Chapter 6
Hermione doesn’t know why she’s agreed to this. Well, that isn’t strictly true. Pansy had made a good point about the older wizards in the Ministry and how they judged women based on their perceived notions of how a witch should look. And while Hermione doesn’t think there’s anything wrong or overly immodest about her Muggle clothing, she does know the value of beating people at their own game. So, she’d reluctantly reached out and set up a private appointment with Pansy to overhaul her wardrobe.
Stepping onto the streets of Diagon Alley, Hermione smiled as she took in all the businesses. The Alley had recovered, and indeed prospered, since the end of the war. Flourish and Blotts had always thrived, thanks to carrying the school curriculum for Hogwarts. Broomstix had renovated, and now carried used brooms as well as the latest models. Fortescue’s was still a favorite, and of course the Weasleys’ Wizard Wheezes had a steady stream of customers. She made her way past all of these until she found Pansy’s office.
There was a little bell that chimed when Hermione opened the door. The Slytherin witch herself stood behind a counter directly in front of an open doorway behind her that led to what looked like a lounge. There were sofas and armchairs, a small raised platform, and a wall of mirrors.
“Granger. So glad you made it.” Pansy’s detached tone of voice carried no meanness to it. In fact, there was a small lifting of her lips that suggested a smile, if Pansy were into such blatant shows of emotion. “Come on back and let’s chat.”
With a wave of her wand, Pansy summoned over a drink cart and quickly poured Hermione a glass of Riesling white wine. Normally Hermione wouldn’t drink alcohol this early in the day, but she figured the situation called for a little liquid fortification for her nerves so she took a generous sip. It was light and crisp and refreshing.
“So, Granger, tell me what you think your personal style is.” Pansy took a sip from her own glass.
“Oh, well, I’m not really sure. I need clothing to be practical for the office, and I sort of just buy what I think is comfortable.” Glancing down at the outfit she currently wore, she continued, “I don’t mind things that show off my shape, as long as they aren’t trashy. I stick with color palettes that are mostly neutral, but I do enjoy a pop of color, too.”
“Yes, I could tell that from the last outfit I saw you in.” Pansy let her eyes travel over Hermione from head to toe. “ Do you typically wear trousers? And tell me about your shoes.”
“I would say yes, trousers make up most of the bottoms in my wardrobe. Shoes are normally flats, but I do have a pair or two of heels. Nothing overly tall though, since I’m on my feet a lot during the work day.” Hermione honestly hadn’t thought about her clothing this much, ever.
“Would you say that you prefer to have pieces that can mix and match, or have each outfit be separate and unique unto itself?” Pansy took another sip while she waited on the answer.
“Mix and match, definitely. The less I have to think about my clothing choices in the morning the better. I also prefer to have a few pieces that can go from day to night, in case I need to head straight from work to something else.”
Pansy nodded and stood up. “Up, Granger. Strip and stand on the platform there.” At Hermione’s shocked expression, she amended, “Keep the knickers and bra on. The room is spelled for privacy, so no one else will see you. I need to take your measurements to ensure your clothes fit you properly.”
Hermione did as she was told. She stood still while a measuring tape wrapped around different parts of her body, and a quill furiously wrote down the measurements onto a parchment that floated next to Pansy. With a flick of her wand, Pansy brought out several different bolts of fabric and held them up to Hermione one at a time. Bright colors were immediately dismissed, while jewel tones were stacked in the corner of the room. Black, white, tan, and grey all made it into the acceptable pile; brown was rejected before it made it a foot away from Hermione’s skin.
“With your hair and eyes, you’d look like a walking potato if you tried to wear brown. You need everyday work wear, plus dressier things for conferences and council meetings, and don’t get me started on your undergarments.” Pansy shuddered. “I don’t even want to know where you got the bra you’re wearing. It should be burned. In order to wear the things I’ll make for you, the foundation needs to be correct. You can get dressed again.”
Hermione slipped off the platform and began pulling on her clothes. “Pansy, I honestly only need a few pieces probably. I don’t exactly know how much you charge, either.”
Pansy scoffed. “I’m not going to charge you anything right now. I don’t need your money, but I’m not doing this out of the goodness of my heart either. Here’s what I want.” She sat back down next to Hermione and picked up her wine. “I want you to wear my designs exclusively for the next two months. If you leave the house and enter the Wizarding world, you’ll be wearing my brand. And if anyone asks you where you got it, your only reply should be ‘Parkinson & Co.’ You are a household name; I want to be one too.”
