Chapter Nine - Meeting the Muggles

Draco

Despite his best efforts, Draco began to slowly feel attached to Potter and Granger. He was impressed with their accomplishments and dismayed at their setbacks.

For example, the day after their meeting in the library, Granger showed up to their defence meeting with charmed Galleon-like coins. These she distributed to each of the members of the D.A.. Weasley became very excited when he saw the basket at first, convinced that she was actually giving out gold, but Granger quickly explained. "You see the numerals around the edge of the coins?" She had said, holding one up for examination at the end of their fourth meeting. The coin gleamed fat and yellow in the light from the torches. "On real Galleons that's just a serial number referring to the goblin who cast the coin. On these fake coins, though, the numbers will change to reflect the time and date of the next meeting. The coins will grow hot when the date changes, so if you're carrying them in a pocket, you'll be able to feel them. We take one each, and when Harry sets the date of the next meeting he'll change the numbers on his coin, and because I've put a Protean Charm on them, they'll all change to mimic his."

A blank silence had greeted Granger's words. She had looked around at all the faces upturned to her, rather disconcerted. "Well — I thought it was a good idea," she said uncertainly, "I mean, even if Umbridge asked us to turn out our pockets, there's nothing fishy about carrying a Galleon, is there? But... well, if you don't want to use them..."

"You can do a Protean Charm?" said Blaise Zabini.

"Yes," said Granger.

"But that's... that's N.E.W.T. standard, that is," he said weakly.

"Oh," said Granger, trying to look modest. "Oh... well... yes, I suppose it is..."

Draco snorted. Whoever she thought she was fooling, he hoped they never clued her in.

"How come you're not in Ravenclaw?" one of the Ravenclaw boys demanded, staring at Granger with something close to wonder. "With brains like yours?"

"Well, the Sorting Hat did seriously consider putting me in Ravenclaw during my Sorting," said Granger brightly, "but it decided on Gryffindor in the end. So does that mean we're using the Galleons?" There was a murmur of assent and everybody moved forward to collect one from the basket.

Draco took the fake Galleon and put it in the same deep pocket he had taken to keeping his letters in. He would need to take care to not accidentally pawn it away. Granger's words had struck a tine within him as well. The Sorting Hat had not told him it considered placing him anywhere else, but it had said he did not belong in Slytherin. Draco had never agreed with this. He felt absolutely at home with all the Slytherins, but the Sorting Hat's words constantly turned over and over in his head.

They spoke sometimes in the library while searching for hints on their situation (fruitless, thus far). Draco had to be careful what he said of home, but the other two never mentioned theirs, so it didn't come up all that often. Only once, at the end of October.

"Malfoy, why can't your dad bribe the Department of Mysteries?" Harry asked one day. "You always made it sound like you had connections everywhere."

Draco thought about how to respond. "He tried, once," he admitted. "Right before I was born, there was a prophecy made about the Dark Lord. He was curious and tried to get it."

"What happened?" Hermione asked.

Draco shrugged. "Nothing. He got told off and had to pay a fine for trying to bribe an Unspeakable. But don't go around saying that to anyone – not even Weasley."

The two nodded and then they all turned back to their books. But it was short-lived. Harry put his down first. "I wonder what Voldemort's prophecy was."

Draco almost leapt right out of his skin. As it was, he went from his normal position – back to a bookshelf and feet on the discard stack – to crouching with his feet underneath him. "Merlin's Beard!" he whispered. "Say that a little louder, why don't you?"

"I'm just wondering…" Harry frowned. "Who do you think made the prophecy?"

Here was an answer Draco knew, and he smirked. "You'll never guess," he said.

"Boys," Hermione said from her place on the ground. "Focus, please."

Both ignored her. "Trelawney," Harry guessed.

Draco's jaw fell slack. "How'd you know?" he asked.

"Lucky guess," Harry said grimly. "She gave me a prophecy about the Dark Lord at the end of third year. A real one. Not one of her bogus stuff."

"Well, yes, it was Trelawney. But it's sealed off. And she doesn't remember it anyway."

"Then how did you get the Seer's name?" Hermione asked, setting down her book finally to chat. "The ministry didn't give you the name of the seer when you wrote in."

Draco paused. That detail had been bugging him since he'd last written his letter in to the Department of Mysteries. "No," he agreed. "I'm not sure. They may have told him the seer's name and witness's name when they told him he couldn't have the prophecy. Maybe they'll do the same for us."

