Most of this is just a flashback. The last part will be in the present, AND IN HERMIONE'S POINT OF VIEW. But that'll be the only section in the story Hermione narrates.

Disclaimer: Nein.

Late February.

"Dear Merlin, when's the last time this thing saw a good cleaning spell."

I grunted into my pillow as the tyrant drew back the curtains, causing my normally dark room to flood with unwanted light. It was only nine in the morning and this loonie felt the need to ruin my much-needed beauty sleep with her bubbly, i'm-a-morning-person personality. I would have cursed her in oblivion if my wand was next to me instead of in the bathroom next to the porcelin goddess, where I left it after last nights rendevous with Blaise. The damn wench would get to it before I had the chance to. Not that I'd be moving too fast, the world was spinning enough already. The psycho was talking about the lack of proper room keeping as I tried pulling the covers over my head. She flicked her wand, though, and the covers disappeared.

"I'll get Iodine to clean this mess up as soon as you get ready."

"I'm not getting up."

"You most certainly are." Mum stopped moving around for an instant. When she started up again she snatched my pillow and threw it somewhere. "I refuse to be the mother of some bum of a son. Blaise Zabini and Pansy Parkinson already found work. For Merlin's sake, even Marcus Flint found a job!" She said Marcus's name with disgust. She didn't care much for him.

"Be gone, Hitler."

Mum smacked be with something insanely hard, "Do not compare me to some muggle! What do you plan on doing for the rest of your life? Sit around here all day, eating and drinking and partying? Sorry, darling, but it'll be a cold day in hell before that happens." I made no effort to move. "Get up, Draco Malfoy, or I will kick you out."

She was insane! Sure all my mates got jobs, but the second I put my name in for a position somewhere I'd be turned down. None of them were Death Eaters, none of them conspired to murder Dumbledore, none of them worked their ass off in an attempt to kill boy wonder. No one in their right mind was going to hire me, and why would they? My track record is anything but clean and the only Professor who would have given me high recommendations is seven feet under with the worms and dirt. I let Mama Stalin know this too, to which her only response was a grunt of disapproval and a pathetic assurance that any company would be happy to hire a Malfoy. No, mum, any company would rather go bankrupt before they let a Malfoy work for them. So I ignored her and called for Ding-a-Ling. The little elf knew exactly what I needed and appeared before mum and I with a glass of red, boiling liquid that made my hairs stand in end, it was a bare necessity, though.

"You have an interview with Witch Weekly in an hour, try to hurry."

"Witch Weekly?" I barked. "Are you mad!"

"No," She shook her head. "They're looking for a young, fresh reporter. You're young and once you clean up you'll be fresh."

I glared at her until she left.

I came out of my bedroom fifty minutes later to find the editor of the barbaric magazine sitting in the parlor, sipping tea with the tyrant. The editor was a tall and thin witch with long, curly, black hair and the biggest...eyes I'd ever seen. I straightened out my tie, maybe getting a job for the magazine wasn't too bad. I quietly muttered a charm to thin the tie out, I heard that long, thin ties drew attention to more reputable areas. Not that I cared if my future boss found my reputable area reputable. No, who am I kidding, I wanted her to imagine it. I wanted to her shake with excitement at the thought of hiring me and getting so much more than a young and fresh reporter. Yeah, it was going to be fantastic. I could take her to all different place, make her toes curl, and her throat sore from screaming. She wouldn't be able to walk right for some time. I smirked at her. I'd give this witch the ride of her life.

Until I saw the honking ring on her finger. Damn.

"Mr. Malfoy," My could-have-been-should-have-been stood up when I made my presence known. "It's nice to meet you, I'm Emilyn Branschel."

"Pleasure is mine." I lied.

"You're mother was just telling me about you lack of a future."

"How kind." I sneered in mum's direction.

"Well, lucky for you I'm here to fix that." I took the arm chair across from the couch. "See, with the death of a few of our best reporters, we're looking for new ones. Ones who can really connect with our readers. We're looking for people who really know how to write to an audience, ones who people can relate to. And after talking with Mrs. Malfoy, I'm convinced you'd be perfect. I can't tell you how many people I know who have been up to nothing after the war. Most of them sit around their homes all day waiting for an opportunity to come to them. You, Mr. Malfoy, you can tell them to go for it."

"But I'm not chasing any opportunity."

The two women exchanged glances.

