The Right Thing To Do

Chapter 4

A week had passed without another Daily Prophet picture of the Malfoy family. There were still articles hypothesizing on what Draco would do now, or if he would be visiting Lucius any time soon, but they were assigned to the middle pages of the Prophet, probably not worth much without facts or a photo.

Hermione closed the paper and tucked it into the drawers next to the cash register. She was fortunate to have enough space at the U-shaped register desk to work on several things at once. She looked around the empty bookshop and breathed in her favorite scent: books. It was probably one of the main reasons she chose to ask for a part-time position at Cornerstone Books. The smell. Hermione missed the Hogwarts library more than her childhood home at times. It was the smell. It reminded her of fixing things, and the power of knowledge, and magic.

The front door squelched open, bringing a gust of wind, and her hair lifted off her neck before settling again. The positioning of Cornerstone Books on the corner of Diagon Alley and Horizont Alley was fortunate for marketability, but unfortunate for the wind tunnels and twisters created on the corner. Hermione patted her hair down and looked up to see the hag that always visited at 11AM on Saturdays. Hermione's heart fell when she realized it was only 11AM.

The hag glanced at Hermione as she scuttled to the back. Hermione chanced a smile but knew it was no use. The hag had never spoken or smiled, eerily reminding Hermione of Bathilda Bagshot – or more accurately, the corpse of Bathilda Bagshot. She had asked Morty about the hag early on, wondering if she should keep an eye out for missing books, but Morty insisted that the hag had been a loyal customer though she'd never bought a thing.

Hermione grabbed up the pile of books to be shelved and headed to the fiction section. She placed them in their rightful spots, rearranging a few misfiled titles in her work. Honestly, who in their right mind would be so disrespectful as to pull a book off a shelf, look at it, and then place it back on another shelf? Hermione had set up a "To Be Filed" basket in every section of the store, hoping that the customers would use it.

A few customers were milling about, some sitting and reading the first few chapters before deciding. Hermione returned to the register desk and began filing yesterday's receipts that Morty had left for her.

"I thought you worked for the Ministry." A voice drawled from the counter.

Hermione whipped around and her eyes popped out of her skull when she saw Draco Malfoy standing at the register. His hair had changed. It was neither slicked back like the early years, nor cropped short like sixth year, but something in between. He had locks of blonde falling over his forehead. He was still lean from Azkaban, but he had more color, if you could call it that. Her eyes passed over his clothes, noting that he had well-tailored grey robes on. He raised a brow at her and she found her voice.

"No. I mean - I mean yes, I do, but not on the weekends. On the weekends I work here."

Draco stared at her, then looked around the store. "Obviously," he said. Hermione's neck grew hot. "But why?"

She opened her mouth, but nothing came out. She'd been asked that question multiple times by her friends, by admirers who stumbled upon Cornerstone Books. She'd always been able to answer with little anecdotes like "to keep busy" or "I miss the Hogwarts library" or "I get a discount!" But all of these sounded foolish when talking to Draco Malfoy.

"It's a bookstore. I like books." Hermione could have jumped in front of the Knight Bus right then and there. The blush spread up her jaw and she felt a bead of sweat rolling down her back.

He puffed a tiny laugh that didn't reach his eyes. "I remember." He'd perfected condescension over the years, or else Hermione wouldn't know how to spot it. "I'm picking up a book."