Three Days Ago
Draco still couldn’t believe Granger had agreed to go on a date with him.
He and Granger shared classes when they returned for 8th year, and after being paired in potions, often found themselves working together on other class projects in the library, once their potion work–and arguments–were complete.
After the first three uneasy weeks back at Hogwarts, students had come to breakfast to find a new table, reserved for 8th Years. A few had tried to ignore it and sit at their house tables, and had had their arses shocked with some sort of stinging hex for the trouble.
“What the hell is going on,” Draco said angrily, rubbing his arse and eyeing the round table suspiciously.
Granger stood up, hair falling loose from her plait and cracking with magic, and glared at Draco and the others standing near.
“I did not fight a sodding war against prejudice, and have people I love die, only to endure more of this segregation shite,” she hissed. “Malfoys and Weasleys have hated each other for generations- end it. Now.” She glared at Ron and Draco in turn, until they looked away and sat down.
“I will not tolerate any more hexing, dirty looks, or feuding. Just because previous generations were hateful idiots, does not mean we have to be.” She gave a few pointed looks at others. Few met her glare for more than a second. Draco marvelled at this tiny witch, intimidating all of them.
Others sat down at the table and averted their eyes from her as she continued. “I intend to live like a normal teenager this year. I WILL study hard, party hard, have fun and be carefree, and Merlin knows I can’t have fun and relax if everyone’s so fucking uptight. Granted, we’re all traumatized. The healing starts here,” she said, slapping the table and startling them all. “And also, there’s a party under the Quidditch stands Saturday. Disillusionment charm is set to start at 9. Bring your own potions or drinks, and some to share. This party is mandatory. The staff don’t know about it, so keep it to yourselves and don’t get caught. We WILL have fun, and we WILL help each other get through this, so we can be kids, for ONCE.”
She glared at the head table, where professors were pretending not to watch the drama unfolding. She tapped the new table, and an unexpected small spark of magic shot through the wood, leaving a glowing lightning pattern through the center.
Hermione ignored it and sat down, stirred her tea, and began eating as if nothing was amiss. After a time, the rest of the table had followed suit.
Hermione Granger had laid down the law, and everyone followed. Draco was glad of it–his fellow Slytherins weren’t happy about having a marked Death Eater at their table, and he knew that most of his year was rightfully angry with him. Worse than that, a few students had come up to him and tried to praise his family’s affiliation with Voldemort. Draco didn’t have the powerful glare that Hermione did, but those few saw something in his contemptuous gaze that shut them up.
Later that day, in Potions, Hermione was arguing with him about whether to use a jade or marble mortar and pestle to grind fragments of owl eggshells.
“So, this new sense of unity doesn’t extend to me, I see,” Draco said, challenging her.
“Unity means I won’t hex you for being wrong,” Hermione retorted. “You can be wrong–and you are–and we can still treat each other with humanity.”
“Hmmm,” Draco said. “In the name of unity, let’s compromise. I’ll use the jade, you try the marble. We’ll compare potions.”
Hermione looked at him thoughtfully. “You know, that would be a good way to test our idea. And now you’ve got me thinking– you have an eagle owl, and great horned owl egg shells are called for. I wonder if a different type of shell would matter…” She shook her head. “That’s too many variables, and I don’t know that I have time to brew one extra potion. Brewing multiples to test out another hypothesis…”
“If you don’t want to spend any extra time with me, just say so, Granger,” Draco teased her. His heart sped up at the idea of exploring new potion theories with this witch. He loved to watch her mind at work. He could stay in the potion lab and library with her all night, working on problems or discussing the history of theories behind different spells and potions.
“Malfoy, stop it. You know I enjoy your company,” Hermione said dismissively.
Her offhand compliment heated his cheeks and he grappled with a feeling of buoyancy and lightness that he hadn’t felt in years. Maybe ever.
“However,” she said, “I get bogged down in studying and I am trying to live. Trying to make sure I have fun, and heal, and leave this place with some memories that are special, without the threat of war and death hanging over us all. I want joy, more than any NEWT.”
