Note: All shops will remain nameless. I will NOT be sued! Oo; Well, not for a while, anyways. Harry and Ron begin to have a somewhat bigger part in this. Characters a little exaggerated, to be sure, but all in the spirit of... Er... Entertainment.
"Where are you TAKING me?"
Hermione held a firm grip around Remus's wrist, and the older man was looking flustered and perplexed. "What are we DOING?" he asked helplessly, looking behind him, only to see Harry and Ron peering about absently.
"I thought I already explained this to you, Professor Lupin," replied Hermione blithely. "I'm taking you out for a new wardrobe. You can't possibly expect me to allow you to venture on a," she coughed discreetly, "date." She pointed, a little disgusted, at the baggy cardigan he was wearing. "I'd fancy you were from 'Father Knows Best', than anything else," she remarked scathingly.
Lupin opened his mouth to retort, but Hermione dragged him sharply around a corner. Hermione grinned. "Here we are!" she declared cheerily. Lupin sighed in resignation. The rest of the day would be a most hellish trial.
"No," said Lupin flatly. "I beg your pardon, but there is no way in HELL that I am wearing this. Ever. Let alone on a romantic – situation," he finished lamely.
Hermione blinked and peered at her former teacher's reflection. "I like it," she said blithely. "It brings out the colour of your eyes."
"How would it do that, Hermione?" Lupin asked – the sarcasm in his voice was all too refreshing to hear from one who was generally quite polite. "I mean, I wouldn't want to question your expertise," he fluttered his scant eyelashes, "but my eyes are brown." He pointed to the jumper he was presently wearing. "This is PINK."
Hermione rolled her eyes – how was she supposed to WORK with this? Instead of replying, she turned to Harry, who was staring interestedly at the ceiling. "Where's Ron?" she asked, ignoring Lupin's eye twitches and erratic 'Humph!'s. "He can probably talk PROFESSOR LUPIN into it," Hermione added scathingly. "I mean, he wears – er - /flamboyant/ sweaters all the time."
Harry shrugged. "I think he got kicked out," he replied blankly.
"WHAT?" cried Hermione. "WHY?" Her eyes darted across the room – surely he had only wandered over to the lingerie section...
Harry shrugged again. "I dunno."
Hermione, rather than expressing her exasperation through intelligent speech, gave an almighty "AAAARGH!", grabbed Lupin by the collar, and proceeded to drag her previous teacher towards the department store's exit. Some fellow who was hired by the shop was playing at a large grand piano as she passed, and asked if she would like to make a request.
"Miss!" cried a sales clerk. "I apologise, but he can't leave with that still on –" The unfortunate cashier pointed at the bright pink cashmere sweater Lupin was wearing.
"Sod off!" Hermione replied snappishly. The man at the piano began to play some music generally correlated to dramatic film chase scenes. Lupin gesticulated apologetically for a moment, and even tried to break free of his ex-student's grasp, but failed horribly.
"RON!" Hermione shrieked, having caught sight of Ron just outside the store. "WHAT THE BLOODY HELL WERE YOU THINKING?"
Ron blinked owlishly and brandished a cup of frozen yoghurt in one hand and a pretzel in the other. "Eating," he replied absently. He glanced at the man at the piano, as 'though he had never seen such a thing in his life, which he hadn't. "What are YOU doing?"
Hermione opened her mouth to reply, but her voice was drowned out by the furious beeping of the store's alarm and an abrupt banging on the piano. Lupin gawked about, positively aghast, as the security guards began to circle. Hermione looked over her shoulder and saw perhaps six Muggles, all looking none too friendly. "Miss," one said, "PLEASE LET GO OF THE MAN IN THE PINK SWEATER. I REPEAT, PLEASE LET GO OF THE MAN IN THE PINK SWEATER."
Lupin howled, and, for once in his life, it was not because he was in the form of a werewolf. Alas, it was a howl of mournful embarrassment. Hermione shrieked and immediately let go of the collar, but it was now stretched beyond all repair.
Harry, having taken his jolly good time in following Hermione and Remus, strolled along, only to find the hapless pair being taken away by half a dozen security guards. He blinked rather owlishly, but all his qualms vanished when he saw Ron. Or, more importantly, what Ron was holding. "Can I have some?"
Of course, once young Harry registered that his teacher and best friend being dragged off by security guards, his hero complex began to kick in. "Ron!" he cried. "Come on! We have to save them!"
Ron blinked, Harry having spilt the frozen yoghurt all over his front. "What?" he said, checking his pockets. "Harry, do you have any napkins?"
Harry ignored his friend's attire-related issues, and promptly dragged him off in the direction of the security entourage, which had conveniently carted away their two prisoners within moments. The wizard whipped out his wand melodramatically and turned to Ron. "Come on! Who knows what horrible things those – er – security guards will do to them!"
Ron peered feebly at Harry. "Yeah, I know!" he said pitifully. "But can we please go get some paper towels or something before we go tearing after Lupin and Hermione...? I mean, don't you reckon a graduated Hogwarts alum and the smartest witch in our year can take care of a couple of Muggles?"
"No!" shouted Harry. He leapt onto the top of the piano and pointed towards the direction in which the security guards had left. "I bet you anything those security guards were in the employ of –," a sudden roar of dramatic music rang throughout the store, "LORD VOLDEMORT!"
Ron gasped dramatically.
"So, come on! I mean, who knows what those evil security guards might –" Harry turned about and glared at the man at the piano. "Do you mind? I'm trying to foreshadow the events in the remaining plot."
The man bowed his head sheepishly. "Sorry," he said, hands falling to his lap.
"Thank you," said Harry. "Um... Where was I?"
"Foreshadowing," answered Ron helpfully, experimentally putting a finger to his dripping sweater and sampling the frozen yoghurt. It was apparently still good, as he did so continually.
"Oh. Thanks." Harry blinked. "Who knows what those evil security guards in the employ of –" He turned about to the man at the piano again. "You can do the dramatic music, now."
The pianist squealed with glee. "Really?" he exclaimed. "Thanks – thank you!" He began tapping in the bass for suspense.
"Yeah. Who knows what might happen to Lupin and Hermione, at the hands of the security guards in the employ of –" The music became more apprehensive, "Lord Voldemort."
Ron gasped dramatically.
Harry hopped down from the piano simply, with an absent smile. "So, let's go," he said simply, as he grabbed Ron by the sleeve and ran off.