The three sat in a little bit of silence, then Hermione picked up her book. "Thank you, Malfoy," she said.

Draco didn't move for several seconds. Then he said, "You can call me Draco now, if you want."

He had to busy himself with his book as Granger and Potter both looked at him. Then Hermione repeated herself softly, "Thank you, Draco."

"You're welcome, Granger."

— by order of —

The High Inquisitor of Hogwarts

All Student Organizations, Societies, Teams, Groups, and Clubs are henceforth disbanded. An Organization, Society, Team, Group, or Club is hereby defined as a regular meeting of three or more students. Permission to re-form may be sought from the High Inquisitor (Professor Umbridge). No Student Organization, Society, Team, Group, or Club may exist without the knowledge and approval of the High Inquisitor.

Any student found to have formed, or to belong to, an Organization, Society, Team, Group, or Club that has not been approved by the High Inquisitor will be expelled. The above is in accordance with Educational Decree Number Twenty-four.

Signed,

Delores Jane Umbridge

High Inquisitor

Draco's first instinct was that someone had snitched. He voiced this to Hermione immediately upon her arrival to the Great Hall on the first day of November, when the notice went up. However, she smiled, and said, "If someone snitched, we'd know."

Which confirmed his thoughts about the parchment she'd made them sign last September.

As the day went on and nothing happened, Draco began to wonder if it was something else entirely. A fluke. A suspicion of the reality of the Defence Club. Or perhaps an attempt to stop Gryffindor playing Hufflepuff the following November Saturday. All Quidditch teams were disbanded as of the proclamation.

Draco himself made the trek to Umbridge's to request an exception for their study group. The matter of the Slytherin Quidditch Team was being handled by the captain. Professor Umbridge looked down sweetly and shook her head. "No, I don't think so," she said. "And you realise your little meetings beforehand will have to stop as well, don't you?"

This made Draco wonder if perhaps their little study group was the reason for the chaos, but he couldn't figure out why Umbridge would have it out for them. Unless she really didn't like Harry Potter that much.

They had gotten as much as they could out of the library anyway. It was a total bust. So instead, Draco, Hermione, and Harry resolved to staying after in the Room of Requirement to look over things.

And actually, it hadn't been a bust. They had found a number of old and forgotten spells that were both interesting and handy. "Commodo" was a fun little charm that encouraged people to help you out as much as possible. Draco used it while flying with Harry one day to let him grab the practice snitch first. "Crescere" could cause you to grow a few feet extra for a short time, and Harry had used it to experience the feeling of being taker than him. Hermione had begun developing a speed reading charm(of course she had) and was reading faster than ever - giving Harry and Draco more time to goof off.

The air turned cold and people began to make Christmas plans. Draco's chest began to feel tight as his mother and father passed letters along about the situation at home. His mother advised him to stay at school for the holidays, as the Dark Lord was now living in their home and he could potentially give Draco a task if he put a foot out of line.

For a moment, this did not seem terrible. Potter usually stayed at the castle as well. It could be fun. Potter did not like to speak about his home life and it was entirely possible Draco could survive the trip without him asking anything.

But then Granger came up with a crazy idea.

"There's no way we'll get the prophecy into Hogwarts," she told him and Harry one day as they walked down to the edge of the forbidden forest, on their way to Care of Magical Creatures. "And it's likely to come around Christmas. So, I've been thinking about going away for Christmas."

"Where would you go away to?" Harry asked, huffing in the cold air.

"Well, you both would come with," Hermione said. "The letter will be delivered to Draco. My parents are going away over Christmas and they offered to find a fun place for me meanwhile. Muggles have this concept of a home rental. You can visit anywhere almost, for relatively cheap. It's called an AirBnB. Have either of you ever been to Manchester? They've got an excellent Christmas Market."

"A what?" Draco asked.

"It's a German thing," Hermione explained. "Anyway, we could find a place to stay for three weeks, easily. Study. Manchester also has quite a large public library with a magical selection, if I'm correct. We'd have to take care not to be spotted, but it could be nice. And when the prophecy comes, it'll be right difficult to intercept."

Harry and Draco fell silent. "I'll have to think on it," Draco admitted. Though he reasoned Granger was right about them possibility of the prophecy being intercepted while he was at Hogwarts. He resolved to write a letter requesting an update when they got back inside.

"Same," Harry said. "What about Ron?"