"Draco's had a bit of a rough night, maybe you could come back tomorrow." Mum hurried to save the failing interview. "That is if you'll still have him."

"Of course, of course," Emilyn smiled, her smile was a flashy as her...eyes.

As we shut the door on Emilyn, mum went into a rant about how I was so difficult at times and I was like my father more and more everyday. I smirked with pride. Dad made some bad choices but being compared to him was like a muggle being compared to Jesus. I let her continue, you know some times it's just best to roll with the punches, especially if the puncher was going to kick you out of your home. I told her I was sorry and I'd stay in tonight and prepare for the interview and make a better second impression. She nodded and kissed my cheek, saying that the experience would be the best thing that ever happened to me. It would teach me discipline, tolerance, and patience, traits I would needed for later in life. Little did we both know, though, it wasn't going to be some damn magazine that I'd learn those traits from. Mum straightened up at the sound of the door bell, we hadn't been expecting an company today, only the editor from the damn magazine.

Iodine popped into the room a moment later and bowed to us, "Miss Pansy Parkinson, sir."

Pansy strutted into the room before Iodine bowed out to leave. He was deathly afraid of her, he almost always tried to be in and out of a room before she even thought about entering it. His old age wasn't helping him out, she was too quick for him. All of his hopes and dreams came crashing down the second she opened her mouth. I really felt sorry for the fellow, he had to obey every word that came out of her, come hell or high waters he was unwillingly whipped. Me, on the other hand, she could have asked me to sign up for some ungodly task and I would have done it, just because she asked...And because I usually got something in return.

"What are you doing here?" I asked. Internally, I scorned myself, being mean was only going to get me a solo performance.

Behave, Mr. Malfoy.

"I need to run some errands in Diagon Alley." Pansy told Iodine to fetch my cloak. "You're coming with me."

"I don't want to go shopping with you."

"I don't care what you want." Pansy looked at mum. "I promise I'll return him in one piece. We're just going to go to the Weasley's place, the book store, and get some lunch."

"What do you need to get at Weasel's?" I frowned as Iodine popped back in the room with my cloak.

.

"Pygmy Puff for my cat." Pansy was cruel. "We go through at least four of them a week, Lucifer is getting quicker."

"You're the devil, woman." I said as she walked down another aisle.

"No," She smirked. "My cat is."

"Just listen to me, Ronald!" Pansy cringed at the sound of Granger.

I'd never admit it in public, but I think I actually had a mix of pity and admiration for the damn Weasel. I mean, not many people can take on a wench like Hermione Granger and live to tell the tale. But Weasley, hell, he's been putting up with her since First Year and he was still living large. I was fairly certain I knew why he stuck around, though...boy, did I ever. Granger was like a ticking time bomb, Pansy's mood swings never fluctuated as bad as that stupid Gryffindor's did. Crazy witch, I tell you.

"You can't expect everything to go back to the way it was!" Weasel hissed. Pansy was listening. To the untrained male, it would seem as if she was interested in the product in her hands. But Pansy wasn't interested in anything a Weasley had to offer. "And DON'T you tell me it was a mistake. Hermione Granger doesn't make mistakes." The last part was pure mockery.

"I did, I do! It was!"

"It just accidentally happened that way?"

"You weren't there! You ditched me!"

I'm not going to lie and tell you I enjoyed listening to their happy relationship fall apart: I was in bloody heaven! It was the best conversation of the day! What better way to start off a morning than with a nice, hot conversation about the communication breakdown of two star-crossed lovers?

"I can't believe you, Hermione!" The Weasel's tone pulled me from my happy place.

"Alright, kiddies," Pansy called as she dragged me into the next aisle over. "Sorry to interrupt happy hour, but..." Her voice trailed off and she froze where she was. My happy place left me and my heart stopped in mid-beat.

Weasley let go of Granger's arm and she stumbled away from him. His face was red as ever, number one sign Weasley heard something he could have gone without knowing, and the look on his face was enough to silence the dictator waiting for me at home. Granger was the side show attraction, though. It had nothing to do with her curls, curls that made me think dirty thoughts. Or with her quivering lip, the quivering lip I so much wanted to bite. No, it had everything to do with baby bump Hermione Granger was now supporting.

The red-head glared at me before shoving me into Pansy as he stormed past us, "Enjoy fatherhood, ferret."


