Turning the Page

Turning the Page is hosting a book signing in a few days and Draco is more nervous about it than he rightly should be.

Laura had trusted him to organise it.

Which included communicating with the muggle author, Kid Stuart, and putting out advertisements in muggle newspapers, as well as creating a flyer to hang on the surrounding streets. It had felt a bit juvenile, but he’d put more effort into it than he had put into most of his schoolwork.

Currently, he is working on how to fit more than ten chairs in the space without expanding the room. 

If he had his wand he’d just expand the space, or shrink the books.

“You seem to be having a very hard time, Malfoy,” Pansy says from the magical entrance, chuckling.

He ignores her, sliding another small brown chair towards the wall alongside the small platform he’d set up for Stuart.

“Maybe you ought to make it standing room only,” she takes a crisp from Draco’s lunch.

Draco rolls his eyes and then wonders if she has a point.

No, he will make it work.

"You've put on a bit of weight."

"Oh, fuck off,” he turns to growl at her.

“Finally a response!” Pansy laughs, eating another chip.

“Would you stop eating my lunch?”

“Granger packed a kale salad, this is way better,” she says, eating another chip.

“Watching Levi again are you?”

“Nah, he’s at that muggle school she’s enrolled him in,” another chip. 

Draco grabs the small paper bin the chips are in and promptly shoves the last six in his mouth. 

“You’re an animal,” Pansy says, now reaching for Draco’s sandwich.

“You are the one eating my food!” He says exasperated.

“Granger said that Laura mentioned you were asked on a date,” Pansy switches gears, ignoring the fact that she has commandeered his lunch.

“You do love a bit of gossip,” Draco replies.

“So it’s not true?”

He glances down, right at the small card with the girl’s telephone number on it.

Pansy of course snatches it up almost immediately.

“Sophie? Sounds like a tramp,” she reaches into her pocket retrieving a small grey telephone.

“What are you doing?”

Pansy is typing something into the buttons of her telephone.

“Giving her a call. It says Thursday night. I take it you haven’t got any plans?”

“Pansy, don’t.”
Except no one on earth can tell Pansy Parkinson what to do.

So he watches in horror as she lifts the phone to her ear and winks.

“I’m going to kill you,” Draco grits out, wishing he could just ignore her.

Though he wants to turn away, he needs to know what Pansy says to this girl.

“Yes, hi, you gave your number to a man at a bookshop a couple of days ago?”

Draco feels a bit nauseous.

“Draco, yes. We were just trying to figure out what we are doing tonight and he mentioned your invitation.”

Liar. 

“Yes, I am. -Oh really? –Yes, definitely. -We’d love to. Excellent, Sophie. We’ll see you there,” Pansy says, her eyes alight with glee.

When she hangs up, Draco grabs the closest book and swings it at her.

“You absolute-,” he snaps.

“Don’t finish that sentence, Draco Malfoy. You owe me your gratitude. We are going out tonight,” she closes her phone and pockets it.

Then, as the cherry on top, she picks up his sandwich and takes a bite.

“No we are not,” he shakes his head.

“Well I certainly can’t go alone. I’ll probably end up arrested. I need a sullen responsible party to keep me company.”

Draco shoots her a look that he is sure is quickly losing its effect.

“Do you want me to move that row?” Pansy points to the stack of books hindering his set up for the book reading.

“Can you do it next week? The reading is on Tuesday.”

Perhaps he should offer a bit of gratitude. Here Pansy is, acting like his friend. As though no time has passed since they were laughing in the Slytherin common room.

“Sure, if you agree to go out to that bar with me and try to have a good time.”

“I thought I was a sullen responsible person?”

She smiles, standing up.

“Well you certainly can’t go wearing that. I’m off to go shopping. No arguments.”

And then she apparates, right in the middle of the store.

Which only makes Draco more frustrated with her.

How she can be so care free. Even Granger is weighed down by the world.

How the fuck is Pansy Parkinson the one who is okay?

Draco gives up on arranging chairs and stores them in the alternative office space that can be found behind the magical door so long as the caterpillar hung on the wall is sideways.

He finishes what is left of his sandwich and then resumes sitting and reading, his main work activity.

At just past two, a man walks into the shop, beelining to the back of the store.

“Hello,” the man greets, his thick brows arched in a confused manner.

“How can I help you?” Draco sets down his book.

“I’m looking for Hermione,” he looks around as though she will pop through one of the walls.

Except he looks like a muggle.

A not terrible looking muggle. He’s got dark features and he’s tall, not as tall as Draco but tall.

“She’s not in,” he informs him.

“Aw, really? Alright, well I’m just hoping to talk to her about something,” he shrugs.

“I could give her a message,” he offers, not really intending to pass said message along.

For some reason, he hopes this guy gets a bout of amnesia and forgets all about Granger.

Which is stupid.

“No worries, mate. Just tell her I’ll see her tomorrow. I’m Barrett, by the way,” he says cheerfully.

Draco nods.

“Okay. Cheers mate,” Barrett nods, leaving quickly.

Draco is definitely not his mate.

Granger comes into work early again. Just after three. 

“Some muggle was in to see you,” he says, not glancing up from his copy of the Sunday Times.

“Did this muggle have a name?” She asks, moving from one stack to the next.

“Brian? Or Bernard?”

“Barrett?” She straightens up, looking at Draco.

He hates the sudden curiosity in her voice.

Draco shifts his paper so that it hides the scowl on his face.

“Possibly. I don’t really remember,” he drawls.

“He’s looking for help for his son. Accidental magic. I told him I’d show him some tools to use to minimise the damage his son’s tantrums cause. Did he leave a contact number?”

Draco is an idiot. 

“Um, no. Just said he’d talk to you tomorrow,” Draco tells her what he had planned on keeping to himself. He’d obviously assumed incorrectly concerning Barrett’s intentions.

“His son and Levi are in the same music school. On Friday’s they do parent hour,” Hermione expands on Draco’s understanding further, making it even more embarrassing that he’d been so bothered.

“That’s… nice.”

Hermione takes her stack with her into the other room and Draco folds up his paper, staring at the closed door.

When she pushes back through the door, he stands up from his chair and tries to look busy, but instead he just looks like a deer in headlights.

“How was the morning? Make any sales?” She asks, giving Draco an escape from his awkwardness.

“A couple. Denny was in again. Bought another King novel,” he smiles, knowing how much Granger enjoys the older customer.

“Sometimes I just want to walk him to the library and explain that he can take them all out for free. He keeps this place open,” she smiles, her eyes crinkling.

“I’d like to be an old man like him.”

Hermione stops what she is doing and cocks her head.

“I think I need some more information?”

“Well he’s just sort of happy. He’s always pretty happy.”

“You don’t have to be an old man who uses all of his spare money on Stephen King novels to be happy, Draco. You know that don’t you?”

Does he? He knows Pansy seems pretty happy. And Levi is pretty happy. But he isn’t as flippant as Pansy and he isn’t as young as Levi.

“Course I do,” he nods.