A/N: Yeah, okay, this took me awhile. I'm busy with NaNoWriMo right now (http://www.nanowrimo.org/--this is a program where you write a 50,000 word novel in a month. Wish me luck, huh?), but this chapter jumped up, grabbed my collar, threw me against the wall in a strangle-hold and *demanded* that I write it. Who was I to turn it down?
Much love to this chapter's beta-reader, Deva, a.k.a. Plaidlylush.
*********
For a split-second, Draco panicked. Any number of things could have happened to his newfound and probably-lost-by-now friend--after all, they *had* been warned by the Headmaster himself. But then he spotted her in Gladrags Wizarding Wear, pretending to examine a dark brown cloak, and he breathed a sigh of relief. Darting around the building quickly to remain hidden from sight, Draco pondered his options.
Option 1: go up and apologize. Bzzt! Wrong. Draco may have decided to make a fresh start in life, but he'd already determined to be himself, above all else. And while he may not have been certain what that self was, he knew for sure that he hadn't made a major gaffe in merely teasing her--something else had to be bothering Hermione.
Option 2: go up and ask what was wrong. Ooh. Uncertain ground. What the new Draco knew about Hermione was very little, and what the old Draco knew about Hermione was that she had a very short temper where he was concerned. Prying into her personal affairs was not something a friend of less than a month did, unless they were invited to. And by her retreat, Draco could guess she wasn't ready to share.
Option 3: give her some space. Ding ding ding! We have a winner!
Peering around the building, into the shop window, Draco saw Hermione surreptitiously wipe away a tear as she sorted through a pile of black robes, and felt a twinge. He'd put that tear there. Some friend he was turning out to be.
Then he spotted the man in the corner of the shop, hidden behind a rack of scarves, watching Hermione, and all tears were forgotten.
*********
Brown was not Hermione's color, so it was a good thing that purchasing the cloak she was looking at was the farthest thing from her mind at the moment.
_Why did he have to go and do that?_ she asked herself for a long moment, and then she thought, _Why did I react that way?_ For Hermione was, above all else, someone who questioned her own actions, and, frankly, she wasn't making a great deal of sense right now. _He wasn't being that bad...in fact, he was so far from his previous standards that...ooh, I'm the one who's been bad, aren't I? Draco didn't say anything that Ron wouldn't have said..._
And then she got it. Like *Ron.* He'd sounded exactly like Ron. The person for whom she had been worrying about that very morning. The person whose fate remained questionable in her eyes, she pondered, moving to a display case filled with piles of black robes. Mindlessly, she sifted through them. Would she ever go to classes with Ron again? Would he ever tease her about her study habits?
Brushing away a tear from her eye, Hermione forced her brain to focus on the robes in front of her. Checking the size on one, she pulled it off the case, nodding her head to herself. This was the one. But it was best not to make any decisions without...Draco...
...he was peering through the window at her. Then he ducked out of sight.
Okay, that was just weird.
Quickly, Hermione moved on to the next shop. After the bookstore she headed for the Post Office, and forgot that Draco had even come with her to Hogsmeade.
"Hello, can I help you?" A slightly squeaky voice came from behind the counter. There did not appear to be an owner to the voice.
"Um, yes," said Hermione uncertainly, drawing out the letter to her parents. "I need to send a letter. By Muggle post."
"Oh, dear, oh, dear, that might be difficult," said the voice, squeaking on the second 'dear.' There was movement behind the counter, and several of the owls perched back there squawked in offense, right in a row, and then the opposite way as the movement came back. A larger envelope than Hermione's own appeared on the counter, along with a quill and a jar of ink. "Fill this out, please."
"I'll need to do this once a week," Hermione informed the voice, filling out the form.
"Oh, dear, oh, dear," it said, squeaking in the same manner as before.
"I'm sorry. Will that be a problem?"
"I suppose I'll be seeing you a lot." The barrier between the counter and the rest of the room lifted a few inches, and Hermione turned to address the owner of the voice. She stuck out her hand.
"Hermione Granger. A pleasure." The woman standing before her was tiny, but perfectly-proportioned, and beautiful. Her features were delicate, but she gave off the distinct aura that she was, in fact, quite a strong person, who was used to being in command. She looked Hermione up and down unabashedly, pulling her glasses down her nose as she did so, as if appraising her.
