A Door Marked "Storage"
Draco makes it a whole week before he is standing outside of the bookshop. There is a small sign that resembles a stack of books hanging above the door with the words, Turning the Page, in gold paint.
He’d looked at it on his walk to and from work every day. In the mornings he could dawdle for longer, it not being open yet. In the evenings, he was careful not to turn his head too much, not wanting to be caught peering in through the display windows.
He liked them.
One was filled with a miniature version of the Shire from the Hobbit, and the other had all of Roald Dahl’s books being read by stuffed animals.
He has twenty pounds in his pocket, having crafted the need to buy a book as a reason to go in.
Embarrassingly, he’d gone to his flat to change first, not wanting to be wearing his work uniform should Granger be present.
Draco tried not to overthink the reason why.
Pushing the door open, he is pleased to find that no one else seems to be in the store. Granger isn’t at the counter. In fact, the place seems deserted.
As the door closes, a small bell rings and he jumps a little.
“I’ll be right with you,” a voice calls from a door to the right of the counter.
Draco isn’t sure what to do, but he doesn’t want to just stand there, so he dips into the first row, reminding himself that he is supposed to be there to buy a book.
He hears the door at the back of the store open, but he keeps his eyes focused on the shelf of fiction books in front of him.
Draco rather enjoys muggle fiction. It is all rather creative, almost impossibly so, when he considers how mundane muggle life seems to be.
Perhaps he shouldn’t have come in here. What is he supposed to say? What was he even hoping to say?
“Let me know if you have any questions,” the voice calls out again, and he is sure it is her.
So he abandons the pretence of finding a book and emerges from the row to greet her.
“Malfoy!” She exclaims, almost more surprised to see him than she had been last week.
“Granger,” he dips his head, walking slowly to the counter.
When there are just a couple of feet between them, he stops.
“How are you?” she asks, shifting from one foot to the other.
“Well, thank you,” he says out of politeness more than anything else. “How are you?”
Her brow furrows and she shrugs, not knowing what to do with him.
“Very well,” she smiles subtly. “Is there something I can help you find?”
Draco searches for any sort of title he can remember. Anything he’s read before. His mind is blank.
“Just browsing,” he answers.
“Do you live nearby?”
It is a very random inquiry. His face must say as much, because she goes on.
“I just wondered why you were walking by, last week. And then again, today.” Her voice goes up about two octaves and he worries he is making her uncomfortable.
Draco nods, wondering how much to reveal about his current living situation.
“I live on Doshinson.”
“That's close by. I haven’t seen you here before,- have you lived there long?”
“Since my release,” he shrugs. Surely, she knows he has been out of Azkaban for nearly three months. It had been covered in the Daily Prophet.
Granger doesn’t look away, nor does she look upset at the reminder that he’d been in prison.
“Do you like it?”
He’s a bit surprised at her line of questioning. It’s rather casual. He’d half expected her to throw him out.
“Not supposed to,” he shrugs again and then straightens his spine, hating the tone of his voice.
It’s true, the flat was meant to remind Draco of his fall from grace. It was cramped, cheap, and surrounded by muggles.
But he enjoyed parts of it. His bed was fairly comfortable, and all of the noise made him feel alive. He liked his neighbours.
“Do you live nearby?” he asks, not sure how to proceed.
She nods.
He doesn’t ask any followup questions.
“I suppose you must enjoy living so close to your job.”
“Yes,” she agrees, her hands fidgeting with a stack of papers on the counter in front of her. “Do you work nearby as well?”
So she doesn’t know he works at the ministry. Interesting. She must not talk to Potter and Weasley very much anymore. He’d seen both men in the short time he’d been working for the DMM.
“I was given a job at the ministry. In the Department of Magical Maintenance.”
“Really? And do you… enjoy working there?”
Draco scoffs, thinking about the hellish tasks he’d done in just the last week.
“No, but I have to be employed full time as a part of my reintegration,” he says honestly.
“I take it you’d prefer to work elsewhere?”
“What, are you hiring?”
He means it as a joke. Or at least a jibe. But she gets this startled look on her face and starts shaking her head.
“I don’t think-,” she begins.
“Forget it,” he interrupts, mortified. “I was only joking.”
“It’s very rude to interrupt, Malfoy. I was only going to say that I don’t think Laura would appreciate me making hiring decisions on her behalf,” Granger says softly, as though she knows how hard it was for Draco to admit he wanted her help.
Her eyes flitter over the tattoo he knows peeks out from his collar.
“Laura…,” he clears her throat.
“Is the owner,” she looks away.
Right. What is Draco supposed to do with that? It isn’t as though he can work here.
“Um, she was actually talking about hiring someone during the day. She’ll be in at seven if you would like to speak with her,” Granger says, swaying from one foot to another once more. Seemingly a nervous tic.
“Wouldn’t you mind? Me working here?”
