16
Mamori fumed silently as she did some quick shopping. That Hiruma…he absolutely infuriated her! How he managed to get into Deimon…hmph, probably blackmailed somebo…
Mamori stared at the object that caught her attention.
A mop.
An ordinary broom, that just seemed to attract her attention.
Mamori turned angrily when she heard a snort from behind her. "For some women, a frying pan is the choice of weapon, for others it is a large mallet, and for others still it is a broom impervious to bullets, capable of beating off savage dogs and their insane, corrupting, demonic blackmailing owners," the blond foreigner drawled, rubbing the back of his head.
Mamori looked at the broom in consideration.
The blond eyed her warily.
She looked at the price, thought about it carefully, and picked the broom up.
The young blond carefully took a few steps away when she picked it up, and then turned tail and ran when she tried it out.
She grinned.
From around the corner, Draco Malfoy looked fearfully at the (obviously) insane girl before muttering to himself, "I'm going to kill you, Potter. She did not need to get her hands on that, not at all."