"Ron's going away for Christmas. Didn't you hear?"

"Oh. Well, in that case, sign me up."

And rather than be the only person staying in the dorms, Draco signed on as well.

He did not share a compartment with Granger and Potter on the way back to London, but he did review with Pansy and Blaise all that they had learned during the defence meetings. They were now faster, more accurate, and more powerful. They knew stunning spells, disarming spells, and Harry had even started teaching everyone the patronus. It was the most exciting thing Draco could remember learning.

On the platform of 9 ¾, Potter and Granger said goodbye to Weasley, who apparently had not realised that the two were going to be together over the holidays. Draco could read his expression from a mile away, as he gave Blaise and Pansy the slip. When he saw that they were joining him, Weasley's face turned a putrid shade of purple and green, like he couldn't decide if he were happy they weren't going to be alone, or disappointed they were pitching their tents on Malfoy's lawn.

"We'll be taking the Avanti West Coast," Hermione told Harry and Draco after they exited the platform. "Malfoy, have you been on the Tube before? You'd best keep close…" They exited Platform 9 3/4.

Draco was overwhelmed by the amount of people in King's Cross Station. His parents had always apparated him straight to the station. He'd never had to wade through crowds or walk for his life (Because if you stopped, then the people would just carry you away in the stream). And everyone was wearing strange clothes. Bright fabrics. New designs.

To his utter embarrassment, Harry extended a hand to hold onto. Draco refused to take it, but when Harry turned around, took hold of Hedwig's cage instead.

Hermione led the way. It seemed to Draco that Harry also did not have much experience with "the Tube", though he did not seem surprised by it. They crammed into a moving cylinder that Draco imagined would be scarily similar to the Knight Bus(he'd never been on that either), and then Hermione showed Draco a ticket for the train. "See these lines here," she said, pointing to an array. "It's a muggle computer code. You'll scan it at the station to be let in. Come on, now."

Draco clutched the piece of paper like his life depended on it and followed Harry and Hermione into a brick building. A train unlike any other Draco had ever seen was waiting. It was silver, round, with words stamped onto the sides. "Avanti West Coast", it said.

There was a set of stairs leading up to the train and a rotating three-pronged gate with a post beside it. "Watch me," Hermione told Draco. She pointed at the lines on her paper ticket again, then walked up to one of the three prongs. She waved the lines in front of the post and a ding sounded. She marched through the three-pronged gate and it rotated, allowing her through.

Harry gestured for Draco to go ahead. Uncertainly, he looked at the lines on his ticket again, rubbed them on the post, and heard the sound of approval. He walked forward, pulling his trunk behind him, and then Harry followed. "These lines are basically instructions," Hermione explained as they hauled their trunks, not to the stairs, but to an elevator that had been hidden from sight behind the gate. "It tells the computer who paid for the ticket and what train they're getting on."

"Who paid for the ticket?" Draco asked. He ran his fingers over the lines of the instructions. "Is it a language?"

"My parents," Hermione said. "And yes, but not one you can learn. Now come on – they're holding the lift for us."

On the train, there were no compartments. Plush padded seats in blue lined the walls. Some seats had tables. Some did not. Hermione picked an area of four with a table and started putting their lighter luggage overhead on a rack. Their heavier luggage she stowed in a compartment not too far away. Harry took a seat and shut his eyes. Draco looked around at everyone there. Many people had white or black bits in their ears. Or cords hanging from their ears. And many, many people had a small rectangle they were peering at.

"What's everyone doing?" Draco whispered to Harry, gesturing to some girls who were laughing, holding their rectangle in the air, and posing.

"Oh, right, you wouldn't know," Harry said, and patted the seat beside him. Draco sat. "There are these things called phones. They can do all sorts of things. Play music, take pictures, give directions… all sorts. But magic messes with them."

"Huh," Draco said, looking around his chair at someone watching a moving photograph in front of them. "They have moving photographs in colour?"

"Sort of," Harry said. "They're usually longer things. Movies, they call 'em. Because they move."

"Right, back now," Hermione huffed as she took a seat. "Now, I know I said Manchester, but it looks like there's a beautiful place in Wigan, which is a suburb of Manchester. We'll trek in for the Christmas Market, of course."

"Right," Draco said, feeling very out of his depth. "So… Weasley did not seem too happy you were coming with me."

"I'm not sure why," Hermione huffed. "It's not like he's not going away as well."

