CONFRONTATION
Draco had some how managed to go to Diagon Alley, without his mother's company. But alas he could never quite escape her constant surveillance.
Jonathon was following him, voluntarily of course. Because surely Narcissa hadn't convinced him to such a tedious deed.
But, fortunately for Draco, Jonathon was keeping a far range putting a good eight yards between them at all times. And by all means was discrete. Which was also quite fortunate. No need to have people thinking that Draco was followed by a wrinkly old fellow that smelled faintly of vegetable oil.
Hmm. No, that wouldn't be good would it?
His pace was a mere stroll; he was being leisurely on this certain outing. Wearing pressed black slacks, a white button up shirt, leather loafers - yes loafers, and a simple black cloak draped casually from his shoulders, he appeared quite smashing. And dear old Jonathon was clad in his ever faithful gray tweed suit.
If the two had been standing in a pair, and Jonathon wasn't old nor smelt of 'old' people the two would make a fantastic coupling.
But alas, Draco is picky. And Jonathon is in fact old and thus smells well, old. With a curt nod to his butler Draco disappeared inside yet another small boutique.
Wonderful Wanda's Witchy Wear.
He perused the racks. Boring, disgusting, vile, filthy, ripped, torn. And then the shelves - well would you look at that. A smirked tugged at the young man's lips and he sized the bundle and approached the cashier. He squinted, reading her name tag - which was so conveniently located - aloud, "Tina. Hmm."
He placed the bundle on the counter, leaning into with one hip, idly preening over his manicured finger nails.
"You people have a fitting room?"
Harry strolled - no, was dragged by an ever excited Hermione - along Diagon Alley, searching for something. His head was pounding with not only the ever-chattering voices, but the repercussions of taking more than the daily allotment of asprin within three hours. When his drowsiness had worn off, Harry had proceeded to vomit repeatedly into a toilet before Hermione had the heart to cure him with a flick of her wrist.
What she was looking for, Harry didn't know. Hermione had been babbling senselessly since they had left Number Twelve, Gimmauld Place, Harry nodded ever so often, his mind elsewhere.
Lazily, Harry's bright green eyes traced the names of the shops they passed. Madam Malkin's Robes For All Occasions, Ollivander's, Amazing Apothecary, Taste of Hogsmeade Bar and Grill ..
"And you know Harry, Ron thought it was just an ordinary quill. What a git, I mean it was hot-pink and had seven legs! So I said .. Harry - Harry?"
Hermione shot Harry a patronizing look, but he didn't notice. What he had noticed was a young - not to mention gorgeous - blonde walk into Wonderful Wanda's Witchy Wear.
Harry looked to Hermione as though seeing her for the first time. His green eyes wide, his hair disheveled, his jeans and sweater both uncommonly messy. Harry looked uncharacteristically frantic.
"Hermione, I need new robes."
Looking somewhat flustered, Hermione feigned a smile, placing her hand on his arm, in an attempt to turn him around.
"Well then Harry, we'll just head back this way to see Madam Malkin .."
"No! Gah - er .. Ehm, I mean, let's go see .. Er,"
Harry shot a furtive glance back at the shop Malfoy had entered.
"Wonderful Wanda."
Furrowing her slight brow in confusion, Hermione nodded.
"Alright Harry, Wonderful Wanda."
As Harry looked through rack after rack of robes, Hermione left to the changing rooms to try on her own. Opening the door to her designated change-room, she found it already occupied by a shagging couple. A shagging couple who looked suspiciously like Draco Malfoy and, judging by a discarded name tag on the floor, Tina.
Blushing furiously, Hermione slammed the door shut, her eyes wide with horror.
"GRANGER, YOU OUGHT TO KNOCK FIRST."
Looking up to see a completely flustered Hermione, Harry furrowed his brow.
"Who was that?"
Still blushing, Hermione leaned casually against a rack of 'plus-sized' robes.
"Just so happens I caught Draco with his pants down."
Harry merely stared at Hermione blankly.
"Draco Malfoy?"
Again, Hermione shot Harry a patronizing look.
"Do you know another Draco?"
Harry, who was blushing now, coughed to clear his throat.
"Eh .. Well, no."
"OF COURSE IT'S MALFOY YOU BLOODY GIT."
Completely unaffected by Hermione's impatience, Harry idly wondered if it would be too much a coincidence if he happened to walk in on Malfoy.
As he was debating the pros and cons of this a thoroughly blissful cashier popped out of the change-rooms, her top on backwards. Giggling madly, she took her place at the front desk.
And who else should follow her but Draco Malfoy, his expression one of complete indifference. As his icy blue gaze fell upon Hermione, something of a smirk came over his features.
"You know, there are other means of seeing a man with his clothes off Granger."
Continuing her giggling, Harry realized this cashier reminded him unpleasantly of Pansy Parkinson. It was obvious Draco thought this too as he shot her a withering glare.
"And Potter, the murderer."
"Look .. Malfoy, I .. Eh .."
Too many feelings had took Harry over. Jealousy toward Hermione, jealousy toward the cashier, longing for Draco - No, wait, that was crazy. He hated Draco.
No, you're crazy, you stupid git. Snog him already.
The drawling Draco-voice has a point, Harry.
Great, now the voices had formed a club to drive him insane. Harry blushed furiously, furtively surveying Malfoy.
Hermione folded her arms over her chest.
"Lucius had it coming."
Draco glared at Hermione, brushing aside his now ruffled white-blonde hair.
"Don't speak his name filthy mud-blood."
Hermione fumed while Harry tried madly to think of something to say.
"Harry," Hermione spoke sharply, "We're going to Madam Malkin's."
Harry stood, awkwardly, still staring at Draco.
"NOW HARRY."
"Right. Coming."
He turned on his heel and stalked after Hermione, daring to throw a last look over his shoulder.
Draco was talking with the cashier - as if he hadn't just had a confrontation with his father's killer.