Turning the Page

Draco decides quickly not to mention how much he’d enjoyed watching Levi. As it stands, Levi has Pansy to watch him. Draco is hardly the model babysitter.

Sure, if there were another emergent situation, Draco would have no problem watching him. 

Which is bizarre. And out of character. At least that is what his own mind tells him. So he’ll not be saying anything to Granger and will instead just hold onto the small hope that another situation does pop up.

Work the next day is normal. 

He gets in early and organises a stack of pulled books, flipping the sign at precisely nine o’clock.

No one comes through the door until almost ten.

It’s a young woman, maybe a couple years younger than Draco.

“Good morning,” she greets, ignoring the stacks and heading straight for Draco.

“Good morning, is there something I can help you with?” He asks.

“I sure hope so,” she smiles, leaning on the counter.

Draco just stares at her, waiting for her to tell him what she needs.

She responds with a smile that shows too many of her teeth, “I’m looking for Linda Howard’s books.”

Draco nods, grateful she knows the author. While he is fairly familiar with the store now, he still has trouble with finding vague requests.

He stands up and walks around the counter, pointing towards the romance section.

“You’re very tall,” she says, stepping close to him.

“Howard should be on the top shelf at the end of the row,” he replies.

“Will I be able to reach it?” The girls actually giggles.

Draco doesn’t want to, but he walks down the aisle and shows her precisely where Howard’s books are, within the girls' reach.

She picks one titled Mr. Perfect, giggling once more and thanking him profusely.

He slips past her and heads for the register, marking down the pulled novel.

“I never normally do this,” she pushes blonde hair behind her ear. “But would you like to go for a drink with me? After your shift?”

No.

“I’m seeing someone… sorry,” he repeats the lie that he had probably given half a dozen times since starting working here.

“Oh of course, right. I should have guessed,” she rummages in her purse, pulling out her wallet, a notepad, and a pen.

Draco watches as she writes down her name, Sophie, and her telephone number despite his brush off.

“My friends and I go for drinks at Pilot Light every Thursday. You should come, bring your partner,” she hands him the piece of paper.

“Sure, maybe,” he accepts, trying to figure out why in the world she’d invite a perfect stranger out to a bar.

Just then, Laura pushes into the room, seemingly emerging from an office space.

“Hello,” she greets Draco and then the customer.

They exchange pleasantries, and then the girl leaves with her purchase, insisting again that he meet for drinks. She even clarifies with an “as friends.”

“She was pretty,” Laura says, rifling through a drawer of the file cabinet Draco hadn’t dared open. It’s stuffed full of receipts, records, and pictures that probably aren’t even related to Turning the Page. Nor are they likely from this century.

Draco reads her the note.

“Sophie. Pretty name for a pretty girl.”

“Sure, she was pretty,” he concedes.

Laura stands up and faces Draco.

“Why don’t you want to go out with her?”

Of course she wouldn’t beat around the bush.

“I’m seeing someone,” he lets the sarcasm roll off his tongue.

She swats at him with the paper in her hands.

“Don’t you think you have punished yourself enough?”

Draco isn’t sure how to respond to that. He didn’t think he was punishing himself. Sure, the world was getting in its licks, but he wasn’t doing himself any harm. Was he?

“Perhaps I have my eye on someone else. Someone a bit older, raven hair, couple of greys, a position of authority over me,” he gives her a smouldering look.

She swats at him once more, laughing loudly.

“Glad to find you have a personality somewhere buried under all of that angst, Draco.”

He just rolls his eyes and helps her shut the file drawer, crunching papers down into it.

“Hermione told me you watched Levi for her last night. Thank you for doing that. I was stuck in a corner hiding from a pretty nasty poltergeist chained to a cursed box when she came to my rescue,” Laura explains.

“Of course, I’m glad you’re alright.”

“Isn’t Levi wonderful?”

Draco isn’t sure what to say to that.

Sure, the kid was smart and talented, but wonderful?

Not a word he’d ever use if he could help it.

“He’s a lot like his mother,” he settles on.

“Like I said, wonderful! Anyways, I’m just going to pop next door and do some cleanup. The place was practically destroyed last night,” Laura pulls her wand out and Draco gets a familiar pinch in his chest.

“I’ll be here,” he sits back down, reaching for his latest read- The English Patient.

The store has a few more customers before lunch, but none of them are so chatty as Sophie. 

Draco finds himself repeatedly thinking of her offer.

Going out for drinks.

That is what young people like him are supposed to do.

He can’t do it in the wizarding world, but he’s not sure he wants to do it in the muggle world.

Sure, he’s grown a definite appreciation for the mundane existence of those without magic, but he doesn’t aspire to be like them.

He’ll get his wand back one day. Hopefully before his five year probation is over, but some day at the very least. He’s a wizard. 

Still, it might be nice to go for a drink with people who have no idea the wrongs in his past.

At noon, Draco is about to flip the store sign to pop out for lunch when the back office door swings open, revealing Granger.

It’s early. Too early for her to be in yet. 

“Are you alright?” he drops the sign so it clangs against the door and walks towards the back of the store.

Granger holds up a bag for him to see. 

“Believe it or not, Granger, I can’t see through things.”

Sending him a particularly feisty look, she rests the bag on the table and pulls out three plastic containers.

“I brought lunch. To say thank you,” she explains, stealing his seat but also transfiguring an umbrella stand into another one.

“You already said thank you,” he drolls, eyeing the containers with a bit of curiosity. He’d have probably just gotten a sandwich around the corner.

“It’s pasta bolognese and a vegetable medley,” She pulls the tops off the first two containers.

He tips his head towards the third.

“That’s dessert. It’s a surprise,” she conjures plates, silverware, and napkins before heating the food and portioning it all out.

