“The beauty of lying is you only have to do it once to spread infinite distrust.”
- A.T. Burdett
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When Draco returned home later that day, it was with a distraught Pansy by his side. Her mascara was running down her sickly pale cheeks; her hair, done up in a bun, was half falling out; and she was talking very fast to no one in particular, things that Hermione could not catch but knew she was repeating herself. Needless to say, Pansy Parkinson was a mess, and all Hermione could do was watch as Draco sat her down in a chair and told her over and over that it was okay, grasping both her smaller hands in his.
Hermione had only just thought to say something when Draco got there first and barked at her to get a glass of water. Too stunned to even snap back at him, she complied. From the kitchen she heard him tell Pansy to concentrate on her breathing. But Pansy was saying no, she couldn’t do it. She wasn’t ready. And Draco was telling her again to just breathe. Hermione handed him the water and he passed it to Pansy.
“Just take slow sips,” he ordered her. When Draco used such a strong voice like that it was an effort for even Hermione to question him, and Pansy drank without having to be told twice.
“Is that better?” he asked her once she set the glass down.
Pansy nodded slowly. Then the chair fell back as she abruptly stood, covering her mouth and ran for the toilet.
“What’s going on?” Hermione asked, concerned as she started to stand also, but Draco’s hand shot up to stop her.
“She’s pregnant.”
“What?”
“You heard.”
Hermione gaped in the direction of the toilet. “How – how did this happen?” Draco gave her an are-you-serious look and she flushed. “You know what I mean. How long has she suspected?”
“She was three weeks late. Took a test today. It proved positive.”
She leaned in and whispered, “She only just takes a test today?”
“She’s been too scared to do one sooner.” He sounded annoyed now. “I’d like to see you do better with an unplanned baby.”
Leaning away, her eyes fell downcast. “I didn’t mean it like that,” she muttered. “I just thought she’d want the suspense over and done with.”
“Not everyone works the way you do,” he said heatedly, and then sighed and rubbed his eyes. “Sorry. It’s been a long day.”
“It’s okay,” she said quietly.
A pause ensued. Hermione stood and went to the toilet, this time without Draco stopping her.
She found Pansy not even in the small cubical, but sitting outside the door.
“Are you all right?” she asked.
“I’m grand,” she said, her voice shaking with new tears.
Hermione timidly sat beside her, waited for Pansy to tell her to bugger off, but it never came. Instead, she scooted closer until their knees were touching, and for a long time there was nothing. This silence was not uncomfortable, as she knew it would have been with Draco, but rather one where they were both lost in their own thoughts.
Three minutes it went on for until Pansy started crying again. Hermione reached for her, and Pansy rested her face on Hermione’s shoulder, where her cries became muffled.
“I can’t be a mother,” she whimpered.
Hermione rubbed her arm soothingly. “You’ll be okay.”
“Everyone keeps saying that.”
“Because it’s true, Pansy. You’re so much more competent than you give yourself credit for.”
“Says the girl who used to joke about my intelligence.”
“You are smart,” she pressed. “Maybe you weren’t good in the areas I was in, but you’re smart with people. With life. You’ve taught me a lot, showed me that sometimes I have to let go and go with the flow.”
Pansy lifted her face, mascara somehow smudged up to her forehead now. “You mean that?”
“Yes. Now, come on. This isn’t you. You’re the cocky, arrogant one, remember?”
She smiled a little, laid her head on Hermione’s shoulder again. “I guess.”
“We’ll take this whole thing one step at a time,” she told her.
After forty minutes of sitting there, patting her and reminding her that it was going to be fine, Hermione heard Pansy’s even breathing. She’d fallen asleep.
She smiled to herself just as Draco approached. Upon seeing his best friend sleeping against Hermione’s side, he paused, but it was only briefly and then he was bending down to pick up his snoozing friend.
He placed her on the sofa with Hermione following closely behind laden with pillows and a blanket. Together they made Pansy as comfortable as possible. Once finished, Hermione and Draco stood back, her face so peaceful that Hermione could pretend today had never happened. And, as she stood there, it really dawned on Hermione exactly how much could change in an ordinary day.
One day was enough to define the rest of your life.
***
“I think Malfoy should come to the wedding.”
