No Longer Helpless

Chapter Eleven
Between Wands, Wings, and Innocence

The sound of a shop bell rang through the air as Hermione stepped through the door into Olivander’s wand shop. Once again she was wearing Draco’s heavy forest green cloak. She had drawn the hood back upon stepping through the door into the sweet solace of the empty store. Draco held the door open while she moved further in. He stood at least half a foot taller than her in his muggle clothing of black slacks and buttoned navy blue dress shirt, cuffs rolled up for the warm weather.

It hadn’t been until they stood waiting in Gringotts bank for assistance that Hermione noticed how easily he might blend in with a muggle crowd. To her, there was no difference or odd transition from one world to the next, so between muggle and wizarding clothes she took it all in and perceived it as normal.

Now though, she had to admit she preferred him in muggle attire, as it accentuated his nicer features. From broad shoulders, to a narrow waist, to a sexy butt he was eye candy to say the least. She had taken notice earlier and decidedly stared at the floor and willed unwanted thoughts from her mind.

Holding the door open for a lengthened moment of subtle surveillance, Draco waited as Hermione stepped all the way in. It had been more than safe for her to roam free of disguise in the bank, since all Gringotts associates were sworn to a oath of secrecy and discretion that made exceptions for no man or creature.

So, while Hermione had been listening intently to a stern, but rather kinder looking than the rest, goblin, he’d felt able to relax slightly. If there was ever a safe haven for them it was Gringotts, second to Hogwarts, even better than headquarters.

Having been slightly more relaxed inside the back, he’d found himself studying her rather than the milling crowds they’d been surrounded by outside.

His study had led him to a few less than acceptable conclusions.

Granger was definitely no girl next door, which was why it was so difficult for him. Had she been just another pretty face or body, it would have been easy for him, the prince of Slytherin, to make the observation but attach a mental post-it stating, ‘Cute, but stay away! Granger equals gruesome death by hands of Pot-head and Weasel-bee.’

No, it wasn’t like that. She didn’t have an appearance that was merely appealing. She had an appearance that was breathtaking and eye catching. So eye catching that he had to hide her underneath a damn cloak to keep her off the male population’s radar and unnoticed.

Since their little truce, if that’s what trusting each other meant, he found himself constantly thinking about her, so much so that it was getting annoying. Thoughts aside, the second they had started back outside of the bank he’d thrown the cloak over her for his own ease of mind and for the safety issues.

Her muggle clothes didn’t leave much to be imagined. Although they revealed nothing, as the jeans were long and not necessarily tight and her shirt was at a cut just under her collarbone, they still outlined her curved figure. They showed every sway of her hips as she walked, every gentle bounce of…well, yes, he was watching rather fixedly, which was why the cloak eased his creative mind.

Now he stood behind her, staring down at her abundance of golden brown curls that fell down her back. He had come to the conclusion that Moody had made Hermione his charge for more than one reason. On a slier note, he had decided Moody set him up to be near the girl to make him learn self control, of both the mind and body.

It was now his goal to banish all sex driven thoughts about Granger and focus solely on her protection. He would do it if it killed him. Dammit, if she kept looking up at him with those innocent eyes death might actually be the only way to stop his racing mind.

Hermione looked back at Draco, having seen no one inside the shop, she wanted the okay to wait for a bit if need be.

He nodded, so she walked in all the way and went to the front desk to ring the bell. Not being used to the on again, off again routine for heavy clothing, it took her a minute before realizing she should undo the cloak. Draco however took another liberty of his authority to order her, which she only allowed him to do since he was her designated Watcher, and swatted her hand away from the clasp.

He undid it himself, telling her, “You can leave it open, but keep it on.” She might be slightly uncomfortable being so warm, but he would be unnerved if he had to watch her before he was able to Zen himself to a higher train of thought.

Rolling her eyes she left the matter alone, not even touching base on how controlling he was being. “Fine, but you’re buying me ice cold lemonade. I’m only this hot because you insist on me wearing this.”

While she was uncomfortably warm, it wasn’t unbearable. Truth be told, she only ever made to take the garment off with half the intention to actually remove it. The other half was for Draco to stop her and make him move closer. In fact, she might miss wearing it, because once it was gone she wouldn’t be able to feel its comfort or have its scent.