"I reckon he was uncomfortable with you two spending time without him," Draco said.

Hermione's eyebrow raised. "Why?" she asked.

"Because he fancies you," Draco told her. "And doesn't realise it."

Hermione scoffed and looked out to the window, but her cheeks were bright pink.

Draco craned his neck to see around the blue fabric of the chair in front of him. The train corridor was very long, with a break in the middle for variance. More people were filing in and many of them had phones in hand. All about the same size, with different colours and patterns. One person noticed Draco staring as they stumbled past him and chuckled. "Rawdogging this one, mate?" he asked.

Draco scowled and dug his back into the chair, stooping and folding his arms. Then it occurred to him that that was the first thing a muggle had said to him – ever. "What's rawdogging?" He muttered to Harry, beside him.

Harry looked across the aisle at Hermione. "Hermione, what's rawdogging?"

"Going on a trip without something to entertain yourself with," Hermione replied. "Which you both are not. Here's your divination books and a copy of what we've got so far. Let's get to work."

"Not yet," Draco said, putting a hand up before she could withdraw two heavy tomes from her bookbag - hers and Harry's, apparently. Why Harry wasn't carrying his own was beyond him. Draco glanced around him, watching people stow their luggage and put things away. "You said we're headed to Wigan? Where's that?"

"Do you know where Manchester is?"

"Well, no," Draco admitted.

Hermione nodded. She didn't seem too surprised. "Have you seen a map of England?"

"Of course I've seen a map of England, Granger!"

"Actually, there's one behind you." Hermione pointed and Draco turned. One the wall was an outline he was familiar with, but it was dotted with far more cities than he was used to seeing. "See there, in the top left of the country? That place where the trainlines intersect? It's Manchester. One of the larger northern cities. And if you look at Manchester as if it were a clock, then Wigan would be at about eleven o'clock to Manchester."

"Huh," Draco said. "And why there?"

"There's an underground magical library," Hermione said, "it's close to Manchester, and the AirBnB was available."

"Is the Lakes District up there?" Harry asked.

"Yes, but more north. Up by Carlisle and Kendall. Have you ever been?"

"No, but my aunt and uncle and cousin went once."

Draco did not know much about Harry's family and didn't care to ask because not asking prevented probing questions about his own life. But he was pretty sure that, at some point, Potter had mentioned that he lived with his aunt and Uncle. He examined Harry for a few seconds, then looked away. "I'm beginning to realise we stick out in these robes," he said.

Hermione paused, staring off into the distance for a full five seconds. "I completely forgot that you wouldn't have clothes, Draco," she said.

"Clever of you, Granger. Were you assuming I'd go starkers the entire trip?"

"I knew you'd bring your robes!" She rolled her eyes. "It's fine. There's a place called Primark. And Wigan has a Gringotts outlet – I checked. Harry will have to take you shopping." She continued thinking, then suddenly hid a laugh. She leaned across the table to Harry. "Can you imagine…" she chortled, "Draco Malfoy… in clothes from Primark?"

Potter snorted as well. "Yeah, it'll be a laugh," he agreed. "But Hermione, I can't take Draco shopping. I've never been. I don't know how any of the sizes work."

"I wouldn't worry," Draco said. "I'm sure that they'll have someone there to measure us both."

Both Harry and Hermione were hiding smiles again. "Right, Malfoy," Hermione said. "There's this muggle thing called mass production. It's where they make things by the literal million. Instead of having five outfits tailored to your size, you can have thirty outfits that sort of fit you. They have different styles for curvy bodies or long legs, but they group different waist sizes and body types into categories. I'm a small or a medium in most clothing styles."

Draco wrinkled his nose. "If they don't measure it, how do you know it'll fit right?"

"You can try it on at the store," Hermione explained. She shook her head. "I knew that this trip would be a lot for you, but I didn't assume I'd be explaining mass-production!"

"We'd probably better spend the trip to Manchester preparing him," Harry said. "He won't know about e-cigarettes or credit cards – or even television!"

"Electricity!" Hermione said. "And the city trams!"

"It's not terribly difficult to explain the tram – it's like the knight bus but on a solid rail-"

"I look forward to you both holding my hands along this trip," Draco said grimly. "Why don't you start making some sense now?"

