- Malfoy Manor, 31st of July 1991 -
Exhaustion was the first thing he felt when time finally started to slow down again. Finally, after nearly two months of living in a magical timewave, everything was going back to its regular ticking rhythm. The second thing he noticed was the soft silk under his hands. They were considerably smaller than a few hours ago. The one constant he'd felt throughout this whole journey was the time-turner's cold metal against his skin. A simple notice-me-not would have to make to do hide it once he got his wand.
"Deandra," he cried out, sitting up straight when he felt the time-turner stop moving. For a split second, he wondered if it had all just been a nightmare after all. That he'd wake up, and everything would be back to how it was before.
"I am here, little dragon," the spirit spoke in his mind as her magic opened the curtains of his bedroom to let the sunlight in. "I will always be here."
Draco felt relief wash over him. Even if he and Deandra had been meticulous in their planning, using all of their cunning and wit to fulfil Hermione's contingency plan, he was still terrified. He wasn't a bloody Gryffindor. Yes, he had jumped back in time to save Hermione. To save everyone really. That didn't mean that he wasn't anxious about the whole thing. What if it would blow up in his face? What if the changes he'd make would make everything turn out worse than it had the first time round?
As he got out of bed, he noticed his clothes were already laid out for him. He'd almost forgotten that Dobby, his personal elf, would be with him again. He couldn't help but feel proud that whatever the elf had lived through, he'd risked his life to save Harry and Ron. He'd probably saved Luna and the other prisoners too. Perhaps, he should start with treating his elf better. Deandra had scolded him for treating the house elf like he did. Yet, he couldn't just switch personalities overnight even if he had decided to stop being a git. Well, mostly. He was still a Malfoy after all.
While putting on his robes, the distinct *pop* of a house elf apparating into his room almost made him jump. Yet, Malfoys had dignity and did not get surprised easily. So instead, all he did was raise an eyebrow questioningly.
Dobby was staring up at him, his eyes big as saucers, his ears flat against his head. "Dobby is sorry to disturb the young master," the house elf began. "Mistress told Dobby that the young master should get ready so we can head to Diagon Alley for the fitting of your school robes and the purchase of your wand." He bowed, clearly scared that he would be in for a punishment by appearing in his master's room without notice.
"Thank you, Dobby. We can leave soon," Draco answered as he stood up straight, adjusting his collar. He'd forgotten how formal and tight his clothes used to be at this age, rather than his slouchier apparel when he'd gotten his growth-spurt in the summer between second and third year. His mother had given him an earful for not tucking his robes in properly. He couldn't help but smile fondly at the memory.
Dobby raised his ears at his master in wonder, not used to being thanked. Fuck. Maybe he did overdo it? He almost couldn't help himself after listening to Hermione's rants on house elf rights and her trying to get him to anonymously spread S.P.E.W. flyers in the Slytherin common room. One time she had even spelled some to come out of his pocket once he entered the Slytherin room, sending the damn things flying around. Some poor second year who'd entered together with Draco had gotten the blame for spreading the "nonsense" and had been hexed so their ears would grow to typical house elf size every time they walked into the Slytherin common room. Draco definitely never told Hermione that.
He could only hope that Dobby would blame his politeness on his excitement to get his wand. Either way, his house elf was not his biggest concern right now.
"No thanks are needed, master," the elf said as he disappeared again, probably informing his mother of the fact that her son had finally woken up.
He decided not to have his hair all slicked back this time around - he'd gotten over that phase by the time he was fourteen after all. It was paramount that he'd look at least a tiny bit approachable. Looking like a right twat would send Harry running for the hills.
"First things first. We should get Potter a birthday gift to establish our relationship," Draco told Deandra as he made his way out of his room, his robes bellowing behind him like he'd learnt from his godfather. Maybe he should quit doing that. He looked like a little 11-year-old snob, something which definitely wouldn't impress Hermione and Harry. "I'll find him some book on Quidditch, like we agreed on."
He could feel Deandra's approving hum as he opened the doors to the dining room, greeting his mother and father respectfully.
"Draco, dear," his mother said by way of greeting. "I know I promised I would go to Diagon Alley with you today, but Lady Parkinson has invited me and Lady Greengrass over for tea to discuss some… urgent matters. Dobby will apparate the two of you there and I will meet you for ice cream at Fortescues around one o'clock."
