A Dinner
“I think I quite like my hair down, don’t you think?” Maeve passed the brush through her hair again, tugging at a knot at the end. Hermione hummed a reply without looking up from her book, turning another page loudly. “What? Do you think it looks better up?”
“I think you’re putting too much effort into going out to dinner with Draco,” Hermione spit out Draco’s name like it was poison, finally closing her book and looking up towards Maeve. Maeve frowned and flopped down on her bed next to Hermione.
“He’s not all bad,” Maeve protested to the ceiling, to which Hermione shrugged. “I think he’s misunderstood.”
“I think he understood perfectly well when he called me a m…” Hermione started, but cringed at the last word so hard that she fell silent.
“But that’s because of his father. My parents are always talking about the kind of monster Lucius Malfoy is. Nepotism sucks,” Maeve rolled on her stomach and kicked her feet up.
“Weak excuse for Draco,” Hermione replied, following suit with Maeve. “Anyways, his friends are terrible and he’s greasy.”
“Yeah, his friends leave little to be desired,” Maeve agreed, realizing that she was so close to Hermione that she could actually see the way the girl’s hair curled. “Theodore’s cute.”
“Really? Is that why you rejected him for Draco?” Hermione teased, rolling off the bed. “Ah, where’s that book you said I could borrow?”
“He’s bad news, Hermione,” Maeve got out of bed to hand her friend the ancient magic book that Maeve snuck out of the Restricted Section. “And much too intense for me. I prefer someone who has the self-discipline to actually go to class.”
“Aren’t all Slytherin boys?” Hermione giggled when Maeve handed her the book with an eyeroll.
“I don’t even like Draco like that. He’s just fun competition in class,” Maeve waved her hand, heading back to her dresser to reapply lip balm.
“Oh, and I’m not? And I like to think I’m much better looking than Draco,” Hermione laughed. Maeve’s bedside clock chirped to signal the next hour, causing Maeve to scramble for her scarf.
“Yeah, yeah. I’ve got to get going. Don’t get into an academic debate with any of my housemates again on your way out,” Maeve teased, opening the door for Hermione. Maeve thought about what she had said again: that she didn’t actually like Draco. She shook her head to herself as she made her way to the entrance and nervously smoothed out her skirt. She couldn’t like him, she thought, Draco probably wouldn’t even consider them friends. Maeve liked the time she spent with Draco. She felt like she was seeing another side of him that only she was fortunate to see. Maeve rounded the corner and was surprised to see Draco already at the door, pacing back and forth. She also appreciated his gentlemanly manner, which was probably from his high-class upbringing. He would open doors for her without a second thought. Maeve thought this was such a trivial reason to like someone and she almost laughed out loud at the thought.
“I hope I didn’t keep you waiting, Draco,” Maeve snapped Draco out of whatever daydream he was in. Draco was still dressed in his school clothes, but ditched his tie and had thrown on a black leather jacket. Maeve felt silly for changing into “nicer” clothes but she liked getting out of uniform anyways.
“No. Let’s go,” Draco said flatly. He finally shifted his focus from his feet up to Maeve and she let out a gasp. She fought the instinct to grab his face because she knew how little the boy liked being touched.
“Is your lip swollen? What happened?” Maeve touched her own lips and Draco just sighed.
“Nothing serious. Just got into an argument with a housemate,” Draco shrugged dismissively.
“That resulted in him punching you?” Maeve pressed on, but at this point Draco was walking much faster than her and she had to focus on keeping up with his long strides. “What happened? You might as well tell me now. I’ll just ask Pansy later.”
“Like I said, a disagreement, Prewett,” Draco replied, twisting his family signet. “You don’t have to worry about ‘Ted’ bothering you anymore, though. He’s in detention for two weeks.”
Maeve wanted more answers but knew that Draco wasn’t going to let up. The way he addressed her told her that it wasn’t worth investigating from him. He and Theodore got into a fight? Was it about tonight? Was word going around that Draco and her were going on a date? She definitely had to ask Pansy about this later.
Maeve assumed that Draco was going to take her to the Three Broomsticks for dinner, but he was weaving in and out of Hogsmeade like he had memorized the place. She didn’t question his direction as he climbed the pair up to High Street. Draco was silent for the most part, with the occasional directional quip that they were “almost there.” Maeve caught glimpse of the Madam Puddifoot’s and felt her face get hot. Surely he wasn’t taking them there, right? The two wouldn’t be able to deny the dating allegations if they were seen by anybody from Hogwarts. Thankfully, Draco turned the two of them down an unsuspecting alley where light was only coming from one building.
“Nobody in Hogwarts knows about this place. We don’t have to worry about running into anyone,” Draco assured, to which Maeve laughed.