Hermione snorted. “Sure. While you’re at it lets invite Cho Chang.”
Ginny’s eyes narrowed slightly. “To be honest I think she’d flood the place with her tears.” Hermione raised her eyebrows and Ginny smiled. “No, but I’m serious. Mal – Draco should come.”
Hermione paused their movie and moved to face her. “What brought this on?”
“I don’t like him, lets just get that straight. But everyone else is allowed to bring someone of his or her choice and I know you’re too polite to pick him because you think it’ll upset us, but it wont. He’s going soon. Might as well be with him while you can.”
“I’m always with him.”
She sighed exasperatedly. “Look Hermione, bring him or not. I don’t care. I only wanted to let you know that you could.”
Hermione was going to tell Ginny she appreciated the offer, but she didn’t need to see Draco. They were separating soon, she might as well get used to it. She was really going say it. But when her mouth opened, something else came out.
“Thank you.”
***
“I hate wizards chess.”
“Then why did you suggest we play it?”
“Because I was in the mood for it.”
“And you’re not now?”
“I’m not now.”
“Too bad. We’re not stopping just because you don’t feel like it.” Draco’s tone was bleak and short and had Blaise glancing up at him with his mouth turned down.
“What’s got your dick in a knot?”
“Nothing.” Only it was something. Earlier Pansy had asked – no, begged – if he could help tell Blaise about her pregnancy. That was how things had started out, anyway. He had no real problem being there with Pansy as she told Blaise. He supposed it was what friends did. But when they’d arrived at Blaise’s Pansy somehow (with her talent of tricking men into doing whatever she wanted) convinced Draco to do all the telling himself while she waited outside. And thus here he was.
“What do you think about kids?” Draco asked him, watching as one chess piece moved forward to destroy the other.
“Eh.” Blaise shrugged. “There’s not much to say about them. They poop. Cry every waking hour. Smell of death. Talk too much. Eat everything within range.”
Draco grimaced, the conversation sounding eerily familiar to that of his and Pansy’s.
“Why do you ask?” When Draco took too long to search for a reply, Blaise looked up again curiously. “Draco, what –” He broke off, his expression turning to understanding as a slow grin spread across his face. “Oh, shit, mate.”
“What?” he asked warily.
“I know what this is about.”
Anxiety curdled in the pit of his belly. “You do?”
“Yep.” Blaise leaned back in his chair, observing Draco with that cocky smirk of his. “You knocked up Granger.”
“What?” he choked, and had Draco been drinking anything, he might have spat it out.
“This is great,” Blaise went on. “I always thought you two would make beautiful babies. And with your cunning and her bravery and both your looks, intelligence and wit combined, that kid could rule the world.”
“Blaise, that’s not –”
“So, tell me. How was she?”
“This isn’t –” Draco tried again.
“See, I’ve always imagined Granger would be untameable. You know, all business on the outside, but once she’s in bed she’d turn into this wildfire –”
“Blaise!” The thought of him and Granger like that made him feel slightly flustered.
“It’s the quiet ones that surprise you. How do your parents feel about this? Draco Malfoy and Hermione Granger sharing a child. Who would’ve guessed –”
“I’m not the one becoming a father, Blaise!” Draco exclaimed, rising from his chair in frustration. “Its you, you’re the one who’s going to a be a dad!”
The grin on Blaise’s face quivered. Wavered. Died. His eyes lost that gleam to them and dulled; they flickered to the table between them at the chess pieces, but Draco knew he was not seeing them. Guilt swept through him, thinking he had handled that badly. He had not meant to tell Blaise so bluntly that his life would now be different.
“Sorry,” he said rather awkwardly. “I didn’t mean it to come out like that.”
“Pansy… is she…?”
Blaise could not say the word, but Draco nodded. “Yeah. She’s just outside, you know, so you two can talk about – about what you want to do.”
Blaise did not react to this and only continued to stare at the table.
“She’s just as frightened as you –” Draco began, needing something to fill the awful silence, feeling the need to say something comforting. Except he had never been good at comfort, and they both knew it.
Blaise stood abruptly. “I, uh, I need a moment.”
“You don’t want me to –?”
“No.” And as though he had forgotten this was his house and could easily have asked Draco to wait outside, Blaise Apparated out.
