entanglements | d.m.

57.d&d

February '99 | H E R

Devyn groans loudly when the bell above the door at Dervish jingles, her head falling into her hands, elbows resting on the counter.

"What a welcome," Draco drones, sauntering over and tugging at her hair.

"She's been knocking things over the moment she stepped into the shop." Travers appears from the back, moving for the register, bumping Devyn out of the way as he does. "Do I get a reason why or do we have her finally committed?"

"Please do," she grumbles under her breath, that no one could hear. Anything to get me out of this.

A grin slides onto Draco's face. "We have a little date with my mother."

He can feel that she is nervous and unlike when she needed help writing an answering letter earlier this week, she refuses to admit her nervousness.

Resigned, she takes the apron off in a rather cramped space and rams her elbow into a big glass jar on display. Pain shoots through her funny bone. Better yet, the thing flies off the shelf and—

Hovers. Draco has his wand pointed at the jar.

A horrofying thing Devyn noticed is how the air thinned in the shop, how Travers flinches as well as how the customers behind her partner shy away, frightened of what the ex-Death Eater was doing.

Draco either didn't notice or pretends not to. Looking as even as the sky today, he magically places the jar back in it's place. Crisis averted.

Having witnessed that, Travers grumbles to no one in particular, "Remove her, please."

Yeah, she should get a move on. There's a date she has to get to and something tells her that Narcissa Malfoy doesn't take lightly on people being late, but Devyn feels a bit frozen, horrified at what just happened. A pair or two of eyes have glared the sort of daggers they hoped would be deadly at the back of Draco's head.

Devyn has half a mind to jump onto the counter this second and deliver a moving speech in defense for her... roommate. Her friend. Or cuss them out.

But the cold fingers brushing the skin of her neck bring her back to reality. Shivering, she watches Draco taking the apron off her. It only takes one look into his eyes to see that he did notice what happened and is ignoring it.

"Are you okay?"

She wants to balk, demand how he can possibly ask that when a gentle touch to her elbow reminds her that she is in pain. "Fine," she breathes, an errand strand of hair rustling.

He moves it out of her eye.

"Grab your coat and then we go," he says quietly, then goes ahead and puts said apron on the hanger.

The shop has returned to the usual routine, and though a handful of customers has rushed out, there is still a decent number inside, waiting to be charged.

Doing as he said, minutes later they move through a very busy village, and it's halfway to the Three Broomsticks that the inevitable near future dawns on Devyn.

"Are you sure that what I'm wearing is okay?"

She asked him before as well, before she left for work and she feels beyond pathetic because what does it matter what she wears? Clothes are not the deciding factor here.

"It's not like you'll go and shop new clothes on the spot," he replies dryly. "And if you're really curious, I'm about halfway hard right now."

She gapes, leaning in to hiss, "We're in public."