A/N: In reaction to my review (which I take no offense, so don't worry): I do not usually make such short chapters, I am just spacing this out according to my time, but you can read it or not, it is your choice and if short chapters bother you, I am sorry. But I will try to make them longer.

Oh, and yes I am using dollars and not pounds because, as an American, it is the system I know best and one I can make the best comparisons to. Anyway, on with it then!

Chapter 4: Radcliffe's Design Company

Hermione sighed and got out of the car before the driver, Raim, had a chance to open the door for her; he sneered at her as she walked into the store, being of Mr. Malfoy's opinion, but when Draco sent a warning glance at him, Raim returned his face to the official neutrality of which his profession commanded. Draco hurried in after her, "Where shall we start?" Hermione shrugged and looked around the store, as if to find a "Start Here" sign. She glanced at a table of pajama tops with a price sign hanging over it: 60...for a TANK TOP! Her eyes widened in shock, making Draco roar with laughter; "A little pricey for you, Granger?"

She shot him a look and answered, "Sixty Dollars for a tank top is ridiculus, Malfoy. Excuse me if I have better things to do with my money." She looked around: all of the clothes, though gorgeous and fashionable, were very pricey, which made her, a middle-class penny-pincher a little uncomfortable. (Though her parents were dentists, they owned their own practice and did not make the 'big money' that most doctors did.)

"But it is not your money, Granger." His tone showed that he was displeased at spending money on her, but more for greed than personal loathing. "It is my father's; what a better way to hurt him than empty his pocket book," he mumbled to himself, though Hermione caught it and smiled.

"True, Malfoy, now what did I need to get?" Her face was alight with anticipation at shopping in one of the most posh design stores in the eastern hemisphere. He told her again, five dresses, new wardrobe, fit with shoes, and politely - or as polite as he can be - he excused himself to 'do something for Father'. His departure suited Hermione just fine. Better than shopping with someone sneering at me. Though she had noticed that he had not sneered once, and had been, considering his usual manner, rather polite to her; maybe she could trust what he says...

"May I help you?" A young woman about twenty-three years of age asked her politely. Knowing how horrid she was at shopping for herself, Hermione read her name tag and smiled, "Yes...Lessa, that would be wonderful!" The attandent, a Miss Lessa Radcliffe, daughter of the owner, smiled. "Ok, may I ask your name?"

"Uh, I am Hermione Granger," she said in an unsure tone.

Lessa smiled, noticing her client's uneasiness, "I only ask because it is more curtious to call someone by their name instead of generic tittles, Miss Granger."

"Just Hermione please," She interject, understanding perfectly.

"Hermione, then. What is it you are looking for?"

"Well, I need five dressesfor different occasions and such," At Lessa's nod she continued, "And pretty much a new wardrobeand something down with my hair." She put a hand in her hair as she spoke of it.

Lessa smiled, "Yes, I think we shall start with the hair." She took Hermione's hand and brought her two flights of stairs to the third floor; though Hermione was out of breath, Lessa was not. "So when is your boyfriend coming back?"

Hermione blinked confused, then blushed when she realized Lessa meant Malfoy. Gross! "Oh, he is not my boyfriend," She said quickly, "Just a guy from school; I am staying with his family for the summer. The clothes are on his tabthe Malfoys."

Her face brightened as she smiled, "Yes, I know them; very rich, very good clients. They are friends of yours?" And without asking for an answer she continued, "Well then, you shall have special treatment; no one says no to a Malfoy, or their friends!" Hermione did not even want to guess why Lessa thought it so wonderful that she knew the Malfoys; but if it got her special treatment and new clothes: bring it on!

Lessa led her to a hairstyling stall and told her not to speak; "Monique does not like talkers, but she is a wizard with hair!" Hermione smiled as Lessa took a faux-French accent when she descibed Monique. Whether the real Monique was French or not, Hermione did not know: she she didn't speak. Hermione was agitated as Monique, a short, brunette woman of about thirty, turned her chair away from the mirrior. She felt product, water, irons, combs, and sissors go through her hair; she wondered what this silent woman was doingwithout even asking her what she wanted! When Monique had finished she left for a few minutes, yet Hermione could still not see what she had done. She returned with a basket of various cosmetics and began to paint Hermione's face. After some natural-ingreident consealer, little blushed, little red-tinted gloss, and soft gold, brown, and a silvery colored eyeshadow; it was then that Monique spoke: "There, little onlee; diff'rent night an' day. Takefree." French, with an underlying accent Hermione did not recognize. Monique obviously either knew little English, or hated talking all together.