The familiar crack had Pansy opening the door and coming in, nervousness etched onto her features.
“Where did he – he go?” she asked uncertainly.
Draco relaxed his face, tried to appear calm and confident for her. “He’s gone out. But don’t worry. He’ll be back.”
But Blaise did not come back. His ‘moment’ lasted for five hours with the both of them sitting quietly at the dinning table, waiting for the return Draco had promised. Pansy’s eyes were glued to the door, she would move whenever there was the slightest sound, and her once hopeful face would turn to one of disappointment when she realised that it was no one.
Draco did not think he could stand to see her crestfallen expression much longer, and he stood.
“Don’t go anywhere, all right?” he asked her. She did not respond. “Wait here. I’ll be back.”
Draco left before he could hear Pansy murmur to no one in particular; “No, you won’t.”
***
“Blaise is gone.”
Granger set down her Daily Prophet. “I thought he would.”
“Oh? You thought he would, did you?” Draco mocked, the stress he’d felt but had tucked away for Pansy’s sake seeping out. “Gosh, thanks Granger. I really don’t know what I would do without your help!”
She moved toward him, glaring. “Don’t you start in on me, Draco Malfoy.”
“All I’d like is some kind of suggestion as to what I should do, not a statement of the obvious!” He was being irrational again, he knew, but he could not stop the feeling of utter failure and fear – failure because he had promised Pansy this would not happen, fear because he did not want to lose his friends all over again.
Granger grabbed him by the shoulders when he started to pace. “Stop for a minute and think.” She paused, their gazes locked. “Where would he go?”
Draco clenched his jaw and thought. “McDonalds?”
“Why there?”
“Food.”
Granger shook her head. “No, Draco. Think harder. Somewhere that means something to him.”
“Why does it have to mean something?” he demanded, tone impatient.
“Because when you’re running away from something, the first place you go is somewhere that holds some kind of significance. A place that makes you feel better.”
Draco went silent and thought again. “There’s a – a dance club he likes going to. We go there all the time. Well, used to anyway. It was really just for picking up girls when we were younger…” Trailing off, he took a breath. “He always said it was his favourite place to go to when things turned shitty, because the music and people distract you, so you can’t really think and you… forget.”
“Where is it?” she asked eagerly.
“Oxford Street.”
“More specific than that.”
“You can’t miss it. It’s that massive one with all the lights. With the pink bird on the roof.” When Draco tried pushing past her to the door, she pulled him back with surprising strength. “What now?”
She manoeuvred him into the living room and forcibly pushed him onto the sofa. “Stay.”
“What!” He tried to get up but she held him down. “I have to get Blaise, I need to help –”
“You’ve done all the helping you can, Draco. You’re exhausted. Sit. Rest.”
“But –”
“I’ll get him.”
“No, you bloody well won’t!” He struggled against her hold, and her grip on his shoulders slipped slightly. Before he could use this to his advantage, however, with admirable speed her hands caught his elbows. This would not hold him for long, and she must have figured this, because she moved to get her wand. A risky decision on her part, and this time she did not get so lucky. He was stronger than her, and with skills from his Quidditch days he managed to flip them, so it was she on the lounge and he holding her.
“You’re wasting time!” she said hotly, trying to squirm free.
“No, you are!”
Both of his hands were on her wrists as he leaned over her. It was an awkward position for him being much taller than she was, and somewhere between his childish reply she had snuck her hand to her pocket and within seconds her wand was pointing between his eyes. Draco scowled.
“You need to stop, Draco,” she said smoothly. “You’re so stressed you might actually sprout grey hairs soon.” At the panic in his eyes she smiled. “Let me help you. I can get Blaise back.”
He considered her for a long time. He felt like it was his responsibility to get Blaise back and set everything right again, but what Granger said was true. He was tired. And it was not like he hadn’t tried. So with an exaggerated sigh, he nodded, but that did not mean he was happy about it.
“Get him back.”
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Next chapter; THE WEDDING. It doesn't start right after because Hermione still needs to try and find Blaise, of course. But after that THE WEDDINGGGG.
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Haha didn't you just love Blaise's reaction to the possiblity of Draco and Hermione having kids. 'You'd make beautiful babies!'
Blaise Zabini; the ultimate Dramione shipper.