A/N

RR_chaotic20, I tried to make it as funny as I could. Draco in chucks? Hilarious.

Feel free to skip this lol. It adds literally NOTHING to the plot lol, but I got such a kick out of the thought of all these pureblood being in the middle of a shopping center for the first time, I had to play with it.

Harry

"You have got to be kidding me!"

Ron's exclamation brings all eyes towards them, then all eyes towards the front of the kitchen where Ron is staring.

Draco has appeared in all his pure blood finest. Black trousers, black shirt, black tie, black sports coat, black socks, and a silver serpent tie clip. He snaps his arms out in front of him, settling the coat across his back, and silver cuff links appear around his wrists.

Bloody…

"Jeans, Malfoy," I say, gesturing around the room. Molly is in a patterned dress that, while not exactly muggle, doesn't scream wizard either. Everyone else is wearing variations of muggle clothing. "Or short trousers. Something that won't make the entire London Underground stop and take a picture of you."

"Why would we be going underground, Potter? And what in Merlin's left saggy tit would make you think I own jeans?"

His words, they're everything you'd expect from a pureblood scion. But his voice trembles and pulls in such a way that makes me feel a little sorry for him. He's never been forced from his comfort zone before. Over the last few days, we've done nothing but to him.

Ginny is sniggering into her tea, nudging Mi with her elbow.

Hermione picks up a biscuit and tosses it at my head.

We should take Draco to the mall. Help him pick out some more appropriate clothing.

No. Hell no. I didn't even do my own shopping. I made the elves do it for me. Which means I'm kitted out in jeans and a t-shirt that probably cost more than a hundred quid each. I didn't look at the receipts for a reason.

The point still stands.

You've got to be kidding me. I give her a dry look.

I'm so not, she says, eyes flicking to Draco. Hermione is bouncing up and down on her chair, her fingers twiddling in her lap. He'll hate it. It'll be so much fun.

"Change of plans," I announce, placing my hand on the table and shoving up from my chair. "Apparently, we're going shopping." I look around the room and do a quick tally in my head. The twins, Ginny, Nev, Ron, Mi, and Draco. Sirius, Remus, Tonks, Nate, Mrs. Weasley, and Bill, who showed up saying he took today off and switched it for Sunday to celebrate with me and Nev.

Thirteen witches and wizards, only two of which grew up with Muggles.

Fabulous.

"How many people have been to a mall before?" I ask.

Mi, Tonks, and Nate raise their hands.

"Maybe once, before Azkaban," Sirius says.

"Not you Remus?" I ask since I know his mother was a muggle-born.

Remus shakes his head.

"I grew up in a small wizarding village. I've never been."

"This is going to be a security nightmare," Nate says.

"What's a mall?" Ron asks, and Hermione rolls her eyes.

I hand Nate my cell phone, and he runs his thumb over the front.

"If we get separated, call Mi. The number is programmed in. She'll have her phone with her."

"Can we see that?" Fred asks, and Nate hands it over to him. Fred and George immediately start to press buttons.

"Do you even know how to get to a mall from here?" Nate asks me.

"Not a clue," I tell him, shaking my head.

"I do," Hermione assures us, pulling her purse across her chest and tucking her hair behind her ears. She's back in one of those sundresses I never knew she wore, and Winky braided her hair away from her face. She looks lovely sitting next to Gin, who in comparison looks wan and pale to me. "We can get to Brent Cross from here by a quick ride on the Tube."

"What's a tube?" Nev questions.

"I don't think this is a good idea," Nate says again.

"I concur," says Remus.

Sirius throws his arm over Remus's shoulder, pulling the taller man down with a playful yank that forces him to stutter on his feet.

"Oh, you lot, live a little," Sirius encourages. "I have it on good authority I don't die today, and I for one would love to get out of this house. Besides, name one Death Eater who frequents the middle of Muggle London."

"I thought we agreed Harry wouldn't leave the house without a glamour in place," Remus tries to argue. "But with so many people leaving the Townhouse, even if we glamoured Harry, the enemy would take one look at the rest of us and realize Harry was there. We'd have to glamour everyone."

"Sometimes hiding in plain sight is the best disguise there is!" Sirius argues.

