"What are those?" Ginny demanded, pointing toward several round balls of fluff that rolled around in shades of pink and purple.
"Pygmy Puffs," George answered. "Miniature puffskeins, we can't breed them fast enough."
"They're really cute!" Ginny bent down to look into the cage. I would've offered to buy her one were I not still salty about her dating Dean who really should've been dating Seamus (in my professional opinion). It wasn't either of their fault, really, but it hurt to see Seamus in the dumps like that.
"That's three Galleons, nine Sickles, and a Knut." Fred motioned to the impressive amount of stuff Ron had snagged from shelves and displays. "Cough up."
"I'm your brother!" Ron cried.
"And that's our stuff your nicking. Three Galleons, nine Sickles. I'll knock off the Knut."
"But I haven't got three Galleons, nine Sickles!"
"You'd better put it all back then, and mind you put it on the right shelves."
Ron, maneuvering so he didn't drop everything, flipped his brother off. Mrs. Weasley, of course, chose that moment to make her reappearance, and spotted the gesture.
"If you do that again I'll jinx your fingers together," she said warningly.
"Mum, can I have a Pygmy Puff?" Ginny pleaded with her mother.
"A what?" Mrs. Weasley asked warily.
"Look, they're so sweet..."
Mrs. Weasley moved to peer into the cage, and my friends and I suddenly had a perfect view outside. Awfully convenient, if you as me, because Draco was rushing up the street, his mother nowhere in sight. He looked over his shoulder, gaunt face accompanying scrutinizing eyes to paint a picture of horrible worry and watchfulness.
"Wonder where his mummy is?" Harry voiced bitterly.
"Given her the slip by the looks of it," Ron said.
"Why though?" Hermione asked worriedly.
"There's this pretty cool thing that's been recently invented," I said, eye twitching, "something you three need to get a hold of. It's called 'minding your own business,' and it's perfectly free! All you have to do is shut your mouth and look away!"
But Harry had pulled his Invisibility Cloak out of his pocket, eyes scanning our surroundings to ensure we weren't going to be spotted. He looked at me, and in a hushed, hurried voice, asked, "Well? Are you coming or not?"
"Damn you," I said, scooting closer to get under the cloak with my friends. While I was curious as to what Draco was doing, I trusted him completely. I knew his situation as a double agent, and I knew he was going to do some rather unsavory things because of it. I was happy to be out of the loop, knowing that there was nothing I could contribute other than doing my best to keep Draco's cover. I was happy to mind my own business. The issue, however, wasn't in my curiosity; it was Harry's. No matter how annoying and bothersome the precautions we were taking for Harry's protection were, they were in place for a reason. I wasn't going to let him wander off in a potentially hazardous place without me.
No one saw the four of us disappearing. We squeezed out of the door and found that Draco had vanished just as well as we had. I felt a rush of hope at us heading back inside, accepting defeat.
"He was going in that direction," Harry muttered to us. "C'mon."
With the balloon of hope inside me popping, we scurried along, stalking the streets for my boyfriend.
I spotted him, but I didn't say anything, hoping the others wouldn't notice. Sadly, Hermione pointed ahead and said, "That's him, isn't it? Turning left?"
"Big surprise," Ron whispered, as Draco had just stepped into the mouth of Knockturn Alley.
"Quick, or we'll lose him!" Harry hissed and sped our pace up.
"Our feet are showing," I said plainly, feeling the fabric flap at my ankles. "Don't you know that showing your ankles is inappropriate? Scandalous."
"It doesn't matter," Harry whispered impatiently. "Hurry!"
Harry was right. Knockturn Alley was deserted, the windows we looked into housing no customers at all. I figured it would be very suspicious to be seen buying Dark Items during these times, but I'd honestly been expecting the reverse. People buying Dark Items more, as a means of protection.
Draco was in Borgin and Burkes. I may or may not have gone down Knockturn Alley a few times in search of prancing items, and knew the general layout. That store sold a rather odd assortment of sinister objects as well as lemon candy. As it was the only store with any movement blurring through the gleaming windows, it wasn't hard for Hermione to spot him again. "Look! He's in there!"
"Minding our business is still free, but stalking can cost anywhere from three to ten years. Personally, I don't want to step out of prison when I'm twenty-six because my friends decided to play one-sided hide-and-seek with my boyfriend."
