Disclaimer: Rights to Harry Potter and subsequent characters and situations are held by J.K. Rowling and various publishing and entertainment companies, including but not limited to Warner Bros and Random House Inc.

Summary: When attempting to propose to Pansy Parkinson in order to obtain an heir to the Malfoy fortune, Draco Malfoy is informed that there is, in fact, a rightful Malfoy heir already in existance... born by one Hermione Granger.

Chapter one

Hermione Granger stood inconspicuously in a slightly dilapidated corner of the Weasley home, drowning herself in magically-flowing champagne. She had to clench her one unoccupied hand to keep from gritting her teeth, and her cheeks were aching from the effort it took to keep even the slightest smile on her face.

"Hermione! Hermione Granger!" A voice called out over the bright music playing and the chatter of those amassed in the house. "Hermione, where are you?"

She closed her eyes for a brief second and let out an involuntary groan, having recognized the cheerful and slightly intoxicated voice that seeked her out. As heads began to turn her way, she forced a bright smile on her face and an eager tone into her voice. "Yes, Ron? Ron, where are you?"

There was a slight parting in the crowd that allowed her to catch a glimpse of the middle of the dance floor, where Ron and Harry were standing, draped over one another. "Come here!" Ron waved frantically to Hermione, who had no choice but to make her way over, squeezing through the mass of bodies crammed into the room.

"A picture with my two best friends!" Ron cried gleefully, pointing to a photographer, hired specifically for the event. "Mustn't forget this moment! Never thought I'd be the first to get married, sod it!" He shook out his still fiery hair before smoothing down the front of his dress robes in a rather controlled manner, surprising for the low tolerance he had for alcohol of any sort.

Harry grinned widely, standing just a little off-center. "Was that Hermione Granger I saw, downing glass after glass of champagne?" he chortled the second she reached the duo, dropping a heavy arm clad in bottle green, reminiscent of the Yule Ball back in fourth year- Merlin, had that really been nine years ago?- heavily about her shoulder.

"There, that's a good shot!" encouraged the photographer, moving a few centimetres to the left to capture Ron, who had a vacant look on his face. "Now, now, Mr. Weasley, smile! This is your wedding, after all."

"My wedding!" Ron marveled once more as he giggled, before draping an arm about Hermione's other shoulder. "Smile, this is going in my wedding album!"

Hermione flashed a vibrant smile to the camera before reverting back to the small fake one she had had on before. "Me? Champagne? Never," she fibbed to Harry who was still grinning at her. When she felt his arm slip around her waist, she sent him a quizzical look, wondering why he had done so. There hadn't ever been anything unplatonic between Harry and herself, despite the rumors. They were best friends, and nothing more. Ron, Hermione mused unhappily, on the other hand…

He laughed again. "Not drunk, hmm?" Harry loosened his hold on her and watched her sway for just a second, before recovering her balance.

"Nope." She insisted, but with a slight smile, secretly damning the telling flush that rose on her cheeks. She really hadn't wanted anyone to notice how much she had been drinking- not that anyone could get drunk off champagne, mind- but it was something that Hermione Granger did not do. Not, she thought, that it wasn't noticeable, with herself glowering at everyone in the corner. Of course Harry would have noticed.

"Hermione, it's okay to drink now! We're of age, and it's one of our best friends' wedding! Who knew Ron would marry Luna, anyhow?" Harry exclaimed, conjuring up a glass of water for Hermione, whose face had gone rather red.

"Who indeed?" she muttered under her breath, hating herself for the bitter tone even as she spoke, before helping herself to the water, which served to clear her head just a bit.

Ron, who had only heard the last bit of Harry's question, jumped. "Luna? Luna!" He breathed, reverently. "Where is my Luna? Oh, Luna!" He turned away from his friends, searching throughout the people in his home. "Excuse me… must find my wife…" he trailed off as he trotted off to search for his newly-wedded wife, tugging on the collar of his robes.

Hermione couldn't help a small smile forming on her face, the first genuine smile of the evening. Ron had always been a happy drunk, ever since seventh year when he, Harry and Hermione had imbibed in too much Firewhisky to celebrate the end of the NEWTs, and Ron had…

She blinked, catching herself before she could embark on another trip down that road. What had occurred between Ron and herself was in the past, and nothing of the sort would ever be happening now that Ron was married, and…

Ron was married.

Hermione honestly couldn't believe it; Ron was married. Ron was married- and what was more, he was married to someone that wasn't her. To Luna Lovegood, of all people, she thought in disgust and just a bit of sadness.

