Shopping With a Malfoy is Hard on one's Budget
Date: Tuesday, 18 June
Time: Immediately after Order Meeting
Place: Wherever Draco decides
Characters Involved: Severus and Draco and anyone they run into whilst out and about
Rating: Probably PG - 13, because Draco has a potty-mouth
( Shopping used to be the one thing he could count on to lift Draco's spirits. )
Time: Immediately after Order Meeting
Place: Wherever Draco decides
Characters Involved: Severus and Draco and anyone they run into whilst out and about
Rating: Probably PG - 13, because Draco has a potty-mouth
( Shopping used to be the one thing he could count on to lift Draco's spirits. )
Severus wasn't worried about the expense. Not that he had money to be tossing about, but he knew what his budget was, knew how to say 'no', most emphatically, and already came prepared to buy Draco damn near anything he asked for, within reason. The only question was whether he would end up buying new teaching robes on this particular excursion as well, or not.
None of which was foremost on his mind as they walked.
Severus Snape really had not been a terrible Head of House. He'd dealt with everything from first-years sobbing in homesickness to seventh years puking their guts up all over his office when he caught them with alcohol in the common room and forced them to drink it all as a 'lesson'. He'd listened with stoic compassion as students grieved over the sudden death of pet, sibling, parent, grandparent, what-have-you. He had offered sound career advice, always offering advice which leaned away from the Death Eater path whenever possible. He did care about the emotional well-being of his students as well as the physical.
The students had to seek him for this assistance, however. He was not one to go wandering around asking 'how do you feel' and trying to get his students to prattle on about adolescent angst!
Draco was a case separate and apart, and Severus had often approached him, as he was doing now, trying to offer Draco a sounding board for whatever might be troubling him - with varying degrees of success.
"You were terribly quiet," he said, probing to see whether Draco wished to discuss whatever was bothering him. "I trust you are restored to your usual state of revoltingly excellent health?"
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Not that he wanted to be as much of a statue as his father, but he wished for a bit of that ability to become aloof and detached now. Though if he became any more detached, he'd probably be catatonic.
Draco shrugged idly and pushed his hair behind his ears.
"I'm fine," he said before adding, as if he couldn't help himself, "Health wise, at least."
Oh. Damn. Now Severus would probably see that as license to probe and poke and prod until the whole story came bleeding out and Draco didn't think he could handle that at the moment. He was already feeling like he'd been bled out. The night before had been particularly rough and he was still recovering. He couldn't handle another round of that kind of emotional wringing out.
"I, um, read Father's book. Most of it, anyway," he finally said carefully.
That wasn't the real problem, of course. More a base. A foundation upon which there were laid layers and layers of fucked up issues. But it was something, and perhaps something that Severus would understand.
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He raised a brow and cast Draco a look that conveyed both doubt and something of concern.
"Health-wise. I see," he replied cautiously.
"Ah, yes, your father's rather remarkable book. Just think how the sales of it are adding to your eventual inheritance. The author wove quite the exceptional tale with the tools and information at his disposal, did he not?" he asked wryly. "You surely did not expect your father to find anything less than the very best, did you?"
Still, he couldn't quite believe that was the primary cause of Draco's sullen demeanor.
"How are you, other than 'health-wise'?"
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Oh, Draco wasn't even going to think about that. No. Absolutely not. Instead he tucked his hands into his pockets and show Severus a reproachful looking.
"My father is an arse," he stated calmly but with feeling, ignoring the way his stomach rebelled against such words slipping past his lips. "And his book was a load of shit."
As for the other . . . Draco didn't really know how much to say. So he decided to continue to avoid getting drawn into a session of sharing.
"Fine," he lied, hurrying those last few steps toward and then past the wards. "The Leaky Cauldron, then?" he said over his shoulder and then, without waiting for Severus' answer, he Apparated away.
Avoidance never worked for long, and Draco didn't have much energy, but he'd run from his problems as long as he could. He was content with that.
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Bravo, Draco!
Not wanting to give Draco too much time to brood - or to escape, Severus Apparated quickly after him, spotting the young man at once in the alleyway behind the Leaky Cauldron - one of the more secure places to Apparate when entering Diagon Alley.
"This is clearly some new definition of 'fine'," he said, as though their conversation had not been interrupted by travelling hundreds of miles in a few seconds, nor by Draco's obvious 'flight'. He didn't face Draco, giving the younger man at least that much space, for the moment. Instead, he tapped the correct bricks with his wand and stood back, waiting for the archway to open.