Draco bowed his head at his mother in agreement and sat down at the dining table, digging in for some breakfast.
"Remember to behave, Draco," his father drawled as he closed the economic section of The Daily Prophet. "And make sure not to mingle with any… lesser beings while you are visiting the shops. We wouldn't want any rumours of the Malfoy family fraternising with mudbloods and blood traitors to arise, now would we?"
Draco almost snorted and rolled his eyes at his father. This was the time to put the first part of his plan in motion, start manipulating the elder Malfoy for a change. "Of course, father," he agreed. "I was just thinking, there might be a possibility that I run into Harry Potter today. Do you believe it would be politically advantageous for us if I would associate myself with him? After all, he is the darling of the wizarding world. Having him on our side might influence things to change in our favour."
His mother gave him a proud but calculated look, and his father raised an eyebrow, seemingly intrigued by what he had to say. "Mister Potter has been hidden quite well by Dumbledore these past ten years," his father answered. "If you do manage to become acquainted with him today, at least learn where his loyalties lie before I decide on how to proceed?"
"Yes, father," Draco said, almost grinding his teeth as he assumed that he would be the one making any of the decisions. Not anymore. The boy that wanted to please his father was long gone. Look where it had gotten him. Disillusioned, discouraged and desolate. Not this time. The tables were finally turned.
"It would be disadvantageous to have my father oppose us and the changes we will make," he thought as he felt Deandra's approval at his words, her presence settling in his mind. "There is much to do. But first, we need to go get that gift for Harry Potter and hope that idiot accepts my friendship this time."
Nothing more was said as he finished his breakfast, both of his parents leaving before, getting on with their days. As soon as he was ready to go, Dobby came running with a rain-repellent robe before whisking both of them off to Diagon Alley.
- Diagon Alley, 31st of July 1991 -
One of the privileges of being rich and spoiled was that Draco Malfoy did not have to explain to anyone, least of all his quirky house elf, why exactly he wanted a second copy of Quidditch Through the Ages as well as two copies of Seeking the Snitch for beginners. If he was going to try and become friends with Harry Potter, the best way to start was on common ground, something which they both loved and could bond over. Quidditch. Even if Harry hadn't heard of the wizard sport yet, he would soon become enthralled by it.
When he stood in front of the door to the bookstore, Flourish and Blotts, he was so distracted and thinking of anything else he could get for Potter, that he failed to notice a familiar pull luring him in. Mentally discussing with Deandra about what he would say when he finally met the Boy Who Lived, he was not prepared to hear 11-year-old Hermione Granger babbling to her mother. His breath caught in his throat as he saw her, explaining to her mother exactly how important it was for her to get the original copy of Hogwarts a History.
He blinked. She was here. She was alive. It had bloody worked. He'd have a second chance at saving her, at fulfilling everything she ever wished for. He would do anything to set this foolishness right.
Hermione turned her head at him, her frizzy hair wilder than he remembered, her big front teeth the central focus of her small face. He'd forgotten what her teeth looked like before she let Madame Pomfrey correct them and he couldn't help but smile at her. The familiar magical tug in his stomach almost made him run up to her but his boyish enthusiasm might scare her off, so he decided to take a deep breath instead.
He barely needed to contemplate what to do next. Even if his parents would not want him associating with what in their eyes was nothing more than a mudblood, he didn't give a fuck. He'd not come back for nothing, and he would do his best to be the friend that she deserved.
Smiling back at Hermione, who was now looking at him expectantly, he decided to break the ice. "Are you going to Hogwarts as well next term?" he casually asked as he stepped painfully slowly towards Hermione, following the pull of her magic after all.
Hermione's face lit up at his friendly mannerisms, her usual friendliness showing on her face. "Yes, I was ever so pleased when I got my Hogwarts letter. I didn't know I was a witch, you see. My name is Hermione Granger, and you are?" she rattled on as she put out her hand for him to shake.
"Malfoy," he answered, reaching out to shake her hand. "Draco Malfoy. I was born a wizard, so it wasn't very surprising to me to get my letter."
No sooner had his words left him, or he felt something click in the back of his mind. The thread he'd felt between them had increased almost thousandfold, just like that late summer night in her garden. Well fuck. That couldn't be good.
Hermione frowned for a split second, but seemed to pay whatever had transpired between them no mind and instead chose to shake his hand eagerly, allowing her mother to introduce herself as well.