"Shhh!" Harry elbowed me in the ribs. Asshole.
Draco had his back to us, the ends of his hair curling from beneath his gelled hair. He was talking rather animatedly, gesturing in a way I hardly saw from him. He would shift on his feet every so often, momentarily disappearing behind a large black cabinet. The clerk of the shop, an oily man with bad posture, wore a look of fearful displeasure.
"If only if we could hear what they're saying!" Hermione whispered.
"We can!" Ron's eyes lit up as he fished around in his pockets. "Hang on — damn —" he fumbled with some boxes he hadn't had the chance to put away before we made our escape from Weasley's Wizard Wheezes, eventually presenting us with a large box. "Extendable Ears, look!"
"Fantastic!" Hermione watched as Ron unfurled the flesh-colored strings. "Oh, I hope the door isn't Imperturbable —"
"No!" Ron was delighted, which meant I suffered. "Listen!"
We put our heads together, listening to the conversation happening inside the store.
Draco's voice rang loud and clear. "... you know how to fix it?"
"Possibly," Borgin said, sounding fatigued and unwilling. "I'll need to see it, though. Why don't you bring it into the shop?"
"I can't," Draco said stiffly. "It's got to stay put. I just need you to tell me how to do it."
I was a little shocked at Draco needed help with fixing something. Whatever it was that required work, it must've been a seriously complicated bit of magic.
Borgin, licking his lips nervously, replied, "Well, without seeing it, I must say it will be a very difficult job, perhaps impossible. I couldn't guarantee anything."
"No?" I could hear the bite in Draco's tone. "Perhaps this will make you more confident." He shifted, disappearing behind the cabinet, and, no matter how hard my friends tried, we couldn't get a view of what was happening. We could see the frightened look on Borgin's face.
"Tell anyone," Draco said coolly, "and there will be retribution. You know Fenrir Greyback? He's a family friend, he'll be dropping in from time to time to make sure you're giving the problem your full attention."
"There will be no need for —"
"I'll be the one to decide that." Draco's voice was tinted with something sad beneath all the ice. "Well, I'd better be off. And don't forget to keep that one safe, I'll need it."
"Perhaps you'd like to take it now?"
"No, of course I wouldn't, how would I look carrying that down the street? Just don't sell it."
"Of course not... sir." Borgin bowed deeply to him.
Draco's voice raised in pitch. "There's no need to bow to me, I am not some thing to be idolized. All I want is your guidance and your silence. Not a word to anyone, Borgin, and that includes my mother, understand?"
"Naturally, naturally." Borgin bowed again.
The bell over the door tinkled loudly as Draco slipped out of the store, a troubled look marking his face. He looked upset, and my instinct was to step out from under the Cloak and comfort him, but I knew that wouldn't do us any good.
"What was that about?" Ron whispered once Draco was out of earshot.
"Dunno," Harry said slowly. "He wants something mended... and he wants to reserve something else in there... could you see what he pointed at when he said 'that one?'"
"No, he was behind that cabinet —"
"You two stay here," Hermione whispered.
"I would not recommend —" I rushed, knowing exactly what was planning and knowing it wouldn't turn out as well as she had intended. Of course, my friends were very good at ignoring my advice, and Hermione slipped out from under the cover of the Cloak, bell tinkling as she jubilantly walked into the store.
"Hello, horrible morning, isn't it?" We heard Hermione say cheerfully to Borgin as she browsed the store, not noticing the immediately suspicious look he wore. "Is this necklace for sale?"
"If you've got one and a half-thousand Galleons," Borgin said.
"Oh — er — no, I haven't got quite that much." Hermione skittered away from the necklace at once. "And... what about this lovely — um — skull?"
"Sixteen Galleons."
"So it's for sale, then? It isn't being... kept for anyone?"
"You know, for someone so smart, she can be so incredibly stupid." I shook my head.
Borgin, who had been suspicious before, now knew exactly what she was doing.
Hermione caught on to that, at least, and rushed onto say, "The thing is, that — er — boy who was in here just now, Draco Malfoy, well, he's a friend of mine, and I want to get him a present since his birthday's coming up, but if he's already reserved anything I obviously don't want to get him the same thing, so... um..."
