As always your feedback and reception was hugely helpful, going to try and ante up the pacing of the story a bit. As always None of this is mine, these characters belong to JKR and I have no intentions other than finishing this motherfucker.
Be careless in your dress if you must, but keep a tidy soul. ~Mark Twain
Distrust any enterprise that requires new clothes. ~Henry David Thoreau, Walden
Harry knew Luna was worried about Hermione the moment she walked through the door. Ginny was out and Grimauld place felt empty, rattling around the with the echoes of ghosts past. Not that there were ghosts of course.
Just memories, as the awkward girl stood in the hallway and asked if she were bothering him or not, or if she should come back later. Harry ushered her into the kitchen and flicked the kettle on. Ron always recommended a cup of tea. It was time to hear what Hermione was up to and how she really was.
Fifteen minutes later, Luna left Grimmauld place via an illegal portkey.
As Harry put his wand away, he was flooded with a pang of reminiscence. Dumbledore had never set much store by the authorization of port keys either.
But then again Dumbledore had never worked for the ministry.
Shaking away the stray thought of Hermione in their tent while on the run, Harry instead settled in to the empty house, and set about making dinner. Kreacher loathed his assistance and continued to instruct him under his breath all the while. Sighing, Harry resolved to simply pester Ginny as soon as she got home. When she heard about the day he'd had, illegal port keys would be the least of it.
5555
Luna had always been too perceptive for Hermione's liking. They had never truly gotten on back at school but since the end of the war, Hermione found her shattered optimism about the ways of the world refreshing and Luna was always fantastic entertainment at the stuffy ministry galas or as a conversation buffer when trapped at a Weasley gathering. Luna had chatted and buffered the boys conversation along and occasionally Percy or George would come and ask how she was. All allowing Hermione to quietly seem like she was paying attention despite the tendrils of thought calling her back up to her desk.
Luna had always noticed though.
Just as now, as Hermione confidently strode through the french boulevard and into the muggle laneway dusted with café's and stone fences, she felt Luna's gaze on the back of her neck. As the lane narrowed and the muggle shops began to peter out, bursting into a row of houses, with fences overspilling with greenery, Hermione kept glancing at the street's glassy windows, eyes darting to catch the reflections jumping by.
Luna, her bright hair braided and muggle corduroys and woollen coat masking Hermione's flamboyance nicely. The muggles walking through the laneway, the camera's out, parkers wet with rain in the cooling autumn air. Had Dennis gotten his photo? Was that man there, in the denim jacket, a fellow wizard? The laneway continued to narrow and ahead of her, her reflection jumped about, cropped hair and muggle get up striding with a confidence she did not feel.
The muggle street ended and ahead, and an old warehouse held it's doors flung open to a small courtyard. The muggles saw only locked doors, and even then it was when they managed to catch it in the corner of their eyes. The streets and laneways had long ago fostered the scars of graffiti and artistry, but somehow in one of the oldest laneways of Paris, this lone factory wall stood fresh as the day it was built.
Hermione felt the apprehension in Luna's quiet voice behind her.
"There's a surprising amount of Nargles hovering through the archway."
Hermione looked up at the factory entrance before her, and bit her tongue on the question she knew she shouldn't ask. If there was an archway she didn't see it. Swallowing, Hermione walked through, linking her arm through Luna's and laughing, filling the concrete shell with the shrill echo.
"You need to meet my editor soon Luna, he's constantly telling me about his other client Newt and his discoveries. I think it would be a great interview for the Quibbler."
Hermione made sure her smile was radiant as they entered another small laneway, nearly identical to the one they'd just come through. Greenery still floated over fences and a thrum of foot traffic flickered past the glassy shine of shopfronts, except now such windows broadcasted robes, with moving shop fronts and exotic magical animals, or books and cauldrons and even one greenhouse structure which shone a range of glowing jasmine in a delicate swirls of magically shifting patterns.
Hermione had the impression of Alice entering the rabbit hole, but even as Luna's eyes glazed and took the magical shops in, Hermione darted to the configurations of wizards and witches throughout the street. No stationary groups. None of them loitering. In the greenhouse ahead though, staff were bustling around an apparently rogue venomous tentacula. Why anyone would wish to buy it was beyond her, but Hermione took in her first full breath and advanced with Luna into the hurriedly moving lane. There didn't seem to be any commotion so far and as long as she got them inside a shop quickly, they'd be fine. She felt Luna's gaze weigh heavily on her neck.
She always had been too perceptive for Hermione's liking.
