Chapter Four

Draco journeyed by Floo to a wizarding pub called The Dragon's Den not far from the location Granger had specified. Stepping out of the fireplace, he took in the cozy interior with its abundance of velvet and leather seating, dark wood paneling on the walls, and warm but dim lighting. He vaguely remembered bringing a witch here on a date a couple of years back. A pretty blonde with big blue eyes and a voice pitched slightly too high for his liking. All she had wanted to talk about was how frustrated she was with her father, or Draco's time as a Death Eater, neither of which were conversations he had any intention of engaging in. Needless to say, there was no second date.

Given the early hour, the pub was nearly empty, though there were a few seats occupied by witches and wizards who were having either a very late night or a very early morning. Draco supposed he looked as eager to be here as they were. Tempting, he thought, to sit and have a nice cup of tea. Imagining the expression on Granger's face if he were late made the prospect that much more tempting. He hesitated, but ultimately strode out into the bright daylight outside the pub. As much as he'd prefer a warm cup of tea, he suspected that Granger would guess as to his location and drag him out by the ear.

Besides, he did want to solve this case, and getting through whatever Granger had planned quickly and smoothly would mean more time and energy to spend on the real work. With a bit of a groan, Draco made a commitment to himself. Whatever Granger's lesson for today, he would be a gracious and willing student. He had not succeeded in getting her off the case, so the best path forward was to at least try to work together productively.

He also suspected that being compliant might throw Granger off, and the thought gave him some minor satisfaction.

The streets of London were bustling, muggles hurriedly making their way to their office buildings or tube stations. No one took notice of Draco's unpressed shirt and trousers (unfortunately no magical wrinkle reduction had quite the same effect as the careful ministrations of a house elf), and in looking around, he wasn't surprised. Very few of the muggles around him seemed to have any sense of style or decorum in their clothing. Many wore trousers with big rips or white splotches down the front, others had shirts that looked at least three sizes too big for them, and almost nobody had shoes that matched their outfits. Draco only spotted one muggle, a man, who seemed tastefully put together in his light grey suit and black tie, black leather loafers to match. Though the sight was rather ruined by the way the man was obnoxiously yelling into a device at his ear.

Draco casually shook his head. While he would never admit to needing instruction on how to behave like a muggle (no matter how much Tonks and Granger insisted), he could acknowledge, privately, that their ways were quite the mystery to him. Given the choice, he would strictly prefer the company of wizarding folk.

As he neared the address provided by Hermione, he observed the high number of shops on the street. As it was still rather early, many of the shops were still closed or just starting to open their doors, shopkeepers setting up signs outside that said things like "End of Summer Sale! Up to 60% off!". Draco approached his destination and spotted Hermione by the back of her head, brown curls cascading over her shoulders. She was similarly adorned in muggle clothing, with dark blue jeans that hugged her hips and a white blouse with sleeves that billowed tastefully before cinching at her wrist. He was loathe to admit that she looked much better than he did.

Quieting his steps, he came up behind her and carefully leaned towards her ear.

"Morning," he said cheerily, and at full volume.

Hermione jumped and spun around. Draco did not fail to notice the point of her wand that she had slipped out of her sleeve in response. Perhaps he wasn't the only one who was slightly on edge in this partnership. Or perhaps he simply excelled at catching her unawares. To her credit, she recovered quickly.

"Good morning," she replied, with a note of forced cheer. "Ready for your first lesson?"

Draco took in the building behind them, a grey stone facade with robins egg blue neon lettering spelling out 'Primark'. A peak through the glass doors suggested some kind of clothing store.

"Are you teaching me how to shop?" He asked, raising a questioning eyebrow.

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Not how to shop, coming from such a wealthy family I'm sure you're plenty skilled at that." Draco reigned in the urge to respond, unsure whether or not he was being insulted. "You do, however, need a more established muggle wardrobe if we're to be going undercover, and I suspect you are not entirely up to date on muggle fashion."

Draco resisted the urge to fidget as Hermione cast her gaze over his charcoal grey trousers and white button-up. Something about her gaze felt piercing, as though she was laying him bare rather than considering his muggle fashion sense.

"It's not bad," she admitted upon finishing her internal critique. "But you certainly can't wear this all the time, it's too business-casual."

"Business casual?" Draco asked.

Nodding, Hermione continued, "Yes, like what you would wear to a casual office environment. For business attire you would need to add a jacket and perhaps a tie and a nice belt. For more casual, you would switch out the trousers for jeans and trainers. What other muggle clothing do you already have?"

Draco stared blankly at her. "Just this," he replied.

"Best we build the whole wardrobe then," she said, matter of factly, "another set of trousers, a sports coat, a couple pairs of jeans, a few t-shirts, some sweaters too since the weather is cooling, some trainers and a light jacket. I might be missing a few things, we can always add to the list once we're inside."

Draco's gaze shifted back and forth between the shop and Hermione, evaluating her "lesson". He concluded that the plan was quite logically sound, he would certainly need more muggle clothing for this operation, though he wasn't willing to acquiesce quite so easily.