Hermione opened her mouth to protest. “I couldn’t possib–”
“You can and you will. You are the Golden Girl, and every witch will see you in the paper and want to know who you’re wearing. They’ll turn out in droves. Without paying me a dime, you’ll be making me a fortune. I’ll also be making the gowns you need for any gala for the next year. When people see you in my clothes, they’ll take notice. They want to be you, Granger, and the closest many of them will ever get is by wearing the same designer as you.”
“Pansy, are you quite sure?” Hermione chewed on her bottom lip. “Surely that cannot be enough to cover an entire wardrobe, underthings, and gala gowns. I must pay you something!”
“Oh I’m absolutely fucking sure, Granger. I’ll have more orders and customers flocking in for a private consultation than I’ll have time for. Plus, we’re friends now, right?” Pansy smirked at Hermione. “Friends help each other out.”
Hermione blinked quickly. “Friends. Well, yes, I guess since you’ve seen me in my underwear we now classify as friends. Thank you Pansy. You didn’t have to do this for me.”
“Trust me, it isn’t just for you. It’s a mostly selfish reason, and I’m hoping this will help more people than you could possibly think. Now, please leave. I have a ton of work to do.” With a wink, Pansy led Hermione to the door, and gently shoved her outside.
The day for the Quidditch match between the DMLE and the Department for Magical Accidents and Catastrophes arrived with a beautiful, cloudless sky. Draco was finishing up donning his kit when Potter walked into the center of the locker room.
“Alright everyone, listen up.” Voices hushed and eyes went right to Potter. “We know that Accidents and Catastrophes play a dirty game. They are sloppy and careless. Stay out of the range of the Beater’s bats, and avoid physical contact if you can. I’ve called for a Healer to be in the stands, as well as on the pitch for the entirety of the match. We know we play a better game, so we should be able to clinch a victory easily if we can keep the injuries to a minimum.”
Draco would never admit it aloud, but Potter did make a good team captain. He made a good leader for the Aurors as well. It was apparent that his job wasn’t just handed to him because of his defeat of Draco’s old master. I’ll rise up as the next Dark Lord before I tell him that, though, Draco thought.
As the team walked out onto the pitch, Draco found his eyes pulled to the stands in a way they never had been before. How could he have possibly missed Granger being at every game? Surely he would have recognized her curly hair that seemed to defy gravity, or heard her cheering for Potter even a single time before. He quickly scanned the stadium and found Theo, Pansy, and Blaise lounging in their usual seats. He mounted his broom and did a pass around the arena, then two, then three, before he stopped in a hover next to Potter.
“Where is your cheering squad today? I didn’t see your wife or sidekicks in the stands.” Draco kept his gaze trained on the other team, which was already causing chaos just by being in the air.
Potter glanced back at the section reserved for the DMLE families and friends. “Wife had practice today, and Ron is running the joke shop on his own this weekend, but Hermione is here.”
“What?” Draco grimaced when he realized just how quickly his head had snapped back to the stands. “I don’t see Granger here.”
Potter gave him a quizzical look while he course corrected his broom to give a wider berth to the opposing team captain who was on approach. “Uh, not sure why you care, but she’s here. You usually can’t see her, since she hides in any shade she can find with a book. But she never misses a match. If there’s one thing I can count on, it’s that.” Potter pushed his broom forward to meet the referee in the center of the field to begin the game.
Draco couldn’t make sense of it even to himself why it was such a big deal that he find out where Granger was in the stands, but it suddenly was. He tried his best to look casual as he swept back and forth in front of his team’s hoops, searching the stands and waiting for the game to begin. The whistle blew, and Draco shot forward to take his spot in the formation the Chasers had been drilling for the last month. He passed when he was supposed to, carried when it was his turn, and made a shot on the goal when he got close enough. The Keeper was able to knock it away at the last second, so the other team took possession of the Quaffle and made their way towards the DMLE hoops. When their shot on goal was similarly blocked, Draco dove to catch the Quaffle and begin a new formation.
On his way back up to the correct position, Draco caught the briefest glimpse of brown curls, dark sunglasses, and a large book. He did a double take to make sure he’d really seen Granger, and was promptly knocked sideways by a well-hit Bludger sent by the other team.
