Author's Note: This is my first story to be published on this site.
Disclaimer: I am not J.K. Rowling, if I was then Hermione wouldn't be with a red-head, Snape would be breathing and Voldemort—just a bit misunderstood.
Now I think I understand,
How this world can overcome a man.
~ Avenged Sevenfold "Fiction"
Chapter One: Why can't we just skip to St. Paddy's already?
Everywhere I go girls look at me as if I'm a piece of meat. I'm a Steak ala Malfoy.
My money.
My name.
My body.
I'm irresistible, or at least that's how Witch Weekly likes to describe me. Personally, I couldn't give a fuck. I have no desire for any of the mindless bimbos throwing themselves at me. Sure, on occasion—well—every night, I bring a new girl to my bed.
They mean nothing.
One night of hot sex with the number one bachelor in Britain and the next morning I tell them to get the fuck out.
Until recently, on the other hand.
It has been royally annoying.
Seems that the closer to Valentine's Day it gets, the more women actually stray away.
I suppose that could be because of how I act on that day, I am and I quote "more pissed off then a man who gets blue balls on his wedding night."
My dear old dad said that. Blunt man that one, and an asshole too.
I'll be honest; my heart was torn out, stuck in a blender, stomped on, and lit on fire all in one day.
Valentine's Day.
I fucking hate it.
With a passion.
This is why I choose not to get out of my imported from Japan, cherry-wood canopy bed with Egyptian cotton black sheets instead of waking up to face the day.
Nope.
Not moving.
For one reason, and one reason only.
Today's fucking Valentine's Day. Why can't we just skip to St. Paddy's already?
DMDMDMDMDMDM
Sixteen laps around the grounds and one cold shower later left me sitting at the kitchen counter glaring at an empty box of cereal.
The bowl and spoon set out, mocking me.
With a growl my head met the table in a wonderful union leaving me with one hell of a red bump.
Today is just really not my day.
First, I tripped when I was doing my daily jog around the grounds of Malfoy Manor.
Then, the hot water wasn't working, and I lacked the energy to use my wand.
Now, I'm out of my favorite cereal. My day just isn't right without a bowl of Fruit loops
Fucking Valentine's Day.
DMDMDMDMDMDMDMDMDMDMDMDM
Pansy flooed over here—bitch—she just wanted to make sure I was going to show up at the party…and she asked if I was going to try and kill myself again.
She's not so pug-faced anymore. She got it fixed; muggle plastic surgery.
She looks good. Damn good, actually.
I don't plan on fucking her anytime soon though. Blaise would murder my ass.
They've been married for damn near eight years. I was best man.
Today's their anniversary. Of course, they're throwing a party.
One I'm obliged to attend as Blaise's best mate.
My ex fiancée will be there, the same woman who managed to break my, thee Draco Malfoy's heart, on Blaise and Pansy's wedding day.
Fucking Valentine's Day.
Smirking at my bathroom mirror, I had to admit even though I felt like shit, I looked damn good.
Blonde hair fell to my shoulders, grey eyes shining in the light, dark blue button-up shirt, black trousers, dragon hide boots, black belt with the Slytherin House crest, and the
signature Malfoy smirk.
Oh yes, I'm ready. Time to truly make this a FUCKING Valentine's Day.
An hour later, I apparated to the Ministry of Magic to use the Internatinal Floo Networks.
Apparently, Pansy talked Blaise into buying a Villa in Miami, Florida.
Pansy also talked him into having the party there.
To see the irony of the situation you have to understand, Blaise is a nympho, Pansy's talking consists of doing what she wants or he sleeps on the couch.
Fairly easy to see how that process works. Stepping into the massive line to use the floo I thought about portkeying, but then again I'd prefer not to instantly puke on arrival. Ever since I was young, I couldn't stand using a portkey. I don't like to spin. At all.
After nearly an hour of waiting, I was counting tiles on the ground. So far, I've counted eight-hundred and eighty-two. Alright enough of this bullshit.