"Elinor Meadowflower. Call me Elinor, if you please," said the tiny woman in her slightly-higher-pitched-than-usual voice. "I'll assume by your attire that you attend Hogwarts?"
Hermione was reminded, remarkably, of Professor McGonagall, for, although Elinor Meadowflower had none of the Professor's height, she certainly had the same commanding presence. "Yes. Yes, I do. I'm Head Girl. A Gryffindor," she provided unnecessarily, finding herself a bit unnerved that, although the woman was at least two feet shorter than herself, she could not talk down to her. _Not that I would *want* to,_ thought Hermione, scandalized.
"I see. And this would be...?" she gestured to the letter. Hermione resumed filling out the envelope she'd been given.
"A letter to my parents. Every week, they said."
"Bit overprotective, are they?" asked Elinor sympathetically, and Hermione revised her opinion: she wasn't *that* much like Professor McGonagall. "I understand completely. My mother made me come *home* once a month, to make sure I wasn't getting too human."
Smiling to herself, her suspicions confirmed, Hermione said, "Oh, so you *are* a--"
"Half fairy," said Elinor, grinning. "And I suppose that's why they made *you* Head Girl."
Finishing up the larger envelope, Hermione stuck her letter inside of it and sealed it, handing it over to Elinor. "Thanks."
"No trouble," said Elinor. "And, uh, just so you don't have to visit every week," she said, winking, "I'll send Orly here along to pick up a letter from you." Here she gestured to a smallish common owl, which looked at Hermione with a friendly, if unsettling gaze.
"Thank you. Thanks very much!" said Hermione, heading out once again. She really had to go and talk to Draco, apologize, she hadn't meant to be so harsh.
"Stop by if you can find the time! I know it must be busy, being Head Girl."
"I will try. Thank you!" Then the post office's door jingled shut behind her, and she was alone out in the chill air. Smiling slightly, she began to the walk down the street, hoping to find Draco *not* still following her, when suddenly--
WHOOMPH!
--she was flying-tackled by the very object of her thoughts and propelled into an alleyway.
"Oof!" said Hermione.
"Sorry," said Draco, a bit briskly, Hermione thought. At least he helped her up. "Someone's been following you."
"Yes. You," replied Hermione, and now she was just a bit angry. All this weird behavior from him--how many friends had she known who spied on her when she was angry? *None.*
"Look, *besides* me," he darted a look out into the street nervously, ignoring her growing ire. "That guy in the black cloak. He's gone to every store you've been to--"
"So have you," she pointed out testily.
"Yeah, I was following *him.*" He continued to peer out into the empty street.
"And I suppose you don't trust him, *Malfoy.* That is just so typical." Brushing herself off, she snapped at him. At his surname, his head snapped away from the street and he looked back unnervingly into her eyes. "You're so paranoid."
Instead of defending himself against her claims of 'paranoid,' as Draco knew he once would have done, he said: "*Please* call me Draco?"
"Oh," said Hermione, melting at the sad puppy dog look on his face. "All right."
"I'm really sorry about what happened before," babbled Draco immediately. "I just wasn't thinking, and I was trying to make a joke, and it was really stupid of me, and--"
"I'm the one who should be sorry," said Hermione suddenly. "So stop being so guilty. Look, I know you're new at this," she continued, and Draco thought that she must have been a mind-reader, "and I'm new at being actually *friendly* to you, so I think we just need to forget about this whole accident. I overreacted. I'm--sensitive--today." _Sensitive?_ thought Draco. _About what?_ "Just don't worry about it."
"Okay...if you say so..." said Draco cautiously. "But this man was following you, Hermione," he spouted, suddenly intense again. "He was with you in Gladrags, and then he went after you to--"
"Yes, *all right.* Do you see him now?"
"Um," Draco looked around, out of the alleyway to the street. There was no one out there. "No."
"Then let's not worry about him. We have enough on our plate just trying to get ready for Halloween, so please, let's just...do that. I don't want to get into *any adventures* this year," said Hermione wearily. "I've had enough danger to last a lifetime, I think."
The two emerged from the alley and headed back to Gladrags to prepare for the upcoming holiday.