Both Harry and Hermione laughed and Hermione put her bookbag away. The train began to move. Draco was surprised by how little he noticed it as it went away. Harry and Hermione, in low voices(though most people around them had cords in their ears), explained quickly the most major muggle technologies that hadn't made it over to the Wizard World yet. Electricity, radio, and television. Harry tended to make more sense. His answers were brief, and to the point.

"What's that cord they're plugging into the wall?" Draco asked, pointing to someone across the train.

"Phones have batteries, which need power to work. The cord charges the phone, or gives it power."

"It's made of lithium iron," Hermione said. "And the batteries usually let the phone work for about ten hours."

Draco's head was spinning. After an hour, he gestured for them to pause and stared out the window as they left London behind. A thought occurred to him. "Is this what you felt, coming to the Wizard World?" he asked.

Both nodded.

Draco chuckled. "This is why I don't think they should let people go back and forth. It's too much for a person to handle."

Hermione was offended, but Harry simply shrugged. "Give it time," he said. "Maybe you'll find something you really love about this world."

The townhouse they were staying at had three bedrooms. Granger took the master bedroom, which was on the opposite side of the house versus the two other bedrooms. Harry let Draco have first pick, so he picked the bedroom with the window facing the front of the home. In front of the window was some very thick ivy growing up the exterior red brickwork, which reminded him of home. Outside, Muggle cars drove by. Some of them looked very nice.

The whole house could have fit inside the ballroom of Malfoy Manor, but was a much, much nicer quality than the manor. Draco had never seen tile like the stuff on the floor. It resembled wood. There was no carpet, but the front room had a rug so thick that it raised the furniture an inch and a half. Large furry pillows and thick, heavy comforters also decorated the area. The plaster was seamlessly applied. And the entire house was warm.

It had rained lightly as they'd hauled their trunks inside, so Draco went to change his socks. When he put his feet on the floor, he found the floor warm. "Potter!" he called. "Is there a heating charm on the floors in here?"

Neither Harry nor Hermione could have applied it. They all were still underage.

"The underfloor heating is on!" Hermione called from the kitchen.

"Underfloor heating?" Draco replied. "There's such a thing?" He wandered into the kitchen and almost fell over in shock at what Granger was wearing. A thick, brown sweater and blue trousers and brown shoes with a square toe. It occurred to him that Hermione was not as thin as he'd always imagined her to be, since he'd only ever gone off her wrists when they were exposed on hot days. He'd always envisioned her, as the real-life equivalent of a child's stick person drawing. But she was actually somewhat curvy.

The look wasn't bad, but odd.

"What are you wearing?" he asked.

She looked down at herself, confused. "Clothes?" An ironic smile passed over her features. "You didn't expect me to go starkers for the whole trip, did you?"

"Malfoy's not seen Muggle clothes before, Hermione," Harry said, appearing behind Draco. Draco turned and had another moment of shock, but for a completely different reason. Potter wore a tremendously large shirt, the ugly colour of the London skies, and had tucked it into trousers so large it looked as if he were swimming in them.

Draco looked at Hermione and saw, to his relief, her wince. "Harry, we need to get you new clothes."

Harry's cheeks went bright red. He shrugged offhandedly. Draco looked between the two. "Let's go to Gringotts," he said. "I'll pay for a few new outfits so that I don't have to stare at that all weekend."

"You've not got any Muggle money, and neither have I."

"There's an exchange rate, Harry," Hermione said. "Didn't you know?"

The surprise on his face told them that no, he hadn't known. Hermione hummed and looked at Draco. "Underfloor heating," she said. "They run pipes underneath the floors and pump hot water through them. That's what's keeping your toes warm, now." She gestured at his bare feet and got a brown mug with a textured outside out of the cupboard. She filled this with water from a special tap on the sink and Draco saw that there was already steam rising from it. She sipped the hot water – no tea, no lemon – while she thought.

"Have either of you brought shampoo or conditioner?" she asked. Both shook their heads. "Right, we'll need to get some then. What I think we'll do is I'll go get the shopping while you both get some normal clothes. So off you pop to get your shoes – we'll talk about the list as we walk."

Outside, all of the townhomes looked the same. They came as one long building with the same layout on every single home, sometimes reflected onto a mirror image.

The town square of Wigan was positioned in between two hills. They hiked down one hill, past bare trees and different shops, and then began the trek up a hill to get to the shops they needed. Draco was surprised to see a couple of wizarding shops out in the open, tucked in between the Muggle shops with little distinction between the two. How did the Muggles not become curious?

