Btw: Meh. I was bored, started it, don't really know where it's going, so review! Give me inspiration or something.

Disclaimer: I don't own stuff. Oh yes, Jameston Hotel in London ISN'T real. Therefore, I own it:) Or maybe it is real, in which case I'm about to go into hiding. But if it ISN'T real, they have green plush chairs in the lobby and a great big chandelier. They also have an indoor water park and a secret McDonald's food testing lab in the basement.

Comment.

-Magz.

"Pansy Parkinson." I drawled, my voice carrying over the classical "big band" at the head of the room. The blonde coming toward me smiled charmingly as she rounded another guest. "You're giving those trumpeters a bad name, friend," she quipped, smiling again. Not her usual snide smile, however. It was a pleased smiled ... a happy smile. I knew what smile that was. I smiled back. She stopped two feet away, then grabbed my shoulders held me out at arm's length. "Ah, Drake." She shook her head fondly and embraced me in a loose hug. I grinned and put my arms around her. She withdrew, just as I noticed the tall, dark-haired man at her side. Putting her arm around his waist, she looked up at him, scowling – in a very good-natured fashion. He smiled back down at her. My stomach lurched, and I felt the taste of vomit in my mouth. Suddenly she seemed to remember that I was standing less than a foot away and snapped back. "Draco, this is my husband, Jake." I said nothing about the odd coincidence, but just smiled formally and shook his hand.

"Mum?"

Pansy looked over her shoulder, then turned her head back, grinning. "C'mere, love." At that, a little girl with rich blue eyes and dark hair – like Jake's, might I add – came into view around her mother's legs, glancing at me, the stranger, tentatively. I looked from her to Pansy with a raised eyebrow, contemplating this, then back to the little girl. She shuffled further out of site, still clinging pathetically to her mother's pant leg.

"This is Layla," she said fondly, smiling that alien smile again. "Our first daughter." I gazed back, still contemplating this news. "First daughter?" I asked, my blank gaze morphing into a twisted, partially-forced grin. Pansy blushed and smiled up at her adoring husband. "So far." I coughed slightly. My ex looked at me inquisitively. I smiled sweetly and said quickly, "Bad taste in my mouth."

Just then a shout just came from the other end of the room. My name, then Pansy's. I turned around, Pansy gazed up from her daughter, and Jake took his daughter's hand and left the area. Thank god, I thought bleakly, watching him go. I turned (or was spun) around as a strong, dark hand grabbed my shoulder. "Blaise?" I chortled, half in delight and half in confusion. I heard Pansy laugh from behind me. "What a– different image you are." Blaise snuffed a grin. "What you mean by that?" He asked. "Oh, these two?"

I glanced scanningly from the one beautiful girl at his right side to the other on his left. The one on his right was a comely teenager(by the looks of it), with deep brown eyes and bouncing dark curls which cascaded onto her shoulders, her cheeks lively, a polite smile on her face. On his left was another teen with delicate features, her eyes pale as a morning sky and her upswept hair fair and light compared to her sister's – if that's what they were. I wondered for a moment where that analogy had come from, then took a second to study their feature more closely. Exact opposites, I thought wonderingly, each one as pretty as the other. I laughed mentally. They must be a fun household. I frowned instantly. What and odd thought. A household? I must really have been excited to see old allies. Back in reality

I raised an eyebrow half-heartedly and looked up at Blaise Zabini.

"What have you been up to?"

Blaise Zabini placed an arm around each of their waists instead of answering. I noticed the light-haired girl roll her eyes at the same moment as the bad taste returned to my mouth, and quite suddenly, I knew where the analogy had come from. And the odd thought. "These are my daughters," Blaise stated loudly for even the trumpet players to hear, hugging the pair of them to his sides before smiling back happily at me. I must admit at this point that I was taken aback, and feeling more or less sick and/or disgusted.

"Really?"

