I bet you thought this day would never come! You thought I had left you for good, well I'm back! Even if it takes another two years, I will finish this fic! Warning: there is M-slash at the start of this chapter in a M/M/F threesome. If that is not your thing skip to the "***." Happy Reading!


Deep breaths, in and out, Hermione coached herself, sweat at her brow. It was not working - she was a fucking mess. You would think months of intimate work for Draco Malfoy would make her more at ease in new sexual situations. It should be run-of-the-mill or common, like danger to an auror. Unfortunately, the idea of being in the middle of a Blaise-Draco sandwich still had her shaking in her knickers.

She was standing in one of the Manor's many guest rooms. Draco and Astoria took turns styling the spare rooms and Hermione could tell this was one of Astoria's because of the absurd amount of ivy decoration – the witch was obsessed with unique florals. Hermione supposed it might be a pretty pattern to others but it simply wasn't her taste. She hated when they slept in one of his wife's rooms, largely due to fact that she thought they only did so because Draco knew it bothered her.

"You sure she's up for this, Draco?" Blaise asked in a haughty tone as if Hermione hadn't been there. It was very rude. "She looks like someone stole her keazel."

Draco stood beside Hermione on the bedside. He was wearing a nice pair of muggle jeans, he knew drove Hermione mad, and an unbuttoned white button-up. The blonde kissed her on the forehead, a gesture that seemed much too innocent for what they were about to do, and placed a comforting hand on her lower back. Hermione felt some of the nerves release into his palm on her skin.

"Why don't you ask her?" Draco said, humor in his voice. Hermione felt his fingers dance up and down the bumps of her spine.

"What do you say, Granger?" Blaise asked, "if you're too much of a prude, we can always trade you in for Weasley. I know she's up for it." He gave Draco a toothy smile.

Hermione's fists clinched at her sides. Trade her in, like she was a chocolate frog card.

"You're such an arse," she said indignantly. The blonde gave his friend a warning look and Hermione's heart did a little flip.

"We might as well get this over with," Hermione said, "if Zabini talks anymore, he mightn't have any bollocks left."

"That's it, Granger, talk dirty to me," Blaise teased. Draco laughed, before leaning next to Hermione's ear and asking her, for the the twentieth time that week, if she was sure about this? She assured him with a nod of her head. She was ready. Draco had taken her anal virginity ages ago and she'd been in plenty of group sex encounters – they had just all been with other women.

"Blaise and I can start, if you like," Draco offered, "Might take the edge –" but before he could finish, Hermione was already nodding her head enthusiastically. She would be lying if she said the thought of Blaise and Draco together didn't set certain bits of her on fire. Her nerves seemed to evaporate with the thought of them pressed together. Draco felt her shudder and nipped at her ear.

"Dirty girl," he whispered, making her toes curl.

He walked over to Blaise in the center of the room without missing a step, all confidence and not even a shred of apprehension. Draco grasped Blaise by the neck, as if he did it every day, and brought the other man's mouth to his. Hermione thought she might die from the onslaught of heat that traveled through her body at the sight and was sure her cheeks were an embarrassing shade of red.

Hermione took a staggering breath as she watched Blaise pull Draco's bottom lip into his mouth with his teeth. The blonde moved forward with enthusiasm, pressing himself fully against the other man's firm, sculpted body. Hermione swore she heard a hiss as their hips met.

The whole scene looked like a duel, Blaise pulling Draco's hair, Draco leaving bruising bites on Blaise's neck, the feral groans, the ceaseless rutting; Hermione wondered, briefly, how they could possibly be so comfortable doing this in front of her. Then Draco took Blaise's clothed cock in a firm grip and turned to wink at Hermione as he stroked. Oh, Hermione thought in understanding, they were doing this for her. It was a show. Blaise's head went back as Draco's deft hands continued their work and licked a line up his exposed neck.