He was forced to drop the Quaffle in order to hang on to his broom, ignoring the pain that most likely meant bruised ribs. Dean Thomas, another Chaser and Auror, flew beneath Draco to catch the ball and sped off across the field towards the opposite hoops. Draco dangled for a moment, then hoisted the broom beneath him once again.
“Alright, Malfoy?” Potter yelled at him from somewhere above, not having bothered to attempt to help Draco in any way.
“I’ll live,” Draco called back.
“That’s my line!” Potter teased and sped away on his broom, resuming his search for the Snitch.
Prodding at his ribs, Draco chanced a look back at the stands. Theo, Pansy, and Blaise were all resuming their seats, having stood up in concern that he might fall from his broom. He gave them all a reassuring wave, and swept his gaze to where he thought he’d seen Granger. To his surprise, she was already staring at him with her wand gripped tight in her hand. Her posture suggested she’d also risen from her seat when he’d been hit. Her book was on the floor in front of her.
Draco tried to make sense of why she would be concerned for him. He flew back into the middle of the field with his brow knit. Perhaps she would have reacted that way for anyone. Maybe she thought it was Potter who got hit and was prepared to catch her best friend before she realized it was Draco. How she’d even seen him take the hit while she had her nose buried in her book, he didn’t know. Maybe she just cared so much about anyone being hurt, it had to have been a knee-jerk reaction before she saw who had actually been hit. There was no way Granger could be worried about him.
Shaking his head to clear it of all these confusing thoughts, he focused back on the match. The Catastrophes (as they were aptly called, in his opinion) had possession of the Quaffle once again. He aimed his broom left to intercept their Chaser and stole the Quaffle with a well-timed shoulder bump.
Draco sped towards the hoops and sailed past their Keeper to sink a shot through the center hoop. He raised a fist in the air in triumph, before spotting Potter racing towards the stands. His hand reached out in front of him, Potter leaned as far as he could onto his broom. Draco felt his heart pick up its pace as he realized how quickly Potter was flying towards the people watching, seemingly without realizing how close he was.
At the very last second, Potter clenched his hand into a fist and swung the tail of his broom sideways, coming to an abrupt stop directly in front of Granger. He threw a wide grin and a wink at her, as she shook her head at him with a rueful smile. She gently closed her book again, and slowly clapped for her best friend. Both teams drifted down to land on the pitch and congratulate each other on a good game. Although it was over fairly quickly, the DMLE team was thankful that the injuries seem to have been limited to Draco this time.
He headed over to where the Healer had been stationed on the pitch, and sat patiently while his ribs were examined. His shirt was partially off, having only pulled it up on the bruised side and removing one of the sleeves. From the corner of his eye, he caught Pansy walking arm-in-arm with Granger, with Blaise and Theo flanking the women on either side.
“I’ve put a bruise paste on, but you won’t need any Skele-gro, since none of the ribs are broken. Take a pain-relieving potion if you need it, and you’ll be good in a few days. Any questions?” The Healer asked him.
“I’m fairly used to this by now. Thank you.” Draco shook the Healer’s hand and began pulling his shirt back over his torso. Luckily, the injured ribs were on the opposite side from his Sectumsempra scars Potter had given him, so he didn’t have to face any scrutiny or stares over them. Draco headed towards his friends and Granger as he finally managed to get his arm back into the sleeve.
“There’s that new place near Diagon that I’ve heard good things about.” He heard Theo suggest to the group.
“I popped in there yesterday. It’s not bad, but I don’t particularly want it two days in a row.” Blaise told him.
“Is anyone craving something specific? I’ve got a hankering for shawarma, myself.” Granger piped in.
“Oh, yes! That’s what I want too. You boys in?” Pansy swiveled her head between Blaise and Theo.
“Don’t I get a vote?” Draco said as he joined the rest of the group.
“It’s already been decided, Draco dear, but feel free to voice your opinions anyway. I’ll just ignore it if you say no.” Pansy said.
“Shawarma it is.” Draco replied. “I’ve just got to change out of my kit and I’ll be ready to go.”
Potter strode over with his broom on his shoulder, and called out, “Hey Mione!”
Granger untangled herself from Pansy and gave Potter a hug. “You cut it a little close there, didn’t you?”
“Nah, it was all part of my plan. I knew I’d stop in time. Honestly, have I ever hit anyone in the stands before?” Potter asked with a grin that made him look boyish.
“Besides all those times at Hogwarts, you mean? I remember a particular game where you ended up with no bones in your arm, Potter.” Quipped Draco.
