trouser pocket.
"Just something for my mum."
"Why did she look at me?"
"She asked if I was here alone, and I said 'no she's sat over there, waiting'." He looks at a map of the store (why are there so many bloody maps?), and points at something. "What about on the ground floor? Luxury Accessories. And lower ground floor, too."
Hermione sighs, standing and shoving her hands into her coat pockets. She knows she doesn't look as good with her hands in her pockets as he does.
"I won't be able to afford anything." They walk to the escalators, stepping on the one that goes down. She stands so she's facing him.
"There's no harm in looking."
"It harms my mental wellbeing."
He chucks her under the chin. "Five minutes."
"Fine."
They go to the lower ground floor, and they wander through counters of tat until Hermione sees wallets and purses.
"I probably won't be able to afford one, but my mum has used the same purse for at least ten years. I'm surprised it hasn't completely disintegrated at this point." She stands with her hands behind her back, looking into the cabinets, until she finally lights up. "That one," she tells Malfoy, pointing at a long purse in black with gold accents.
"Excuse me?" She says timidly, waiting until a counter staff notices her.
The woman smiles (all these people seem to do is bloody smile) at them. "How can I help you today?"
"Please could I buy this purse?" Hermione points at the black purse.
"Of course." The woman takes the purse out of the cabinet. "Will you need a bag?"
"No, thank you."
The woman scans the tag of the purse and places it on the counter. "That will be £30, please."
Hermione hands over the money, and Malfoy sees how her purse is empty – the notes section, at least. She has £4.40 left in the coin section.
"Would you like the receipt?" The woman asks, handing Hermione the purse.
Hermione thinks for a moment. "Yes, please."
She takes the purse and the receipt with a smile, putting them into the same bag as her dad's cufflinks.
When they exit the lower ground floor, and then the shop, Malfoy asks: "Why did you get a receipt for that and not the cufflinks?"
Hermione smiles. "My dad loves cufflinks. He would never return a set of cufflinks – it's always been a perfect gift. I don't know if my mum will like the purse or not, so it's better to leave the choice up to her."
They get to Knightsbridge, and Hermione stops at the tube map before the barrier. "There's two ways we could get home. We could go from here to Kings Cross and get the 91 bus back, or we go from here to Finsbury Park and get the W7 bus back. The only problem with the Finsbury Park option is we would need to buy other tickets, as these are Zone 1 only. And then on top of that we need to by the bus tickets."
"So the Kings Cross way is better, we'll only need bus tickets."
She nods, chewing her lip. "I don't have enough money for bus tickets."
"I'll buy them." He shrugs, and she looks at him aghast.
"No. I'll figure something out."
"Like what?
"I don't know – I'll ask for a half or something."
"Just let me buy them."
"Malfoy, I don't feel comfortable taking money from you."
"Okay then. The bus tickets were £5.80, yeah? How much do you have?"
She pulls her purse out and counts her coins, although she already knows the number. "£4.40."
He pulls his wallet out. "So I'll give you this," he gives her a £5 note and a pound coin. "And I'll take the £4.40."
"Malfoy-" She goes to object but he cuts her off.
"Granger, how do you expect us to get home?" He waits for her to answer, but she doesn't. "Exactly. Stop being proud for a second."
She nods. "We should go," she says quietly, already pulling her ticket from her pocket. "It's already four, I don't know where the time's gone." She's talking to herself, now, not him, and so he follows her silently through the barrier.
They've managed to hit the tube at just the right time – rush hour. People desperate to go home from work, or their hotel, or to a different section of London. Hermione reaches out and grabs tightly onto his hand, their fingers lacing together as if on instinct. It's not romantic, it's a way of saying I don't want to lose you, so stay close, where I can feel you're beside me.
The ride to Kings Cross is horrible, with Hermione being jostled more than once as people enter and exit the train. She struggles to keep hold of the railing, too – why does it have to be so high up? – so, at one point, Malfoy just wraps his free arm around her waist to keep hold of her. They end up, in the tight-packed carriage, pressed chest to chest (well, more head to chest, considering how short she is), both of them refusing to look at the other, both of them glowing a brilliant red.
