Title: Permanent Daylight
Author: PamelaTurpin
Fandom: Harry Potter
Rating: M for language
Pairing: Draco Malfoy/Hermione Granger
Disclaimer: If I were the author of Harry Potter, Fred would still be living and living happily with Angelina, Snape a secret affair with Lily, Ginny's full name as Virginia, Dobby back from the dead, and Draco have already confessed his undying love for Hermione (and maybe Ron watching open-mouthed as they ride into the sunset, singing Here Comes the Sun by the Beatles). Sadly, nothing of the sort has happened.
A/N: This is my first attempt in a long time at writing a normal fic (and nothing of the shit that I usually pen). Please don't hold a prejudiced opinion against the fic before you even finish reading the first chapter - I'm not one to write very exciting first sentences, but I do okay (if I say so myself) in keeping the fic smooth. Please do review,though, if you have any opinions or advice after you read through it. I mean, I tend to procrastinate and not continue fics when nobody says a single fucking thing (all authors do, really. Well, except for people like Bex-chan. I'm not very sure.).

Even the best fall down sometimes
Even the wrong words seem to rhyme
Out of the doubt that fills my mind
I somehow find you and I collide

- Collide, Howie Day

In the twenty-five goddamn years I've walked on this planet (technically, around twenty-four and bit), I've learned a few things about life:

1) Sometimes, surprises just pop out of the blue and bite you on the arse. It's not like that's news for me - from breakups to deaths to people announcing their sexual orientation, I've seen just about any average human being has witnessed in their short lives. The fact that our family came from old money and that my father was a Death Eater didn't really help a lot. Both of my parents were (not very surprisingly) quite violent, and it ended up with me crying in the corner of the room while my father threatened to hit me again. When I got my Hogwarts letter, it was more of a relief than anything else. No matter what others say, Hogwarts was my real home, at least for the seven years I went there; the Manor was never anymore than a mere house (and a bloody large one at that). That's to clear up the bullshit assumptions people have about Slytherins - that they absolutely hate Hogwarts and can't wait to get the fuck out. It's not true, at least not for all of us. As much as I'd like to be the typical badass and say such a thing, it's just unfathomable to say that I hate Hogwarts in any way.

2) Apparently, the good always wins over the evil. Always. And this isn't a very convenient fact for me, because I was literally born behind the enemy lines. I suppose the Ministry was quite generous (I'm choking as I say this right now)though, when the war was over and they had to deal with the children and wives of the Death Eaters (of course, this is after than imprisioned the Death Eaters. Lucius - I don't consider the man as my father - died a few months after he was sent to Azkaban.). Even though I was in a way a Death Eater, I didn't actually do anything, thank Merlin. So Mother is still being Tracked, but after I set up my company and started up the whole Protect Muggleborns thing, I started to regain respect and was let off the hook.

3) Always befriend people of the same intelligence as you, or above. Before you start protesting about how I'm being discriminative to people who can't help but be dumb (in other words, the "retarded"), but just hear me out. Crabbe and Goyle turned out to be shitheads, and I'm one myself for not seeing that earlier on, but in the end, I got the hell away from them and started to question my sanity. I ended up in Blaise's top floor apartment in Muggle London, drinking whisky like there was no tomorrow while he spewed bull about Muggle celebrities. According to him, the Muggle society isn't so uptight after all. I'm assuming that he means the leggy blondes he meets at pubs and not the entire society, but after getting used to it myself, I do have to admit that it isn't so bad. I've had enough of magic to last me a lifetime, anyways.

and 4) -
People change.
A lot.

Mother is getting on my arse about settling down for about the billionth time. Thanks, Mum. I have to sit here and have tea with you while you mumble about how I have dissapointed you and shit while I could be, you know...

Doing something else.

My social life isn't that of what you would imagine it to be. I don't have a million friends, nor do I spend my days shopping at Italian brand shops, trying out expensive deodorant. And I don't shag random girls named Polly or Molly or Jolly every night - I don't even date anymore. I just sink into the couch in my office, procrastinating and fantasising about another world where I could start new and become someone else. Not Draco Malfoy. Not that shithead whose father was a son of a bitch (so that makes me a grandson of a bitch. Ha ha ha.). Not that person who sucks at living normally. Not that typical blond rich guy. And absolutely not that pathetic excuse for a father that doesn't even know how to interact with his two year old daughter.

"Look, Draco, I know you're fine with being single right now. But what about in ten years? Fifteen years? Or when you're old and your company has nobody to keep it going and you realize that you'll probably die alone, with nobody to cry at your funeral?"

By the look of things, that's probably going to be the story of my life. With my mother dead and my daughter probably hating my guts by then, the people attending my funeral would probably just be there to get kicks out of it. I've got a few friends, I suppose, but most of the people on my iPhone (yes, iPhone! isn't it a wonderful name? Also a very useful gadget, 5 stars) contact list is either the people who work at my company, or the many girls who gave me their numbers in hope of finding a rich, attractive (I'm going to admit this. I am very attractive, mind you) man to dote on them. I don't dote. And even though my thoughts on Muggles have changed quite a lot, I'm not going to marry one for Merlin's sakes.