Draco feigned a shocked expression and she smiled and batted his arm. “Okay, I want all the O’s, but I’m trying to set some of the work aside and have fun.”
“An interesting experiment,” Draco said slowly. “A lot of variables. So, just so I’m clear, you would spend more time with me, but it would have to be something purely fun. Something other than studying.”
“Exactly,” said Hermione, studying her scroll and making corrections, half paying attention.
“Then let's go on a date,” Malfoy said. His heart was still light, and while he realized that he had just blurted out something extremely foolish, he also understood that Hermione was right. Joy had to be part of this experience. Making memories. And his habit of overthinking everything would never get him there.
She snapped her eyes to his, paying full attention and letting ink leak on her scroll. He smiled. “Show me around the Muggle world. Maybe we can go to the cinema?”
She tilted her head, eyes still wide, and opened her mouth, then closed it again.
“Your ‘mandatory’ party is Saturday night- let’s make a day of it on Saturday. Meet at 2 and apparate from Hogsmeade?”
Hermione was blushing and looked thoroughly flummoxed. Draco was enjoying it immensely, and wasn’t sure why, but he was starting to feel like asking Granger out on a date was the smartest thing he’d ever done. If she said yes.
“Um. Wow. Seriously?”
“Yes, Granger. Seriously. Would you like to go on a date Saturday afternoon?”
Her eyes went from confused, to resolved, to a look that he couldn’t decipher. “I’d love to. Thank you for asking, Malfoy. Let’s get back to work.”
Saturday
Theo looked up at his best friend, exasperated. “Draco, you have been pining after this girl- woman, now- since you were both 11. You fought on opposite sides of a war and Merlin knows why, but she’s decided to give you a chance. You have to try harder, make a real effort to fit into her world.”
Theo set his “Definitive Guide to the Stylish Muggle, 3rd Edition,” textbook down. It was from before the war, but magical fashion trends changed very slowly. It was unlikely that Muggles would change their style very often- trying to redo a fit, or update a style would surely be too onerous without magic and charms. He was prepared to help Draco, and just knew that his paper on the process and results would guarantee an Outstanding.
“How long has she spent in our world?” Theo went on, as Draco touched various fabrics and pieces of clothing, dropping some in disgust. “I mean, I doubt that she was used to robes or even magic at first, and she just dived right in and learned everything about the magical world.”
“And thus began her successful quest for world domination,” Draco muttered. “I think we can agree that her level of intelligence and observation and fearlessness are legendary. I don’t want to look like an idiot.”
“You’re going to look like you’re trying to fit in,” Theo reiterated. “Imagine if Hermione had shown up in 1st year in a jumper, denims and trainers and refused to wear anything else.”
Draco smiled at the visual. He had only occasionally seen Hermione in muggle streetwear. His face fell at one such memory. The worst one.
“You’re right. I’ll try something. Maybe some accessories?” Draco said, putting an odd cap on his head with a brim that only extended partway around the cap. “Granger did say that a shirt and trousers would pass in the muggle world. Dragonhide loafers. She’s already given me advice.”
Theo consulted his textbook then moved the cap on Draco’s head so the brim faced sideways. “There. American athletes wear those caps while playing baseball, but for non-athletes, it can be worn casually to the side, or with the brim–no, bill– facing back.” Theo showed him a picture of a man in an oversized white t-shirt, with the hat facing sideways.
“What the fuck?” Draco said, snatching the textbook from Theo’s hands. “What are those awful trousers? Did the man have an unusual growth spurt? Do Muggles grow that quickly that a tailor can’t be called for an emergency?” Draco looked at the page, astonished, then looked up at Theo, who was holding up a similar pair of trousers.
“No, absolutely not,” Draco said, standing up and backing away in horror. “Abominable tailoring, awful fabric- is that denim? Those look fit for a baby giant.”
“These are jorts,” Theo said. “It’s a portmanteau of jeans, and shorts. Did you know that the word denim comes from ‘de Nimes,’ denoting the fabric sourced from mills in Nimes, France?”