"What's a mall?" Ron asks again, not caring about the arguments going on around us.

I finally speak up.

"Honestly, guys. I understand your point about the security risk. There may be hundreds, or thousands of people there. But I think Sirius is right. No one is going to be looking for us in a muggle shopping centre. On top of that, it would be…" not very Slytherin of him for one. "Brash, for Voldemort to make such a rash move so early in his campaign. Malfoy?"

The stuck up prick turns to me with a questioning gaze.

"You spent the last month kissing his lordship's ass. Odds that he's already working on how to grab me next since his last attempt failed?"

Draco seems to stand a bit taller, having been asked for his opinion.

"Small," he concedes after a pause. "Your most recent escape was glossed over. While I did overhear him railing at my father, your entire presence in the graveyard was downgraded so as not to appear like you'd bested him once again. He let you go, to spread the tale of his resurrection and might."

I scoff and roll my eyes. Of course, he'd say that. I face Nate and Remus again, still quietly bickering with Sirius and, surprisingly, Tonks.

"I'm not in charge of security or whatnot, but I wouldn't bring Hermione out in public if I thought it was a risk to her," I say honestly.

"And what are the rest of us," Draco complains. "Chopped liver?"

Remus sighs in surrender, pulling on his coat.

"Have you noted his ever-increasing concern for your safety in your research notes?" Remus inquires placidly of Hermione.

Mi sighs in exasperation, rising from her seat.

"Yes," she sighs in irritation.

"Are we doing this then?" Sirius says, flinging his hair out of his eyes.

"I suppose we are," Remus says reluctantly.

Much to my confusion, Mi leaps up from the table and walks to Draco's side, linking her arm around his elbow.

"Potter!" He demands in a panic, looking at where their bodies are linked with abject horror in his eyes. "She's touching me. Why is your wife touching me? Make it stop."

I open my mouth to say just that, and Hermione tightens her eyes and glowers at me in an expression I recognize well to mean, "Proceed at your own peril." I shove my hands in my pockets and try not to flinch.

"Why are you telling me? If you want her to stop, ask her."

Draco looks like he's doing his best to pretend the entire situation isn't happening.

"She's your wife. Control her."

Ron and I both burst into laughter, Ron so hard he has to sit back down. Hermione digs her nails into Draco's arm, and he squeals in surprised pain, trying and failing to peel her fingers from his forearm.

Ron wipes tears from his face, happiness alight over his features.

"I didn't know you were that funny, Malfoy. Or that stupid. I thought self-preservation was something Slytherins were good at." Ron shakes his head. "Tell 'Mione what to do…" he mumbles through laughter.

Ginny, never one to let an opportunity to meddle pass her by, jumps from her chair and takes Draco's other side. Draco looks between the Muggle-born on one arm and a Weasley on the other and looks like he may be sick.

"I should have stayed with the Dark Lord," he grumbles, his face tight with pain. "Certainly, being his whipping boy would be better than this."

He tries one more time to use his best sneer to scare off Hermione.

"Why are you tormenting me?" he asks plaintively.

Hermione gives him a sad little smile.

"Because I've seen what you become otherwise, Malfoy. Trust me when I tell you, this is preferable to that."

Draco's face falls into agitation, and he doesn't say another word.

"I've never seen so much stuff in one spot in all my life."

I look up from browsing a rack of t-shirts to see Ron looking around the men's section of Mark and Spencer with wide eyes and greedy fingers.

We split up after the first hour or so of walking the shops. Tonks, Remus, Bill, and the twins have gone in search of 'something fun to do.' I'm counting on Remus to keep them from too much trouble.

The rest of us are in our sixth clothing shop of the day, trying to find something suitable for his highness that he would deem worthy of covering his pompous arse.

Unsurprisingly, Mrs. Weasley has taken to the idea of reclothing Draco with enthusiasm, and has helped Gin drop a few items into her own pile as well.

Draco unfortunately, has only gotten surlier as the day has gone on.

"I want to go back!" Draco demands, pulling at his tie around his throat. "I would never lower myself to dress like a muggle anyway."

I shove my hands in my pocket to keep from punching him, and take in a calming breath.