"Doctor Jean Granger, Hermione's mother," the older woman said. Ah. This was one of those muggle healers who worked with teeth.
Before Draco could answer, Dobby had suddenly popped up after checking out the queue at Madam Malkin's. Oh no. If Hermione noticed what Dobby was, their chances of becoming friends might get ruined. He had been on the receiving end of more than one rant about S.P.E.W. during the past couple of years. He would need to save this. Fast.
"Oh Dobby, there you are," he casually said, taking on a way more friendly tone than his elf was used to. "Please introduce yourself to doctor Granger and her daughter Hermione."
"Of course, master," Dobby said, making both Draco and Hermione wince as the little elf shook Dr. Granger's hand. He then realised that the poor thing was probably scared Lucius would make him iron his hands to get the muggle filth of his hands if he ever learnt of Dobby shaking hands with a muggle. He would definitely need to order him never to do that.
"I is Dobby" the elf eagerly introduced himself as he took Hermione's hand. Draco could already see the frown building on her face. "I am master Draco's personal elf and I serve the Malfoy family. Pleased to meet you, mistress."
Both Draco and Dobby looked at each other in alarm, both wide-eyed. Had he just called Hermione his mistress? Thank Merlin that neither Hermione nor her mother knew what that meant. But Dobby did. Magic had forced him to recognize the bond between them. Shite. That confirmed it then. Whenever he and Hermione shook hands, the vow had reestablished itself. Fuck. He thought that it would've disappeared when travelling back in time. Just his luck that it didn't.
"You were technically married in front of magic itself, Draco," Deandra said. "You can't just break a bond like that. You told Hermione so yourself when she suggested the vow. There is no divorce in wizarding marriages."
"She should have a choice in this matter," he gritted out to her mentally, trying to keep a friendly smile on his face for the Grangers. "The Goblins might know how to annul it, or at least get her out of it. I'll have to talk to them as soon as possible it seems. You make sure the family tapestry doesn't show the connection to any Malfoy or Malfoy elf living at the manor. Merlin knows what would happen if my father ever found out."
Deandra agreed and with a tug on his magic, he knew that it was done. No Malfoy or their elves living at the manor would see Hermione's name on the magical family tapestry which was hanging in the hidden study in the back of Malfoy library. Luckily, they didn't need to protect it against outsiders as the study could only be entered by those of the Malfoy line. Thank fuck for that.
Realising that he had been standing there in silent awkwardness, staring at his elf, Draco cleared his throat. "Dobby, miss Hermione might not feel as comfortable with you calling her mistress, since she hasn't learnt about our customs yet. I'd advise you refer to her as Miss Hermione."
"Of course, master," Dobby said, the gears turning in his little head. Magic knew the girl in front of him was his mistress, his master's beloved. Why was he denying it? Had he not felt it himself? The little elf's ears flapped around as he shook his head, not being able to make a galleon's heads or tails of it.
"Master?" Hermione inquired, her eyes squinting at Draco. "Is Dobby supposed to be your slave? Is that still a thing in the wizarding world?" Her nostrils were flaring, daring him to answer her.
"Hermione," her mother scolded her, putting her hand on her shoulder.
"No, it's alright doctor Granger," Draco replied, holding up his hand in the air. "I understand that it is very confusing. Some house elves are indeed mistreated and seen as slaves by their magical families. However, most elves are equivalent to what muggles call butlers or even maids and nannies. Usually, more rich families own a set of elves to help them take care of their estates. It is actually a mutual bond and agreement between the elves and their families. You see, they require the magic of their family to be able to survive."
Hermione still didn't look convinced at his explanation. To be honest, she was right to be sceptical. Even if some families treated their elves well, not all of them did… His father certainly didn't.
"I can recommend some books on wizarding customs and elves, if you'd like?" he finally suggested. "There are two sides to each story, so if you'd like to cross-reference…"
Hermione nodded, determined to make up her own mind. Books and knowledge had always been where she'd found her answers the first time round, so it was no surprise to Draco that she was willing to at least have a look at some source material first.
"I suppose it would be a good idea study some of wizarding customs, and not just read up on classes and the history Hogwarts," the witch agreed. "Are there any other books you could recommend for a muggle-born like me? You seem to be well-versed in the subject, having grown up in a magical family yourself."