Hermione felt her inner walls pulse, an involuntary chirp escaping her lips. "Oh, Granger," Blaise said breathlessly, "I'd almost forgotten you were there." He gave her a silky smile. With a jerk, he turned Draco around so his back was pressed against Blaise's chest. Hermione watched the considerable tent in Draco's trousers twitch as Blaise's hand wrapped around his neck, the other man's hips rocking steadily against his arse.

Draco let out a deep moan, keeping consistent eye contact with Hermione now. She shifted on the bed, her lace bra teasing her hardened nipples. Throwing caution to the wind, she began rolling her thumbs over them, her own hips bucking as she did.

"Our voyeur is looking a bit lonely," Malfoy said into Blaise' ear, nipping at it when he was finished. "Join us," he said to Hermione. "Come to the edge of the bed and spread your legs for me," he instructed in a commanding tone. Hermione eagerly did as she was told, her cheeks pink.

"Hello, Granger," Draco said, hands holding on to each of her spread thigh. He lowered himself to his knees and flattened his back, leaving his arse on display for Blaise to – fuck? Bloody hell, that's what was about to happen, wasn't it, she thought shakily. The mental image alone could undo her. "Merlin, Blaise, look how wet she is?" Draco said.

Blaise let out a short conceited laugh. "Does watching us turn you on," Blaise said, unzipping and pulling down Draco's trousers and pants. "We haven't even started." Hermione watched him suck a finger into his mouth then run it down the cleft of Draco's arse, his grip on her thighs tightened. She caught the smallest bit of pink tint in his pale cheek. "I bet he's never told you, but Draco's a slut for it – being fucked up arse. Aren't you?" Blaise gave him a swift spank and repeated his question, spreading his cheeks and lowering his tongue to Draco's sensitive hole.

"Fuck," Hermione and Draco said together, his cheeks as red as a Weasley's.

Hermione watched Draco's cock jerk of its own accord, red and desperate for the other man to continue his work on his arse. Blaise roughly swiped a line up Draco's crack, sack to cleft, and Draco whimpered – actually whimpered.

"Spread wider for me, Draco," the other wizard said, "You know how it's done." Draco's head fell as he did, gripping on to Hermione's thighs so hard she knew it would bruise. "That's it," Blaise praised. Returning to Draco's puckered hole and flicking around the rim with his tongue without abandon.

Draco's whole body shook, his eyes closed and mouth hung open like he was lost to the world. He could hardly keep himself upright, much less focus on getting Hermione off. So she took matters into her own hands, moving deft fingers to her own clit. She was so sensitive, one touch and she was already frantic for release. She spread her lips circling her entrance in an attempt to tease herself, to make it last longer. She didn't want to bring herself off when there was a perfectly good mouth to do it for her.

Blaise gave Draco another hardy smack on the arse. The blonde bit down on Hermione's thigh and it almost undid her.

"You always were worthless with a tongue in your arse, Draco," Blaise taunted. "Poor Granger's about to burst and you haven't touched her properly yet." Draco grinned up at her meekly and Hermione thought she must have landed in some alternate universe where vulnerability was easy for Draco and Blaise Zabini had license to talk to him however he pleased without consequence.

"Well," Hermione said, returning the grin. She removed her hand from her folds and tangled them in the thin strands of Draco's hair. She brought his head down to her center. "that's not going to take care of itself."

"Fuck, Granger," Blaise said with a laugh. "I didn't know you had it in you?" He silently summoned a container of lube with his wand. Hermione would have been impressed but her mind was too distracted by Draco's sudden voracious laps at her pussy.

"There you go, Draco," Blaise encouraged, "get your money's worth." Hermione had just enough where withal to flip him two fingers. Blaise chuckled as he coated two of his own long, tanned fingers with lube and eased them into Draco. He moaned in the back of his throat and Hermione felt the vibrations run through her.

"You really love it, don't you?" She asked in awe, loosening her hold on his hair. He flushed down the back of his neck.

