||Black Scarves and Careless Hearts|| A Dramione Fanfic

2. Klutz

----
"We just have to grit our teeth and do it."
~Ron Weasley, GoF
----

It wasn’t easy getting past the crowds at Diagon Alley. Hermione was jostled and shoved along, and she continually looked up the signs of the shops she passed. A few people pointed to her and some tried to get themselves autographs, which Hermione politely declined. Finally, she caught sight of the place she was looking for. 

It looked ominous, and that was putting it kindly. The dusty sign that hung at the shopfront bore a bubbling cauldron carved into the wood, and it creaked every time it was moved by the brisk wind that wove through the crowds. The windows were grimy, and the whole place just gave off a general air of foreboding.

Just a building, Hermione scolded herself, and marched up to the door. A bell tinkled when she pushed the door open.

Just as suddenly as it had come, her courage seeped away.

Inside, the only sources of light were the candle stubs placed on top of the aisle shelves, which flickered feebly. The shelves themselves were stacked with several vials full of various liquids, flasks full of some opalescent substance which Hermione assumed was Mermaid tears, jars full of Gillyweed, glassy eyes, spider legs, and powders. Behind the front desk sat an elderly wizard, his head bent over a set of small brass scales. There was a monocle fixed to his left eye, which made it large and distorted the entire composition of his face. He seemed to be tediously measuring what looked like Armadillo Bile.

Hermione, unsure of how to catch his attention, cleared her throat softly. The man didn’t even look at her. 

“Um, hello?” Hermione spoke cautiously, and debated whether it would be impolite to wave her hand in front of his face.

“What?” the man asked gruffly, clearly annoyed. Startled, Hermione took a step back.

And walked right into the shelf behind her.

“Oh!” a whole lot of - mercifully empty - vials crashed to the floor, and shattered to smithereens, “I’ll fix them, just a mome-”

But she tripped over her own foot and reached out to grab something, anything, so that she wouldn't fall, and caused the entire shelf to topple over, narrowly missing her feet when she jumped backwards. For a long time the sound of glass breaking and wood splintering was the only thing to be heard. 

“Sorry!” she squeaked, absolutely mortified. She whipped her wand out, “Reparo!” 

The shelf righted itself, and its contents zoomed back into place. The vials reformed and set themselves on the topmost part of the shelf. 

“I’ll just...leave,” Hermione muttered. She felt like a complete klutz.

“Are you here for the apprenticeship?” 

Hermione stopped on her way to the door and turned around to face the man, her cheeks aflush with embarrassment, “Yes, sir.”

The man removed the monocle and rubbed his eye, “Name?”

Hermione swallowed, “Hermione Granger.”

The man blinked at her for a few seconds. But instead of going into a passionate speech about how much he admired Hermione for all that she had done for the Wizarding world, he nodded, “Do you have any particular reason for approaching me?”

Because I just lost my job, Hermione thought to herself, fighting against the temptation of rolling her eyes.

“I need a job,” she said instead.