"Before we start, I think it's best we set some ground rules going forward," Draco replied.

"What rules do you have in mind?" Hermione asked, crossing her arms and raising an eyebrow.

"First, we need to establish that we are partners on this case. Just because Tonks asked for your help and just because you're the muggle expert does not mean you get to order me around. No more early morning owls telling me to be somewhere without more information. I'm not your student, and this isn't a test. If this is going to work, we need to learn how to work together." Draco stared her down, watching her mouth form a thin line.

"The owl was sent at a perfectly normal time for a work day, but fine, yes," Hermione agreed, sighing. "I know I tend to be…a bit bossy at times." Draco wisely managed to smother his smirk. "What else?"

"Secondly, we should be focused on the same goal. That goal is not to make me into a perfect muggle, perhaps not even a deeply convincing one, but to solve the case. Are we agreed?"

Again, Hermione shifted uncomfortably. "Fine," she spat, "but you have to listen to me when I tell you what is likely to risk our cover. I will give up on perfection, but only if you respect when I say that something is important."

Draco nodded, "I can agree to that. And the same thing goes for the cases. I don't doubt your experience fighting dark wizards, but I am the Auror and if I say something is unsafe, it's unsafe."

She nodded back in response. "Is that all?"

"No," replied Draco, "lastly, you will under absolutely no circumstances discuss our lessons or the case with Potter or Weasley."

"You can't be serious," Hermione scoffed.

"Oh, I'm quite serious. I don't want them anywhere near this case."

Hermione dramatically rolled her eyes. "I promise I will not consult Harry or Ron about the case, nor discuss with them what an inept muggle you are. Shall I also refrain from telling them about this dramatic third rule of yours?"

"The fourth rule, actually, since you added one. And yes, let's count these rules as confidential as well, just to be safe."

The only response was yet another eye roll.

"Shall we, then?" Draco asked, gesturing to the glass doors of the shop.

Hermione gave a brief nod, and Draco couldn't help but feel satisfied at her curt response. She might have started the day with the upper hand, but he was also quite capable of making someone feel off-balanced. While Hermione strode into the shop stiff, Draco rolled his shoulders back, feeling lighter and more in control than he had since Tonks told him he'd be partnering up on this case.

The shop was one of the largest Draco had ever set foot in. There were clothes in every direction, with multiple floors with each their own theme or focus. In addition to the clothing Draco saw trinkets and housewares, shoes of all kinds, and various accessories. The walls were adorned with bright neon lights that felt like an offense to his eyes. Each display was awash with color, a single style of shirt repeated on a table, folded, sometimes neatly, sometimes haphazardly. He fought the urge to turn around and walk out.

"What is this place?" He asked Hermione.

"Primark," she replied nonchalantly, "I figured it'd be a good place to start, they have a lot of options and aren't very expensive. Tonks only gave me a few galleons as a budget."

"Why did Tonks give you a budget to buy me clothes?"

"Because I am very familiar with converting wizarding money into muggle money. Now come on."

Hermione stalked off, leading him up a set of stairs to the next level of the shop where the garish displays were slightly more muted and full of men's clothing. She then pulled out a folded piece of lined paper, torn from a muggle notebook rather than a rolled parchment.

"We can use my list as a starting point," said Hermione.

"I thought you were joking," Draco mumbled under his breath. Though at Hermione's glare, he knew she had heard. She didn't wait for further acknowledgment before striding purposefully into the racks of clothing.

"I don't suppose you know what size you are?" she asked, stopping at a collection of handing oxford shirts.

Draco's only reply was a blank stare.

Hermione rolled her eyes. "I'll just make a guess then. You can try a few things on, and we can always make a few adjustments with magic later." She pulled two of the button-up shirts off the rack and handed them to Draco.

The next quarter of an hour was spent with Hermione leading Draco around the store. Draco had been shopping with women before. In fact, it had been one of his favorite date activities when he had been wealthy. He enjoyed browsing with a beau, the glimmer in her eyes when he offered to spend galleons on whatever her heart desired, the coy way she would tell him how marvelous he would look in this shade of green. It felt like a dance, a ritual, a manifestation of the game of courtship right there in the shops.

Shopping with Hermione Granger was a different experience entirely. She walked through the racks of clothing with purpose, pausing occasionally to inspect a garment. If the garment was worthy, she plucked the hanger from the rack and handed it to Draco (she had tossed the first couple back at him, and she must have noticed his glare and recalled their prior conversation about playing nice), before checking it off her list. More frequently, she would frown in distaste and move on to the next item. The process felt efficient and scrupulous.

She paused at a set of grey trousers, tilting her head in consideration.

"I think these could work, they're similar to what you're already wearing but the cut feels more modern. The color should work too, I think, a nice neutral." Her tone was matter-of-fact, lacking any of the flirtation of his prior shopping excursions. She took the trousers and added them to the pile that was accumulating in Draco's arms.