*********
A/N: There we go. Things will begin to happen in this story soon, I promise. As of right now, I hope to have Halloween happen in chapter twelve. And I can tell you that *many* things happen between Halloween and Christmas.
Reviews make me ditch my quarter-finished novel to write chapter ten...
Much love to this chapter's beta-reader, Deva, a.k.a. Plaidlylush.
*********
For a split-second, Draco panicked. Any number of things could have happened to his newfound and probably-lost-by-now friend--after all, they *had* been warned by the Headmaster himself. But then he spotted her in Gladrags Wizarding Wear, pretending to examine a dark brown cloak, and he breathed a sigh of relief. Darting around the building quickly to remain hidden from sight, Draco pondered his options.
Option 1: go up and apologize. Bzzt! Wrong. Draco may have decided to make a fresh start in life, but he'd already determined to be himself, above all else. And while he may not have been certain what that self was, he knew for sure that he hadn't made a major gaffe in merely teasing her--something else had to be bothering Hermione.
Option 2: go up and ask what was wrong. Ooh. Uncertain ground. What the new Draco knew about Hermione was very little, and what the old Draco knew about Hermione was that she had a very short temper where he was concerned. Prying into her personal affairs was not something a friend of less than a month did, unless they were invited to. And by her retreat, Draco could guess she wasn't ready to share.
Option 3: give her some space. Ding ding ding! We have a winner!
Peering around the building, into the shop window, Draco saw Hermione surreptitiously wipe away a tear as she sorted through a pile of black robes, and felt a twinge. He'd put that tear there. Some friend he was turning out to be.
Then he spotted the man in the corner of the shop, hidden behind a rack of scarves, watching Hermione, and all tears were forgotten.
*********
Brown was not Hermione's color, so it was a good thing that purchasing the cloak she was looking at was the farthest thing from her mind at the moment.
_Why did he have to go and do that?_ she asked herself for a long moment, and then she thought, _Why did I react that way?_ For Hermione was, above all else, someone who questioned her own actions, and, frankly, she wasn't making a great deal of sense right now. _He wasn't being that bad...in fact, he was so far from his previous standards that...ooh, I'm the one who's been bad, aren't I? Draco didn't say anything that Ron wouldn't have said..._
And then she got it. Like *Ron.* He'd sounded exactly like Ron. The person for whom she had been worrying about that very morning. The person whose fate remained questionable in her eyes, she pondered, moving to a display case filled with piles of black robes. Mindlessly, she sifted through them. Would she ever go to classes with Ron again? Would he ever tease her about her study habits?
Brushing away a tear from her eye, Hermione forced her brain to focus on the robes in front of her. Checking the size on one, she pulled it off the case, nodding her head to herself. This was the one. But it was best not to make any decisions without...Draco...
...he was peering through the window at her. Then he ducked out of sight.
Okay, that was just weird.
Quickly, Hermione moved on to the next shop. After the bookstore she headed for the Post Office, and forgot that Draco had even come with her to Hogsmeade.
"Hello, can I help you?" A slightly squeaky voice came from behind the counter. There did not appear to be an owner to the voice.
"Um, yes," said Hermione uncertainly, drawing out the letter to her parents. "I need to send a letter. By Muggle post."
"Oh, dear, oh, dear, that might be difficult," said the voice, squeaking on the second 'dear.' There was movement behind the counter, and several of the owls perched back there squawked in offense, right in a row, and then the opposite way as the movement came back. A larger envelope than Hermione's own appeared on the counter, along with a quill and a jar of ink. "Fill this out, please."
"I'll need to do this once a week," Hermione informed the voice, filling out the form.
"Oh, dear, oh, dear," it said, squeaking in the same manner as before.
"I'm sorry. Will that be a problem?"
"I suppose I'll be seeing you a lot." The barrier between the counter and the rest of the room lifted a few inches, and Hermione turned to address the owner of the voice. She stuck out her hand.
"Hermione Granger. A pleasure." The woman standing before her was tiny, but perfectly-proportioned, and beautiful. Her features were delicate, but she gave off the distinct aura that she was, in fact, quite a strong person, who was used to being in command. She looked Hermione up and down unabashedly, pulling her glasses down her nose as she did so, as if appraising her.
"Elinor Meadowflower. Call me Elinor, if you please," said the tiny woman in her slightly-higher-pitched-than-usual voice. "I'll assume by your attire that you attend Hogwarts?"
