Unappreciated

Disclaimer: I do not own anything associated with Harry Potter; I do not earn money by writing this story.

A/N: A huge Thank you to dynonugget, who beta-ed this chapter during Christmas preparations!! *hugs*

Unappreciated

Dedicated to my late grandmother, who was the girl in the soup queue during WWI.

"Why don't you take off your choker?"

Hermione froze with her hand in the air, half-way to the antique silver-backed hair brush lying on top of her polished vanity.

Her heart pounded in her chest, pumping her blood with such force that she was sure it made her entire body tremble.

No.

Please.

With painstaking slowness, Hermione turned around to face him. Instead of looming over her, wand drawn, Draco was reclining on her ... on the chaise longue in the room she was currently occupying. One ankle was resting on the knee of the other leg, and his chin was held up by his fist, the elbow planted firmly on the curved, high side end of the piece of furniture.

He looked relaxed and at home, although a little frown stole into his expression upon noting her reaction.

Jeanne looked utterly scared as she turned to face him. He could have sworn that she had even stopped breathing, and he was just about to close the distance to her and ask whether she was alright when she released a shuddering breath and covered her choker with her hand.

"It's very important to me. My mother gave it to me; I promised to never take it off."

Draco cocked his head and stood.

"Let me see."

He was so close that she could feel his warm breath on her clavicle.

Don't look too closely. Don't touch it, please don't ... Oh no.

His finger slid over the cheap velvet band. There was a tingle of magic on his fingertip. Probably a conservation charm; the fabric would not have looked as pristine as it did with her never parting from it.

A tremor passed through her body, and he smirked at her delightful reaction to his touch.

Did she bathe with the choker around her neck? There was something undeniably erotic about her naked form with the dark green collar its only adornment.

He tilted her chin slightly to the side and kissed the spot between jaw bone and ear.

"I suddenly feel much less inclined to go out." He tucked a curl behind her ear. "Yet I must. And I know that you have been looking forward to going to Diagon Alley."

Hermione smiled and nodded. Although the Manor was far from being small and cramped and she could indeed go outside, she had started feeling the effects of cabin fever.

When Draco had proposed that she accompany him to Diagon Alley, she had jumped at the opportunity. She was eager to feel that she was not the only person left in this world, eager to smell the mix of scents that was the shopping district, eager to hear the noise of idle chatter, of hawkers praising their goods, eager to see the colours of the shop windows, the passer-bys, eager to just ... see.

Draco picked up the Emerald earrings from her vanity and carefully slid the hooks through her pierced ear lobes. Then he fastened the bracelet around her wrist and looked at the necklace with a pensive expression.

Sliding the pendant from the chain, he quickly pointed his wand at her neck, and to her shock he incanted a short spell directly on her choker.

Hermione thought she would keel over and sprawl out on the soft carpet.

Had he damaged it? Was it still working?

But when she looked in panic into the mirror above her vanity, it was still Jeanne looking back at her. The beautiful Emerald pendant attached to the necklace she never took off.

With a trembling finger she outlined the small diamonds surrounding the green stone in the middle. She would be wearing his gift at all times. And now for all to see.

***

Draco steadied her with an arm around her waist when the impact of Side-Along Apparition made her head swim. She shook out the fluted sleeves of her robe in annoyance over her clumsiness. She wanted to use magic again. Soon. She hated feeling incapable.

Draco draped her arm over his and started walking, effectively forcing her to keep up with him. Passer-bys immediately started staring. The red ribbon around the hems of the sleeves and the skirt were new, bright red velvet. A far cry from the washed out cotton ones that were sewn to her own robes and to the ones of most half-bloods on the streets.

Nippy had tried to persuade her to wear crimson robes that would have made the ribbons practically disappear from sight without violating the law. She had outright refused, thinking that wearing such a bold colour from head to toe would have drawn too much attention.

Now she realised that the stark contrast between her chocolate brown robes that were obviously of a very high quality and the expensive scarlet trimming was just as much of an eye catcher, if not more so.

Draco had briskly walked to the small pawnbroker's office and disappeared with the owner through a passage that was concealed by well worn curtains.

Hermione was left with a bailiff in the public area of the business. The patrons were all wizards and witches wearing marked robes. Many of them clutched small parcels or objects wrapped in pieces of cloth, cradling them protectively against their bodies.

They gave her a wide berth. There was distrust in their eyes, in their hunched shoulders and the way they huddled in the corner furthest away from her.

Her fine robes and jewellery made her an outcast in this world, as the red ribbon made her an outcast in Draco's.

***

"How about Fortescue's?" Or Madam Malkin's? Flourish and Blotts?"

Hermione looked around and finally cast her eyes down.

"As you wish," she said, but her voice lacked enthusiasm.

Draco frowned and she felt guilty for being such bad company. He had taken her to several shops she would have taken hours to explore before... before.

Now she did not have eyes for the pretty silver earrings with semi-precious stones, the self-inking quills that changed the colour of the ink at command or the newly released books, although there were very few nowadays. The remaining authors and publishers were trying to keep up appearances, but censorship cut deep.

"Come on," he smiled. "One scoop at Fortescue's. I don't even know your favourite ice cream flavour."

"Passion fruit sherbet," she mumbled and suddenly felt the need to blush when she saw Draco's amused half smile.

They walked along Diagon Alley slowly and Hermione could not help but notice that the situation had worsened in the weeks that she had spent in Wiltshire. The rift between half-bloods and pure-bloods, between Warren and everywhere else had become even more palpable.

