Woolworths
Woolworths by Alex
Draco Malfoy was lost.
His original bet with Pansy had gone seriously askew as it was apparent that he was lost in Muggle London. His frequent swearing kept gaining his some strange glances off some of the Muggles, yet a slight sneer in their direction had them quickly looking away.
Any normal person in this situation may have admitted defeat and Apparated home, but he had decided that he wasn’t lost, merely… detained somewhere.
He glared at the blazing sun which, despite the heat-repelling charm on his skin, he could still feel burning. He walked past one store and felt a gust of cool air flow through the doors. He immediately stopped and gazed into the dark, cool interior. The red, glaring sign of ‘Woolworths’ was lit above his head, but no-one could see the internal war that was going on inside his head: cool air versus the Muggle-ness.
A particularly cool burst of air made up his mind for him and, before he knew it, he was standing in the cold, shadowy interior. It was ecstasy.
His eyes adjusted to the new light and a variety of sweets became visible amongst drinks and toys and things he couldn’t even name. Draco would never like Muggles, but he couldn’t deny they had style.
His contemplation was cut short as he caught sight of a suspiciously familiar head of black hair. His body swerved around immediately and it was indeed Harry bloody Potter. Of all the times to see him!
He quickly looked for a place to hide and swiftly walked to the nearest shelves and tried to look deeply interested. His hideout didn’t last long though, as only a minute later he felt a presence behind him and an incredulous voice said, “Malfoy?” Draco plastered a sneer on his face and turned to face the Boy-Who-Lived-Twice.
“Potter.” He hadn’t changed in the two years since the war ended. Those green eyes still looked out from crooked glasses and he still wore the most ill-fitting clothes known to man. But Merlin’s big pants, he wore them well.
“What are you doing here?” Potter’s voice was laughingly high and his cheeks slightly pink.
“I’m not lost,” Draco blurted out before he could stop himself. Before he even had a chance to be annoyed with himself, Potter’s eyes started sparkling with laughter.
“Right. Well, I’m just about finished here. Fancy walking to Diagon Alley with me?” Potter’s question was carefully posed so as to not hit at Draco’s infamous pride.
In this case, Draco’s decision was a quick one. Stay in Muggle London until Merlin knows what time, or walk with Potter and at least maintain a sense of independence.
“Lead the way, Scarhead.”
Once again, Potter’s eyes let him know that he was amused, but he refrained from commenting and they swiftly left the shop.
Their embarrassingly short walk to Diagon Alley was silent and they arrived at The Leaky Cauldron in record timing. Just before opening the door, Potter paused and looked at Draco.
“I don’t suppose you fancy a drink and a bit of a catch-up?” This question was hesitant and Draco was fully prepared to give an extremely rude rejection.
“I suppose I could be convinced to eat some chocolate fudge cake.”
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