“Great. Because that was the thing I was most scared about,” Maeve said with a hint of sarcasm. Draco ignored her and held open the door to the tiny restaurant. The doorbell chimed and the two were immediately greeted by a large man with a well-trimmed beard and a pulled back bun.
“Ah, Mr. Malfoy. I was beginning to miss you. And you brought a friend. Who might you be?” The man asked in an accent that Maeve couldn’t quite place. Definitely not British.
“Hi, Mr. Bruno. This is Maeve Prewett. I owe her a dinner,” Draco said uncharacteristically cheerfully. Maeve introduced herself shyly, accepting the handshake that Mr. Bruno extended. He was inhumanly strong, and Maeve thought her hand was going to bruise the next day. The two of them followed Mr. Bruno to a seat towards the back by the flickering fireplace. The restaurant was filled with older witches and wizards who drank glasses of wine and talked quietly. Maeve was amused that Draco knew of such a place in Hogsmeade since they were definitely the youngest patrons.
“I’ll get started on your orders,” Mr. Bruno assured, resting a water pitcher on the table. Draco just thanked the man and began pouring waters for the both of them.
“He knows what we want?” Maeve asked puzzled, graciously accepting the water from Draco.
“He’s a Legilimen,” Draco said like it was obvious. He laughed at Maeve’s stunned look and put down his glass to explain. “My parents know the owners. They have a shop in London that’s owned by Mr. Bruno’s brother and we’d go there a lot when I was young. They started another store for Muggles, so dad doesn’t want to eat there anymore but everybody else always overcooks their pasta.”
“That’s sweet,” Maeve said with a smile. Her comment made Draco blush, but she couldn’t really tell in the dim light of the restaurant. “It seems like you go here a lot.”
“It’s a nice place to be alone in. No prying. It’s quiet,” Draco continued fidgeting with his ring, a habit that Maeve noticed when he got uncomfortable. It was like he was reminding himself he was a Malfoy.
“Then I appreciate sharing a piece of yourself with me,” Maeve copied Draco and twisted the ends of her hair nervously. The boy across from her seemed tense, but that was usually how Draco was. He always looked on edge like he had heard the worst news of his life and only let up when he was beating her at something in class. Draco didn’t reply but was saved when Mr. Bruno came out of the kitchen doors with a big platter of tube-shaped noodles and glossy red sauce. Mr. Bruno placed the dish between them and waved his hand over the rest of the table, conjuring up a serving fork and two plates.
“Your favorite, Mr. Malfoy,” Mr. Bruno winked and hurried away as another customer waved her hand for his attention. Maeve was used to British food and this was definitely not the sort of thing served in the Great Hall. Draco picked up his plate and started serving himself while Maeve watched curiously. To her surprise, he handed her his plate and motioned for the plate that was in front of her. Curse that gentlemanly nature. His small gesture made Maeve’s cheeks heat up and she was sure he was able to tell because of the fire that was illuminating her face. Maeve waited for Draco to take the first bite and followed suit. She was pleasantly surprised at the complex flavors and picked up the pace.
“I have no idea what this is,” Draco confessed. “I just know that it’s good.”
“I agree,” Maeve said between bites. She snuck a look at Draco and how his usual Hogwarts persona had melted away into the plate of pasta before him. The fire behind him casted shadows on his face that highlighted his dark circles yet how boyish he looked. Draco looked up with a raised eyebrow and Maeve quickly looked back at her own food.
“I hope this is enough thanks to cover the hairpin and the Charms debacle,” Draco said, helping himself to another portion of the pasta. “I don’t like favors hanging over my head.”
“Oh, but you enjoy hanging favors over other people’s heads?” Maeve giggled, recalling the conversation they had in the Great Hall. Draco tried to hide a smile, but it was no use.
“That’s the way of power,” Draco countered, and Maeve was unable to tell if he was joking or not.
It didn’t take long for the two to finish their dinner and Draco paid quickly. Maeve waited for Draco outside since Mr. Bruno had pulled the boy aside to discuss something. She shivered in the cool fall air, regretting her decision to grab a scarf instead of a jacket. Draco finally emerged from the restaurant and gave Maeve an amused look at her shivering. She had flattened out her scarf as a makeshift shawl, wrapping it tightly around her shoulders. Draco was holding his jacket and hesitated to offer it to Maeve. Maeve opened her mouth to begin to protest, but Draco pushed his jacket into her arms.
“You don’t have to-“ Maeve started, but Draco cut her off.
“I don’t want to hear you complain all night. Or look ridiculous with that scarf,” Draco wasn’t going to back down. Maeve unraveled herself from her scarf and shrugged on Draco’s jacket. The leather was soft and faintly smelled like a masculine cologne. “Just give it back to me before we leave.”