Oh, it was a sad day for all headstrong and smart girls when they began to subconsciously crush over the school’s trademark bad boy. Then again, wasn’t that the fantasy and part of the forbidden appeal. Mentally, she slapped the back of her hand, willing all thoughts from her mind, except those that had to do with a wand.

“What may I help you with?” came an old, even toned voiced. Mr. Olivander parted a set of purple curtains that acted as a door between the main room they were in and an out of sight stock room, full of wands.

“I’m sorry to tell you sir, that my wand has been destroyed.” Hermione knew of the man’s love and dedication to all wands, so she tried to show him her own sorrow for what he would have thought was more akin to the loss of a child rather than a stick of wood that focused energy.

She wasn’t faking however, as she felt like she was missing a hand. “I need a new one, is it possible to uh… find another match?”

For a man that reminded her of Einstein with his fluffy white hair and madman features, he seemed gravely solemn. “Never, I’m afraid. There is only ever one true wand for us all, and of course should you find something even remotely close, you- uh miss, miss-”

“Granger,” she input helpfully. He could probably recite what type of wand she had lost now that he had her name, but he couldn’t remember her face.

“Granger?” he said in surprise. “Yes, well as I was saying, the one you have lost, you have also spent the last six years building a bonding compatibility with it. However, I do believe you have a rare circumstance which I’ve never come across the likes of in all my years. I was shocked, to say the least, when Dumbledore approached me. Give me a moment and I’ll retrieve your wand.”

Hermione was about to pipe in that she hadn’t the foggiest idea what he was on about, when Draco rested a hand on her shoulder and stopped her.

Once Mr. Olivander was safely behind the curtains he commented, “Let’s see where this goes.”

“What has Dumbledore been up to that has to do with me?” she asked Draco, as if he would even know.

“There is a lot the old man does that is better left unsaid and unknown. I certainly don’t pretend to understand a single thing about him,” he replied.

Shortly after, the shop owner came back through the curtains holding a solid black case, containing a wand judging from its dimensions. He presented the case to Hermione.

Hesitating, only long enough to look at Draco and receive a nod to continue, she took it and opened it up. A brief, but blinding flash, of white light came forth. Hermione stared utterly transfixed at the contents, a simple wand, and yet it called out to her. It was hers, and she needed to have it in her hands now.

Suddenly, the case was snapped shut and wrenched from her grasp by Mr. Olivander. “Indeed, this is your wand. Ten inch oak, simple enough, but most rare and special of all is the core.” There was pause, in which the old man was obviously waiting for a willing and excited guess.

Appeasing the man, if only to distract himself from the short release of raw magic he had just seen, Draco ventured lamely, “Unicorn hair?”

“Hardly worthy in comparison, my dear boy.” The old man turned to Hermione, who after having been pulled from her trance didn’t feel like playing games, but rather having her wand. Seeing this, he stated, “I am pleased to say I made the core from Angelus’ feather. I have you to thank, dear, it was a great honor to do so. Never had I imagined I would be able to work with such a rare item. Most powerful. Yes, this wand will suit you far better than your other. I advise you, don’t handle the wand until you are in a more suitable environment, as it will unleash an initial surge of raw magic from you.”

Having spoken his peace, he handed the black box to Draco, giving him a pointedly obvious look that said even louder than his actions, almost spelling it out so that Weasley might even get it, ‘I’m giving this to you, so don’t let her open it just yet.’

Draco almost had to bite his lip to keep from making a snide remark about the man’s skills, or lack thereof, for being subtle. Instead he settled for stashing the box under his arm and nodding in compliance to the wand maker. “How much?” he asked. A simple shake of the head told him the last of what he needed to know.

Once outside, Draco tried not to laugh at the antics of the excited feline. She danced from foot to foot in front of him asking, “Can I have it? Please, I wanna hold it. Give it to me, please?”

Her curls bounce wildly and her eyes danced with excitement. He wondered if she was so focused on the wand that she had forgotten who he was, thinking she was perhaps in the presence of her knights in shining armor.

“Not until we get back to Hogwarts,” he stated sternly, not knowing why Mr. Olivander insisted upon being somewhere else, but taking the man’s words seriously.