I give her a sharp look. "Look, I know, Mother. It's just that running the company fills up my schedule quite a lot -"

"As if lying around in the office eating Chocolate Frogs counts as being busy."

"- I've got a daughter already at the age of 25 -"

"Whom you rarely even see," she says distastefully.

I sigh in defeat. "I get it, Mother. But I've got plenty of time. I mean, I know the shit about how a Malfoy has to get married before thirty or I'll break the family tradition and bring the family shame or whatever, but I can work something else in the remaining five years. I mean, it's not like I look like Neville Longbottom, for Merlin's sakes. I can get a date quite easily."

"I've heard rumors about that boy," Narcissa says, no doubt trying to bring. "Apparently he turned out perfectly fine after he grew up."

"It's called the benefits of puberty," I roll my eyes. "But yes, he doesn't blind people with his appearance now. Now can we change the topic? Whenever I bring Longbottom into the conversation, I feel like someone made me drink piss."

"Language," she says. "Oh, and how is little Brooklyn? Did you check in and make sure that she's not starving? I hear her mother's quite the alcoholic -"

Whenever I bring up Astoria, my dear old Mother's face usually just scrunches up in detest and starts badmouthing her until I get her a new cup of Earl Grey. I'm assuming that she doesn't hate the person herself, but the fact that she brought a kid Malfoy into the family when we weren't even thinking about marriage...you get the idea. As a Malfoy, you aren't really supposed to have an illegitimate child. Ever.

"She's not a goddamn alcoholic freak. And of course she feeds Brookie - she's her kid. You know, made from her flesh and blood, popped out of her vagina after 48 hours of screaming and shouting things like 'men are pigs'."

"And yours," she adds.

"And mines. I get it. You want me to marry her and get the whole deal over with." I roll my eyes. "Not going to happen, my dear mother. She's not bad-looking or anything, and I know she's a pureblood and all, but I never really fancied her. At all."

"Yet you had a child with her," she sighs. "I will never understand young people."

I will never understand why I always have such fun with Blaise. It's not like his place is better than mines, or that he makes me want to worship him, or anything like that. I blame it on the fact that I spent too much time with Crabbe and Goyle and missed out on all the things I could have done with my childhood other than to torture first-years and to spit in Potter's face.

Blaise is quite different from me, though, in a way. Even though we're both Slytherins and come from old money and look okay, I'm the boring one who expired after Hogwarts while he turned out to be one of the most notorious bad boys around. I spend my time in the office doing almost nothing. He wears Italian suits even though he doesn't really have a proper job. I'm the kind of person who goes out to pubs, ignores the girls trying to ask me out, and drinks tequila in the corner of the room while watching everyone else. He goes out to pubs, both Muggle and normal, gets crowded by girls trying to get his attention, and ends up shagging two of them by the end of the night.

It's not like I'm jealous of him. I don't exactly love my lifestyle, but if we changed places my head would probably explode from all the shit. I also secretly find his character quite cliché. He's one of those people you'd expect to turn up in a Muggle vampire romance. Still, he's quite intelligent, so I can't complain.

"Anything interesting happened lately?" Blaise says as he fishes his hand around in the pile of post, trying to find the new issue to some fashion magazine. If he didn't date so many girls, I would have assumed that he was gay by now. "I thought you said your secretary was pretty hot."

"Pffft, she's 34," I said. "And I never said she was hot. Where did you get that from?"

"Assumptions," he shrugged. "You know, in the books, the secretaries usually have affairs with their bosses."

"Like that's going to happen. No offense."

His eyebrows furrowed as he dug his hand around. "God, I know it's somewhere. Anyways, I think you should go on a date sometime. You need to see more women to like more women. I mean, if you keep this no-dating thing up, you're going to be just some sadistic old man with only his work as his love interest. I can hook you up with someone, you know."

I shot him a look. "I would let you if you could find someone decent for once - I mean, almost every single person you've introduced to me was either shallow, a whore, or a Muggle. Not that they're on the same level or anything (this is true. I mean, I don't really hate Muggles that much. They're just a bunch of poor fellows who dream about magic.)."

"I will, I will," he said, and then finally found the magazine. "Ooh, look. Special edition, just for summer."

I went down to the kitchen to hunt down another cup of tea. "You know, I really don't get why you even read those things. Those magazines are for women, and as far as I know, you're not gay -"

"I am Italian," he grinned crookedly, as if that was a good enough reason by itself. Maybe it is. I would be the last one to know. "And, I only buy the magazines to inspect the models. They usually live around here, they're extremely hot, and they're usually a good shag. The perfect combination."

"You can be such a dickhead sometimes," I said, stirring my tea.

"And you manage to look quite handsome while sounding like a complete housewife."

"Don't tell me you're actually gay and is madly in love with my astonishingly good looks."

"In your dreams, Malfoy."

"I wouldn't bet on it, Zabini."

Yeah, I know. We sound like one of those cheesy old couples that you can never stand in movies.

