The Muggle Market
Hermione gasped as Ron came within a centimeter of the car in front of him.
"Go on, then," he said as he turned to her. "We'll be back to pick you up in a few minutes."
She glanced into the back seat to ask her son if he would accompany her, but she saw that he had fallen asleep during the ten minute drive, and was not drooling on the car door. She shut her mouth silently and smiled fleetingly at Ron before opening the door and stepping out.
As soon as she slammed it shut, Ron was zooming through the parking lot, weaving around cars like a NASCAR racer.
Hermione rolled her eyes. He was such a teenager sometimes.
She stepped in a small puddle on her way into the store, and the water came up to splash her Muggle jeans violently. She swore under her breath and bent down to wipe the water off the pants, but the denim was soaking it up like a sponge. Somehow, just from that one little splash, her leg was wet up to the knee.
She let out a sigh of annoyance as she made her way into the grocery, avoiding puddles henceforth.
To her immense surprise, the huge glass doors slid out of the way before she even went to push them aside. She glanced both ways to see if someone had moved them for her, but no one was around. It seemed like the doors knew she was coming, and moved out of the way.
She frowned as she stepped through the threshold, trying to figure out how Muggles had come up with a way to detect an approaching customer.
She thought she must look insane to the people in the store, with her leg all soaked and looking all confused at how the doors moved. Luckily for her, there was no one around to see her looking suspicious.
She knew only vaguely where to go. She remembered from when she was a kid that Muggle grocery stores usually separated foods by their type. Peanut butter was a jarred food, so she had to find the jars. And jam was jarred, too, so find one and you've found the other.
The only thing was, it seemed like they had stopped selling jarred foods. Hermione couldn't find one single jar – anywhere.
Out of the corner of her eye, she saw a person wearing the same bright orange color as the sign in front of the store. She turned to face the person, and was greeted very loudly by a woman practically yelling, "CAN I HELP YOU MISS?"
Hermione cleared her throat and furrowed her brows. "Ahem, yes, I suppose you can… I'm looking for jarred foods."
"Well that would be right over here, wouldn't it? Follow me, I'll just show you right on over there… Here we are," the employee rambled on as she walked ahead of Hermione down the aisles. She stopped in front of a tall shelving unit, filled with all sorts of jarred food.
Hermione could have sworn this wasn't there before, but she smiled and thanked the lady anyways. Surveying the jars, she quickly found a jar of peanut butter and one of strawberry jam. She wasn't sure if she should get that one, or if she should go for the grape. She stood there for a moment, examining the two jams, until she heard a footstep behind her.
"Pansy, what is this?" Draco said as he approached his wife, who was reclining idly on a lounge sofa, staring blankly at their baby son on the floor.
Her eyes snapped to him and the fact that he was holding a wand. It was a short one, made of a dark wood, with the initials "B.Z." carved on the under side.
"It's Blaise's wand," she said blandly, apparently very bored with this discussion already. But then, she was usually bored with discussions.
"And what, may I ask, is Blaise Zabini's wand doing in your…your… Pansy are you listening?!"
She had shifted her gaze to his shoulder, and was watching it intently. When he raised his voice, her eyes moved back to meet his.
"Are you trying to ask me something, Draco?" she said, rolling her eyes.
"Are you fucking Zabini, Pansy?" Draco spat. He didn't want to waste more time in that discussion.
She licked her lips and smiled with one side of her mouth. "So what if I am?" she asked.
"What if you – Pansy! Does this mean nothing to you?" he held up his left hand, showing his wedding ring to her. "Merlin, how do I even know that he's mine?" he pointed at Scorpius, who was now staring up at him with his silvery blue eyes.
There was no point to that question, because the fact that Scorpius was Draco's son was as plain as day. They looked exactly the same, down to the little smirk, which the child had already picked up.
"Oh, calm down," Pansy said, and rolled her eyes again. Then she narrowed them and stared directly at Draco. "It's not like you've never been unfaithful."
"I – I – what the hell are you talking about? I haven't been with anyone other than you since we were betrothed!" he sputtered. "I was seventeen! And even then, I was able to understand what marriage meant. And it's obvious, Pansy, that you can't even figure it out by now."
She smiled back at him cynically. "What are you going to do?" she asked.
