She took a half step, instinct calling her to rush over and explain, insist they didn’t have to empty their shop just for her. At least with the library and the dressmaker, Draco had sent word in advance of their intent to visit, and a request for the shop to be empty. The haircut had been an impulse decision—they’d had no chance to prepare. She might have blushed profusely once and felt guilt over the inconvenience and embarrassment at her own folly, but now merely stood and watched until the last customer had left.