One of the more shameful, secret lingering relics from his early Muggle upbringing was the renewed surge of awe he experienced, each and every time the archway appeared from nothingness to reveal the hustle and bustle and hubbub of magic just behind. He could still remember how his first view of the sight had truly taken his breath utterly away.
With a tilt of his head and an ironic arch of his brow, he indicated that Draco should go first.
"Since you are 'fine', let us go and find something obnoxious and extravagant, sure to lift your spirits and make you 'finer'. Care to enlighten me as to the amount of gold this mood-shift is likely to require?"
Gold. A measurement of Malfoy malcontent. Draco ought to know better by now. Severus would not question directly - at least not until he had an idea of what direction to take! But he would also not be likely to 'drop it' without attempting to find some easing of the problem.
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This time however? Draco was very much not willing to talk about it. He didn't know how. He didn't know what to say and everything was still so raw and ugly inside . . . And then Severus was at least allowing Draco the chance to be as vague in his confessions as possible. A small concession, but appreciated nonetheless.
Draco walked through the archway, glancing over his shoulder to make sure Severus was following, and shrugged.
"I hadn't thought about it, really," he said truthfully. "I suppose I'll know it when I see it. So," he added with a weak, but coy, grin. "You won't know how much it'll cost until then, I suppose. In the meantime, I'm sure you've got some boring errands to run and I'll tag along and whine about how much I want to go home. It'll be just like when I was little."
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"Very well, but I'll not let you sit on my shoulders no matter how much whinging you do, so I hope you have comfortable shoes."
Then, because his only real errand today was Draco's birthday present, and perhaps some new teaching robes for himself, he strode off down the main portion of the Alley in no particular hurry.
"Would you like to stop in the Quidditch shop?" he asked as they passed it. The sign in the window advertising the drawing caught his eye, as was its intent. Without waiting for a reply, he opened the door and held it for the younger man.
If nothing else, he would 'use up' some of his bad luck on losing the drawing, indulging himself in the whimsical superstition that such a thing was in finite quantity, and perhaps if he just used it all, he would quit having it!
"Here, before the whinging commences, toss your name into the drawing box. If nothing else, losing the drawing will give you something more to whinge about."
If Quidditch couldn't inspire at least a bit more animation from Draco, then whatever the 'problem' was would be revealed to be very severe, indeed.
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Severus hadn't just . . . ushered him into a Quidditch supply store, had he? Draco could understand if he'd suggested coming in here but to have Severus so eager to enter the shop? That was just a bit odd.
Draco raised an eyebrow to himself and then pursed his lips at the mention of the drawing. He wanted to say something disparaging about how he was a Malfoy. He didn't need to enter some silly drawing. That was just so common. And then he thought that his father or mother or both would say something like that and he clicked his teeth together against the urge to be a prat.
"Alright, but it's not as if I need to actively search for things to whinge about. I'm quite able to do it without any help, you know," he said before glancing over at Severus. "You're entering too?"
That wasn't a terrible shock, or it shouldn't have been. But for some reason Draco found it utterly unexpected.
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"I still follow the Falmouth Falcons," he muttered softly under his breath, as though the admission was something quite humiliating. "Why not?"
Still, he looked just a bit furtive as he slipped his entry into the container, as though hoping no one but Draco would see him do it.
Glancing about the shop, he looked back at Draco with a smirk.
"Anything in here suitably expensive for a birthday present? Or are you already in possession of all the Quidditch gear your heart desires?"
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Why not, indeed?
"Suitably expensive?" Draco repeated, glancing around and returning Severus' smirk with one of his own. "Of course. But I don't know . . ." He trailed off and walked around, glancing at all of the Quidditch gear.
It wasn't that he had more than he needed. He'd bought a new broom several months before and that was all he had. Most of his Quidditch gear just wasn't around anymore. What he'd had at Hogwarts was, no doubt, gone by now and what he'd left at the Manor he had no desire to retrieve. But he didn't think he'd find much use for any of it. It wasn't as if he was playing with any amount of frequency, after all.
Although . . . he eyed a practice snitch thoughtfully. He could definitely use the practice, and it might help take his mind off of things he if he took to doing so. It was hardly what Severus had termed 'suitably expensive' however, so Draco turned away from the practice snitch, resolved to buy one on his own at a later date.
"Nothing costly enough here, Severus," Draco said, aiming for cheeky and probably falling a bit short.
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