"They're boring," replied Draco, doing his best not to sneer. "I have to wear it, should my opinion not count for something?"

Hermione turned to him, frowning. "I thought we had established that this was my area of expertise."

Draco rolled his eyes. "Muggles, yes, style…," he made a point of looking her up and down, "I think not." She looked rather nice, in fact, but admitting that would hardly help his case at the moment.

She looked down at her outfit, blushing. Draco had the good sense to feel slightly guilty at the remark, especially when he had made such a big show of making peace with one another. "My mum gave me this blouse as a birthday present," Hermione mumbled in reply.

Draco sighed. "I'm sorry, the blouse is lovely. I would just appreciate my clothing having a bit of personality."

"Did you just apologize?" Asked Hermione, arching a brow. "And personality? I don't think I've ever seen you in something that wasn't black, grey, or Slytherin green. The trousers fit squarely into that category."

Was she actually being considerate, picking colours she expected he'd like? The thought risked amplifying his guilt over the snide remark about her outfit. He quickly squashed it, but resolved to try harder to hold his tongue going forward.

Draco pushed aside some clothes on a nearly empty rack and hung the items Hermione had picked for him so far. The trousers, while grey, were unshapely with odd creases. He moved them to the far end of the collection. Hermione had selected a dark green shirt, which he had to admit was a color he favored, not to mention the material had a nice structure without compromising on softness. He moved it to the other end. Piece by piece he went through the two dozen or so items Hermione had picked for him, assessing each piece and shifting it to either side of the rack. To Hermione's credit, she didn't interfere, except for one sniff when he eliminated a soft pink sports coat, though perhaps she just needed a tissue.

"Alright," Draco said when he had finished. "These are acceptable," he gestured towards his curated selection, "these are not."

Hermione eyed the remaining items and evaluated them against her list before nodding. "We can work with this," she decided. "Let's have you try them on, then we can grab a few different colors in the things that work."

Draco collected the clothing. "Lead the way, professor," he said, eliciting another eye roll as Hermione turned away and led him to the fitting rooms.

As Draco tried on the outfits, he found himself admitting that he looked good in muggle clothing. Nothing felt quite as sophisticated as an elegantly cut robe, but he appreciated the way an oxford clung to his torso, how a t-shirt amplified his biceps, or how a well-fitting pair of trousers cupped his derriere. He was particularly fond of the "Slytherin green" t-shirt Hermione had picked, and a more tailored pair of black jeans he had added. He thought he looked devilishly handsome, truth be told.

He stepped out of the fitting room to where Hermione was waiting on a bench. He found himself watching Hermione's reaction, though he certainly wasn't seeking her approval.

She looked him up and down, much like she had when they met outside the store, and again he felt as though she were looking beyond his clothing, her gaze cutting deep. He felt his pulse spike as her gaze tracked over his body, and felt immense satisfaction when her eyes lingered on his biceps and the way the jeans fit low on his hips.

Stop that, he berated himself, taking a calm, steadying breath. You don't need Hermione Granger's opinion, of all people, to know you look good.

He forced his expression into his usual smirk. "Well?" he asked, after what felt like minutes since he'd exited the fitting room, but surely had only been a few seconds.

Hermione turned her face away, giving a small cough. Draco thought he could see a tinge of pink on her cheeks, though it was difficult to tell through her curls.

"It works," she said, her tone flat and disinterested. "It should cover more casual outings, if necessary."

Draco scolded himself anew at the frustration he felt with such a logical response. Despite her bravery in the war, it seemed to him she would have fit in perfectly in Ravenclaw.

"A little flattery wouldn't hurt you know," he found himself saying. "You can tell me I look good."

At this, Hermione whipped her head to face him again, eyes narrowed. "I don't recall feeding your ego being in any of your rules," she retorted, "I'm sure you have enough sycophants clawing for their piece of the Malfoy name without needing it from me."

Draco paused, wanting to provide a suitable barb but unsure what to say. It wasn't the first comment she had made about his family, which was forcing him to consider the possibility that she was unaware of his current situation. He had assumed his estrangement from his family was well known, though it would be just like his mother to downplay it in polite society.

Hermione was correct, that even after the war the Malfoys had retained some esteem. Despite his father's imprisonment in Azkaban and Malfoy Manor's association with Voldemort, his mother and extended family had worked very hard to restore a sense of dignity to their name. They distanced themselves from their dark past, largely by pretending it didn't exist. They painted a lovely facade, feigning apology and reform while clawing for power just as they had always done.

The whole thing made Draco sick. But Granger didn't need to know that.

"You can never have too many admirers," Draco replied, "you are more than welcome among the ranks."

"I would sooner go to Azkaban," Hermione deadpanned. "Now hurry up, I'd rather not be here all day." Draco could tell with you was implied.

He held his hands up in mock surrender before turning around and making his way back into the fitting room. He quickly tried on the remaining items, deciding against going out to show Granger the other outfits. When he was finished, he handed her the items that worked and she stalked off to the register without another word.