Author's Note: Here we go again. More Draco! More Hermione! And more on the way.
Chapter 11: Serving
For the first time since he'd gotten it, Draco's phone finally rang with someone other than Granger on the other end. "Hello?" he asked, rather too loudly.
"Draco Malfoy?" a voice asked, wincing.
"Yes, this is Draco," he said, trying to speak more quietly, and remembering what Granger had tried to impress upon him about the competence of Muggles—it wasn't necessary to shout to be heard on one of these things.
"This is Tony, from DiAngelo's. I have your application here to join our waitstaff. Quite frankly, you don't have the experience to serve as a waiter. But we are looking for a new busboy. Would you be willing to come in and interview?"
Draco wrinkled his nose, and fought his natural desire to object to anyone who didn't think he was up to a challenge. He reminded himself that this was the only response he'd gotten to the applications he'd spent two days walking around town and that he was getting desperately low on funds.
"Are you still there, Mr. Malfoy?" the voice on the other end of the line asked.
He could have kicked himself. "Yes, I'm still here." Focus on being charming, he instructed himself. "I'd be…happy to come in and interview. When would you like to see me?"
The man at the other end of the line let out a sigh that Draco couldn't interpret. "Two busboys have quit in the last week, and one is out sick. If you can come in at 11 this morning, I'd like to see you straight away. Depending on how the interview goes, would you be able to start this evening?"
"Absolutely."
Draco confirmed the address with the man and hunted through his flat for something to write it down on. "I'll see you at 11."
The line went dead and Draco slipped his phone into his pocket. He finally had an interview. He wondered vaguely what a busboy was responsible for and decided at the moment it didn't matter. He needed money. And a job. And this was the only response he'd had in weeks. If it was anything even a little less disgusting than cleaning out Xavier's cage, he'd take it.
He found his keys and went to knock on Granger's flat. He hadn't been over there in a few days, not since the day the Weasels had descended on him. He hesitated only a moment. He hoped she was getting on all right. Watching her cry had been embarrassing for both of them, but he was fairly convinced that nothing he could have said between then and now would have done any good. If she was still out of sorts, helping him prepare for his interview this morning might give her something else to concentrate on. He let a little of his anxiety show on his face as he rapped on the door.
After a few moments, Granger came to it and opened it up. Her hair was about twice the size of her head today, and she was still in her dressing gown. Admittedly, it wasn't all that late, just after nine. And it wasn't like she had anywhere to be. "Malfoy?"
"Granger, they've finally called. I have an interview in about 2 hours. Help me get ready." He turned without waiting for a response, certain that her curiosity would induce her to follow him. He wasn't wrong.
She pulled the door shut behind her and followed him the few steps to his flat. "Malfoy, what are you talking about? One of the jobs you applied for a few weeks ago has finally called?"
He could hear the surprise in her voice and felt a certain smug satisfaction in saying, "Yes."
"I had thought we were going to have to set your sights a little lower, to build up some experience for you," she responded.
He shrugged a shoulder. "DiAngelo's called. They don't want me for a waiter, but they said they had an opening for a busboy. What is a busboy?"
There was a twitch at the corner of Hermione's mouth. "Instead of taking orders and bringing fresh plates of food to people, you'll be taking away dirty dishes and cleaning the tables."
He frowned. It did sound like a step down.
"But quite frankly, I'm surprised they're offering you that at a place as nice as that. If they like you, take it. You could always work your way up. You don't have any experience with customers. This let's you get your foot in the door working at a place and gradually gain experience. You could do a lot worse," she told him simply.
"What do I wear? What do I say?" he asked, leading the way to his wardrobe.
She agreed to his choice of a pair of black slacks and a white button-down shirt, and watched as he ironed it. "You'll want to look presentable. Appear charming, but efficient and capable. Don't over do it on the charm."
A sudden thought struck him. "Have you ever actually interviewed for a job in the Muggle world?"
"Not exactly, but I know what to expect. My parents…parents did talk at dinner about when they were hiring a new receptionist or more hygienists. You'll do fine." She bit her lip. "They already have you application. You don't really have a resumé to speak of, so there's no need to bring one. Have they given you any other information?"
"Interview is at 11. If they like me, they want me to start tonight. Apparently they've lost some busboys this week." He caught a frown on Hermione's face before she could cover it. "What?"
"That sounds a bit ominous is all. They lost some busboys. As in…more than one? Somebody over there must be a nightmare to work with. But it's all you've got right now, so make the best of it," she said crisply.