Crestfallen, Hermione repositioned the cloak hood and turned away. Stepping forward, but not going anymore than a couple feet away from him, which was the farthest she’d wandered since their little sidewalk chat.

‘Is she pouting?’ he wondered most amused at the constant emotions and actions Granger kept showing him. If he laughed openly now, she’d probably become seriously angry, so he merely smirked and followed.

Their earlier trip to the bank had revealed to them exactly what Draco had thought it might. The Granger’s had indeed kept their money and assets within a Gringotts vault. As dentists, they’d been practical people, so there was a last will and testament drawn even though they were in their mid forties and not even considering retirement yet. Everything had been left to Hermione, their pride and joy as a daughter, who was smart with her feet firmly grounded enough to manage money capably.

What surprised him, and shocked Hermione, was the amount of money being left. ‘College fund,’ was the term she had used, something about having one started since before she was born and then as business flourished more and more was added monthly, each year they upped the amount they added, considering it a wise investment as their daughter seemed prone to schooling.

Just because she had never been lacking in anything she’d wanted didn’t mean she knew they’d been rich. She was under the impression that they were simply well off. And now, between how much their dentistry business was worth and the life insurance, she had a vault that would keep her comfortably set for the rest of her life.

While the whole money affair wasn’t a happy business, the letters they had left behind were. Reassuring letters from both her parents, about how proud they were, had put a smile on her face. From her mother was a post message, encouraging her to indulge a little and go on a shopping spree to the nearest bookstore, reminding Hermione to enjoy life.

That had been why Hermione was smiling as they left, and why Draco was not happy. The prospect of shopping for the next three hours did nothing to make him smile, though not many things ever did.

It took all her smooth talking and pleading puppy dog eyes to get him to agree to let her shop in muggle stores. He in turn insisted that if she was to try on each and every outfit, of which there were countless, then he had to at least be with her in the dressing room.

While he assured her it was a matter of life and death, she assured him it was a matter of his own life or death if he didn’t remain outside the door.

Slowly, he counted down the minutes. When she hadn’t come out for a bit he called in. Her reply was that she was trying on different outfits. He told her there was no way for him to know whether she was okay or not, so she needed to say something every now and then.

Somehow, he didn’t know how, it came down to her showcasing what she was considering buying. So now, she was parading around in an extremely short skirt, heels, and, Merlin help him, something called a halter top.

He was no longer counting the minutes out of boredom. He truly felt that if he didn’t get her to stop showing off her damn body in those decidedly seductive muggle clothes, he’d lose him mind.

Just when he seemed to find his senses again, and managed to scan the area, doing his best to wave off the sleazy smiles he received from some of the girls and women, Granger would come out.

She’d be wearing something that revealed something that sent messages to his something.

“Granger,” he managed through gritted teeth and closed eyes, he couldn’t bare to keep looking at her lean and smooth and shapely legs any longer. “You’re not getting that.”

Half of this display and drawn out clichéd shopping spree was just to annoy Malfoy. Most of the outfits she tried on, like the one she wore now, were things she’d never dream of wearing in public.

While she could more than pull the look off, it wasn’t her, and never would be. This was her convenient revenge. It allowed her to get all the clothes and replace her lost items, and also exact revenge for Draco making her have a crush on him.

Okay, so that wasn’t exactly his fault, and probably something he didn’t deserve revenge for, but if he hadn’t been so insistent on her keeping close to him them she would never have realized he was something of a cute guy, when he wasn’t being his Malfoy self.

Besides, there was also the last six years to answer for.

“Why not?” she asked, without any real conviction, referring to his command that she wouldn’t buy the skirt and shirt, which amounted to the same amount of material as pair of pants.

Out of no where, came a wolf call. The whistling group of ‘adolescent pricks’, as Draco deemed them, sent him over the edge. He stood up and forcefully, though not roughly, escorted her back into the dressing room.

He searched around a bit before finding a long sleeve shirt and another pair of jeans. “These,” he commanded, before leaving a stunned Hermione, and returning to send a death glare at the group of boys who had been ogling her.