Then he watched a Muggle counting buildings, looking at her phone as if it were a map, and she counted right over the wizarding ones. They were hidden from view. Probably a sort of Fidelius that only let you see them once you knew they were supposed to be there – like the entrance to Diagon Alley.

Gringotts lay between a charity called the British Heart Foundation and an ATM machine. Hermione led them to it and then turned on her heel. "Off you pop," she told them very firmly. "I'm going to head to the ASDA down this road. You have until I get back. We'll meet…" she peered around and spotted a pie shop with a teal blue sign. "There! Galloways. Unless you finish before me, in which case, ask for directions to the ASDA and then come help me carry things."

"How do you know where everything is?" Draco asked.

"Because I memorised a map before coming," Hermione replied. "Go on, then."

"Hermione, we're not your children," Harry told her. "You don't need to be so bossy."

Hermione rolled her eyes and turned away. Harry watched her go. "She doesn't stick her nose in the air the way she used to," he noted blandly.

"That sentence alone is enough to question why you became friends with her," Draco said. He noticed that people were giving them a wide berth, looking at them out of the corners of their eyes. As if they were crazy. He began to lead the way to Gringotts.

"Well, we fought a troll together," Harry said, opening the door to the bank. "Back in first year, when Professor Quirrell let it in."

"Professor Quirrell did wot?" Draco asked.

"Let the troll in. On Halloween? Anyway, Ron had made Hermione cry and she was hiding in the girl's bathroom that day-"

"I remember how nice and calm classes were."

"-And I said we had to go find her because she didn't know. She'd probably have died if we hadn't distracted the troll from her." Their voices both dropped as they approached one of three tellers. "I guess there are some things you can't face together without becoming friends."

"Like prophecies," Draco agreed.

They split briefly to speak to different goblins. As this was a branch, there were no vaults. But the goblins agreed to pull Muggle notes for them from their vaults. Before they started pulling the cash, Draco's goblin turned and said, "Wouldn't you rather have a muggle card instead?"

"What kind of card?"

"Most muggles are getting away from carrying cash," the goblin said. "They carry a card instead. It links to their vaults and sends the money without them touching it. If the card is stolen, then we can cancel their purchases and you lose nothing."

"Brilliant," said Harry, who had been listening to the whole thing. He turned to his goblin. "May I please have that instead? I don't know how much I'll need anyway, and I've never had a debit card."

Draco looked to Harry for help, then leaned over and tapped his shoulder when he didn't look over fast enough. Harry met his eyes and immediately understood. "Yes," he told Draco. "You want the card."

The goblin pulled a swatch of colours from behind his stand. "Pick a design," he told Draco.

Harry and Draco compared card designs as they left the bank. Harry had picked a dark red that matched Gryffindor's colours pretty well with his name printed in gold, raised letters on the front. Draco had gotten a black card. He felt very, very unsure about how to feel with such a Muggle thing in his hands, with his name on it.

"So this is muggle money?" he asked.

"No, it takes the place of Muggle Money," Harry said. "Hermione can explain it better. Now, we're looking for Primark?"

Draco looked up from his card and peered around the triangular town centre. He found a raised sign above a building, reading "Primark". "There," he said.

A feeling like sunshine tingled his spine suddenly. He looked around. There was nothing particularly special about the town square. Many benches with many people and an abnormal amount of overfed pigeons waiting for crumbs in between three different pie shops – Greggs, Galloways, and Poundbakery.

Then he noticed someone looking right at them from a bench beside the Galloways.

It was a she, and she was very beautiful. She had strawberry blonde hair and a round face. She was about twenty feet away, but the colour in her cheeks as she examined the both of them brought a little colour to Draco's as well. She wore a blue coat down to her knees and a fluffy white scarf around her neck.

Her eyes travelled and even though she must know Draco had caught her staring, her gaze didn't flinch. She continued looking on from a distance.

"Come on," Harry said, not noticing their observer. They headed in towards Primark.

There was a moving staircase leading down into the ground where the store was. Draco paused on the top of it. This was like no moving staircase at Hogwarts. The steps appeared at the top and disappeared into the floor beneath, carrying people who stood in place – not walking at all.

"Watch," Harry said, and took a step. He began to be carried away. Draco panicked and tried to follow him, but a step began to appear right in front of his heel. With a shout of surprise, he tumbled forward and slammed into Potter, who held onto the rail while Draco found his footing, a little embarrassed.