In the end, Granger got dressed and went with him, quizzing him on potential interview questions as they went along, attempting to fill in gaps which he might have to account for and not be able to tell the truth about. When they got off the tube, Hermione checked Draco over one last time, gave him what she hoped was a confident smile, and went to the coffee shop across the street while Draco went in for his interview.
Draco found himself strangely nervous as he took a breath and pushed the door open. The restaurant was fairly dark, and aside from the kitchen off to one side, there didn't seem to be much sign of activity. The tables were bare and empty, waiting for someone to arrive and spread cloths, cutlery, and candles on them.
A voice came in at his left. "There you are. Draco Malfoy, I presume? Tony D. I'm the manager here. Let's have a seat and chat now."
Draco found himself sitting at the bar with a rather ordinary looking man with a bit of a paunch, who did not quite fit into the clearly dressy clothes he was wearing.
"I'm afraid I don't have an office to myself at the moment, so the bar will have to do. What sort of education do you have?" He pulled out what Draco recognized as his application, and Draco could see that notes had been made on it.
"I've finished secondary schooling but no university."
"I see." He made a note. "And what sort of experience do you have with fine dining?"
He took a breath. They'd agreed on this story as a means of explaining his lack of any work history. "I'm afraid most of my experience is as a customer. Until recently, I was living rather well, but my family has come down on hard times. It's why I won't be starting university this fall as I'd intended."
"I see." He made another note. "Do you know what your duties here would entail?"
Draco continued answering questions as they came, as best he could, and tried to suppress his irritation as it seemed like it might never end.
At last, the questions stopped and for a few minutes, nothing happened except that Tony reread all of his notes and occasionally looked Draco over. At last, he seemed to come to a decision. "Your shift starts at five usually, but come in at four this afternoon to get yourself started. We'll have Derrick show you the ropes. We're glad to have you on board. Standard dress is black slacks and a white button down shirt. No sneakers. When you come back, I'll have the training manual and company policy all set out for you."
Draco thanked him and left, wandering what exactly he'd gotten himself into. Who would hire someone after speaking to them for such a short span of time? The man must be exceptionally desperate. It didn't bode well for Draco.
He found Granger waiting at the coffee shop, reading a book, and drinking tea. He pulled up a seat at her table.
"How did it go?
"They hired me," he said, shrugging as if it wasn't a big deal.
"That's better than I expected," Hermione said, encouragingly.
"Which means the job is probably worse than expected," Draco responded, rolling his eyes. She gave him a level look, and he responded before she could open her mouth. "I know. I'm out of options at this point, and getting some sort of work is better than getting no work. I have to be back at four."
Every inch of Draco's body ached, and he smelled like fish and merlot. He wasn't sure which substance was currently soaked into his shirt—it could be either or both—and he didn't want sniff it to find out.
Plates were heavy. And why had people left so much food on them?
His feet hurt worse than anything else, but his back and arms were feeling the strain as well. He couldn't decide whether a hot shower or bed was the more urgent need. As he trudged through the hall way he wondered if Granger was still up. He rather imagined she might be, despite the hour. He knocked once on her door and waited a moment. If she didn't respond to the first knock, he'd come back in the morning.
It was only a moment before Hermione's frizzy head was poking out into the hallway. "You look run through," she remarked.
"I feel it."
She backed up a step, and he came in and managed to retain a little of his dignity and not entirely flop on the couch. His hair fell across his forehead. Hermione looked him over once appraisingly and set about making him a cup of tea the quick way. "Rough night?"
He tried to roll his shoulders back. "You have no idea." He proceeded to detail his evening, from the condescending tone of the man who'd been put in charge of training him, to the customer who had jostled him on purpose. "They want me to be everywhere at once," he complained.
"Well, it's what you signed on for," she reminded him.
He gave her a dirty look, but accepted the tea she proffered.
"Have they given you a schedule yet?"
"I'm working for the next two nights, off Thursday, and then working again Friday and Saturday."
Hermione nodded. Malfoy was on his way to being a responsible, functioning human being. It was just his first day at his first job…but it was a good start. He was moving forward. She made a decision. "Tomorrow, I'm going to the apothecary." She was not going to keep ordering by owl to hide from the likes of Rita Skeeter. As for the rest of her metaphorical ghosts…she'd just have to take them as they she belonged anywhere, it was the wizarding world.
Draco wasn't surprised by the announcement itself, nor the determination at the edge of Granger's voice. It was time for Granger's to venture out again—past time. Instead of commenting on it, he asked what potions she planned to work on this week.
