When Draco leant back, an odd sort of quiet languished between them. He didn't dare look at Hermione; if anything, he wanted to melt into a puddle on the floor. He'd done it — kissed the most annoying woman in the world. By all accounts, his lips should've been burning right off, burnt by her tainted saliva, but for some reason, he didn't feel too bothered by it and neither did—
His thought was derailed by her fist colliding solidly with his eye. "OW!" Clutching his assaulted flesh, Draco panted, "Merlin's bloody bollocks, Granger! You hit like a man!"
"Why did you do that?" she shouted. "And the name is Weasley. As in Mrs Weasley! As in DON'T EVER DO THAT AGAIN!"
"I'm sorry!" Draco hissed as he gingerly massaged his already bruising skin. "You'd think after years of snogging that bell-end, you'd be grateful for a decent kiss here and there."
A gasp of revulsion preceded a heavy strike to his bicep and knocked Draco off balance. "I can't believe you said that!" she hissed. "He is not a… a…"
Draco smirked when she couldn't bring herself to repeat what he'd said. "Complete tosser. Has the personality of a retarded Kneazle and not nearly as good-looking. I'm fairly certain I'm referring to that twat you call a husband."
"You're foul!"
Lips twitching, Draco said, "In all the right ways." A feeling of bravado coursed through him, causing him to commit double the fallacy in one night, and he kissed her again, this time a bit more roughly to prove a point. He had no idea what made him do it, perhaps his alcohol tolerance had been woefully overestimated, but he really, really wanted to wipe that disgusted expression right off her face.
This time, when he withdrew, she just blinked rapidly before nearly falling out of her chair. When she wobbily gained her balance and was on her feet, she said, "I've got to go." Then she practically ran from the room, shouting for Hannah the second the door was closed. Chuckling, Draco lolled back his head and called, "Juno!"
Almost instantly, a house elf appeared. "How can Juno help Master Malfoy?"
"Apparate me home. And if you splinch me, you might live to regret it."
The sun streaming in through the window felt like a thousand white-hot needles boring into Draco's brain through his eyelids. He flopped his arm over his face to block out the offensive light, but the moment he stirred, there was a swift slap right on the tender flesh of his arm where Hermione had struck him the night before. He instinctively cringed and burrowed further into the covers to obscure any further assault, which was probably coming from his wife. What he could've possibly done to earn Astoria's ire, he had no idea, but he really didn't care to find out until his head stopped ringing from his massive hangover.
"Draco, wake up!"
It sure as hell wasn't Astoria, but what the hell was she doing there? "Gods, Granger, why are you in my bedroom?" he said through the covers over his face.
"We need to talk."
It was all he could do to keep from groaning, but he was sure doing so would get him hit again. When women wanted to 'talk', it was always about feelings and garbage like that, and he couldn't have cared less if he tried. Well, maybe, but…
His eyes nearly watered, his breath forced out with an oomph, when her hand slapped down hard on his midsection, mere inches away from delicate territory. After a fit of coughing, Draco threw back the duvet and vaulted out of bed. "What the hell do you want, you mad bint?"
Her jaw set, she jabbed her finger into his chest. "We need to set some ground rules."
Backing away from further physical abuse, Draco said, "For starters, how about you stop hitting me like a bloody maniac!"
"Then don't kiss me!"
"But you kissed me back, so don't go pinning it all on me."
"Oh, so you're Saint Draco now?" Hermione's voice was becoming progressively more high-pitched. "That was completely your fault, and if you do it again, I'll —"
"You'll what?" he sneered, smirking in satisfaction as she opened and closed her mouth several times, unable to respond. "No, I didn't think so." Jabbing his finger into her chest like she had just done to him, he hissed, "I'll not be spoken to like an errant child, and I will not be beaten like an old nag? Do we understand one another, Granger?"
"Weasley."
Her response threw him. "What?"
"The name is Weasley. Hermione Weasley. You will address me properly."
With a snort, Draco said, "Not likely. I'd like to be able to eat breakfast sometime today. Now, be a good little crazy person and get out of my sight before I hex you."
"You're… testy right now."
Her comment made something inside of him snap. "Testy? Testy? You barge into my house — who the hell knows who let you in, anyway — and assault me in my sleep, all the while demanding that I respect your personal space while you pummel me to death! How in the name of Merlin's twisted knickers am I not supposed to be 'testy'?"
Instead of contrite, Hermione gave him a tight smile and said, "I can see you're not quite awake yet, so I'll, um, see you downstairs. I have a few things I need you to look at." She turned to leave, but she stopped at the door and added, "Oh, and you, um, have a little, er…" Her eyes drifted down toward his middle, "…issue."
"Get out!" Draco shouted before grabbing his wand off of the end table and slamming the door in her face. He seethed as he listened to her grumble and stalk down the hallway, just to be sure she'd finally left. He simply couldn't wrap his brain around her having the raw nerve to accost him in his sleep for something that could've waited at least a couple hours, or at least until he'd had a chance to take a headache potion and drink a pot of coffee.