He still hasn’t sat down.

“None of it is poisoned.”

“I don’t think a Gryffindor would go with poison if they wanted to kill someone. You’d probably use a muggle weapon, like a knife or a hammer.”

“I don’t think a Gryffindor would commit murder,” she parries back and he smiles.

“I didn’t say murder. Just killing someone. Justifiable homicide,” he can’t help but have the last word.

Draco takes his seat and digs into the food in front of him.

It’s pretty good. Reheating spells never work perfectly, but it does taste fresh.

“How is it?” Granger asks, digging in herself.

“Good,” he compliments.

She smiles and they eat quietly until it is apparently too much for both of them to handle because they open their mouths and begin to speak at the same time.

“You go ahead,” he insists.

“I was just asking if you had any plans for the weekend?”

Right. She wants to have small talk.

“Laundry. Perhaps a bit of reading. Nothing of note. You?” He clears his throat, reaching for his tea and swallowing thickly.

“Levi and I are going on a trip. I’ve got a portkey to Australia, to visit my parents.”

He’s relieved. Her parents had survived. That was one piece of information he had been afraid to look into.

“They must be thrilled to be grandparents,” he says, knowing how desperately his own mother had wanted grandchildren.

She nods, eating a forkful of pasta.

“Mason’s parents live here, in London. Levi gets to see them a lot more,” she says, a slight sadness behind her words.

“Do you like them? His parents,” he clarifies.

She eats another bite, this time shrugging non committedly.

“What, there are actually people Hermione Granger doesn’t like?”

She bristles, looking up at him with a cool glare.

“It isn’t that I don’t like them. It’s just- before Mason died, I’d never met them. He was estranged from them for years before we met.”

“Estranged? Why?”

Again, he feels as though he is asking about something he has no right to know.

“They are wealthy. The Walsh family is one of extreme influence in the United Kingdom. For muggles, they have a great amount of power. Mason wanted to study English, be a scholar. A professor eventually. His father practically disowned him,” she explains, stabbing her food quite aggressively with her fork.

Muggles disown their children? Draco supposes wealth always carries a heavy burden of responsibility.

“And then after he died, they came to visit me, and Levi.”

Draco can’t imagine what that must have been like. 

“They’ve provided for us, for my son. They helped us find somewhere to live, and they buy Levi everything he could ever want, but they expect certain things of us. Of me,” she sighs, putting down her plate.

“Things you aren’t comfortable with,” Draco surmises.

She nods.

“So why let them?”

“They are Levi’s family. I can’t just cut them out of his life. I don’t know what Mason would have wanted given the situation, but I do know that he would want Levi to know where he comes from. Who he comes from. So, I tolerate them.”

That’s complicated. 

“It seems to me you are being too generous with them. They shouldn’t get to dictate how you raise your own child.”

She tilts her head to the side and her brow does that adorable little scrunchy thing.

“I wouldn’t expect that to be your opinion, seeing as you grew up with money,” she points out.

“And look where it got me. I’m more of a believer in free will than anything else at this point.”

“Free will,” she repeats, sipping from her glass and picking her plate back up, resting it on her knee.

“When does your portkey leave?” he asks, pivoting the conversation back to safer waters.

“Friday afternoon, when Levi gets out of daycare. We’ll be gone until late Sunday. Laura will cover for me,” she says, assuming he is asking about the store’s hours.

“Lovely,” he finishes his lunch, setting down the empty plate and staring at the mysterious third box she’d brought in.

“You’re worse than Levi is. Go ahead, you can open it,” she chuckles, pushing it towards him.

He does, pleased to find a tall slice of chocolate cake laying on a piece of parchment paper.

“Did you make this?” He asks, unfolding the box further so he can pull it out to slice.

“Yes, well sort of. I used a spell recipe out of a book, but I guess,- yes. I did,” she became shy all of a sudden, which he doesn’t quite understand.

Draco slides the slice onto his plate and cuts it into near perfect halves, and then offers her the plate.

“Go ahead, I’m not hungry enough for it yet,” she waves him off.

The first bite is divine. He feels like he can taste the magic, which has never happened before in all his years of eating sweets made by house elves or witches or wizards.

“Granger, this is delicious,” he says, shoving another ungraceful forkful into his mouth.

“You sound surprised,” she smiles.

“I am surprised,” he confesses.

“Oh, I nearly forgot,” Granger puts down her plate and fishes in the brown bag the food had been in.

She pulls her hand out and reveals a small white screen, like the telephones he had seen muggles talking on.

“I thought you might like this. I know it gets awfully quiet in here sometimes,” she holds it out.

Draco sets down his fork and takes it gently. There is a long wire coming from the bottom of the tiny machine with two weirdly shaped bulbs on the ends where it splits.

“It’s called an iPod. I haven’t put any music on it since last year so just let me know what you enjoy and I can update it,” she says, pushing back a curl. She carries on explaining the small piece of technology to him but he hardly hears a word beyond the small squares ability to play music aloud for him, so he doesn't have to face the quiet.

Draco feels a bit dizzy.

Perhaps it’s the sugar from the cake. It’s been a while since he’s eaten anything so rich.

Sure, that’s where the feeling is coming from.

Looking around the store and finally settling his gaze on Granger, Draco can hardly believe the turn his life has taken.

She’s somehow gone and gotten him the perfect gift without even trying.

“Thank you, Granger. This is- well it’s perfect." He breathes out, sure that he hasn’t done anything to deserve this.

“I’m so glad, I was worried you’d prefer something to read, but I wasn’t sure of your interests and you seem so particular,” she rambles on.

“It’s the best gift I’ve ever gotten really,” he says quietly, trying to remember how she’d said to make it play.