Granger shakes her head.
“Laura will probably ask your favourite and least favourite book for the interview,” Hermione picks up a stack of books and comes out from behind the counter. “You always did know how to dress.”
Draco looks down at himself, pleased that he changed.
It’s just past six according to a clock on the wall which has arms made out of caterpillars.
“I’ll come back later,” he says, not wanting to linger unnecessarily.
“Draco,” she peeks out from the row.
“Yes, Granger?” He puts emphasis on her last name, not sure how to take her sudden use of his first name.
“Have you got a wand?”
“No. It’s another term,” he tries to sound calm, but he hates having to admit he can’t even cast a spell.
“I see,” she says, and then she disappears back into the stacks.
Draco leaves, not sure quite what just happened.
When Draco comes back at seven, Granger is standing close to an older woman, maybe in her forties.
She is wearing a bright yellow frock and the largest hoop earrings Draco has ever seen. He’s a bit surprised she can stand upright.
Both women look up at the sound of the bell above the door ringing and he smiles, though it feels awkward and forced.
Draco never thought he’d be asking for a job, let alone in a small bookshop.
“Hello,” Laura smiles, her eyes catching on the spot just beneath his chin where his tattoo peaks out.
Perhaps he should invest in a turtleneck.
“Hello,” walks towards the counter and offers a hand.
The woman takes it warmly.
“How can I help you?”
Draco spares a glance at Granger and finds she is biting her lip. So she hadn’t spoken to Laura about his possible appearance. Perhaps she had hoped he’d change his mind.
“My name is Draco and I was wondering if you were looking for any extra help,” he stumbles over the words.
“Draco, what a unique name. Not literary like yours, but still unique,” the woman turns to smile at Granger.
Granger nods and grabs a clipboard.
“I’ll be next door,” she exits quickly.
“So, you are looking for a job?” Laura asks, sitting down on a small stool.
Draco nods, trying to keep the smile on his face. Except he’s terrified she’ll laugh him out the door. He’ll never be able to show his face again. And a small part of him would be really crushed by that.
“What is your favourite book?”
Granger had warned him.
“The Lord of the Rings,” he says, as though confessing.
“And your least favourite?” She asks, her tone grave.
He thinks about it. He should say the Monster Book of Monsters. That was an awful thing to have to carry around.
“Pride and Prejudice,” he settles on.
“Really? Why?” She cracks a half smile.
“It shouldn't have ended the way that it did. Everyone is happy. Unrealistic.”
Laura breaks into a full smile and nods.
“I don’t entirely agree, but of course you are entitled to your opinion. So, can you do full time?”
What? Just like that?
“Um. Yes. Please. Absolutely.”
“Excellent. Hermione could use some help staffing the store anyways. She’s always so busy,” Laura says cheerfully.
“Sounds like Granger,” he mutters.
“Oh, do you know Hermione then? She didn’t say,” Laura gets this twinkle in her eye that Draco doesn’t quite like the look of.
“We went to school together,” he says vaguely.
“You’re a wizard then?” Laura practically jumps up from her stool. “Oh that’s perfect! You can help next door as well.”
“Next door?”
Laura waves a hand over her shoulder and heads for a door marked storage.
Draco follows close behind, surprised when instead of a closet, they enter a store nearly twice as large as the one they just came from.
It’s a wizarding bookshop. Where the muggle side sits in quiet, well-organised disrepair, this half of Turning the Page Books is alive.
It is much like Flourish and Blotts, with spellbooks, brewing cauldrons, and quills dancing over parchment. If Draco thought the other half was stuffed full, this one is practically overflowing.
Granger is hunched over a long low desk covered in bundles of parchment.
“Hermione, dear, this young gentleman, Draco,” she turns back to confirm his name. “He says that you were in school together.”
“Yes, Laura. Draco and I were in the same year,” she sets down her quill and stands, her own dazzling smile lighting up the room around them.
Of course Hermione Granger doesn’t work in a muggle bookshop. He was daft to have thought as much.
“He can help you with the brewing, and the dark artefacts and the-”
“I haven’t got a wand,” Draco cuts in before he has to listen to a list of all of the things that he certainly can’t help Granger with.
If he tried to handle a cursed object, he’d likely be dead before he could do anything about it.
It’s part of why he doesn’t check his own post. One nasty witch or wizard with a grudge against an Ex-Death Eater could mean a very painful demise.
“Oh,” Laura leans closer, getting a better look at his tattoo.
When her eyebrows go up, he expects her mouth to open and inform him that they actually aren’t looking for any help.
“Not a problem, Dear. Just manning the muggle half will be a huge help, won’t it Hermione?”
Granger nods and Draco adds it to the list of reasons she probably doesn’t hate him.
“Come along, Draco, we can discuss what you’ll be doing next door. Leave Hermione to her translations,” Laura practically shoves him back through the door to the muggle half of the store.