"What is your problem, Malfoy? If the girls are bothering you that much, just tell them. I'm sure they'll leave you alone. There's lots of stuff for them to look at for themselves."

Blood rushes to Draco's face and he looks around our immediate vicinity before taking a step closer and leering into my personal space. His voice is so dark I barely make out what he's saying.

"I can't pay for any of this, Potter! I'm hiding from the Dark Lord. I can't exactly march into Gringotts and pull out a bag of galleons, can I?"

Oh.

The thought honestly hadn't occurred to me, and I feel like a prat. Because money isn't something I've worried about since I first met Hagrid, not really. While I didn't have access to my bank vaults while with the Dursleys, I always knew it was there if I needed it. Draco is cut off from more than just his parents and his home. He's been stripped of his entire place in society.

I take another step closer and lower my voice, hating the fact that I'm forced to look up at him.

"I took a vow the same as you, Draco. To feed you from my table and to warm you from my hearth. I'd assumed clothing falls into that promise as well. We're stuck with each other, Malfoy, whether we like it or not. Let Mi and Gin help you pick out clothes that won't make people think you're some sort of movie star. If it'll make you feel better, we can keep a tally of what she spends. But it's not a big deal."

"I don't understand why you insist on going through with this farce!" he hisses in embarrassed anger.

I shove my fingers through my hair and let my hand glide down my chest, feeling the comfort of my wands against my palm.

We're not exactly demanding attention, but people are still starting to stare. I poke him in the chest.

"We're trying to help you, you stupid ponce. I thought you of all people would understand the need for a little anonymity. Drop your stuck-up pureblood trappings for an afternoon and learn to have a little fun."

"And why would you do that, Potter? Why in Merlin are you so intent on helping me?"

I honestly have no idea.

"Because now, until the foreseeable future, you're as trapped as I am."

"No. Absolutely not. I will not wear those shoes, Granger. It's leather or nothing. Preferably dragonhide."

Hermione shakes a pair of black Converse High-tops in Draco's face, so close to his nose that he's forced to lean backwards to avoid getting hit.

"You're all about being fashion forward, Malfoy. These are as top of the line as they get. Look at the price if that's what'll take to convince you. They're one of the most expensive pairs here!"

She's already got a blue pair for me and a red set for Ron. Twice she's popped into an alcove to call for Winky and send our bags back home. This is not what I had in mind when I suggested we take a day off.

Neville and Ron's eyes have long since glazed over, and Neville has taken to sitting on the floor in whatever section we get dragged to and pulling open a muggle book on gardening he purchased earlier in the day.

Draco seems to consider it, eyes flicking between the shoes and the tag on the box. Then…

"But they have a star on it, Granger," he whines, his face scrunched up in pain. "I can't wear something so gauche as a star."

"I'll throw in that hideous shirt you wanted," Mi bargains.

"I want the boots too," Draco counters, pointing to a pair of mid-calf combat boots that would take fifteen minutes at least to lace up.

"Deal!" she says happily.

I have zero notion as to why it's so important for Hermione to get Draco into a pair of Chucks.

I'm going to take a picture and use it for blackmail, she says into my head.

I grin at her ear to ear.

Which is how Draco walks out of the fitting room yanking off tags and wearing black jeans, black Converse, and a white Jurassic Park t-shirt.

"Like it?" he asks, sticking his chest out a little. "I didn't realize muggle's had dragon parks," he says, looking down at his shirt.

"It's a dinosaur, moron," Ron hisses, disgusted at Draco's glee, turning his face sour.

"We should get Draco a haircut!" Ginny says enthusiastically, reaching up and touching his hair. Draco smacks her hand away with enough force that I can hear the impact from here.

"Touch my hair and I'll curse you into Oblivion," he says with a menacing growl.

I stand with Sirius buying the movie tickets while Hermione leads everybody else inside to check out the consignment stands.

"We need thirteen for Batman Forever," I tell the clerk, whose eyes widen slightly at the number of tickets we're requesting.

"You sure?" she says in a bored voice, openly eying my Godfather.

I'm not, to be honest. I'm not at all sure how Molly is going to handle a movie theatre, especially a movie like Batman. The most entertainment she's used to is the Wizarding Wireless.

