Scene Type: Join-In (Post in Thread to Play) / Finished
Characters: Draco Malfoy, Audrey Miller Location: Diagon Alley, London, UK
It was about 10:30 in the morning in Diagon Alley on Valentine's Day, and for being a major hub of wizarding bustle, the alley was rather sedate. Plenty of wizards and witches were still about, but there was no hustle, there was no haste, and a few magical couples were looking horribly lovey-dovey. The air above Diagon Alley was charmed to gently drift down heart-shaped pink, red, and white snow-flakes that melted gently away when they landed on surfaces.
However, those people who passed by Ollivander’s wand shop would give it a wide berth, for every so often, there were small explosions or shuddering shakes or bright lights or any number of unexpected bangs and smells issuing from within. This was, perhaps, a little more than what usually happened when young magical children came to be fitted for wands.
The reason? Draco Malfoy was inside, helping himself to trying out wands.
And where was Mr. Ollivander? He was hiding in the back, his ears charmed to not hear Draco, and a protective enchanted bubble around him and his working space as he made wands.
The man had had enough and refused to assist Draco Malfoy with finding yet another wand that would work with him. So, Draco simply plonked a heavy bag of gold galleons on the man’s desk, told him he didn’t need the help of the old man, and suggested the man wear some earmuffs.
While Mr. Ollivander grumbled to himself and concentrated on his work, Draco Malfoy was randomly pulling out boxes of wands, inspecting their labels, wrenching open the tops of those boxes, and pulling out wands. He waved, flicked, swished, whirled, and did all manner of motions with wands, finding every single one to be not .. the one. Draco had waved enough wands in his life to know what wrong and right felt like.
Sure, the letter from the Supreme Mugwump in the morning had given him an uplift in his mood, but being back in Ollivander's for the umpteenth time had brought it right back down.
After waving a maple wand that caused a horribly inappropriate noise and bang to burst forth from the wand tip, Draco flung the wand on the pile of discarded options, not even caring to put it back in its box. He then growled as he wrenched off a pair of black robes embroidered in patterned silver spirals, wadded it up, and threw it on the sole spindly chair in the front of the shop. Hand then ruffled angrily through his hair, as if he was trying to shake a burden out of those pale locks, and he stomped over to another shelf of wands, gathering them up in his arms by hand to put on the table near the spindly chair.
“I’m taking down more wands!” he called to the man in the back who couldn’t even hear him.