Dismounting was easier. There was nothing to trip over. But Draco carefully held his robes away from the moving bits, afraid he'd get stuck.

They approached the doors, which opened by themselves. Draco jumped. "It's a sensor," Harry explained. "They can tell when something moves in front of it. Come on, now."

Inside were more clothes than Draco had ever seen in his life. The place was about seventy times what Madam Malkins was. It had no robes, but an array of trousers and shirts and dresses and shoes… Harry shoved him towards the trousers first. "You know your waist size, right?"

"Uh… thirty?"

Harry picked up a pair of trousers made of the same blue material Hermione had been wearing. Harry was wearing it too, now that Draco was taking the time to notice, but his were so old and worn that they were barely recognisable. "See the tag… here." He held out the waistband of the trousers. "It has a waist range on here. These are a twenty-seven…" Harry picked up a different pair with a different colour sticker on them. "These are a thirty. Will they fit you?" He put them in Draco's hands.

"I don't know," Draco replied, holding them up in the air. "What are they?"

"Oh, jeans. They're a Muggle staple. Durable and can go with anything. Get yourself a few pairs." Harry pointed behind Draco's head. "I think… yes, that's the changing room. You can try things on in there. Maybe get a couple shirts… go try them on with one pair of jeans. And if you like the jeans, then grab any with this colour sticker. No need to try on multiple of the same type."

There were different waist styles. Low, mid, and high rise. Draco grabbed one of each. By that point, Potter had wandered off to the shirts, so Draco hurried to follow him. He grabbed shirts, a muggle winter coat, and a belt before he made his way to the changing rooms.

Inside, he held one of the jeans up to the mirror and pulled on the fabric a little. He had never had fabric this cheap before. With a grimace, he began to change. Then, looking into the mirror, he felt like a new person. A new person with a body he'd never really been able to see before. He remembered seeing Granger at the house – realising she wasn't a stick figure. He felt similarly now. Sure, he'd seen his body his whole life. But now, he saw his body with clothes that seemed to fit very well, despite having a range of waistband sizes. And he realised that he wasn't a stick person either.

He tried all the jeans, ending with the high rise, and muttered to himself, "I think I might like jeans."

There had been too many shirt options. Many had characters Draco didn't recognise on them. So he had grabbed the most basic options he could. Some were soft, some were leathery, and some had odd texture to them. Not bad, just odd. He took his favourites and, exiting the changing room, saw a rack labelled for things that did not fit.

Potter was waiting outside, dressed in jeans and a green sweater. Draco was once again struck by how bodies looked in Muggle clothes. He'd always seen Potter as a sturdy person. But he realised now that Harry was more lithe than Draco had been imagining. He paused in the hallway to stare. Potter waited a moment, and then asked, "Are you checking me out?"

Draco shook his head. "I always thought you'd be a little wider," he said. "You're thinner than I imagined."

"Haha," Harry said sarcastically. "I paid for this outfit and put my other into the bin. I've gotten some other things, but haven't finished checking out yet. Do you need socks? Shoes?"

Draco shook his head.

Harry thought, and then said, "I'm going to grab some pajamas and a new coat. Anything else you can think of, you'd better get, because Hermione will give us an earful if we need to go shopping again."

Pajamas sounded like a good idea, so Draco followed Potter. The material the muggles used was so incredibly soft that Draco bought three pairs, so he could experience the magic three times. By and by, he and Harry ended up in line. There were dozens of gizmos in little bowls leading up to the register. "Harry," he said softly, "What are these?"

Harry looked over the contents. "Hand sanitiser," he said, pointing to one. "A Bluetooth speaker – Bluetooth is a Muggle way of connecting computers without wires. A bath bomb - you'd like those, I bet. Chapstick – oh, there's vanilla flavour. And mango!" He took two.

"What's it for?" Draco asked.

"Keeps your lips from drying out," Harry said. "You can try some of mine, if you want."

Instead of splitting up at the register, Harry hauled Draco behind him and had the lady ring him up first. Draco watched as Harry tapped his brand new card on a flat surface with the price displayed. It beeped, and Harry collected his bags. That easy.

The woman behind the counter was scanning the lines on the tags of each of their clothes. The lines resembled the lines that had been on their train tickets, but much smaller. As she scanned, the name of the item appeared on a flat surface behind her. Amazing – Draco could see no difference in the lines, but the surface seemed to know what the different products were.