She closed her eyes again to try and avert the images of Ron and Luna, but succeeded in only increasing the vividness of her imagination- Ron kissing Luna, Ron embracing Luna, Ron in love with Luna…

Hermione looked up dazedly, having felt a tap on her shoulder that had broken her thoughts. Harry looked concerned, but with the concern of a slightly disinterested, slightly drunk man who was busy, in truth, with his own romances. "Hey, 'Mione, you okay?" he inquired.

She nodded vigorously, for it would not do to have Harry, and then Ron consequentially, find out about her secret- and absurd- feelings for her best friend. "I'm okay, just… you know. Too much excitement."

Harry grinned teasingly down at her. "I think you've had a bit more of something else than excitement, to tell you the truth. But it's—" he broke off when his eyes had caught something off in the distance. "Oh… Hermione, I've got to go, I think that's Ginny," he told her before rushing off to some unknown site.

Hermione sighed, before turning to leave. She had no reason to stay any longer and truth to tell, she'd done her duty as a faithful friend by simply showing up at this wedding—not that Ron would ever find out what an obstacle it had been for her. She hurried to the front entrance, accio-ing her cloak and grabbing one last glass of something stronger- a vodka and pumpkin juice, a strange fusion of the muggle and wizarding world- before leaving.

Once in the yard, which was lit up with something similar to the muggle Christmas lights and only slightly less crowded than the interior of the house with people socializing and holding drinks, Hermione apparated to the outside of her building, where she occupied a large flat with a roommate. The surroundings were calm and quiet though it was a Saturday night; the flat was located in a nice, normal neighborhood. She walked slowly inside and up the staircase, reflecting bitterly that, had she played her cards right from the beginning, the Weasley wedding would have been between Ron and herself. Furthermore, she would not be alone right now, but with the man she loved, Ron.

Hermione arrived in front of her door, silently cursing the anti-apparation wards that she herself had had insisted upon. While searching for her wand with one hand inside her robes, she scanned the message that Lavender had magicked in front of the door.

H-

Gone to the new bar with S! Don't wait up for me (you know what that means! Don't worry, we'll use protection).

-L

P.S. Did you leave your wand or something? Why is it still in the kitchen? Whatever! Bye!

She winced upon seeing it, now recalling quite clearly just where exactly her wand was situated- right in the middle of the kitchen counter. It was a sign of the level of her panic and dread at seeing Ron and Luna being married, as Hermione would have otherwise never, ever left the relative safety of her home without the ability to protect herself. Furthermore, she could hardly believe that she hadn't even noticed that her wand had been missing up until now!

There was only one thing for it; there was absolutely no way of entering the flat without her wand- Dumbledore had made certain of that. She'd have to go to the bar- whichever that was- find Lavender, and beg her to accompany her to the door of their suite. Lavender, of course, would be understandably irate, but there really wasn't any other option available.

With a sigh, Hermione leaned against the wall and tried to recall her roommate speaking of a certain bar that morning. Lavender had been ridiculously excited about her date with Seamus- that must be who S was- and she'd chattered about going out to… to… what was the name of that place! Hermione had been so distracted with the prevailing thought of Ron's wedding, that she hadn't paid much attention to Lavender's gigglings. The bar… the name had been one of an old man, much like… Maximilian's, that was it! To Maximilian's, a new and extremely trendy bar located in the heart of muggle London.

Armed with this new information, Hermione quickly apparated to a side alley by the bar, hoping desperately that she wouldn't run into an unsuspecting muggle. Luckily the entire alley was clear, and she left for entrance to the bar.

Luck was with her again; because of the late hour, the usual line by the entrance was nonexistent, and Hermione was able to enter. Passing easily through the Age Line, she had to search through the crowded bar for a full ten minutes before she was able to see Lavender and Seamus, snuggled cozily in a corner booth. Although they appeared as if they were having a "moment," Hermione shouldered through and came to a stop perilously close to the table edge.

"Lavender!" She exclaimed, taking a breath. "And Seamus. Sorry to interrupt."

Her roommate blinked up at her, before shaking her head slightly. "Hermione? Did something happen?"

Hermione flushed slightly. "Um, nothing important, but I left my wand inside and locked myself out of the flat… and I was wondering if you could take me back, and open the door?" she ended hesitantly.

Seamus was nuzzling her neck as Lavender closed her eyes lightly. "Um," she managed to gasp out, "this really isn't a good time, Hermione…"

She could see that. She really didn't want to interrupt them, but her bed was calling her… "I'll just… I'll just wait over there," Hermione hedged, pointing in the general direction of where the drinks were being served. "Just, you know. Hurry. Please." She had to squeeze her way to the actual bar, which was still crowded. Finally managing to procure a seat, she buried her head in her arms, trying to convince herself that she was happy for Lavender.