"Out!" Borgin thought the story was as lame as we did. "Get out!"
Hermione didn't wait to be told again, skittering out of the store and clambering under the Cloak as Borgin slammed a 'Closed' sign on the door.
"His birthday was on the twenty-fifth, Hermione, it's not coming up, it's just passed," I said plainly.
"I hardly think that's what got her caught," Ron said. "Ah well, it was worth a try, but you were a bit obvious —"
"Well, next time you can show me how it's done, Master of Mystery!"
Hermione and Ron continued to bicker all the way back, but all I could think about was the troubled look on Draco's face.
We had to dodge the clearly nervous Mrs. Weasley and Hagrid, who had clearly caught on to our absence. We stepped inside, slipped out from under the Cloak, and insisted that she must not have searched properly for us, and we had been in the back room the entire time.
***
Harry seemed to be more obsessed with my boyfriend than I was. During our last days of break, he wouldn't shut up about how odd Draco's behavior had been. The rest of us agreed but we're quickly growing tired of it.
"Dude, we admitted it was fishy," I said from my position laid back on my bed, finding the ceiling more amusing than the conversation I'd already had some fifteen times before, "but there's loads of explanations for what he was doing, and we can't figure it out."
"Maybe he's broken his Hand of Glory?" Ron added another explanation to the growing list just to prove my point. "Remember that shriveled-up arm Malfoy had?"
"But what about when he said 'Don't forget to keep that one sage'?" He asked again. "That sounded to me like Borgin's got another one of the broken objects, and Malfoy wants both."
"You reckon?" Ron said, trying to scrape dirt off of his broom handle.
"Yeah, I do," Harry said. "Malfoy's father's in Azkaban. Don't you think Malfoy'd like revenge?"
"Malfoy, revenge?" Hermione didn't so much as look up from her book. "What can he do about it?"
"That's my point, I don't know!" Harry said, frustrated. "But he's up to something and I think we should take it seriously. His father's a Death Eater and —"
Harry cut himself off with some sudden realization, which was never good for me, because it was usually something problematic that led to trouble. Often life or death trouble.
"Harry?" Hermione asked anxiously, putting her book down at the silence.
"You scar's not hurting again, is it?" Ron asked worriedly.
"He's a Death Eater." Harry's voice was slow, full of excited horror. "He's replaced his father a Death Eater!"
Crickets.
I am a tad bit confused my friends. The Hand of Glory... since the fuck when has Draco had it? If they wanted to say he's had it behind the scenes for years now, sure. It's been sitting pretty on his shelf. But apparently Ron knows about it? And he's talking to the others if they all knew he had it? Um, what! Last time it was mentioned was Chamber of Secrets? At which point Draco did not have it? I am baffled. School started up again. It's been all right. I'm tired. My essays for the honor's college are being reviewed. You know, it's rather nice having an odd last name. I'm the only Caroline with my last name in their system, so my username has no numbers in it. My poor friend is, like, the twenty somethingth person with his name. Annoyingly, my sister, Emblem, her name starts with the same letter as mine. She graduated already, yet I still have 2 on my username. It's a bummer. Do you guys know how to tell how well your story is doing on Ao3? I knew it wasn't going to do great on Wattpad, you only thrive in specific fandoms or if you have weird stuff written, and I'm afraid I did not write about Harry Styles smut. But I don't really know how well I'm doing on Ao3. I know that kudos are likes, but I don't know what a good ratio of likes to hits are. I know you're more likely to get likes on one-shots, so I'm probably below the average of a good ratio, but it'd be cool to tell how well my story is doing. Regardless, I like posting on Ao3. The hits and kudos system is nice. Wattpad has a better comment system, though. The comments are all really nice on Ao3, though. It makes me happy (not that the comments here aren't nice, I've had a total of like two people be rude to me, it's just since people can't comment on specific paragraphs, they usually just say stuff like 'rlly good!' and that hits bro, that hits). If I ever rewrite this series I'll post it on Ao3, but for now it's chilling on Wattpad and whatever site it was that stole my shit (not appreciated). I made a few too many references to Calculus in the most recent chapter I've written for the It/Stranger Things book, but don't worry! It'll be months before that chapter gets posted.
Anyway, I hope you guys have had a superb time, and I'll see you soon! Love ya!