No sooner had the man finished speaking about wanting to be the young mistress than a witch retorted without hesitation:
"Wake up! Look at Miss Granger, she's outstanding in every way—her poise, looks, and intelligence. Seeing you makes me want to throw up!"
How dare you talk like that!
Did I say something wrong?
The two started arguing on the spot, their voices growing louder and louder, and it looked like they were about to pull each other's hair and start fighting.
Crookshanks, inside the cage, impatiently flicked its tail, internally grumbling:
These two-legged creatures are so noisy! Arguing like crazy over something so trivial is utterly unreasonable! I'm just a cat, I just want to be quiet!
Draco immediately calmed the situation with one sentence. "Stop fooling around. Everyone here today will receive a bottle of our hair styling Potions as a token of my appreciation."
The noise stopped abruptly, and the two who had been arguing immediately ceased their conversation, their anger turning into surprise.
They thanked Draco profusely and happily left the shop with the Potions.
Mrs. Prim breathed a long sigh of relief, patting her chest and saying, "Thank goodness you intervened, young master, otherwise things would have really gotten out of hand today."
Draco glanced indifferently at Hermione, who was still secretly pleased in the mirror, and said casually, "Just a little trouble."
Mrs. Prim, her eyes filled with admiration, said sincerely:
"Young Master, your styling skills are truly amazing! If you weren't a young master of the Malfoy family, I would have offered you a high salary to be our shop's exclusive stylist!"
"I can write down some design tips and technique notes for you," Draco said casually.
Mrs. Prim was overjoyed and quickly said, "Really, young master? Thank you so much! But... isn't this too much trouble for you?"
"It's alright," Draco said calmly.
"This shop was invested in by the Malfoy family. The better the business, the more money my family will naturally make."
"Madam, I've seen it all – how hard you've worked here all these years, managing things so well."
Mrs. Prim's eyes welled up slightly, and she said respectfully:
"It's all I should do! With your notes, young master, our shop's skills will definitely reach a new level, and business will surely boom even more!"
Draco nodded. "I'll have the notes sent over as soon as possible. You can also teach the techniques and tips to your most trusted employees; there's no need to keep them to yourself."
"Thank you so much, young master!" Mrs. Prim bowed repeatedly, then tactfully stepped back.
She smiled and said, "I won't disturb you and the young mistress any longer. Please call me anytime if you need anything."
After saying that, she quietly retreated behind the counter, leaving the cozy space to the sweet young couple in front of her.
The shop finally quieted down. Draco walked slowly behind Hermione, gently placing his long arm on the edge of the vanity mirror, pulling her into his embrace.
"Well, honey, have you seen enough?"
Hermione felt weak all over, her fingers still resting on her newly styled curls, and her cheeks instantly burned.
She hurriedly tried to pull away from his embrace, but he gently wrapped his arms around her shoulders, making her unable to move.
The girl in the mirror had bright, lively eyes. She was clearly overjoyed, yet she bit her lip, refusing to give in, and muttered softly:
"Who, who can't get enough... I'm just checking if I've cut it wrong."
"Oh? And what were the test results, Miss Granger? Are you satisfied with your husband's cooking?" Draco asked with a smile.
Hermione's cheeks flushed crimson at his use of the word "husband." She slapped his hand away from the edge of the mirror, turned to glare at him, but because she was sitting, she could only tilt her head back.
"Who's your wife? Who's your husband? Don't talk nonsense."
Draco chuckled, leaning forward and placing his hands on either side of the dressing chair, completely encircling her in front of him. His gaze locked onto her eyes. "I won the bet, forgot?"
Hermione turned her face away from him, her fingers unconsciously twirling the curls on her shoulder, and stubbornly said:
"You barely qualify as a winner..."
"Barely?" Draco pinched her cheek.
"Who was that staring at themselves in the mirror for ages, practically grinning from ear to ear?"
Hermione was even more embarrassed after her secret was exposed, and she pushed his chest away. "Get away from me!"
Draco, beaming, straightened up, reached for the pet cage by the door, and then took her hand.
"Let's go, honey, we need to go back and pack our things, or we'll miss the train for school tomorrow."
Hermione let him lead her, her fingers wrapped in his palm, her cheeks still flushed, but she secretly tightened her grip on his hand.
Mrs. Prim stood behind the counter, watching the two figures leave hand in hand, and shook her head with a smile.
She then bent down to tidy up the counter, already looking forward to the styling tips Draco would send.
As soon as they stepped out of Lady Prim's beauty apothecary, the wind chimes tinkled, and all the wizards passing by on the street turned their gazes toward them.
Hermione instinctively moved closer to Draco, squeezing his hand tightly.
Her warm, reddish-brown medium-length hair shimmered with a softer caramel sheen in the Diagon Alley sunlight.
The small waves at her collarbone swayed gently with her steps, and her side-parted, wispy hair made her eyes and brows appear even more lively.
Walking on the stone-paved road,
Every step he took drew the attention of passersby.
Some people stopped and whispered their admiration, while young witches huddled together, secretly examining her hairstyle and quietly discussing the exquisite color and curls.
Even older wizards passing by would take a second look, their eyes filled with admiring smiles.
She attracted a lot of attention, with everyone on the street focused on her.
Hermione felt a little embarrassed by the stares, her cheeks flushed slightly, and she glared at Draco, muttering a complaint, "It's all your fault, making yourself so conspicuous, everyone's looking at me."
Draco shrugged, feigning seriousness. "Alright then, since my wife doesn't want to attract so much attention, I'll go back and change it back to the way it was before."
"No!" Hermione blurted out without thinking, then realized her mistake and quickly changed the subject, "I mean, you don't want the conditions you've agreed to?"
Draco watched her frantically try to explain herself, and the corners of his mouth curved into a wider smile.
Hermione blushed even more at his laughter, reached out and slapped his arm, saying coquettishly, "Stop laughing!"
"Okay, okay, I won't laugh anymore." Draco stopped laughing, but couldn't help pinching her flushed cheek.
Hermione glanced around and noticed that many eyes were still on her, so she quickly tugged at his wrist and said:
"Let's go home quickly."
"Okay," Draco replied, his gaze sweeping over the appraising eyes around him, a hint of possessiveness flashing in his eyes.
"I don't want others to see my wife either. I'll bring her home so I can admire her myself."
After saying that, he put his arm around Hermione's waist, and with his other hand holding the Crookshanks cage, he recited the Apparition spell.
The next second, the three figures disappeared from the streets of Diagon Alley and instantly appeared at Hermione's doorstep.