"I – " Draco started, but then shut his mouth. The image of his father threatening him – pointing his wand at him viciously, warning him not to destroy the family's honor – came into his mind, and he knew what could be done. "Nothing," he breathed before scooping his child up off the floor and walking out of the room, not needing to look back at his wife, who, he knew, was still laying there on the sofa, looking more complacent than ever.
"Pansy?"
"Hmm?"
She opened her eyes slowly and brought them to meet his.
"Get out of my bed," he said to the man who'd just sat up.
"I – I can explain – " the unknown man stuttered in fear. But Draco wasn't interested.
"I don't care," he said as he held up his hand to stop the man. "Just get out before my son wakes up and realizes what a filthy whore his mother is," he said calmly.
Pansy wrinkled her nose and turned her head to face the window as the door slammed shut.
"I'm glad to know that you don't miss me too much while I'm away," he said as he dropped his briefcase and loosened his tie. "You know, I always enjoy your welcoming home… gifts."
She turned her head back at him and sighed deeply. He tried to read her face for any ounce of emotion whatsoever, but it was devoid. She was empty. He hated her.
"How was Scorpius while I was away?" he asked. That was the only thing he cared to know from her, anyway.
She shrugged. "I didn't see him. He was with that Chinese woman the whole time."
"The Chinese woman?" he asked, unaware that they had hired a new nanny. Then it dawned on him. "Pansy, do you mean your mother?" he asked, bringing his face a little closer to her, to examine her insanity.
"Yeah, must've been," she said, and then laid down again, pulling the duvet over her head.
Draco walked into their bathroom and scooped up the pills on the counter. Flushing them down the toilet, he wondered when things had become this way. He wondered why he didn't just get out of it already. He had more than enough reasons.
And he would get custody, he knew that for sure.
He looked in the mirror and scrunched up his long, pointed nose. He was very unhappy with his loss of hair in the last few years, although he was sure it was from stress. He, Draco Malfoy, stressed? It was a ridiculous idea, but it was true. Because of that dumb bitch laying in his bed, he could never relax.
He could never walk down the street without looking into every man's eyes and wondering if his wife had slept with him. Yet. He could never come home without preparing himself to catch her shagging another one of the countless men.
He could never entertain people in his home, for fear that someone might find some thing or some drug or some man in his bedroom, waiting for his wife.
He could never look at a woman, because every time he did, a pang of loneliness hit him in the chest, and he wanted to hold her, no matter who she was, because he couldn't hold his wife.
And yet, all these years, he had been faithful. He covered up for her, flushed her drugs down the toilet, kept away from other women. Stayed with her even though he deserved to leave.
He sighed at his reflection. Why did he put up with it?
"What do you want?" she asked him. This was definitely not a coincidence, and she didn't want to hear any lies saying it might be. She didn't dance around the subject. "Why are you following me Malfoy?"
His icy eyes caught hers, and for an instant, she thought she saw a hint of pain in them. Then he took a deep breath.
"Granger, I need your help," his voice came. Smooth, clear, with a sharp edge on it – he sounded just like he always had.
"Well, it's not Granger anymore, and I'm not sure how I could help you either way," she said, putting her hand on her hip. Just then, the grape jelly slipped out of her fingers and landed with a resounding crash on the floor. Hermione brought her hand to her forehead and massaged her temples for a second. By the time she opened her eyes again, she saw Malfoy's wand and heard him mutter a very quiet, "Scourgefy."
"Thanks," she said. "You shouldn't have done that, though."
"I know."
"They're going to come over here and ask if everything's alright, and then they're not going to be able to find whatever it was that fell on the floor – Malfoy, put your bloody wand away!" she lowered her voice during the last sentence as she saw the same old lady round the corner and come walking up the aisle towards them.
He slipped his wand into his trouser pocket fast enough, and within a couple seconds the woman was inquiring, "Everything alright here?"
"Yes, thank you," Hermione smiled at the lady.
The employee nodded her head and seemed to search the floor for a second before shaking her head and walking away.
"Please," Malfoy said when the woman was gone.
Hermione shrugged. "What do you need?" she asked in a cynical tone. She was positive that there was definitely nothing she could do to help him.
"A divorce," he whispered.
Ah, well, she was wrong, then.