“These are not short, nor are they long. They are the most awful, unflattering length,” Draco said, ignoring Theo’s quotes from his textbook. “Granger said my own wardrobe would work.” Draco’s voice had a panicked tone. He could not imagine going out in public in these clothes.
“Draco?” Theo said, setting down the offending garment.
“What?” Draco snarled, glaring at his friend.
“This woman won a war against the Dark Lord. Muggles dress a little differently than us, and it might feel weird to you. But think of it as a gesture of respect for her culture. A gesture that you no longer hold old opinions of muggleborns and their world. That you’re open to new ideas.”
Draco’s face fell, and Theo rejoiced but kept his face blank. Theo knew that look. Draco was all in on Granger, and that meant he was going to let Theo dress him. The more Theo learned about Muggles, the more he wanted to learn. What compelled his father and other Death Eaters to hate them so? Theo had found himself mentally aligning with muggles even before the war–if his father hated someone, like his mother, or the Resistance, then they were probably full of light and goodness.
Theo found it unlikely that he’d do more than average work in his classes. He was tired and disinterested. A mind healer had suggested he might be depressed. But the intricacies of muggle fashion, the sheer variety of it, fascinated him. He was thrilled to learn of Draco’s date, and had felt his listlessness ease and his enthusiasm grow, when Draco asked for his help.
When Dean Thomas had left some muggle men’s fashion and music magazines in the 8th year’s common room, Theo had devoured them and made notes of trends and textiles he’d intended to mention in his research paper. Now, he could apply them to a real-life case study.
Draco sighed. “Are you sure I won’t look foolish?” He looked carefully at the selection of clothes on the bed. “I know you worked hard on this Theo.”
Draco’s posture straightened, and he turned the cap so the bill faced backwards. “Very well. Let’s do this. I meet Granger in an hour. Let’s make sure I fit in. If jorts will prove I’ve changed, then bring on the jorts.”
With a whirlwind of activity, Theo coaxed Draco into grey pants with an elastic band. “Who do these belong to? They have someone else’s name on them!” Draco had objected.
“It is the name of an exclusive designer. The jorts are meant to ride below them somewhat, so that you subtly show yourself as an exclusive client of the designer. It’s a nod to exclusivity,” Theo said.
“Who do you know that has exclusive access to this Muggle designer,” Draco asked, interested despite himself.
“Well, I got them at a shop, but that’s not the point, I was lucky to be able to find them,” Theo said, jotting down a note to research this later.
Draco pulled on the jorts and groaned.
“For Granger,” Theo reminded him.
Draco closed his eyes and sighed. “You’re right, of course. These are, for the record, hideous and unflattering. They don’t show off my thighs at all, and make my ankles look quite small. But I’ll manage. For Granger.”
“Okay, I think a plain white t-shirt should be fine for the top. They are oversized, that’s the fashion. Wearing sports jerseys or t-shirts that reference popular musical performers are popular, but I was unable to decipher which would be appropriate. Also, if Granger has strong opinions about muggle music, in the way she does with literature, it could start you off on the wrong foot.”
“However would she know if I started off on the wrong foot? She’ll be too busy mocking my jorts,” Draco muttered.
“Did you hear the part where I researched muggle sports and music with inconclusive results, and offered an alternative that will not create animus with your crush?” Theo said sharply.
Draco walked over to his friend and sat next to him on the bed. “You’re right, Theo. Sarcasm is my love language in uncomfortable situations. I’m sorry.”
Theo whistled. “Draco apologizing? And not just an ‘I’m sorry you’re such a pitiful wanker.’ Will wonders never cease?”
“I see sarcasm is your love language too, you pitiful wanker. Tea?”
“Yes, have Myrrh bring some biscuits too.”
Draco accepted the white t-shirt with minimal complaint, and a flannel shirt that Theo insisted be tied around Draco’s waist. Draco was incredulous, but Theo showed him a picture in the textbook, and an additional picture cut from a magazine.
He added socks. Draco found the athletic socks similar to those he wore for Quidditch.
Next, Theo brought out a woven fabric square attached to a chain.