“Thank you,” Maeve said shyly, readjusting her hair and scarf to fit around the jacket. Draco puffed in reply, stealing a glance at her in his oversized jacket.
“J. Pippin’s?” Maeve offered, trying to change the subject and forget that she was in Draco’s jacket.
“I have something I need to pick up. I’ll meet you at Honeydukes. I still want those chocolate frogs,” Draco waved her off, almost like he was shooing her. Maeve headed the opposite direction without another word. Her mind was racing at the interaction of the past few hours. She wanted to squeal over the fact that Draco had taken her to a place that was special to him and now he had offered her his jacket. Was this just a thing that happened normally between friends? Maeve was sure that she would offer her jacket to Hermione or Pansy if they were cold. Maeve concluded that she was overthinking the whole thing. She should just ask him. That would be the rational thing to do.
Maeve was so distracted that she had to ask the shopkeeper twice for help on finding the potion ingredients that she needed. It was very unnecessary since she had spent so much time in the shop on her weekends that she practically memorized the inventory. She was upset that Draco was able to derail her mind so easily. Maeve rubbed the sleeves of the leather jacket once more, indulging in its buttery feeling. She lingered in the back of the store for a while longer, not wanting to meet Draco at Honeydukes just yet and return his jacket. She realized how ridiculous she was being and brought everything she needed to the front for checkout.
Maeve had beaten Draco to Honeydukes, which was unusually quiet for a Friday evening. Maeve checked her watch and realized that dinner was just starting to end, meaning that the Hogwarts masses were probably just starting on their journey to the village. She thought that it would be best to return Draco’s jacket before anyone could see her in it, but he still wasn’t in the store. Maeve scooped up two boxes of chocolate frogs as well as her own personal assortment to reward herself for doing well on the History of Magic test earlier that day. She waited outside at one of the tables, beginning to separate out a bag of taffy. She discarded the flavors she didn’t like into another bag to leave in the common room later.
“What? You don’t like the chocolate ones? They’re my favorite,” Draco interrupted her systematic separation by plucking one of the taffies up and unwrapping it. Maeve jumped in her seat, nearly toppling over the table.
“Those taste dreadful. Have another one. And here are your frogs,” Maeve handed Draco another piece of taffy and the two boxes of chocolate frogs that were beginning to get restless in their cardboard prison. Maeve also took off his jacket, handing it to him quickly. As if on cue, Harry, Ron, and Hermione materialized on top of the bridge that lead to Honeydukes. Draco swiftly placed his jacket on in one move before the trio had gotten close. Hermione must’ve caught a glimpse of Maeve in Draco’s jacket because she gave her friend a look, but didn’t say anything.
“Fancy seeing the two of you here,” Harry crossed his arms with an entertained look on his face.
“Picking up some last-minute study necessities,” Maeve said too fast and bit her lip nervously. Harry snorted and waved Ron and Hermione to go into the sweet shop without him. Draco was leaned against the table, seemingly sizing the other boy up.
“Why don’t you join your friends?” Draco said coldly. Harry readjusted his glasses and began to say something, but closed his mouth tightly.
“I think I will. Maeve, I have to talk to you later tonight,” Harry said ominously. Maeve tilted her head in confusion, but Harry left without another word.
“I wonder what that’s about,” Maeve tightened her scarf. “Can we head back? I’m freezing.”
“Just a minute,” Draco reached into his back pocket and produced a golden hairpin with a delicate butterfly etched into the end. Maeve’s jaw dropped at the beauty of the piece, forgetting that she was supposed to accept it.
“Draco- What-“ Maeve looked up into Draco’s stormy grey eyes for a response. The eye contact made the two of them blush and Maeve shifted her gaze back to the hairpin. How did he know what a French pin even looked like?
“Don’t break this one. It was bloody expensive,” Draco grabbed Maeve’s hand and placed the pin into the center of her palm. She couldn't accept such an expensive gift, but Draco insisted by closing her fingers over the pin. Maeve couldn’t hide her excitement and hugged Draco. Her mother had always taught her that actions spoke louder than words and she didn’t know other to thank him. Draco exhaled loudly, but this time he used one hand to pitifully pat her back. Maeve broke the hug to quickly twist up her hair, feeling relieved that her hair was now off of her shoulders. While she liked the look of her hair down, it was a nuisance most times. Draco noticed enough to know the contraption that held up her hair. One time, a first-year Ravenclaw asked her how many hair ties it took to twist her hair like that.
“Okay, we can head back now. I don’t want you to get sick and miss class. I hate when you copy my notes,” Draco helped Maeve with holding one of her bags. Typical Draco to deflect the moment. Maeve didn’t mind and had a smile plastered on her face until Draco bid her a good night in front of the Ravenclaw tower.