However, he was still curious as to what she'd meant by 'issue'. Looking down at his midsection, he noticed that part of his right bollock was sticking out the side of his Y-fronts. "Fan-bloody-tastic."
An hour later, after a lengthy shower and plenty of dawdling to make her pay for her intrusion, Draco came downstairs, properly dressed with everything stowed in the proper undergarments, only to find Hermione and Astoria poring over the omnipresent Book of Stuff. This time, though, they were much friendlier than they were the last time they were together. One of them even giggled. Giggled! But when they noticed his entrance, their conversation abruptly ended; it didn't take much of a stretch to figure out that they were talking about him.
"You two seem rather chummy. To what do I owe the displeasure?"
Biting her bottom lip, Hermione said, "I was just consulting with Astoria on her wine preferences. We never did decide between the two you liked, so I was asking her what she thought."
Draco crossed his arms. "And?"
"And we're going to go for the one you liked. Apparently —"
"No!" he hissed. "What were you two laughing about?" Draco wasn't stupid; he knew exactly what they found so amusing, but making her admit it was merely one step in his plan to get her back for earlier.
Judging by Hermione's lack of ability to articulate and Astoria's smirk, Draco knew he was right. Feeling slightly vindicated, he pulled out a chair and said, "Now, what were we discussing?"
27 June — Eve of the Wedding Day
"You can't be serious," Draco said, desperately hoping he was imagining things. "You can't break things off now! Are you completely mental?"
"Dad, Lily doesn't want to take my name! How am I supposed to spend my life with someone who doesn't want every part of who I am?"
Draco snorted. "Oh, please!" He was dangerously close to slapping his son for being a complete pouf about it, even if he did happen to sympathise with his point of view. But he'd tolerated a month of constant exposure to Hermione, so the lad could and would deal with the fact that his new wife's surname would be Potter, no matter how offensive it was.
Pacing around the study, Scorpius said, "How can you say that? Being a Malfoy means everything to you!"
That statement made Draco pause. Scorpius was right; his name meant more to him than a lot of things. Had Astoria rejected it before their wedding, he probably wouldn't have married her, either — no matter how much planning went into it. Sighing, he said, "No, you're right. Just… just give me a minute. I'll think of something."
But that 'something' was already obvious. He should've known that he wouldn't be shot of Hermione so easily. Even though Lily's mum had taken over a lot of the wedding planning, she wanted nothing to do with associating with Draco. That left Hermione to be the liaison between the two families.
Scribbling a quick note, Draco sent it to Hermione, hoping to stop this madness before Scorpius paced a hole in the carpet. He didn't expect a response so quickly, but sure enough, one came only minutes later. However, upon perusal, it appeared as if she had the same idea that he did: imploring the other to do something before it was too late.
Please talk some sense into Scorpius. Lily is crying her eyes out, and Harry and Ginny are ready to hex him for dumping her.
-H
No matter how delicious the thought of annoying Potter and his weasel wife was, Draco knew that Scorpius would be miserable for ages if he broke things off with Lily. And, as much as he was loath to admit it, he actually liked his prospective daughter-in-law for her intelligence and ambitions. That and she was fairly attractive and not completely red-headed.
This time, he wrote a new missive.
Disregard last message. Meet me at the Leaky Cauldron at nine. Bring Lily.
-DM
Clearing his throat, Draco said, "Come on, son. Let's go get a drink."
Raising a brow, Scorpius replied, "But we have a giant liquor cabinet. You should know; you bought it."
"Um, that's not the point. You need a, er, change of scenery. And someone to pour your drinks for you. Yes!" Grabbing Scorpius's arm, Draco dragged him toward the fireplace. "Now, let's go."
"How is this going to help?" Scorpius asked as Draco chucked a handful of Floo powder into the grate. "Getting drunk hardly solves anything."
With a snort, Draco retorted, "Then you don't get drunk enough. Leaky Cauldron!" He stepped into the fire, dragging Scorpius along, not looking forward to the unpleasantness of a double Floo. But desperate times called for desperate measures.
When they arrived at the Cauldron, it was in an even dirtier state than usual, due to the cramped conditions, but Draco didn't care. Checking his watch, he saw that it was still half eight, so he had plenty of time to get Scorpius buzzed enough to forget his issue with Lily before Hermione arrived with the other half of the not-so-happy couple. Maybe if both of them drank enough, then they could just have a good make-up shag and all would be well.
It didn't take long for Scorpius to get into the spirit of drinking his worries away. As he didn't partake in alcohol often, it took effect fairly quickly, and by five minutes to nine, he was already starting to slur his speech. Draco couldn't help but think that, as simplistic as it was, this plan was actually going to succeed.
When the door opened at nine, Draco knew it would be Hermione with Lily, and sure enough, it was. Judging by the eye roll he received, she caught onto his plan quickly. And Lily wasn't far behind. The moment she saw her former intended, only Hermione's hand on her arm kept her from bolting straight out the door, and she petulantly followed her aunt to the bar.
Just loud enough for Draco and Scorpius to hear, Lily said, "What are they doing here?"