Hermione was reminded, remarkably, of Professor McGonagall, for, although Elinor Meadowflower had none of the Professor's height, she certainly had the same commanding presence. "Yes. Yes, I do. I'm Head Girl. A Gryffindor," she provided unnecessarily, finding herself a bit unnerved that, although the woman was at least two feet shorter than herself, she could not talk down to her. _Not that I would *want* to,_ thought Hermione, scandalized.
"I see. And this would be...?" she gestured to the letter. Hermione resumed filling out the envelope she'd been given.
"A letter to my parents. Every week, they said."
"Bit overprotective, are they?" asked Elinor sympathetically, and Hermione revised her opinion: she wasn't *that* much like Professor McGonagall. "I understand completely. My mother made me come *home* once a month, to make sure I wasn't getting too human."
Smiling to herself, her suspicions confirmed, Hermione said, "Oh, so you *are* a--"
"Half fairy," said Elinor, grinning. "And I suppose that's why they made *you* Head Girl."
Finishing up the larger envelope, Hermione stuck her letter inside of it and sealed it, handing it over to Elinor. "Thanks."
"No trouble," said Elinor. "And, uh, just so you don't have to visit every week," she said, winking, "I'll send Orly here along to pick up a letter from you." Here she gestured to a smallish common owl, which looked at Hermione with a friendly, if unsettling gaze.
"Thank you. Thanks very much!" said Hermione, heading out once again. She really had to go and talk to Draco, apologize, she hadn't meant to be so harsh.
"Stop by if you can find the time! I know it must be busy, being Head Girl."
"I will try. Thank you!" Then the post office's door jingled shut behind her, and she was alone out in the chill air. Smiling slightly, she began to the walk down the street, hoping to find Draco *not* still following her, when suddenly--
WHOOMPH!
--she was flying-tackled by the very object of her thoughts and propelled into an alleyway.
"Oof!" said Hermione.
"Sorry," said Draco, a bit briskly, Hermione thought. At least he helped her up. "Someone's been following you."
"Yes. You," replied Hermione, and now she was just a bit angry. All this weird behavior from him--how many friends had she known who spied on her when she was angry? *None.*
"Look, *besides* me," he darted a look out into the street nervously, ignoring her growing ire. "That guy in the black cloak. He's gone to every store you've been to--"
"So have you," she pointed out testily.
"Yeah, I was following *him.*" He continued to peer out into the empty street.
"And I suppose you don't trust him, *Malfoy.* That is just so typical." Brushing herself off, she snapped at him. At his surname, his head snapped away from the street and he looked back unnervingly into her eyes. "You're so paranoid."
Instead of defending himself against her claims of 'paranoid,' as Draco knew he once would have done, he said: "*Please* call me Draco?"
"Oh," said Hermione, melting at the sad puppy dog look on his face. "All right."
"I'm really sorry about what happened before," babbled Draco immediately. "I just wasn't thinking, and I was trying to make a joke, and it was really stupid of me, and--"
"I'm the one who should be sorry," said Hermione suddenly. "So stop being so guilty. Look, I know you're new at this," she continued, and Draco thought that she must have been a mind-reader, "and I'm new at being actually *friendly* to you, so I think we just need to forget about this whole accident. I overreacted. I'm--sensitive--today." _Sensitive?_ thought Draco. _About what?_ "Just don't worry about it."
"Okay...if you say so..." said Draco cautiously. "But this man was following you, Hermione," he spouted, suddenly intense again. "He was with you in Gladrags, and then he went after you to--"
"Yes, *all right.* Do you see him now?"
"Um," Draco looked around, out of the alleyway to the street. There was no one out there. "No."
"Then let's not worry about him. We have enough on our plate just trying to get ready for Halloween, so please, let's just...do that. I don't want to get into *any adventures* this year," said Hermione wearily. "I've had enough danger to last a lifetime, I think."
The two emerged from the alley and headed back to Gladrags to prepare for the upcoming holiday.
*********
A/N: There we go. Things will begin to happen in this story soon, I promise. As of right now, I hope to have Halloween happen in chapter twelve. And I can tell you that *many* things happen between Halloween and Christmas.
Reviews make me ditch my quarter-finished novel to write chapter ten...