Eventually they hit Kings Cross, and they fall out of the carriage together, taking a full lungful of air for the first time in what seems like a very long time – approximately thirteen minutes. They look at each other, then, and see how red the other one has become from the rather intimate position they were put in, and they both burst into laughter, grinning at each other as the tube whistles away from the platform. He offers her his hand, and she takes it, squeezing it gently.
They exit side by side, hand in hand, and get on the bus back to Hermione's street. For the entire 37-minute bus journey they sit with their hands joined, laughing with each other. For a moment, Hermione forgets that they aren't actually a couple. For a moment, Hermione imagines what it would be like if she could do this every day. For a moment, Hermione wishes that their lives were simple – that he didn't have a brand on his arm and a task to murder someone she admired.
But he does, and he will, though she doesn't know it yet.
She wishes it was easier.
But it's not.
When they get back to Hermione's house – at just around 5 o'clock – her dad's car is back in it's place in the drive.
Before she even opens the door, she can hear her parents laughing, and several thuds on the stairs, followed by her dad shouting: "Oh no!" He doesn't sound annoyed or upset, though, as this is followed by more laughter. She opens the door and pokes her head in, feeling Malfoy looking in over the top of her. Her mum is sitting on a step in the middle of the stairs, tears streaming down her face as she laughs. Her dad is stood at the top, his cheeks bright red. Malfoy smirks, realising this is where she gets it from.
"What's going on?" Hermione asks, letting Malfoy in and shutting the door.
For some reason, this question only makes her parents laugh harder.
"Your mum fell down the stairs!" Her dad splutters, clutching his side.
"I fell down the stairs!" Jean shrieks at the same time.
"What were you doing to fall down the stairs?" Hermione asks them both, grinning.
"She was making sure I didn't fall off the ladder." Paul replies, coming down the stairs, stopping to help his wife up in her giggly state. "We've got the tree and everything down so we can do it before dinner. We've already moved the chair, too."
Hermione and Malfoy look in the living room, and the chair in front of the window is gone, taken into the garage until after Christmas. The Christmas tree box lays behind the settee, ready to be set up and decorated. Paul and Jean begin opening the ornament boxes as Hermione and Malfoy watch.
Malfoy frowns. "Where's the tree?"
Hermione points at the box. "There."
"That's a box, not a tree."
"You put it together. It's artificial."
He wrinkles his nose. "Why?"
"It's cheaper, it lasts longer, it helps the environment, it-"
"Okay, I get it." He cuts her off. "Can I put this upstairs?" He holds his bag up and Hermione stares at him.
"You don't need to ask me, just do it."
So, he runs up the stairs, goes into the guest room, and shoves the bag underneath the bed. He doesn't trust Hermione to not go looking for the box, and so he pulls his trunk in front of the bag, meaning it's well hidden. He goes back downstairs and sees Hermione connecting the main pieces of the tree to the stand at the bottom.
"Okay, so," she beckons him over to where she's kneeling. "These colours indicate the colours on the branches. So the orange stickers go here, the yellow ones here, et cetera." She pulls one of the red stickered branches out (the bottom layer), and Malfoy was happy that the actual branches were green and not rainbow coloured. She shows him where the sticker is on the branch, how to fluff the branch out correctly, and how to connect the branch to the tree.
"This seems tedious." He says, pulling one a branch from the box and fluffing it out the way Hermione demonstrated.
"It looks pretty in the end. And we have fun, don't we, mum?"
Jean looks up from where she stands beside a stereo, sorting through Christmas CD's. "Oh yeah, we have lots of fun setting the tree up. And then, afterwards, we have hot chocolate and admire our beautiful creation."
Malfoy raises his eyebrows. "I like hot chocolate."
"You only get hot chocolate if you help with the tree." Hermione prods him with the end of one of the branches, and he lets out an exaggerated sigh.
"I guess if it means I get hot chocolate…"
"That's the spirit!" Hermione laughs, just as Mariah Carey's All I Want for Christmas Is You fills the room.
The tree decorating takes about two hours, plus intermittent dance breaks to songs Malfoy has never heard before. Hermione begs her mum to let her put tinsel on the tree, but they refuse. They compromise on beads – red and gold, crossing each other over and over around the tree.