Hermione came back out, wearing her original pair of faded blue jeans and red Gryffindor t-shirt. She made the final purchase, as this was the last store of many.

The only items she bought were the two garments Draco had gruffly handed her. She hadn’t meant to push him over the edge, somewhere along the line she had begun to treat him like she would have Harry or Ron, which was a big mistake as he was nothing like either of them.

The whole rest of the way home, back to Hogwarts, Draco kept her close but at a distance. That is, she was in her usual spot right beside him, but he didn’t as much as glance her way.

Finally, feeling guilty, since he had patiently waited for over two hours before blowing up like that, she started, “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to play the joke so far.”

“Joke!” Draco rounded as they were half way back to the common room, both their arms full of shrunken bags. “What joke?”

“Uh,” She looked at him oddly, surprised he hadn’t known she wasn’t serious. “All those clothes, I was trying to make you tired and bored.”

“Yeah, sure, tired and bored!” He was angry at her perceived innocence.

“Look, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to take it so far, I didn’t know you would get so angry over it.” She was starting to wonder why he had gotten so angry.

“Granger! Do you even know what I’m on about? Did you hear those guys?” He was almost at a loss. She couldn’t possibly be so naïve about it, could she? This didn’t seem to be some act she was putting on.

“Yeah, I know what you’re angry about. I made you wait patiently while I spent forever and a day trying on clothes I never intended to buy! What guys?” She was starting to get confused, were they even talking about the same thing anymore?

He made no reply, needing to think a moment. This was a new one for him. Yes, Granger was a rather innocent sixteen year-old, perhaps seventeen, he wasn’t sure. But, was she really that naïve about her own looks?

Even if she couldn’t see it, everyone else could, so that must have directed her attention to it. Unless of course…

Leave it to tweedle-dumb and dumber. With them flanking her night and day, of course no male Hogwarts student would dare approach her. She truly had no clue. Well, he certainly wasn’t about to tell her. “Never mind,” he sighed, continuing to walk back to their common room.

Reluctant to let the matter drop, feeling as though she were missing something important, she persisted, “What’s wrong?”

Not having been far from their destination, Draco was tapping one of the stones with his wand when he threw the catnip ball in another direction. “I think you can have your wand now.”

Hermione jumped in excitement, practically pushing him through the door and rounding on him, with a gleeful look in her eyes screaming, ‘Gimme! Gimme!’

For dramatic effect, he prolonged things by slowly setting all the bags down and drawing the case out from one. He couldn’t help but amuse himself, since she had just admitted to torturing him in those stores. He felt compelled to give her a taste of her own medicine.

He held the box up above her, displaying it just out of reach. She actually jumped a few times, comically resembling a cat after a toy, before she seemed to stir from her fixation and caught on to why he was so animatedly laughing.

She narrowed her eyes in determination. Something about the wand was drawing her, much like a cat to catnip. Hermione leapt forth, jumping and latching onto Draco. Easily he was able to support her, but conceded by flopping himself down onto the couch as she straddled him, more than happy to comply at this point.

Smoothly he raised the box behind himself, forcing her to reach forward and closer to him to grab it. She grasped the box and sat up slightly, too transfixed to even remove herself from atop her new counter part.

Opening the box she thought she heard something, a song or note, calling out to her. The wand was simple polished oak wood, and yet she hadn’t seen such a lovely sight.

Promptly she grasped the wand. There was a flash of light and loud flap, like when Mrs. Weasley whipped a large sheet when hanging laundry or making a bed.

Hermione simply stared at the wand in her hand, no longer sure what all the fuss was about. Just a second ago she felt like she had to have it, now it seemed just like her old wand, but that wasn’t to say she was ungrateful.

Draco, however, stared in awe. Truly an angel, Hermione was a sight before him. He knew of course, about her wings, as he had questioned Moody on the Angelus. But being told what he might expect from her and actually seeing it were two different things.

Hermione seemed wholly unaware that she now straddled him, with great white wings spread out behind her. Just when he was about to say something, she seemed to look up from her musings and notice his awestruck eyes. Another flash and the feathered anomalies were nowhere in sight.

“What?” she asked.

He shook his head, wanting to laugh to himself. “Nothing,” he stated simply. At least his life would never be boring with her around.


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