𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐠𝐥𝐨𝐫𝐲 | 𝐝.𝐦.

fifty

A storm is drawing nearer to the street of London where the pair are strolling. But no water comes pouring on them, only snow, although the muggles around them are seeking shelter already, colliding carelessly into shops strewn along the street.

Betty's hands are full, marks from the paper bag strewn temporarily along her wrist. She had splurged with money that was not her own.

Although, it wasn't all her fault. Draco had swayed her into buying everything her eyes fell on, if not pushed the clothes into her hands.

An air of discomfiture settles on the girl and boy, as stabs of curious glances come their way. A group of girls are eyeing the luxury bags that Betty wields, wondering the extravagance she comes from.

Then they note the identifiable expensiveness of Draco's suit, and realisation dawns on them, visible in their gawking leers.

"Are you sure your father would be pleased with this? Considering... well, you know, he doesn't quite like me?" Betty asks, voice soft beneath the pressure of awkwardness.

The boy shrugs. "He doesn't know about this. Also, the money's not all his. Doesn't look like it, but my mother does have savings of her own. She came from money, you know."

"And she's willing to spend it on me?"

Her surprise does not go past his ears.

"She's fond of you," he says plainly.

A bashful smile lurks at Betty's lips. Then something catches her eyes. A shop with doors that were dusty and tinted.

But the shelves of packaged snacks leaned against the shop's pane. It was familiar. She remembers the same store at the neighbourhood of her old house. The business had a chain of stores scattered all over the country.

Betty begins to stray away from the path that they were taking back to the hill they apparated from.

"Lin - where are you going?" She hears the boy grumble behind her.

She enters the shop and a wave of nostalgia rushes over her. This is the closest she has felt from home, she thinks.

The convenience store is empty of people. Even the shopkeeper is absent from the cashier's post, but her voice rings clear from the back room. She is scolding another worker behind.

A bell above the door dings as she steps inside. Then, a second ding curated from Draco's entrance.

"What is this place?" he questions, nose wrinkling from the waft of a hot dog basking in the oven.

His scrutinising gaze falls on the stacks of packaged food lying next to his body - food he has clearly never had the taste of.

"A convenience store. You don't know?" she teases meagrely. Then remembers. "Right, you haven't had lived the muggle experience before."

She explains, "Back at my old house - the one that was burnt down by those ghastly death eaters, we had this exact convenience store. My siblings and I used to come here every time we wanted an easy dinner. It's got everything you need."

A look of doubt displaces his critique. He picks up a bag of crisps. "Three pounds? This doesn't seem healthy."

Betty fights the urge to roll her eyes. "Unlike you, I didn't have the privilege of elves feeding me a good feast everyday."

Then she wanders off, leaving the boy to explore the tiny store himself. She reaches the frozen food section where a yellow box catches her searching eyes.

It was her brother's favourite food. Every time their mother was off working and they were left to their own fends, she would wake up early to cook her siblings this precise breakfast.