They went off to the shelves together, Draco pointing out books as they went. Meanwhile, Dr. Granger and Dobby engaged in conversation about house elves and their duties. Draco also took the books he was planning to buy for Harry and paid for them. Engaged in conversation now, Hermione asked him what felt like more than a million questions about the wizarding world.
"It was very nice to meet someone before I actually start Hogwarts," Hermione admitted quietly as they finally left the store about fifteen minutes later. "I've never met someone like me before."
He cringed inwardly. He remembered how she'd been bullied and was deemed a freak by her muggle peers. She was strange to them, not only because she was intelligent, but also because accidental magic occurred around her, as it did with any magical child. He'd promised he'd make her feel home in the magical community, to stop the focus on her blood status and to make sure she had friends. He'd be the first of many, he hoped.
"If you want, we could write," he said, trying to cheer her up. "It's still a month until school begins after all, and I could answer your questions in writing. I assume you don't have an owl, or the posting service set up yet?"
Dr. Granger answered his question before Hermione could reply. "We have a subscription to The Daily Prophet," she said. "But we haven't gotten an owl yet, even though Professor McGonagall advised us to. It isn't as easy for us and our busy schedules to raise and take care of an owl you see. Hermione has also been considering to take a cat with her to Hogwarts as a familiar, instead of an owl. We've been at a bit of a loss as to how to solve our postal issues, to be completely honest with you."
At the mention of a cat, he remembered Crookshanks. That little devil. At least the scar the half-kneazle had given him on the back of his right hand had also disappeared. With a feeling of nostalgia, he hoped the scar would be replaced, however. Perhaps even by multiple ones.
"I would advise getting a subscription to The Quibbler as well. The Daily Prophet does not always print the truth in my experience," Draco explained to Dr. Granger, remembering the Lovegoods' support of Harry and his friends.
"Dobby could always send messages back and forth if you would allow him to apparate to your house," the little elf suddenly piped up, looking at Draco for his approval. "If Dr. Grangey and miss Hermie allow Dobby to enter their house, he can bring letters in the mornings, perhaps?"
"That is very considerate of you, Dobby. If you wouldn't mind, then it would be wonderful if you could help Hermione send her letters to her new friends," Dr. Granger said with what seemed to be some tears in her eyes.
Hermione nodded enthusiastically. "That sounds lovely! But, if you don't mind me asking, what's apparating?"
"Oh," Draco chuckled. "It's a magical way of transportation. It is much like teleporting from one place to the other." Thank Merlin Hermione had made him read those sci-fi novels and actually taught him something about the muggle world. He had no clue how else to explain it.
"Teleportation?" Hermione asked, her eyes growing wide and a smile forming on her face. "Wicked!"
They exchanged goodbyes, Hermione turning around and waving multiple times before they left, and Draco reminded her that she could call on Dobby any time if she had a letter to send to him or any other people she met. He also encouraged her to read upon the history of house elves, and to take most of the books concerning Harry Potter with a grain of salt. She was confused at this, but nodded at him and shook his hand one more time before leaving with her mother to muggle London.
"Master," Dobby said unsure, hopping from one foot to the other as they watched the two Grangers walk away. "Why is Miss Grangey Dobby's… Mistress," he whispered, holding his head in his hands, scared he would be punished.
"I'm not sure, Dobby," Draco lied to him. "Perhaps Hermione and I will become great friends in the future and magic has recognized it?". The elf was probably dumb enough to believe that. "You also call Mrs. Parkinson "mistress" when she visits, right?"
"Of course, master," the little elf agreed, nodding intensely as he started guiding them to Madam Malkin's. "Dobby hopes that master will make loads of friends!"
Draco tried not to smile, attempting to keep up appearances, and barely nodded at the elf as he opened the door to Madam Malkin's.
This time, he only arrived a few minutes before Harry did. He had never noticed how small the boy had been for his age. How skinny. The rags that one could barely refer to as clothes didn't help him, neither did his glasses that were taped together. Merlin's beard, had he really been that much of a git the first time around to not notice the signs? Or had he just not noticed because he hadn't lived through hunger and despair yet?