"Actually," I say instead. "Can you tell me how many seats have already been sold for the next showing?" Now she looks me up and down, before hitting the buttons on the keypad in front of her.

"It's still thirty minutes until the next showing. We've only sold four, so far."

I pull my wallet from my pocket, grabbing the card linked to the Galactic Alliance account.

"We'll take the rest then," I tell her, pushing the card through the hole in the glass.

She stares at me like I just told her I'm Batman.

"Really, Pup?" Sirius asks. "Wouldn't it be easier just to…" whoo-hoo he whistles, patting his disillusioned wand across his chest.

"Have you met, Hermione?" I ask him. "What would she say when we told her we confunded the clerk, and the cinema lost out on an entire theatre of revenue?"

Realization dawns behind his eyes.

"Yeah, okay," he tells me, before turning to the bemused clerk. "You heard him. Charge the lot." He leans his elbows on the counter behind him while we wait for the clerk to run the card.

"We'll just confund the other patrons to change their showing to another time," I tell him, and he gives me an evil smile.

The clerk pushes the receipt and the credit card back through the hole, and I sign the slip without bothering to look at the charge.

It's chaos when we get inside.

Neville and the Twins are loading up on candy, grabbing two or three of each as Mrs. Weasley swiftly removes them from her children's grasp and places them back on the shelves. Ron is ordering nachos and popcorn and requesting tastes of every fizzy drink available.

Tonks is egging Ron on, and encouraging him to try the ICEE Machines instead.

Draco is trying and failing to keep his aloof persona in place, while his eyes skip from poster to garish lights to the hideous patterned fabric covering the floor.

Even Gin is lost to the excitement.

Nate and Bill are watching the madness ensue, not bothering to stop it, but not offering to participate either. And Mi, well, she's just trying to stop people from looking at us like we're a religious cult who's taken their followers out of the basement for the first time.

Her quote, not mine.

"Are the children giving you trouble, dear?" I ask in a mocking tone.

Mi huffs and shoves a stray lock of hair behind her ears.

"Not. Funny. Harry." I wrap my arm around her shoulders, and she sort of deflates against my side, her head resting on my shoulder. "This is not what I had in mind when I said I wanted a date at the cinema."

I drop a kiss onto her forehead.

"Shall we corral them to the register?"

"It'll be easier to just buy two or three of everything at this point," she sighs, before jumping back into the battle and scolding Ron about shoving popcorn into his mouth without paying for it first.

"What the bloody hell was that?" Molly asks, surprising me with her swearing.

"Brilliant is what that was." The twins say together.

"I think I got sick twice," Remus complains, looking properly nauseous.

"Granger, did you say we could watch that at the house? Something about a telly?" Draco has long since given up his attempt of being above it all and spent half the movie screaming at the screen.

"I want a Batmobile. Where can I get a Batmobile?" Ron asks rhetorically.

"You can't even drive Ron, what would you do with a car?" Gin says with irritation.

"Does anyone else think that Harry reminds them a little of Batman?" Neville asks, and I groan as conversation picks up in earnest about the similarities between the caped crusader and me.

"Actually, the orphaned billionaire superhero is a common trope in all forms of visual media. Books, graphic novels, tv-shows, movies. Everybody loves a story about the everyday man who secretly saves the world. The little guy coming from behind to win the girl. That sort of thing."

I try to step on Hermione's toes, but she reads it in my head, and steps daintily out of my way.

"Potter certainly has the little part down," Draco sneers.

"Funny," I say dryly, taking Hermione's hand.

Mrs. Weasley calls us all to order, standing outside in front of the cinema.

"As much fun as this has been, we've got to be getting back. People will start arriving for the party soon."

"Can't we skip the party?" I whine.

"Would you like to tell the Minister why her grandson wasn't there to greet her when she arrived at your home?" Mrs. Weasley asks pointedly.

Neville visibly shudders.

"Yeah," I say, nodding my head. "Right then. Which way is the Tube?"

Because if I've learned one thing during this whole dead and re-do situation, it's that Augusta Longbottom is one scary woman.

Which means we have a party to attend.