The Floo deposited them in average sized apartment. What it lacked in dimensions it made up in the elegant furnishing. Unfortunately said furnishing were covered in various items that make up a successful party. Elegant ashtrays were strewn everywhere, half full, with the prerequisite trays of finger foods alongside them, at a safe distance. Glasses of all shapes and sizes were the predominant element all around. They were on the various tables, under chairs and if Bill saw correctly there was even one upside down on the candelabra.

Ms Parkinson seemed unconcerned with the mess and simply headed toward the equally messy kitchen. Five minutes later Bill was no longer wondering at his host's nonchalance. After depositing his burden, she had simply whipped her wand out and began casting. Bill could just stare as everything seemed to order itself out quickly and obediently. The lady of the house quite clearly was extremely talented with a wand. No pun intended of course although that was a though.

After making sure everything was as it should be, Pansy Parkinson, heiress to the Parkinson fortune and cosmetic manufacturer extraordinaire simply turned to him and asked in a perfectly serious tone.
"Tea, Mr. Weasley? Or would you prefer something stronger after the chill outside?"
Bill could only blink but noticing his host's increasingly more annoyed expression he quickly answered.
"Thank you, tea would be lovely, with a drop of Firewhiskey in it if possible. And please call me Bill, my father is Mr. Weasley."
"And you may call me Pansy if you wish. Have you eaten?"
Not waiting for a response she began to collect some ingredients and in no time, they were enjoying a plate of delicious sandwiches. Finishing his first sandwich Bill wrapped his hands around his mug of strong tea and sipped at it. He sighed as it warmed him from the inside out, the sweetness lingering on his tongue pleasantly.

He resumed eating after Pansy shot him a warning look. Surprisingly it reminded him of his mum. But he though it would be best not to mention that to Pansy. As they set about finishing the sandwiches, the talked about all the inconsequential things strangers usually talk about. The rubbish that the Daily Prophet was, how bad the new Minister was at his job, the new apothecary in Hogsmade that just opened. As they moved to the living room they continued chatting about their respective jobs.

They were both shocked, pleasantly so, by the similarities in their lives. They had both began their careers being very good at their jobs. They were both now bored with said jobs but didn't have a clue what else to do.
They had both married young, with people they had though perfect for themselves only to end in divorce. Pansy's divorce had caused quite a scandal, even though neither party ever gave the press any interviews. It came as a surprise that Bill's divorce had passed without a fuss.

"It was only because it happened right after the Final Battle, Pansy. There were very little subjects more important or even equally important than that. In a way I'm glad it happened then, less fuss than it could've been. And I don't mean just the press. We could have had children and my mum would have never recovered if she'd lost her grandchildren. The weird thing is I though we were stronger because of what we'd gone through with the war. Apparently not"

A prolonged silence ensued when Bill stopped talking. He stared into the fire, not really thinking about much. He could feel Pansy's assessing gaze on him and after a while turned to find her looking pensive into her empty mug.
"So, How come you and the Malfoy split up? I'm sorry, it's really none of my business . . ."
"You're right, Bill, she smiled, it isn't any of your business but if you really want to know I left him".
"Why? I mean he is handsome, rich and . . ."
"Yes, well, all beauty is flawed anyway but the real reason is that he is gayer that I am"
Bill took a moment to let it sink in, before he burst out laughing. There was one thing he hadn't counted on, and that was the wench having sense of humor. Problem was she wasn't laughing, since smirking doesn't count.

So she was either serious, which would mean Draco would be the last Malfoy. And weren't the Malfoy ancestors spinning in their graves right now. Or, and this would be funnier, she had finally had enough of spending less money on clothes than her husband did. He could see it in his mind's eye so clearly that he was sure his face would have a permanent grin from now on. Course, there was nothing wrong with being gay, but the way she'd phrased it had his mind playing scenario after scenarios of female indignation.
It was well past one in the morning when they realized the time. It had begun to snow outside again and it was working itself into a snowstorm. Not the kind of weather you would send a puppy outside clearly. As Bill scrambled to grab his coat, a small hand landed on his arm. He looked up into Pansy's face to see an amused smile there.
"Whatever makes you think I'd let you leave in this awful weather I really don't want to know. It's late so you should just crash on the sofa. No, Weasley, I don't mind. I'll just get you a quilt."
Bill just shook his head at the headstrong, petite beauty that glided through the door to return a few minutes later.

Again the wand was out and before Bill could register what had happened the sofa was longer and broader and he was dressed in green pajamas. A pillow and a quilt were arranged on the Transfigured sofa before he was pushed under the covers and tucked in.
"By the way, Bill? As he looked up, he noticed her in the doorway, framed from behind by the light in the hall, the bathroom is just down the hall of you need it." With that she turned around and closed the door behind her.
Fifteen minutes later, one Weasley and one Parkinson were still wondering at the surrealism of their day. Finally sleep took them and both fell asleep with a half smile on their faces.