Deandra bristled in his head as she eyed the child entering the clothing shop. "How dare they?!" she almost screamed, making Draco frown at the upcoming headache. "I can barely feel his magical core. I never realised it when looking at your memories, Draco. This child has been mistreated severely. How they ever expected him to grow into the wizard who would defeat the Dark Lord is beyond me! I can't believe he was able to produce a Patronus at 13. His core must've grown immensely during his time at Hogwarts."
He had to agree with her. Potter looked pathetic. Hermione had told him bits and pieces of his treatment by the muggles he lived with. But even she hadn't realised how severe it had been in the beginning. He finally understood now why she'd been so desperate to get him away from the Dursleys. Well. That could easily be arranged. All he needed to do was move some pieces so that some of the adults would become aware of Harry's situation.
"Hi mate, off to Hogwarts?" Draco asked as he offered his hand for Harry to shake. "I'm Draco Malfoy."
The dark-haired boy just blinked at him a few times, clearly not used to being addressed in a friendly manner. Dear Merlin. What the fuck had Potter actually gone through? And why had none of the actual adults done something about this? Hermione's anger had almost become his own at this point. If snake face would return, Harry would need to be as strong as he could be to take him on. A battered, bruised, malnourished, and neglected little boy would not do.
Harry finally seemed to find the courage to shake Draco's hand. That definitely went better than the first time round. "I'm Harry Potter. And, yeah I'm buying everything I need for Hogwarts. I just found out I'm a wizard today, actually."
Madam Malkin froze. She, like anyone walking through Diagon Alley that day, had of course recognized the saviour of the Wizarding World at a first glance. If not for the scar on his forehead, then him being the spitting image of war hero James Potter was definitely an indicator for most of the older generation of witches and wizards.
"Mr. Potter," she began. "You surely must have known that your mother and father fought … You-Know-Who? They were two very accomplished magicals…"
Harry turned his head to her and shrugged as he let the witch wave her wand to measure his size. "You -Know-Who? You mean Voldemort? Yeah, Hagrid told me today that they died fighting him."
"You shouldn't speak his name," the older witch scolded him as she started more uttering spells, noting down his measurements as she did. Draco noticed the slight frown on her face. Good. She too must have noticed he was way too small for an 11-year-old boy.
He leant over to Harry when the older witch turned her back. "Magical folk are still a bit twitchy around Moldy Pant's name," Draco whispered. "Best to just call him You-Know-Who around them if you don't want to be scolded all the time."
Harry smiled at him in thanks for that piece of information. He then looked up again and waved at Hagrid who was standing behind the window, ice cream in hand.
"Oh, I forgot I was meeting my mother for ice cream afterwards," Draco said, straining himself to smile and wave at Hagrid as well. Fuck. That felt weird. He'd never been a big fan of the half-giant, and he was sure his actions would've turned some heads in the past.
"Did the Hogwarts gamekeeper get you ice cream for your birthday, Harry?"
Harry flicked his head around and looked at him suspiciously, raising an eyebrow.
"You're claimed to be the saviour of the wizarding world, mate," Draco rolled his eyes. "Everyone knows your name and your birthday. Better get used to the fame before we start at Hogwarts. Congratulations by the way."
Harry seemed to contemplate that bit of information for a second. "I never asked to be famous," he finally answered, his thoughts seemingly drifting off. "If anything, it's probably my mother who should be considered a hero. I don't think a 1-year-old baby could defeat a dark wizard."
Madam Malkin seemed to think on his answer as she was clearly eavesdropping on the boys' conversation. Draco had never thought about Harry's astute observation either. Why exactly was Harry seen as a hero, whereas it was his mother who had given her life for his that fateful night?
Trying to brighten the mood, and continue his plan of befriending Harry, Draco said: "I haven't heard that much about your mum, but I know that your dad used to be a Quidditch player at Hogwarts. One of the best chasers Gryffindor team ever had, actually. Dobby, could you give me those books I bought earlier today?"
Dobby came running and enlarged the books as he pulled them from one of his pockets, bowing as he finally formally met Harry. "Dobby is pleased to meet Mister Harry Potter, sir," the little elf said.
Harry seemed to be surprised by the elf's strange appearance but didn't say anything and instead shook hands with him, almost making Dobby die with excitement. Draco rolled his eyes. Great. Seems like Dobby was still ready to start his own Harry Potter Fanclub then.
"Here, consider this a birthday gift. I'm sure your dad would've at least attempted to get you to like Quidditch, it's a wizarding sport as popular as football," Draco said, handing the books to Harry.