He returned to his magazine. It had this model on the cover, someone I've never seen, with too much makeup on her face. Most models do, anyways, but you can never tell what they actually look like under all that war paint. She looked fairly decent. Beautiful, even. At least she wasn't wearing one of those extremely short skirts, nor was she randomly showing a bra strap. Her eyes seemed somehow familiar, though all the mascara and glitter was quite confusing.

"Ooh, new chick," he said. "Five stars. Points for not looking like a whore."

"Who is she, anyways?" I said, out of mere curiosity. "Looks quite familiar."

"Maybe one of the many girls you've shagged over the years," he grinned.

"Over the years? Pfft. It's not like I've slept with that many people. " I say. It's a lie. Kind of. I used to be quite the bad boy in school.

"Says the guy that shagged just about anything in a skirt in the same year that wasn't a Gryffindor."

"Fuck you."

He waved his hand in the hair. "Anytime, bro. Before you do that, lemme check who this person is."

I sit there, warming my hands with the cup of tea even though it's already July. Merlin, oh please. Don't let it be Pansy. Please don't let it be Pansy. Or Daphne Greengrass. I'm not an idiot; Blaise is probably going to try to set the poor girl up with me. It would be seriously awkward if it was Daphne. Or anybody I know, really. Actually, I'd prefer it to be someone not in the area - I'm not really that desperate to find a date.

Blaise's eyes suddenly widen as he finds the name, and he tosses the magazine to me. My eyes search the page for a moment, trying to find anything other than 42 Items That You Must Have This Summer or Relationships: How to Make Your Summer Filled With Love or that shit. Jesus, if you do exist, please don't let it be anybody I know. Not that this exactly matters all that much, but shit, if it was someone I knew, I would probably die from the shock. Nobody I've ever met has been this stunning (I feel cheesy. I really do), and it might even be nice if I really got to know this person. Just, Satan or Buddha or Mary or the rest of your religious family, don't let it be anybody I know. This might be my only fucking chance - not really, I know, but still, let me just have fun in making this all chick lit dramatic - to find someone decent. My eyes finally find the name, staring at me, and I stare for a moment back at it.

It's someone named Chloe Ventresca.

Thank the bloody gods.

"Meh, I can find this person," Blaise says nonchalantly, as if it was as easy as getting out a cardboard box, jumping on it and eventually stomping it flat. "Piece of cake."

"Why the fuck do you want to set me up with a model, anyways?" I wonder out loud. Did he actually care that much about my relationship status? I didn't even give a shit about it myself. My best friend has better things to do than...this. "It's not like I give two shits about appearance. Sure, they can't look like a pug or anything, I guess. But, seriously."

He rolls his eyes. "What, you want an ugly girl? All I'm saying is that, if you're going to go for it, you have to go for the best. That's all."

"And models are at the top?" I highly doubt it.

Blaise shrugs. He's probably questioning his sanity at the moment. In my opinion, there are way many people who are better than models, for Merlin's sakes. Like...the person who invented Expelliarimus. Definitely saved Potter's life more than once. Not that I like him all that much, but at least it kept Voldemort from taking over the world. Now that's a dark topic. I mean, looks are important, and I get that models take their job very seriously, but what about in twenty years or thirty years, when they grow old and wrinkled? When you think about it, brains are quite important as well. Maybe even more than looks.

But having a bit of each is probably the best.

Which is what gets me all irritated when I have to go out with some popsicle stick who has coins in their heads instead of brains. I'm sure Blaise didn't know they were such shitheads (literally), but when it comes to his taste in women, I'd prefer to take a step back and not get into the mess. These people aren't stupid - they just prefer to be all silly and thickheaded and think that that's an attractive point. (If you think about it, maybe they really don't have brains after all, if they believe such a big fat lie).

"Anyways. You're in, right?" He says, after a silent pause. "We haven't had fun in a while. No offense, Drakey-Cake, but you've been a bore lately."

You know, I have got to see a doctor or something. There is absolutely something that is wrong with me. The fact that I'm twenty-five and not interested in women, not that I have such a freaky friend (well, that too).

But hey, life is full of surprises.

(And I am not gay. Nor am I a bad shag. Uh, you did notice the fact that I shagged almost half of the girls in my year back at school, right? Gods, people need to read slower and stop skimming.)

A/N: This story is more American than British, yes. Mostly because I originally wanted to place them in a modern AU world, but decided against it, and is now settling for as much of that New York charm as I can put into their lives. I also decided to not do a fanon Draco and go for the more casual, normal guy. I know, it's pretty sad, but don't worry, he still looks fucking awesome (and he doesn't dress like a cow. He dresses okay under the influence of Blaise). And he does seem kind of like an old woman or something, yeah, but...just deal with it. *lol*

Yes, little Brooklyn will be a key part later on, but the story won't really revolve around her, so this is exactly one of those fics where the kid is all adorable and Draco falls in love and whatever. Also, Astoria is going to be written with me keeping Jade Olivia in mind. Feltson forever, though. 3 *squeal* So yes, I will be inserting a few Feltson mentions. Please review and tell me if you're a Feltson shipper like me! :)

This is the first story I've been serious about for real, so please, maybe give me a review or something? I'd love basically anything, so you don't have to be all flattering and shit. Just give me the thoughts that popped into your head when you first read this. Thanks :)