Monique turned her around; Hermione first did not nkow who looked back at her. Her mane was gone: Her hair tamely curled downward, it was now layered and colored a soft chocolate brown, with natural-looking gold highlights; if the colors scheme had been suggested to her, she would have emphatically said no, but it worked. Her make-up was also in sync with her hair and facial structure. She had never seen herself more beautiful!

"Granger?" Came an astonished gasp from behind her. She smiled, happy to set him off balence - she looked behind her and glared: He was looking at a cubistic Picasso. "I can see you are looking better." He said approvingly. Monique turned to see what he was looking at and glared as well. She started yelling at him in...Russian, Hermione guessed. She also assummed that, though Monique did not like her, it seemed, her work was precious to her. Briefly Hermione wondered why Monique knew Russian, but felt it better to not ask. "Alright I'll look at her!" Draco finally surrendered to this short, yet frightening woman.

He looked at Hermione and was surprised - not that he made it noticible. She was pretty now, long soft hair surly tamely yet sexy - or atleast, he thought to himself, if the hair was on anyone else it would be sexy...maybe... He caught himself, "Still, Monique, you are the best." He shook his head. "Lessa! Give the her clothes!" He said as he ran down the stairs to teh bottom floor; he hated shopping, and more than that, he hated shopping for Granger!

"Yay!" Lessa shrieked, "Hermione, don't you look just gorgeous! Now, we must get you some clothes to match such hair!" She looked at Hermione's clothes: she wore her Hogwarts clothes loose, so loose infact, she looked square. Lessa sighed, walked behind her, and pulled her shirt tighter, "we must figure your size Hermione; why do you wear such loose clothes?" As she asked she let go of Hermione's shirt and went over to a section of dresses, Hermione following.

"It's comfortable," Hermione said defensively, "plus: who is going to care what I look like?"

Lessa had a sly grin, "Oh, they will care, Hermione, when they see you in...this!" She pulled out a fiery red dress, low cut with thin straps. Hermione gasped at the thought of something so loud; the only dress she had ever wore was soft, mute blue, which was high cut and childish - she was a child after all - and, under that dress, she had worn shorts! But this...this was sexy, and still young. She could imagine a film star wearing such a dress. "I...I don't know..." She said, though she wanted it, even if she would never wear it. "Try it!" Lessa said joyfully as she put it over her arm. "Just watch me, Hermione, I'll get you some choices for you to try. In fact go sit over there - I want to surprise you." Obviously, Lessa loved shopping for other people, so Hermione sighed and went to the chair she was shown.

She sat down and was instantly bored. Her mind wondered as it had on the train - was it only three hours ago? It seemed like months ago, her life with Ron, Harry, and Ginny. But did that mean her life was with the Malfoy's! She was frightfully appalled by the idea. No, by the summer's end she would be back at Hogwarts with Harry and the others, she would have forgotten Malfoy and his protective rules, and stuffed whatever Lessa found in the back of her closet. It would be like the summer never existed. Though, her head sighed, I still have to get through it first. She was allowed to write the others once a week, which she would, with as much detail as she could. She resolved to have it more like mini disary entries, writing a little everday or so, just so she didn't forget. She hoped that no one would take advantage of her staying with the Malfoys; wanting her to spy or anything. Though, she contradicted herself, she probably would anyway, more for curiousity at Malfoy's manner on the train and in the car, than for information on Mr. Malfoy's activities. She also decided that, though she knew by now that Malfoy was being genuine about being able to trust him, she would rarely rely on that trust, if she ever would. Granted, questions would be asked on manners or happenings, but nothing personal or even close to personal. When she needed him, she would ask him, when she didn't she would wing it.

She thought of ways to prepare herself for the summer; she was agitated that she was given no notice of her lodgings, but knew she shouldn't complain. She knew that Mr. Malfoy hated her already, and woudl try to not make him hate her more. She knew she could protect herself long enough to get away to safety if anything violent began. She also knew that, though parties would be had, she would not know, nor like, anyone attending; none of her friends were rich enough, or powerful enough, to be invited to a Malfoy party. She told herself that reaction was better to defend than action; let them go first.

Her toughts were interrupted but Lessa, who came up suddenly and empty handed. "Ready?" Her face glowed with anticipation, "I picked out some dresses for you, and a variety of everyday clothes. Come!" She took Hermione's hand as Hermione stood and showed her too her private dressing area.

"Ok, what now?" Hermione asked plainly. Lessa told her to try them on; she picked a few, and told them to put it on Malfoy's tab.

Again, her bags disappeared as she walked out, and no one noticed. She got in the car for a silent trip home.

A/N: OK this chapter is like the worst, hence the quick ending. Sorry guys, kinda faltered, but don't worry!