Harry just stared at them. No one had ever gotten him any gifts before. Yet this boy, this stranger, had not only given him the precious gift of telling him something about his father, but was also granting him an actual gift. Something new. Something for him alone.
"I-" Harry stammered. "I can't take these."
"Of course you can," Draco frowned. "Don't worry about the money, mate. The Malfoys are loaded, just like the Potters. Neither one of us would ever lose some sleep over a few galleons spent on a book."
"You don't understand," Harry said, shaking his head now. "My aunt and uncle don't approve of magic. They will probably just lock this away along with the rest of my stuff until school begins. I'm not even allowed to read. Can't be smarter than their son Dudley…" he petered off.
Draco scowled at that, Madam Malkin hovering near, looking at the boys in disbelief.
Deandra was raging in his mind, throwing out curses. "Why have the Potter elves never come to his aid? Why has no adult ever checked up on him? What is this ridiculousness?" she hissed again.
That was a very good question actually. Draco had fallen from his broom and broken his arm when he was seven. A whole army of house elves had shown up to make sure he was alright. Looking at Harry, he had definitely been neglected. Either the elves had been killed by Voldemort that Hallow's Eve in 1981, or the elves had been kept from him, the Potters' will locked somewhere in the Ministry. Draco made a mental note of that, not surprised that Hermione had never mentioned this to him, as no one would've even suggested to them to find Potter Manor. Fuck. He should've thought of that. Perhaps they could've hidden out there during the war, instead of spending their time starving and wasting away on the run…
"That's alright," Draco said, trying to live in the present, instead of focusing on his past mistakes. "Dobby can bring them to you once you're alone at night and hide them for you. All you have to do is allow him to enter your home and call his name."
Dobby started nodding so hard and quickly that his ears were flapping around his head, reminding Draco of an excited dog.
"Of course, Dobby can run errands for master Draco's friends. Dobby be delivering letters to Miss Grangey, so he can also come to Mister Harry Potter, sir. If Dobby would be permitted of course."
"Miss Grangey?" Harry asked, trying to ignore Dobby's over eagerness.
"Oh, I met her at the bookstore," Draco shrugged, acting as if it was no big deal. "Dobby is talking about Miss Hermione Granger. She also grew up in a muggle family, like you. Her mum is a dentist. She also recently found out that she's a witch. If you want, I could ask her to write to you? You probably have some things to bond over. And I could let the two of you in on the wizarding world and answer any questions you'd have?"
This was bloody perfect. Thank Merlin for Dobby. If he could get Hermione and Harry acquainted before they went off to Hogwarts, their friendship could be established from the get-go. Getting Weasley into the equation would be more difficult, and to be honest, Draco wasn't looking forward to it. He'd have to try at least, to give them their magical family back.
"I would like that," Harry whispered, clearly touched. "Could you also bring me some writing materials, Dobby?" he asked the house elf sheepishly.
Oh no. Dobby got a murderous look in his eyes. Well. As long as Draco didn't order his elf to hurt the muggles, and he did of his own accord instead, that technically didn't equal breaking the law. Right? Right. Slytherin indeed, Severus would be proud.
"Dobby will make sure everything is in order," Draco replied, clapping Harry on the shoulder.
"Thanks, Draco," Harry said sincerely as Madam Malkin finished up taking his measurements. "I have to go now though, seems like Hagrid is waiting for me. Bloody brilliant that magical ice cream doesn't melt until you start eating it. It was nice to meet you!"
"No problem, mate," Draco answered. "Oh, and if you want to get started on something before the school year starts, you can read up on Potion ingredients and Potion making. My godfather, Professor Snape, teaches the course and he can be quite strict. I'll send an extra book with Dobby if you'd like?" Draco remembered his godfather's treatment of Harry the first time round. Even though it had amused him to no end back then, it definitely wouldn't this time around. Boy Wonder needed any advantage he could get, and Severus Snape was a good ally to have. He could teach them potions, defence, occlumency, and even dark spells if needed.
Harry thanked him once more for the information and said he would definitely have a look at it if he managed to read at night without his relatives noticing.
Draco inwardly frowned, but smiled at Harry, and shook his hand before the boy ran out of the store.
Thank Merlin that this meeting had gone way smoother than the one nearly seven years earlier.