Hermione briefly remembered the panic in her throat as she'd fled from Bill and Fluer's wedding. The crowd jostled. A man ahead argued loudly with a street vendor flouting a colourful ware of amulets. Hermione remembered sneaking through Hogsmeade towards the Hogs Head. Snow falling and She and Ron drifting away from the crowd mobbing honeydukes. She'd felt like holding his hand.
Shaking her head to dispel the image, Hermione quickly noticed the flow of traffic and the narrowing of the shops ahead of them. She'd picked the wrong direction and seemed to be heading away from the major garments and fashion district, Hermione eyed a tiny mahogany shopfront where a brass needle magically worked away creating garments for display. Pulling Luna behind her, she opened the door and for some reason, heard the doors brass bell ring with a certain finality.
The shop had the narrow feel of Olivanders, and Hermione and Luna quickly walked up the few stairs and through a corridor cluttered with a floating rack of robes and an overabundance of cabinetry. Each of the compartments was specifically fitted, some the size of a postage stamp, post it notes and some enclosed with glass displaying an assortment of threads and materials.
At the back of the store a counter stood unattended while a man in his mid-thirties sat reading the paper slouched over a drafting table.
It suddenly occurred to Hermione that she'd made a rather embaressing mistake made worse by the avid gaze of luna prickling on her neck. Desperation mounting, Hermion smiled and proffered her hand to the somewhat surprised wizard.
"Bonjour, parlez vous anglais?"
With a flick of his wand, the man was out of his chair, shaking first Hermiones then Luna's hands as he moved to the counter all the while filling the shop with a booming voice.
"Of course, of course, how can I help you lovely ladies today?"
She'd brought them to a designer specifically for men, traditional attire.
Specialising in dress robes.
Most notably,
Traditional bridal wear.
This was too ironic for words, and yet the wizard before her had words enough for all
"So, so, so, come over the channel for the big day am I right? Who's the lucky lady then? We've the finest traditional attire this side of France."
"oh. No, neither of us are engaged actually, we were just- "
"What? How can that be, two beautiful witches like yourself?"
Hermione visibly bristled as the man drowned out the rest of her business proposition.
Luna noticed.
"Do you work from sketches then?"
The man turned from the counter and followed Luna to the drafting table, all the while booming
"Yes, yes we do!"
Luna nodded with an appreciation that somehow encouraged the man further,
"Miss, this drafting table has sat here"
Before the man could continue Hermione steeled herself further.
"Do you show case your designs? A catalogue?
The man chuckled and handed her the stack of commercial drawings from under the counter. His tone was brisk as he outlined the different makes and associated prices, all reasonably cheap.
"Some people have no appreciation for the craft of it all"
His grin was nauseating and that was just catching it from the corner of her eye, head down resolutely skimming across the listings and quickly calculating, Hermione tried her best to ignore the conversation.
"So you're a designer then?"
Luna was a godsend.
Hermione browsed the catalogue trying incredibly hard not to raise her eyebrow as Luna unbeknownstly heard of the mans business in the fashion capitol of paris, family owned with generations of experience.
Hermione felt the anger seep through her stomach as Luna asked further
"How far back do you go?"
Had she really just asked that?
Was the man now boasting of his heraldry?
Desperately needing the conversation to end, but with no clear providence arriving, Hermione resolved her final assessment of the obviously warehouse grade manufacturer. He'd been landed with a mid-level business others had built for him and now he was content with his mid-level life. He was however, still desperate enough to chase a woman shopping, who had no obvious interest in him bar politeness. He would not be influenced by money. And Hermione had none.
But she had Luna.
"You see sir, my friend here does have a true appreciation of the art. She's my designer you see. We're opening a location in Diagon Alley."
The shop was filled with a silence that did not suit the man's shocked gasp or his comically open mouth. Luna smiled up at him, agreeably, happy to trust Hermione's outburst. Luna was a godsend.
It was only after the man had set about with a quill and parchment, quoting Hermione as she fired questions at a rapid paces, quotes on materials and labour costings and the distribution of his company, that Hermione felt Luna's eyes on her.
She continued interrupting the man with questions and tried to ignore the distaste left in her mouth as she finally laid the definitive sentence.
"Miss Lovegood here will be designing for Harry Potter."
The man suddenly lost his laconic attitude in an instant. It had to be said though, his new somewhat frazzled persona was no more appealing.
"That is a particularly significant client, miss. I had no idea your interest was so... that is to say, perhaps I could set up a meeting with my father? He's is the owner of the business after all."
Hermione nodded and smiled pleasantly, letting Luna bid their aidues and then whisking them both through the floo to the Injured Accordian.
She had failed again, possibly.
There was no real relief, and no real way to know.
Just the prospect of the days last assignment, waiting at the other end of the floo.
Let me know what you think!