My old friend laughed in a way that almost made me feel envious. Almost. "Yes, really. May I introduce you to Rosie Zabini," He hugged the dark-haired girl at his right even more tightly then he had been, which produced a small gasp from the girl. "And Isabella." He smiled down at the fair-skinned girl on his left. She looked away, blushing prettily. "The apples of my eye." When I did indeed look into his eyes, I saw more tight wrinkles admiration. "C'mon old man, let's get a pint." Blaise nodded and turned to leave. For a moment I caught Rosie's eye, and smiled. She returned the smile. I winked, as if to say, he's in good hands now. Go enjoy the party. She grinned gratefully and went off with her sister. I watched her leave for a moment then followed Pansy and Blaise as they proceeded through the crowds to the bar.

The evening at the bar didn't go as badly as I'd expected, though it wasn't quite like old times. Pansy didn't once bring up, or gush about, thankfully, the matter of her newfound family, save to tell Blaise she had one. Zabini, on the other hand, was ecstatic about the news, and kept flashing me sympathetic looks from then on in the night. Did he think I was unhappy by myself? I'd always know Blaise was somewhat soft-headed, but not this corrupted.

"Well, Malfoy," Blaise said once during one of his little sympathetic spiels. "You haven't said much about yourself."

"That's because there isn't anything to say," I replied in a moderated tone. "That's not surprising." Pansy said as she lowered a cocktail glass. She began twirling on the staked olive as she spoke. "I always pictured you at the end as a thirty-year-old bachelor, tossing around his money as easily as his moral sense." I smirked. "What moral sense?" She gave me a long, considering look then chortled.

"Well come now, friends," I drawled, clapping a hand on each of their shoulders. "the night is young, and we probably have better things to talk about than my ... moral sense."

Grinning at their laughter, I raised my hand for a burgundy. The words to order one were caught in my throat, however, as a stager from the very corner of my eye came into focus. A dancing troop I'd hired earlier for laughs was leaving the curtains, wearing flashy Chicago-styled outfits and turning many a head, as was expected. It was not the outfits that were making me gape, however (I'd seen much better). It was the lead singer, a seemingly young thing who's flaming red hair made the blondes and brunettes of her group look dull and uninteresting to my male eye. The piano struck a chord, and the light focused on her. My stomach revolted and I almost fell off my stool. I wiped my mouth with the back of my sleeve and turned to face the stage again.

Blaise clamped his giant hand on my right shoulder, giving me a concerned look that only further evidenced the fact that he had two daughters. "You alright there, Master Malfoy?" Pansy snorted from my left side, and for a moment my awe-struck dumbness was put off as I recognized my old friend as I remembered her. "He just hasn't seen that much leg in a long time."

Blaise snorted and started laughing, reaching across me to clap his other hand on Pansy's shoulder. "Good call, Parkinson."

Uninterested and slightly pissed off by their extreme immaturity, I swivelled my head back to the stage."That's a Weasley if I ever saw one." I muttered to myself. I got up slowly and half walked, half stumbled in an odd trance to the foot of the stage, my eyes intent on her swaying figure. Voices followed in my wake.

"Hey! Watch it!"

"Is that Malfoy?"

"Parvati?"

"What the hell?"

"Could you pass me one of those tiny crab cakes? Yeah, that one. No, a little left. Thanks."

I found myself looking up into the brights lights coming from the stage, squinting and frowning like a confused drunk. As my eyes adjusted, her figure suddenly popped into my vision. I stumbled back, letting loose a single curse before toppling onto the floor on my backside. Pansy and Blaise popped up in front of me, frowning yet amused, by the looks on their faces. "I didn't think it'd been that long," Pansy said, reaching down to take my hand. I scowled but let her pull me up, then straightened out my black suit. Smirks followed me as I turned and started walking back the way I'd come, to the bar.

"What was that?" Pansy hopped up onto the seat on my right, followed quickly by a scowling Blaise, who took the seat on my left with a sour look. Some things never changed. "Look at the front woman." I told her, not looking away from the mug the bartender was putting into my hand. "Why would I–" Twin gasps of astonishment interrupted whatever she was planning to say. "Do you see now?" I asked, surprised at the touch of bitterness in my voice. "Malfoy – sorry – Draco... " Pansy put a hand on my arm, then pulled it away as if burned. "Dear lord." I muttered. She seemed to search for something to say, but any need to break the silence was quickly supplied by the arrival of two persons I'd been hoping to avoid.

