RP: We only fear what we do not understand...
Date: 15 September 1998
Characters: Draco Malfoy, Hermione Granger
Location: The Leaky Cauldron, The British Museum
Status: Private
Summary: Now it's Hermione's turn to rip Draco out of his comfort zone.
Completion: Incomplete
The door.
Draco eyed it from the bar, as though there were some great vicious beast about to leap through it, screaming and longing for his blood. He turned away from it, but his eyes came back to it again.
"Fine," he hissed, standing up, and flinching. The trousers were remarkably tight - Draco blamed them on Cormac, who had seemed unusually appreciative. If he'd just been honest...they were too small! The shirt was a little better, in white silk, but Draco couldn't quite get over the fact that there was nothing swishing about his ankles, no protective clothing saving him from such exhibition. It was a little embarassing, if he was honest, but Hermione had insisted on Muggle clothing.
Draco stepped forwards, flinching with each step as the trousers clutched his tender parts a little too tightly. He'd be allright...it was just one day, after all.
At the door, he reached out for the handle, and with some effort pulled it open and stepped out into the street. The last time he'd been out here, it had been in the evening, and he'd gone around the corner and been attacked. There had been no traffic. This time, he was not nearly so lucky.
The first thing that happened was that a cyclist rushed past at full speed, making him jump away from the road and press his back against the closed door. Then there was a great roar, like dragonwings, and something huge rounded the corner. His brain said 'Muggles call it a lorry. It moves stuff.' but his body screamed 'Get away! Get back!'
Draco retreated, slammed the door behind him and leant panting against it on the other side. He couldn't do this. He was going to go back home, and give it up, and pretend that knowing about Muggles wouldn't kill him; but the truth was, he felt like a goldfish released into a lake. Their world was so small, a tiny pool in the ocean of Britain. They were surrounded by them on every side, and yet here was Draco, just a tiny fish, petrified of the big wide world.
Hermione wouldn't understand. He knew she wouldn't. She'd been curious, interested, when she'd been embraced by the Wizarding World; but Draco's entire life had been one of caution and fear. He couldn't do it.
He went back to the bar, needing a glass of water for courage. Perhaps Granger would not make him go out into the street...
Characters: Draco Malfoy, Hermione Granger
Location: The Leaky Cauldron, The British Museum
Status: Private
Summary: Now it's Hermione's turn to rip Draco out of his comfort zone.
Completion: Incomplete
The door.
Draco eyed it from the bar, as though there were some great vicious beast about to leap through it, screaming and longing for his blood. He turned away from it, but his eyes came back to it again.
"Fine," he hissed, standing up, and flinching. The trousers were remarkably tight - Draco blamed them on Cormac, who had seemed unusually appreciative. If he'd just been honest...they were too small! The shirt was a little better, in white silk, but Draco couldn't quite get over the fact that there was nothing swishing about his ankles, no protective clothing saving him from such exhibition. It was a little embarassing, if he was honest, but Hermione had insisted on Muggle clothing.
Draco stepped forwards, flinching with each step as the trousers clutched his tender parts a little too tightly. He'd be allright...it was just one day, after all.
At the door, he reached out for the handle, and with some effort pulled it open and stepped out into the street. The last time he'd been out here, it had been in the evening, and he'd gone around the corner and been attacked. There had been no traffic. This time, he was not nearly so lucky.
The first thing that happened was that a cyclist rushed past at full speed, making him jump away from the road and press his back against the closed door. Then there was a great roar, like dragonwings, and something huge rounded the corner. His brain said 'Muggles call it a lorry. It moves stuff.' but his body screamed 'Get away! Get back!'
Draco retreated, slammed the door behind him and leant panting against it on the other side. He couldn't do this. He was going to go back home, and give it up, and pretend that knowing about Muggles wouldn't kill him; but the truth was, he felt like a goldfish released into a lake. Their world was so small, a tiny pool in the ocean of Britain. They were surrounded by them on every side, and yet here was Draco, just a tiny fish, petrified of the big wide world.
Hermione wouldn't understand. He knew she wouldn't. She'd been curious, interested, when she'd been embraced by the Wizarding World; but Draco's entire life had been one of caution and fear. He couldn't do it.
He went back to the bar, needing a glass of water for courage. Perhaps Granger would not make him go out into the street...