With a shove to Draco’s shoulder, Potter shot back, “Yeah, and I still caught the snitch that time, too! Speaking of bones, how are the ribs?”
Draco smirked, “Aw, didn’t know you cared.”
“Shove off, Malfoy.”
Chuckling, Draco added, “Nothing’s broken. I’ll be fine.”
Pansy hit his arm, “You scared me when you fell, you idiot.”
“Love you, too, Pans.” Draco risked a side look at Granger. “You weren’t worried for me, were you?”
“Of course not.” She blushed. Wait, she blushed?
“Oh sure. Guess that must have been someone else that dropped their book and pulled a wand then.”
“Maybe I was considering which hex to throw at you for commandeering my research. The Quidditch match would have made an excellent cover for why you were injured.” Granger shot back. “Unfortunately, you managed to get injured on your own before I could do anything.”
Blaise piped in, “Took you long enough to get back up on your broom, though. Were you just showing off?”
“Oh please, Blaise. Everyone knows it’s the broom thighs that impress witches, not their ability to do a pull up on a piece of wood.” Pansy winked at Granger, who to Draco’s surprise, blushed again.
“Wait, it’s broom thighs? Here I’ve been worried about my abs.” Theo tossed out, lifting his shirt slightly.
“Luckily, my wife has the total package: arms, legs, and abs.” Potter grinned while Granger laughed.
“You’re suspiciously quiet over there, Draco.” Blaise said. “You normally can’t pass up the opportunity to tell us how perfect you are.”
“I just don’t want Potter to feel inferior to my impeccable depiction of the male species.” Draco smirked back at him. “I’m quite over making others feel lesser than me, thank you.”
“Yeah, yeah. The reformed prince, and all that bullshit.” Theo clapped his hands together. “Can we please get to the food portion of the day now?”
“Are you joining us, Harry? We’re going to get shawarma.” Granger asked Potter.
“Nah, not this time. I’ve got to head to the Burrow to meet Ron about one of his new products. Next time though, yeah?”
“Oh, ok. Yeah, of course.” Granger’s eyes flashed quickly with anxiety, and what looked like dismay, before it was gone.
“You aren’t afraid to be alone with us snakes, are you Granger?” Theo asked as he threw his arm over Granger’s shoulders.
“I’ve survived worse snakes than you four. I even survived one on one with Pansy the other day. I’ll be just fine.” She said with a smirk.
“Oh you will enjoy the outcome from that one-on-one soon enough.” Pansy scoffed. “I’m almost finished with your new wardrobe.”
“Already? Merlin, Pansy, you work fast!” Granger exclaimed.
“What can I say? I’m the best.” Pansy soaked in the praise. “Ask Draco here, I’ve made all of his clothing. And Malfoys don’t have anything but the best.”
“She’s not wrong.” Draco drawled. “We Malfoys hold ourselves to a certain standard, and Pansy does the best work in England. My entire closet consists of Parkinson & Co clothing only.”
“Funny, I think I’ve said that line before.” Theo said.
“We all have, Nott. It's a requirement of Pansy’s that comes with the clothing. We’ve all been given our marching orders whenever anyone speaks of clothes.” Blaise added.
“Ah, I see now.” Granger spoke to Pansy. “You make the same deal with everyone you design for then?”
“Oh no, Granger. Our deal is unique. The boys here pay me probably more than what I’m worth for their clothes. And I don’t make their underwear.”
Draco and Potter both choked on the air. “I’m sorry, what?” Draco finally gasped out.
“Curious about Granger’s knickers, are you Draco?” Pansy smirked. “That seems like a conversation between the two of you, not me.”
Granger and Draco were probably matching shades of bright red at this statement. They both spoke at the same time.
“That’s not what I mea–”
“Of course he isn’t–”
“Why would I be–”
“Completely inapprop–”
“Oh, you know I’m just kidding. You should see your face right now, though Draco. I don’t think I’ve heard you stammer over your words like this in quite some time. Probably not since sixth year when we got caught–” Pansy must have been determined to kill Draco with embarrassment today.
“That’s quite enough story time for me I think.” Potter coughed out.
Draco nodded furiously.
“Can we please go get food now?” Theo whined dramatically. “I’m a starving man over here.”
“Alright, alright. Let me get changed. Be back in a moment.” Draco jogged off the field as quickly as he could and headed into the locker room.