"Boss!"

I groaned. "Hello Crabbe."

"Hey Boss."

I groaned again. "And Goyle. How's home security?"

Crabbe and Goyle immediately took the flanking position on either side of me, great, goofy smiles lighting their baby-ish faces. "Not too bad boss." I motioned to their great bulks. "Wouldn't you like to say hello to Blaise and Pansy?" The two of them glanced over their shoulders. "Hey." They looked back. I blinked at them. "Will you excuse me for a moment?" Without waiting for an answer, I left my bar stool and disappeared into the crowd, leaving two disgruntled morons with a burgundy and my two best friends. Blaise's voice carried over the crowd as I walked away. "So, you're into, uh, law enforcement these days, Goyle..?"

I gasped in relief as I stumbled out of the room, through the open doors that led to the rooftop-stairwell. I took my time climbing up it, careful not to stretch my Armani suit. Bloody useless waste of one grand. I thought to myself with a sneer. Outside in the cold air, my hand went immediately to my jacket pocket, fumbling for a cigarette and my liter. Closing my eyes, I brought a lit cigarette to my lips and inhaled deeply.

"Taking up a muggle habit, now, Malfoy?"

My eyes flew open, and I bit back a curse as my cigarette dropped to the roof floor. I ground it into the gravel with my the toe of my black loafer, then turned slowly with a great smirk. Before I could open my mouth though, the voice continued. "Don't be ashamed. It's perfectly fine to take up something to release stress, even if it's so ... primitive." I snarled.

"I guess you'd know all about primitive, wouldn't you Weasley?" I looked her up and down openly. "Don't need to look far to see that."

Instead of crossing her arms or pulling her coat shut, which I'd expected, she grinned and spread her arms wide. "Like hell I am. I'm actually considering giving up magic entirely and moving to a muggle city. What do you think?"I gawked. She smirked. "Didn't think you'd approve." I stamped hard on the last of the orange cigarette butt.

"Did you want something, or did you just come up here to flaunt yourself?" She rolled her eyes. I caught the endings of a low mutter that sounded slightly like, "...guess you haven't changed very much." Then her voice rose. "Didn't expect it either. Goodbye Malfoy."

She turned and walked back to the doors, leaving me alone and scowling on the rooftop. I glanced down at the cigarette butt, then scowled even harder. Bloody Weasleys. Burn those ginger-headed muggle-lovers. I turned back to the night, and stuck an unlit cigarette into my mouth. Bloody Weasleys.

"Bloody Weasleys," Hermione muttered, her voice muffled through a mouthful of popcorn. Her eyes were focused sullenly on the television screen before her, but her hand moved almost simultaneously to the popcorn bowl perched precariously on the couch armrest. At the same, the girl's hand scooped up the converter and flicked the red off button almost aggressively.

"Hermione?"

Hermione Granger craned her neck in a vain attempt to see past her shoulder. "Yes honey?" A man's head popped suddenly into the room. He was grinning widely.

" 'Honey'? Sounds more like you want to throttle me." Hermione groaned and massaged the bridge of her nose. Then she giggled throatily. "I feel like I've just taken 3 muscle relaxants."

The man's grin became a warm smile and he stepped into the room. "Surgery can do that to a person. So will it be soup, or stew?"

"Big life decisions." Hermione said sarcastically. "Soup please. Oh, and James?" She smiled weakly at the man as he began to turn away, then blew him a kiss. "I'm sorry." He smiled back and left the room.

Retaining the smile until James was out of sight, Hermione turned back to stare at the black-screened tv. Bloody, burning, gallivanting wool-headed Weasleys! She was still staring with a murderous look at the screen as the phone began to ring shrilly, pulling her out of her mental rage. "Phone's for you, love!" James called from the next room. "Want me to bring-" Hermione pulled herself into sitting position shakily. "I'm not crippled, James." Her tone was slightly biting, but it seemed to have no affect on the man. "I could beg to differ, Herm."

"Yeah, I'm sure you could." Hermione shouted back, planting her feet on the floor and attempting to stand up, craned over with a wince. "It's what you get from falling for a lawyer." came James's voice again. Hermione smiled weakly and shook her head, then hobbled over to the phone.