I casually strolled over to the International Floo Networking Officer, IFNO's for short.
Or if your Blaise before he was married, The I Fuck N GOs.
For some reason, the IFNOs are ALWAYS really, really beautiful women. Very shaggable.
Today, a very bodacious, curvy blonde is working the service counter.
"Hello, love," I purr giving her a seductive smile, "you want to do a handsome man a favor?"
"Anything," she breathed puffing her chest out, "and I do mean anything," she winked at me.
I decided to remember this one for another day. "Well love, it's like this, I'm late for my best mates wedding anniversary. I've been waiting in this line for quite some time now, and I'm afraid I need to get there a tad bit faster."
I leaned towards her face, letting my eyes work their magic, "So, beauty, what I need you to do is get me to the front of this line."
I gave her a genuine guaranteed to get me what I want smile.
"I'm sorry to inform you, but international floo networks are closed for maintenance at
this time. The line you were standing in was to receive a portkey to your desired destination."
I stared at her, this stupid woman knew what I wanted, but she kept talking to me in a teasing way expecting to get in my pants.
Although, usually, I respect that quality in woman today is not the day to fuck with me.
Fucking Valentine's Day!
An hour and a portkey to Miami later led me to be on my hands and knees throwing my lunch up behind a bush. Grilled cheese DOES NOT taste the same going up as it did going down.
Shakily, I stood up, scourgified myself, flattened the wrinkles in my shirt, and apparated inside the villa. The grounds were decorated in greens and silvers. Yes, Pansy's wedding was Slytherin themed. So, apparently, the anniversary is also.
Great, let's just get the house rivalry going now, shall we?
The house itself was quite beautiful, painted white ivory, columns of white creating the entranceway. Large double-doors to enter, with a large gothic-style gate, and a cobblestone path parallel with roses, people hustling and bustling in and out, tending to Pansy's every wish. With large bay windows, a garden, and a fountain, it was your stereotypical mansion.
My house is bigger. I smirked to myself at that thought.
Normal people will have to walk to the front gate, present their invites, be led inside, checked of dark spells or anything of intent to cause harm—but I am Draco Malfoy, programed into the wards. I don't want to deal with all that security check-waiting in line, bullshit.
Here's the game plan: Apparate in, say hi, congrats, and all that good shit. Find myself a hot brunette, and leave with her.
Oh god.
My parents are here.
Game plan number two: Leave quickly, owl an apology for not showing up.
Shit.
Father saw me, he was talking to Blaise. He nudged him in my direction. Now Blaise saw me.
FUCK.
Maybe I have a chance. I turn around slowly and start to walk away..."DRACO!"
Fuck.
Another step.
"DRACO! You son of a bitch, get over here."
Even from here I could tell Blaise had just told my mother he meant no offense, my father is most likely telling anyone who will listen about how disappointing I am, Pansy's laughing with my mother—probably about me—and Blaise is…missing in action.
Where is Blaise?
He just disappeared. Ha. Now I can leave.
Wait, he is talking to someone.
He is walking towards me…with my ex-wife trailing behind him. Yes, I said ex-wife. When I said fiancée earlier, well, I was trying to soften the blow.
Fucking.
VALENTINE'S.
DAY.
Every bone,
Muscle,
Vein,
Blood cell,
White cell, hell! EVERY FUCKING SPERM CELL, told me to get the fuck out of dodge.
To run and never turn back, and then still keep running.
I didn't move.
I was stunned.
I couldn't move.
I didn't want to move.
So I stayed still.
Blaise gave me a knowing smirk. I glared at him.
She smiled at me. Her honey-brown curls were flying wildly around her head in the wind.
Beautiful.
Brown orbs met mine of grey, "Hello, Draco." Her voice sent chills straight through my heart.
The fingers of my right hand crept unconsciously to the place where my wedding band had resided eight years ago, as I whispered, "Hello, Hermione."
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Love,
Onyx