And he had no problem tapping his card when he was done.

They gave him and Harry three large paper bags each. Before they left, Harry stood guard over the bags so Draco could change into a set of muggle clothes, putting his robes carefully into a bag instead. They felt odd, but manoeuvrable.

Harry let him try the mango chapstick by putting a bit on his finger and rubbing it onto his lips. It had a wonderful taste, and so Draco asked if Harry would wait a moment so he could go grab one himself. He ended up getting a spearmint.

On the way up the moving staircase, Draco realised that there were lines indicating where the steps would form. He had no issue going up, though he did stumble to dismount.

Hermione had beaten them and was now sitting on the park bench that had been occupied by the girl looking at them earlier. She had a new book in hand, though it seemed much cheaper than any of her usual reads. As they approached, she looked up. "Now, we won't need to do any more shopping, right?" she said.

"No, Hermione," Harry said, digging into one of his bags. "Hey, I got you a chapstick. It's vanilla."

"Thank you, Harry." Hermione beamed and pocketed it. She peered at Draco. "Adjusting to muggle clothes all right?" she asked.

"And muggle money," Harry said. "Hermione, Gringotts issues debit cards!"

"Really?"

They took a few moments sharing designs. Hermione had a card as well – it had some plants on it.

"So, I spoke to someone at Asda about things to do around here," Hermione said. "And they said that Wigan is famous for their pies and Galloways has the best. So, I wanted to pop in before we left." She pointed at the circular teal-blue sign.

"Right," Draco said, glancing at all their groceries. "Let's make this fast, then."

They hauled all their items inside the tiny shop. It was one room with two larger display cases. Draco examined the merchandise. The pies had a section all to themselves and came in little tins about five or six inches across. A paper taped to the glass advertised the special. It was called a "Pie in a Barm".

"What's a Pie in a Barm?" Draco asked.

Both Hermione and Harry looked equally lost. "Well, a barm is a bread roll…" Hermione trailed off.

"They make pie sandwiches?" Harry asked. "Those pies are so small you can pick them up – they are the sandwich."

"No, that can't be right. Excuse me," Hermione asked the woman behind the counter. "What's a pie in a barm?"

Draco looked over and immediately recognised her. It was the woman with the strawberry-blonde hair. And she had very, very blue eyes when she was this close up. "We cut a bread roll in half," she explained, "And put the pie in the middle. It's a very Wigan thing to do. Try it!"

Harry, Hermione, and Draco all seemed at a loss, though Draco more than the other two and for different reasons. "Well…" Hermione said uncertainly, "What's popular around here?"

"Butter and onion always goes fast," The woman said, "But my favourite is the minced steak." Her accent was peculiar – Draco hadn't heard a northern accent in ages.

Hermione landed on the butter and onion. Harry took the same, but decided to be adventurous and try the Pie-in-a-Barm option. Then, it was Draco's turn at the register. The woman gave him a once up-and-down. "You blend in a bit better, now," she told him.

He shrugged, somehow a little embarrassed that she'd seen him in his robes. "I'll take the minced steak," he said.

"Are you from London?" she asked, moving behind the counter to pick his selection. "No, hold on, your accent is more west than that." She paused. "Bristol? Round-about there?"

"Wiltshire," Draco said, tilting his head at her. "How'd you know?"

"The way you speak." she said. "But you don't sound like you've been home for a while. Been around people from all over the place? How long will you be in?"

"Three weeks," Draco replied. He moved to tap her card against the offered… contraption… she held out, but she shook her head.

"No tap to pay. There's chip insert here."

"Chip?" Draco repeated weakly.

"The silver square on your card." She pointed at a slot hidden by the plastic lip of the machine. "Well, maybe I'll see you again before you pop out."

Draco glanced down at her work clothes to avoid her gaze. The tag on her apron read "Amelia." "Maybe," he said, and left.

They hauled their items back to the house. Draco removed his socks almost immediately and flexed his feet against the warm floors. His jeans were slightly damp from the sparse rain, but nothing that wouldn't be gone after a half hour. The three of them sat at the bar to eat their pies. Harry began recalling the troll story from first year, and he and Hermione had a laugh about it. Everything seemed so normal that Draco felt as if he'd stepped into someone else's life entirely.

The next chapter will be called Rosalie Spinks. I will post the next chapter early if I get five reviews.