"Cripple speaking."

"Um, yes, is this Hermione Granger?"

Hermione bit back a curse. "Sorry, hi. I'm just- I was just-"

"Joking." The person on the other end finished for her. Hermione smiled. "Yes, that's it. Cat caught my tongue." She winced at the pun, smile dying.

"My name is Daniel Folly."

Hermione raised her eyebrows.

"...Graduating class of '07? Gryffindor Lions?"

When all he received was a long silence, Daniel Folly continued.

"...Rawr?"

Darting a nervous glance at the kitchen doorway, Hermione turned and pressed the receiver to her ear.

"Yes. Can I help you?"

"Uh...Yeah. I was just wondering if you were coming to the reunion tonight, because we can't hold the table past-"

Hermione inhaled deeply. "I can't go."

Daniel Folly stuttered on the other end of the line, taken aback. "Are you sure? You were like, valedictorian all."

Hermione smiled humorlessly. "Keyword: was. I'm sure you'll find someone great to fill in for me."

Hesitating only once, Hermione hung up the phone, then leaned back against the wall and let herself exhale.

On the other side of London, in the top floor suite of Jameston Hotel, a confused Daniel Folly frowned as the phone cut off with a small click. "Um - Hermione?" Frowning even more deeply, Daniel slowly hung up the front desk phone and proceeded back into the Party Hall, where he knew he had friends waiting with schnapps.
The stager breathed deeply as she closed the roof-exit door behind her carefully, shivering as a last gust of cold air curled around her bare ankles. Resting her forehead against the cool metallic paint, she closed her eyeliner-laden eyes and tried to focus.

"Merlin."

Clutching the flaps of her coat shut, she straightened up, and flipped her hair-sprayed-stiff wave of red hair over her shoulder. From behind her, she could hear her boss announcing the next act.

"...Ms. Genine Wildfire with - um - R . E . S ... P . E . C . T!"

That name, "Genine Wildfire" had been his idea. She nearly screamed every time it was mentioned, now. Forcing herself not to flinch, or, better yet, run - though she couldn't determine which direction was worse; up, back to the bloody Slytherin king, or down, back to reality - Ginny Weasley walked down the stairs. Regal as a queen again, she entered the hall, and strode up to the stage. Not sparing her anything but his most annoyed look, the greasy man she knew as Boss handed her the microphone. Ginny beamed, regaining her facade, then directed her smile to the crowd as her boss backed off the stage. The opening chords to her song were struck on he piano, and Ginny began. "First I was afraid, I was petrified,"

Lavender Brown hummed idly as she twirled her empty cocktail glass on the bar counter-top. "I did not think that I could live without you by my side..." Sighing irritably, she checked her watch.

"That stupid bloke was supposed to be here over an hour ago," Parvati Patil muttered from beside her, sounding just as irritated, if not more so. Lavender sighed. Parvati had never really liked Ron. Not like Lavender did. "Give him time, Patil, he's just a man." The dark-haired journalist snorted loudly and retorted, "I have given him time. More than 6o minutes of it." Lavender forced her voice to calmness. " He said he had a few errands to run. For his mum." Lavender was sure to stress that. "Besides, we don't have anything better to do."

Lavender gave her friend a side-long glance. "Right?" Parvati grumbled, but didn't say any more. It had occurred to Lavender that any woman had the right to be infuriated with Ronald Weasley (he gave enough reason), but sometimes she still thought Parvati took it too far. So what, he'd acted like a jerk to her once at a schooldanceThat barely competed with the many times he'd stood up Lavender. The girl blushed slightly and cleared her throat.

"Tell you what," Lavender said, setting down her glass. "If he doesn't come by 10, we'll leave. We can go check out that new place Brennan was on about." She grinned, pointedly making her voice sound absent. "You do want to see Brennan, right?" Parvati had the decency to blush. A little. "Anything sounds better than this." she said, sounding much too casual. Better for you, worse for me. Lavender thought bitterly, gazing across the room at the open doors hopefully. Much worse for him.