A long line of children had formed at the far end of Diagon Alley. One shopkeeper stood in front of his business selling fine fabrics. His arms crossed in front of his chest, face frozen in a discontented scowl, he looked down on the line of ragged little wizards and witches, most of them marked red.

The queue ended in front of a long table with three steaming cauldrons on top of the charred wooden surface. Two witches stood behind each cauldron, one handing a piece of bread to the child whose turn it was, the other ladling a portion of clear soup with herbs and thin soup noodles into the extended metal bowl that the child would hold out to her.

The children would then go off to find a quiet corner to safely eat the precious contents of their bowls. Most of them chose a place that had a wall to lean on. Whether it was for comfort or to make sure that they could not be attacked from behind and robbed of their meal, Hermione could not tell.

The witches tending to the queue were pure-bloods; the robes underneath their stained aprons were witness to that. Some wealthy witches seemed to finally have seen the need to be charitable and set up a soup kitchen in an empty shop in the less-desirable part of Diagon Alley, the one close to the Warren gates.

Hermione let her gaze rest on the small forms holding on to the cheap metal bowls that were passed out to them in the queue. She slowed her step and felt the urgent need to reach out to them.

What was she doing here, in fine robes, clean and not in the least bit hungry? Was it truly justifiable that she was so far from the misery everybody else was being subjected to?

A piercing scream made Draco whip around, draw his wand and shove her behind him.

A portly wizard in ill-fitting block warden robes strode out of a small side street; his olive robes a bit askew as if he had just been in a scuffle, dragging a girl of about twelve behind him.

The girl clawed at his hand holding her wrist in an iron grip; she tried to dig her heels into the ground but the man was too strong for her.

The man was sweating and his face was covered in angry red blotches from the exertion. His eyes lit up when he recognised the High Reeve only a few metres away from him at the other side of the street. He hauled the small witch with brown pig tails the last steps and flung her to the ground at Draco's feet.

"High Reeve," he panted. "This little perpetrator stole food! She dared to claim a second portion from the most honourable and good hearted charity witches! I saw her cleaning her bowl with her apron and stand in the queue a second time!"

The block warden made sure to speak loud enough for his voice to carry far, drawing more and more spectators to witness his moment of triumph. He had brought a criminal before the High Reeve. Maybe now his application to join the Death Eaters would be looked upon more favourably.

"No! Please! I am sorry! I promise I won't do it again!" the little witch wailed, desperately looking around for a way to escape her fate.

With despairing courage she lifted her tear stained face to Draco and Hermione.

"He... he said he would not tell anyone, if I... if I... I could not do it! I am sorry, so sorry!" The crowd around them had started muttering and Hermione was shocked to realise that the comments were not in favour of the girl, calling her loose and a thief. Little hands wrung a dirty apron with bony fingers. "Please! I was so hungry!"

The words stabbed Draco in the chest and left a wound, bleeding guilt and despair into him, like infected blood.

Hermione could no longer control her urge to stand in between Draco and the girl and lay a trembling hand on his shoulder.

"Sir, please, she is just a little..."

"Not now, Jeanne," Draco cut her off.

"But, sir..."

"Enough." The word was not loud, but nevertheless made her step back, scolded.

Draco crouched down in front of the girl, bringing his head to about the same level as hers, as she was still on her knees.

"What is your name?"

"Louise," she replied with big round eyes.

"Louise, do you live in the Warren?" he eyed the washed-out ribbons along the hem of her frayed skirt.

She nodded.

"Do you know the way home?"

She nodded again, reluctantly as if she could not decide whether it would be too dangerous to reveal her family's home to him.

"Do you promise not to do this again?"

The girl nodded, this time with vigorous movements, her pig tails dancing on her shoulders.

"Next time, just go to the charity witches and ask whether something is left over."

Draco straightened and with a curt movement of his hand, he waved to the bailiff, who had accompanied them on their outing and had waited with Hermione while Draco was conducting business at the pawnbroker's office.

"Make sure she gets home safely."

The bailiff looked surprised but knew better than to voice it. He took the girl by the shoulder and directed her through the slowly dispersing assemblage.

People started walking away in all directions, resuming what they had been doing before being drawn to the spectacle.

Draco eyed the baffled block warden with cold eyes.

"That would be all, block warden."

He did not know the name of the man, nor did he care. The man flushed in embarrassment and spluttered, trying to cover his disgraceful exit.

A young couple walked past. For a moment, the woman's eyes met Hermione's and locked. She kept walking but her eyes stayed on Hermione as if straining to figure out what had caught her interest. Then she grabbed the arm of the man beside her and pointed to Hermione, whispering urgent words into his ear.

She let her eyes take in the expensive robes, the jewellery, and the markings only to jump back to Hermione's throat.

The cold blue eyes flicked back and forth between Draco and Hermione, who stood inexplicably frozen during the woman's perusal of her person.

Her head was thrown back and then she spit at her, the saliva flying the short distance between them and landing in Hermione's face, getting into her eye and running down her cheek to fall on her robes.

"Whore! You are no longer one of us!"

Draco was on her in an instant, wand drawn, pinning her down with one hand at her throat.

There was a dark gray velvet choker around the woman's neck.

Hermione fell to her knees beside the two, holding onto Draco's arm that was holding his wand pointed at the woman's temple, but unable to move the weapon away from the defiant face.

"Draco, please, no!" She turned to the woman on the ground and looked her in the eyes, trying to convey a message. "They don't understand."

The snow globe she was living in showed cracks and threatened to disintegrate.