I felt like a ditsy teenager as I fixed my hair in the reflection of the metal breast plate. It didn't seem to want to work with me today. I tried mouse, gel, hairspray, and quite a few hair spells I found in Pansy's Big Book of Everything, the one I "borrowed" from Ginny who stole it from Pansy last winter. Some of the things a witch could do to her hair were unbelievable, extraordinary really. But they were useless when my hair decided to have a mind of its own. Jauclin and Autumn had no idea how lucky they were to have managable curls. I pulled my hair into a pony tail quickly and hurried into the Dining Hall just as the first students started making their way up from the dungeons and down from the higher floors.

Avery was already sitting at the staff table, wearing the same expression he had worn all day yesterday. I was slightly weary to sit down near him, one word and I might set off the ticking time bomb. He was staring straight ahead, watching the doors, waiting for my two favorite people to walk through. No one had seen them since Saturday. Cormac said Draco was...entertaining...someone in his room for hours on end, but I doubted it was Pansy. They were ancient history. Besides, Avery was his best mate and he wouldn't do that to him...at least, I hope he wouldn't. Although, I don't believe in coincidence and it's hard to believe that Draco and Pansy were miraculously, by the grace of God, not together in his room. I felt a knot in my stomach as I took the chair next to the Head of Slytherin, his crabby attitude was like an air-borne virus. Maybe...oh never mind. I shouldn't even worry about what Draco's doing or who he might or might not be doing.

"Morning." Avery actually spoke. I was shocked. He wasn't demeaning or indifferent...he was pleasant?

"How was your weekend?" Oh God, no, that's not what I wanted to say, Let me correct myself: How was your weekend, but please, give me a one word answer instead of the answer I feel coming on.

"Spectacular." Oh Merlin. "I was thinking last night, you know," Yes, Avery, I'm fully aware of the concept. "I don't really care if Draco was shagging Pansy all weekend." Was it wrong to say that a part of me did? "I mean, all is fair in love and war, right?"

"Draco doesn't love Pansy like that." I assured him.

"I wasn't referring to this as love. It's war."

"Pansy isn't a battle to be won, Avery." I mumbled as my temper rose. I wasn't too fond of the bint, but she wasn't a piece of meat. "And if you want her, you'll never get her by acting like that."

Avery scoffed, "I don't want her."

I rolled my eyes as Draco walked in the Dining Hall, followed by his livid daughter. She was my daughter, too, of course, but that temper of hers was all Malfoy. Avery's tension seemed to fade when Draco made it to the table and Pansy was still anywhere but here...mine lifted, too. I scooted down a chair and gave Draco his normal seat.

"How've you been, mate?" Avery asked.

"Spectacular." I groaned internally at his answer. Spectacular was never as good as it sounded.

Avery and I watched him as he piled the food on his plate, it was like he thought this would be his last meal. Or he had all his energy drained and he was just restoring it. Oh God. I bit my lip, I was really hoping it wasn't the latter. Not that I cared for him or anything. I just didn't want to see him break some girl's heart. Some girl who could do loads better than Draco Malfoy. The last thing she needed was to end up pregnant and alone with one of his spawns. Besides, I don't know how Autumn would be able to cope with the news that her "daddy" was having children with another woman, when in her eleven year old mind she was still waiting on our reunion. I glanced down the table at Cormac, I assumed that's why neither of the girls were fond of him...no one amounted to their father. In their state of mind, I mean.

"You haven't seen Pansy, have you?" I tore my attention away from Cormac just in time to see the falter of Draco's cool demeanor. I don't know what it was: regret, anxiety, maybe just plain nervousness. But there was definitely an emotion there that was rarely seen on a Malfoy's face.

The infamous smirk graced his face and I thought I'd die, "I don't think we'll see her til dinner."

Avery tensed up and I'm sure the whole table felt it. "What makes you say that, mate?" He really, and I mean really, emphasized that last word.

"Let's just say, Pansy might be a tad worn out for the next few days."

I stared at the toast on my plate, stood up, and left the Dining Hall. I hadn't talked to Moaning Myrtle in quite some time.

Sorry, this was much longer than I intended. Actually, it kept me away from The Jungle, a book I'm supposed to have read by tomorrow. But no worries, I'd rather write for you than read that book. Well, I hope you liked it. I mean, I know that most of you probably aren't fans of the Pasny/Draco relationship that is messing up Hermione/Draco's already screwed up relationship. But I have a plan for everything(:

Next Chapter: A softer side of Jauclin and, even better, Hermione's birthday;)

My question for you: What do you think will do down on Hermione's big day?