Somehow, by the time Draco left Granger's flat and went back to his own for the night, he'd found the worst of his exhaustion and aggravation had drained out of him while they'd talked.
Hermione woke and went about her morning routine—coffee, a little breakfast, she even showered and got dressed, doing her best to keep her eyes from lingering on the far side of the wardrobe where Ron's clothes hung. She put on an unremarkable set of robes, hoping to just be another face in the sea of customers in Diagon Alley. Still, since she hoped to make a reasonably good impression on Mulpepper, she tied her hair back to give it some semblance of order.
She double checked her list of what ingredients shed' need for the lessons she planned to teach herself in the next few weeks, holstered her wand, and picked up her beaded bag. For the first time in a long while, she turned on her heel and Apparated.
Diagon Alley was bustling with as much foot traffic as you'd expect in the last week of August. She spotted young boys and girls in new Hogwarts robes and felt a knot in her stomach. She should have gone to see McGonagall weeks ago, before all the students filled the halls again.
She could see signs of the war on the street, indications that stores and been closed for a period of time and were newly reopened. The line outside Ollivanders stretched to the next store front. She gave Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes a wide berth. She saw that Florean Fortescue's ice cream shop was still closed.
At Eylops Owl Emporium, she bought a couple of bags of owl treats and tucked them into her bag. She was beginning to feel agitated and wanted to leave. She wasn't sure what bothered her the most—the things that changed or the things that hadn't. How could everyone go about their lives as if nothing had changed, after all they'd been through? Everything that had happened? How could so much of it look the same? And at the same time…part of her wanted things to go on, to be better. She meant it when she told Ginny she wanted her to have the sort of school year this year that she'd never had. A year where the only dreadful thing at the end of it would be the exams. And yet, part of her looked around and kept expecting things to be exactly the same as they'd been in her school years, and was disgruntled at changes—shops under new management, or closed altogether like Fortescue's. The things she remembered weren't as she remembered them. That was a lifetime ago.
She backed away into an opening between two shops and took a few steadying breaths. She could do this. She'd started over in her life before. She hadn't known anyone when she went to Hogwarts. She wasn't anymore alone now than she had been then, not really. She swallowed and held her head high as she walked into Mulpepper's Apothecary.
She soon found herself immersed in the overwhelming array of smells and sights of little crowded bottles and packets on shelves throughout the shop. There were ingredients there that she'd only ever read about before, and a number of things well beyond the usual student potions kit. She walked around in fascination, wondering if there was any advantage to getting prepared sapient pearwood root, versus getting whole sapient pearwood root and preparing it herself. It came shaved, ground, powdered, and in a paste form.
She picked up a wicker basket by the door and began placing items from her list in it as well as a few other items that looked interesting. She intended to strike up a conversation with Mulpepper but discovered upon going to the register, that he was out. She still did her best to strike up a conversation with his assistant, asking intelligent questions about some of the ingredients she was purchasing and a few that she said she was thinking about.
Mulpepper's assistant seemed capable enough, and answered most of her questions. He admitted that there were one or two that he wasn't sure about, but he could owl her the answers when Master Mulpepper returned.
Hermione hesitated. Should she just say she'd come back? Or let him send her a message? Getting a correspondance started with Mulpepper could only be an advantage, couldn't it? She accepted his offer gracefully.
A small smile of satisfaction was on hermione's face as she left the Apothecary. She'd come out, and more or less done what she intended. And she hadn't had any run-ins with Skeeter. She felt triumphant.
She considered going by Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes. Maybe she'd see George. She got as far as walking past the shop and peering in the window, but catching a glimpse of red hair as she went by was enough to change her mind. Not today. One day at a time. Maybe next time.
She found a spot out of the way and Apparated home. One day at a time.
Hermione was pleased to see that her latest potion seemed to be a success, though it wasn't exactly one she cared to test personally—it was an extremely strong sleeping draught. But it matched the description in the text well.
She only had a few days before term started at Hogwarts. She was going to go see McGonagall. Hermione was making plans—she wanted to arrange to take her Potions NEWT in September. She was firming up her plans. She would continue teaching herself until September, take her NEWT, and hopefully begin a formal apprenticeship with Belby. She needed to make contact with him directly she knew. But she wanted to give it another couple of weeks and work on showing promise to Mulpepper. It certainly couldn't hurt.
Belby already had her recommendations from McGonagall and Slughorn, but he hadn't reached out to her, and she hadn't pursued it…yet. But she would. She promised herself she would.
Hermione began writing a letter to McGonagall at once. She read it over three times before sending it.