She really was happy for her roommate, of course, but it was a little difficult to watch a friend of hers in love, while she herself was utterly heartbroken.

In some sense, anyway.

Hermione shrugged, changing the track of her thoughts. There was no point in becoming utterly depressed over Ron, and she was rather thirsty…

She waved a bartender over, one that looked hardly old enough to apparate, let alone serve alcohol. "What do you recommend?" she asked, sitting up.

"How potent?" The young man inquired.

What the hell. "Very," Hermione nodded. Harry had been right; she was definitely old enough- and wise enough- to exert self-control. After all, she was Hermione Granger.

"Hey, honey, get me another one here," Hermione winked at the bartender, who was increasingly growing hesitant with every shot she had demanded.

"I think you've had enough, Lady," he muttered. "I don't…"

"I didn't ask you to think," she pouted, "I just want another drink, baby. Be a good boy and hand one over," she encouraged, pushing a strand of long waves behind her ear.

"I don't… really…" He stammered, looking confused at the onslaught of charm. "Uh."

The protests had caught the attention of a man sitting nearby, who had just chugged half a bottle of Firewhiskey. "Hey, the lady wants a drink," he reminded the bartender, before wiping his mouth and going back to nursing his bottle.

Hermione peeked over at her defender, who looked just a bit hazier than he should have. It was difficult to make out any distinguishable features, but she shrugged it off. "You heard the man," she grinned at the bartender. "Nice and easy."

Uneasily, he quickly poured a glass of juice and added just a splash of something that even Hermione knew was quite potent. Nevertheless- just because of the principle- she had to protest, "Come on, I'm not sixteen. Add a little more of that, why don't you?"

Just as he reluctantly added more and pushed the glass over the counter, Lavender came tripping up to the bar with Seamus, his arm wrapped firmly around her waist. "Hermione!" she giggled, "I'm going to Seamus's flat! Here's my wand so you can get in." She giggled again. "Be safe now!"

Hermione wriggled her fingers goodbye at Lavender, tucking the wand safely inside her robes, and took a gulp of the drink. "Mmm… hey listen," she motioned to the bartender, lowering her voice confidentially, "you're kinda cute, you know that? What's your name, you wanna go out with me sometime?"

He looked panicked as he ran a hand over his shaved head, unusual in wizarding fashion. "Me? Uh… my name… I, uh, I've got to… I gotta go," he stammered before rushing off to the other end of the island, where he began to serve customers without a second glance back.

With a shrug and a chuckle, Hermione turned to face the man with the Firewhiskey. By this time, he'd finished the entire bottle, and was playing with the label on the bottle. "Hey you," she repeated, kicking the base of his stool to get his attention, "you're kind of cute too. What's your name?"

The man turned to face her and she could detect a smile on his face- or was it a smirk? It was getting quite difficult to see. "My name is … Duhh…Duhrayyy…co." He grinned more widely after having sounded out the syllables in the name, obviously proud of himself.

Hermione had to grin back. "I knew a Draco in school, you know? But he was a mean little boy. Not like you. You got me a drink." She took another gulp from the glass and sloshed it around. "Too bad I'm running out!"

The man- this other Drayco, not like Malfoy from Hogwarts, studied her glass carefully. "I think you're drunk." He pronounced carefully.

She nodded. "Me too. But you too, you know that? Harry tells me that I'm an aff…affecsh… I'm a loving drunk." She laughed loudly, shaking her head. "How can I love a drunk? That's pre... prepostrous! I love Ron, you know. He's not a drunk, I think. Only today." Her hair, loosened from the proper coiffure that Ginny had formed before the wedding, fell about her shoulders and into her eyes. She pushed back the strands impatiently, wondering when they had gotten so heavy.

Drayco nodded, as if he understood. "You know what?" He asked, then rushed to answer himself before waiting for a reply. "I'm kind of bored."

Hermione thought for a minute, before leaning back onto his shoulder. "My head was heavy," she said a minute later by way of an explanation. "But now my glass is too far away! Bartender!" She waved her arm enthusiastically, narrowly missing Draco's face.

With a chuckle, he stood, nearly losing his own balance, before being able to hold her up. "Firewhiskey is some heavy stuff," she reprimanded. "You know why I was drinking. Why were you drinking? How many bottles have you had?"

He pointed to the counter, where eight bottles lay in a neat row. "Like that."

She squinted, then shook her head. "Can't see. Doesn't matter, I guess. You're cute, you know that? I think I want to sleep with you, let's go."