Hermione Granger had stormed out of the house like a mouse, leaving quietly but firmly - insistent that she'd get some time alone. To think. Or not, as the case may be. This steamy weather was doing nothing for her temper, she thought as she strode down Grimmauld Place - it was a normal back-alley street, and she headed towards the bigger houses on the main thoroughfare. She knew if she kept walking she'd be drenched in sweat in no time. Wishing she had her wand to shorten her skirt by an inch or three, she took a deep breath before exiting Grimmauld Place - into the scattered people walking on Oak Street. As she walked, her pace quick but unhurried - the sign of someone who was "getting things done" rather than in a panic - she let her thoughts wander. She smiled at a lady pushing a pram, and waved at the mailman dodging a foothigh puppy, all big feet and floppy ears. She had missed this level of interaction, Hermione thought absently. In the wizarding world, you tended to know people. This, here, was an informal acquaintance - borne of city streets and enough people that you didn't even know your neighbors' name. No Molly Weasley poking her nose in your business, here - just a rather diffident acceptance that you belonged. With a smile, she filtered along the street, drawing not even so much as a stare.
Draco Malfoy ambled down the busy street, the very picture of arrogant confidence. It was a defense mechanism, and he knew it. Inwardly, he was scanning everyone, looking for just the right target. This road was more crowded than Diagon Alley right before school! he thought in wonder. It took him nearly thirty people before he found someone. His target was dressed in smart dress (not robes, but something definitively Muggle), seemed in his mid-thirties, and obviously strolling towards a business destination. His mood clearing, Draco Malfoy set out to follow the man, sticking to him like a shadow. Where the man paused, Draco did as well - taking a certain sort of comfort in the familiarity of the window-shopping. Not that Draco Malfoy had ever window-shopped - he had always had money to burn, and more space than he knew what to do with. Filling it with possessions didn't quite do the job, but it passed the time well enough. Still, he had often watched as redheaded children stared in the broomstick shop, or tall, lean men looked hungrily into the firewhiskey store, their shaky fingers itching for just one more drink. This was much, much more casual than the greed he had always seen in the children's eyes, or the raw need that he had seen in the hapless drunks. It was the look of a lazy cat, idly inspecting a plump mouse. Draco very much understood the feeling. Draco Malfoy followed the man until he stepped within a barrister's office. His hands in his pockets, Draco idly looked around for his next target, his intent gaze masked beneath an air of affability and unconcern.** A bustling lady hustling along two children came to his attention, and he walked alongside her - not worrying that she'd think he was following her, as she clearly had her hands too full of squirming children to pay much attention to companionship by happenstance. Draco Malfoy followed a few more people, gaining confidence as he went. He learned - not exactly what was going on - but how to look like he knew. When to stop, when to walk, who gave way to whom. All the little social customs. It was a challenge, in a way, and Draco Malfoy had always liked challenges.
**Draco doesn't know how smug he looks.
[a/n: It has always annoyed me that every fanfiction author seems to write it as though Slytherins aren't masters at blending in. Draco doesn't know about cars, nor about redlights, but he's quick enough on his feet to learn about them as he goes - provided there's enough people around to show him what he's supposed to do.
And just as a reminder - Draco and Hermione really haven't been outside in days, if not weeks.
Reviews would be appreciated.]