Resisting the urge to throttle her for her attitude, Draco sighed. Perhaps this wasn't such a good plan after all. And that realisation was only compounded by Scorpius's reaction. "I keep hearing her voice, Dad." Downing the rest of his drink, seemingly incognisant of the ladies' presence, he added with a sniff, "I can't live without her. I don't care what her name is." The sound of sobs soon permeated the air.
It made Draco want to disappear. His son was a bloody poofter, mewling like a girl! If it was possible to be more embarrassed, Draco couldn't even contemplate it, but all he could do was pat Scorpius on the shoulder and try not to vomit. Glancing over at Hermione, he could see she was trying to get his attention. Her eyes kept diverting toward a darkened corner of the nearly empty bar, indicating that she wanted to talk to him alone.
Giving Scorpius a final reassuring pat, Draco said, "I'll be right back. Going to pop to the loo." Crying into his sleeve, Scorpius nodded, and Draco crept away. He saw Hermione whisper something to Lily, who looked annoyed but didn't raise a fuss. Soon, they were across from one another yet again.
"Any news?" he asked.
"She's really cross with him."
Sharply jerking his thumb over his shoulder where Scorpius was ordering another double Firewhiskey, Draco hissed, "Look at him! He's bloody miserable! Just let her feel bad for him and take him back."
"Draco…" She shook her head. "That's manipulation."
"And you've been married how long? That's what marriage is, Granger. Manipulation and games. Just let them fix this on their own, and we can get this bloody business over with."
"Oh, how romantic of you," she said sarcastically. "Truly, how do you fight the women off?"
"Ha!" he retorted. "Like all of this gooey, lovey-dovey nonsense works in reality. Marriage is about making a good match while dodging all of the stupid crap and not killing each other over it."
"What about love, Draco? Doesn't that count for anything?"
"No! Look at them! They're in love, and they're both miserable. How is that supposed to fix anything?"
"Like that," she said, her eyes focused on the young couple. Curious, Draco turned to look, only to see Lily with her arms wrapped around Scorpius and kissing his forehead. Just before Draco could comment, though, their lips were practically welded to one another. It was… working.
Draco wanted to pump his fist when Scorpius's hand roamed underneath Lily's blouse, but he was sure that, judging by Hermione's gasp of horror, he would be hexed in an instant. But when she started taking out her wand to separate the two, his hand covered hers. "Don't," he said quietly. "This is their night, so let them be." Truthfully, he just wanted them to get married before their next big fight, but he knew better than to say so.
"But it's not decent!" she whispered.
"Who cares? They'll just be at it on their wedding night. What's a day?" With a chortle, he said, "Besides, I doubt you and Weasel waited until you were married."
Her retort was stilled in her throat as she flushed a deep scarlet. Instead, she gritted her teeth as Scorpius picked up Lily and stumbled toward the stairs after loudly commissioning a room for the night from the barman. How he managed it without breaking his hold on Lily impressed Draco. Perhaps he wasn't such a poofter after all.
Soon, their efforts were no longer required, and Draco and Hermione were alone. The former was trying hard not to grin. "I knew it would work."
"You mean you planned that?"
"'Course I did," he said. "Why else would you need to bring her?"
"Oh, I don't know, maybe a civilised conversation!"
"Bollocks! What's more civilised than making up the old-fashioned way?" Waving his hand at the barman for another drink, he added, "Besides, I don't see either of them complaining."
"But they've both been drinking! That's no way to start a relationship."
"Oh, and there it is. I was wondering when you were going to start haranguing me about morality."
"Well, if you had any morals, I wouldn't have to!"
Looking up from his drink with the express purpose of glaring at her, Draco's breath hitched when he saw her chest heaving in anger. She really did have nice breasts, but as he'd not had enough alcohol to forget not to stare, he looked up at her face. The sight of her lips reminded him of their drunken snog in the back room of this very building, and the intense desire do it again was staggering. He had no idea what was wrong with him, but he wanted his hands all over her body.
Stop it, what was left of his liquor-addled common sense screamed. She's married! She's a Mudblood! She's… Hermione Granger! Hermione…
Before he even realised it was happening, their lips met, and it wasn't even him that had done it. Her fingers plunged into his hair, pulling his face into even closer contact with hers. She tasted not of drink but of spearmint and something sweet, and he was starting to crave the flavour more and more. His earlier mental objections were mattering less and less, and more and more, he wanted to start exploring some more of her soft flesh.
His lips drifted to her jawline and trailed down her neck, relishing the feel of her moan vibrating through the skin of her throat. The soft planes of her shoulder were soon exposed as he slid her sleeve away from his mouth's path. And he was only encouraged when her hands drifted to his chest.
How he managed it, he had no idea, but Draco tore himself away from her, gasping for breath, and they stared at one another. How he could do something so idiotic, he had no idea, but it had to stop before someone strolled into that public place and found out.
"I'll, um, see you tomorrow," he muttered as he backed away, hoping like hell that he made it to the Floo before she regained her better sense and jinxed him into a puddle of slime.