They wrap the multicoloured lights around the tree next, then start decorating. Jean orders everyone around, telling people where they can and can't put baubles, which baubles need to be displayed at the front and which ones can be relegated to facing the window. About an hour in, Paul gives up, and goes to make their tea instead. Hermione can hear him singing along to the Christmas songs from the kitchen.
When the three are finished, they step back to admire their handiwork, each of them smiling at the tree and how it sparkles even in the bright living room. Jean pulls the final decoration from the box – a battered old angel, who Malfoy can tell had certainly been loved in the family. It makes him smile, to see something so adored.
Hermione can't reach the top of the tree, so Jean calls Paul from the kitchen.
"I can't lift her up! My back's bad enough as it is!" He complains.
"Thanks, dad!" Hermione fires back, scowling.
"I can lift her." Malfoy chimes in, and the room goes quiet. Even the stereo has chosen this as the good time to load up the next track. "I mean, I probably can. I won't, though, if that's not allowed."
Paul smirks. "Look at him, he's terrified, the poor lad. None of us are going to stop you from lifting her to put the angel on the tree." As Malfoy steps towards Hermione, he adds: "Hands on her waist only!"
"Of course, Mr Granger." Malfoy nods, smiling. With both hands on either side of Hermione's waist, he lifts her just high enough to put the angel on the top of the tree.
Jean cheers when the angel is finally placed. "Now, hot chocolate!"
When he puts Hermione down, Malfoy pretends to rub his back, and she swats at his arm.
"Prat," she hisses.
"Yes, but I'm your prat," he replies, batting his eyes at her.
She can't help but laugh. "Sure, Malfoy."
They drink their hot chocolate as the Christmas songs continue. At first, Jean refuses to give Paul any hot chocolate, as, in her eyes, he'd barely helped. She finally gives him some when he begins tickling her until she gets the hiccups. After their hot chocolate, they have lasagne (something else Malfoy has never had before, something else Malfoy now enjoys), and he takes a glass of water up to his room.
There are rolls of wrapping paper in a box by the stairs, so he turns to Jean and asks if it would be okay if he used one.
She smiles warmly at him. "You don't need to ask. That's what they're there for."
As he retreats upstairs with a roll of blue wrapping paper and some Sellotape (thanks, Paul), Hermione turns to her mum.
"Can you do me a favour and I'll pay you back as soon as possible?" She asks.
Jean frowns. "What kind of favour?"
"You're going shopping with grandma tonight, aren't you?"
"Yes, we'll be getting all the food for Christmas, like we do every year. Why?"
"If possible, would you be able to find a Walkman? A second hand one would be perfect."
Jean leans back in her chair. "Why on earth do you need a Walkman?"
Hermione thinks back to the night in the Room of Requirement, where Malfoy had slipped the Some Kind of Wonderful cassette into his pocket.
"I think it would be a nice present for Malfoy. He likes them."
"How do you know?" Jean asks.
"We listened to them, once. He likes Some Kind of Wonderful."
Jean thinks for a moment, running the tip of her index finger around the rim of her mug. "If I can find a cheap one then okay."
"Thank you," Hermione stands and kisses her mum on the cheek just as she hears Malfoy running downstairs.
"Is there anything to cut the wrapping paper with?" He asks from the doorway.
Hermione takes some scissors from the kitchen and hands them to him. "Don't hurt yourself."
"I won't, don't worry." He starts back upstairs, then remembers something. "How do you use Sellotape?"
She laughs. "I'll show you."
She follows him upstairs, and he gets the Sellotape from his room, then shuts the door behind him so she can't see in.
"Find the end," she runs her nail around the Sellotape and peels the end up. "Get the length you want, cut it, stick it down, repeat until done." She hands him the Sellotape back, then hesitates. "You have wrapped presents before, haven't you?"
He scoffs. "Of course I have, Granger. I just normally use magic to do it."
"But you know how to fold the paper…"
"Yes, now let me do what I need to do." He takes the Sellotape from her, grabbing her hand and kissing her knuckles gently. "Goodnight, Miss Granger."
"Goodnight, Mister Malfoy."
He slips back into the room, closing the door gently behind him. She stands there for a moment, just staring at the door, before she sighs and goes to her own room. She flops onto her bed, still fully dressed, thinking of all the times today she could have done something – anything.
Gosh, Hermione, for a Gryffindor you really are a coward.