“I really don’t know that Granger’s into chains and the kinky stuff, and it’s not a question you ask a lady on a first date,” Draco drawled.
“It’s a wallet,” Theo said, attaching the chain to a belt loop on the jorts.
“What is the chain for? Will I be robbed? Surely Granger wouldn’t choose a restaurant and cinema that are so unsafe.” Draco objected. He felt the metal. “It’s not even silver.”
“The chain is more for fashion, but it does alert you to attempted thieves. It signals that you want to know if someone is picking your pocket- that you are capable of defeating them in the face of such a challenge.”
“I can’t use magic on Muggles, and any physical violence against muggles would surely be frowned on. Better to be pickpocketed,” Draco said. “I can always transfigure some money.”
“Hmmm,” Theo said, looking at his textbook, then reading aloud. “The chain, similar to those used in an earlier era for pocket watches, signifies one as a man of means, while also signifying a willingness to protect ones’ treasure. This item is a juxtaposition of working men’s fashion with signifiers of wealth, creating an intriguing paradox that draws positive attention.”
Draco nodded, thoughtful. “I’ll wear it, but keep my money in another pocket. I’m not ending up in Azkhaban over a simple robbery, if it comes to that. I can always get more money from my vaults.”
“Fair enough,” Theo said. “Just take the money out of the wallet, put on your trainers, and you should be ready.” He cast a tempus, and saw that Draco had only a few minutes before he’d need to leave to meet Hermione.
Draco took the wallet, scowling at the feel of the woven fabric, and went to open it. The wallet objected, making a rasping growl, and Draco dropped it instantly, leaving it swinging against the hem of his jorts as he tried to move away from it.
“What the fuck did you do to the wallet, Theo?! Did you put some creature in there? What in Merlin’s name was that noise?” Draco tried to move away and the wallet swung as he scrambled to unfasten the chain.
“Draco, it’s velcro.”
“What is a Velcro? Is it venomous? I swear if I miss this date and end up in the infirmary getting treated for a Velcro attack, you are dead to me, Theo,” Draco yelled.
Theo unfastened the chain from Draco’s belt loop, and demonstrated opening the wallet, as it made odd crunching noises. Draco watched suspiciously. “What is a Velcro?”
“Velcro is these two types of textured fabrics,” Theo said, pointing to the edge of the billfold. “They catch on each other, creating a seal. It does make a tearing or ripping noise on opening, but is very popular. It’s another portmanteau word, for velour and crochet. It’s also called a hook and loop closure.”
Theo held it out to Draco, who took the wallet and opened it, then pressed it closed and opened it again, looking closely at the fabric.
“A Muggle inventor designed it after looking at how burdock seeds stuck to fabric and his dog’s fur, while hiking,” Theo said without referring to the textbook. “Muggles are really ingenious. Without magic to solve common problems, they often observe and copy nature. They are really fascinating. Oh, and your trainers are also fastened with Velcro,” Theo said, demonstrating them as Draco refastened the wallet to his belt loop and tucked it into a back pocket, while depositing his cash in a large front pocket of the jorts.
“There,” Theo said, adjusting Draco’s hat so the bill faced sideways. “You look perfect.”
Draco looked at himself in the mirror and felt anxious. He also felt a little ashamed. Was the magical world as foreign to Hermione as the Muggle world was to him? If so, how had she managed to fit in so well as an 11-year-old child? Not only that, she had strategized against the Dark Lord and been a critical factor in his defeat, and in setting the Wizarding world on a path to a better future. Had she felt this uncomfortable and awkward amid the traditions and customs of the Wizarding world? He adjusted the cap’s bill to face backward, and shrugged. He thought he looked ridiculous, but Theo was right. He owed it to her to try.
“Wish me luck, Theo. Merlin knows, I’m going to need it.”
“Good luck, Draco,” Theo said softly, folding the leftover clothes and waving his wand for a tidying charm. “She’d be lucky to have you. Have fun. I’ll see you tonight at the party.”
Theo watched his friend walk out the dorm room, and settled in at his desk to make note of his observations, leaving plenty of space for the results of the case study. He’d debrief Malfoy tomorrow.