"Obviously," Draco said through gritted teeth, letting out a low, guttural groan as Blaise scissored his fingers inside of him.

"You mean you haven't told her?" Blaise said in the same patronizing tone but it seemed to spur Draco on. "Is Astoria the only witch you let fuck you with a strap on these days."

Hermione watched Blaise add another finger, pressing in hard and deep. Draco held tight to her thighs again.

"Please," Draco said. Hermione was sure she had never heard him use that word. Blaise spanked him with his free hand, rubbing the red swell of his arse after.

"If you can talk, you're doing something wrong," Blaise commanded. He thrust his fingers into Draco again with a steadier pace, the blonde let out harsh breaths with each intrusion. "Oh and Draco," Blaise whispered in his ear. It was almost too quiet for Hermione to hear – almost. "You don't get my cock until she's satisfied."

"Don't worry, love," Hermione assured, "I'm already really close."

"Filthy," Draco said cheekily before lowering his head again. Fuck, if what Blaise said wasn't the most effective motivator. Draco curved his tongue cupping at her clit with the perfect amount of pressure.

"Huh," she breathed out, "yes, like that." Her knees fell open as she arched into him.

"That's the response I looking for," Blaise said. He made eye contact with Hermione as he stoked himself with his unoccupied hand. Hermione couldn't help but stare, he was thick and impossibly hard, the red head peeking out from his foreskin. "I'm going fuck him now." He stroked again and Hermione moaned a sound she would be be embarrassed about in the morning. "You'd like that, wouldn't you, Granger?" She bit her lip, nodding because words were too difficult.

"Beg me for it," he said and both Draco and Hermione moaned. Draco picked up the pace and her stomach muscles clenched. She rolled her hips to meet his thrusts.

"Please, Blaise," she said. "I want you get on with his arse so you can start fucking mine." Blaise arched his eye brows.

"Salazar, Draco, the mouth on this one," Blaise lined up his cock with the blonde's hole and pressed in inch by inch. Hermione felt her inner walls pulse as she watched Draco take in Blaise to the hilt. The other man did not go easy, once seated he pulled out and repeated the motion again without abandon.

"Fucking – "Draco cursed again, losing focus on where Hermione really needed him. It was both frustrating and ridiculously hot to see how the other man was effecting him.

"Please don't stop," Hermione begged. She knotted his hair in her fists and pulled him down. "Just straighten your tongue," she instructed, "I'll do all the work."

Hermione thought she heard Blaise say something that sounded like 'pathetic,' but didn't linger on it. She secured her feet on the mattress and moved her clit up and down against the rough surface of his tongue, eyes never leaving the scene before her. Blaise's hips snapped inside Draco in a staccato and Hermione matched the rhythm.

"God," she called, bringing one of her hands up to pinch at a nipple. She felt a familiar warmth wash over her, moans spilling from mouth without her control.

"That's right, Granger," Blaise called, sweat ran down his sculpted arms. "Use him to get yourself off. That's all he's good for." And he smacked Draco's arse again, jolting him forward. Draco made a strangled sound but left his tongue in place.

"Yes, Yes," Hermione said fucking herself on Draco's tongue with a merciless pace. She rolled her hips in circles, up and down. Her squeals hit a crescendo as she came, her legs giving out. Draco was there to catch her, though, coaxing her through her orgasm with a practiced tongue.

"You're so beautiful," Draco said, kissing down her thigh. Hermione smiled up at him still in a haze. "I want to fuck you," he announced. "Blaise, get out of me!" The other man let out another one of his full bellied chuckles, then shrugged.

***"An arse is an arse to me," he said, easing himself out. "Just hurry it along, will you?"

"Charming," Hermione deadpanned.

Draco crawled on the bed and laid down on his back so Hermione could straddle him.

"Don't be nervous, Hermione," Draco grasped one her forearms, beckoning her to him, "he really his very good at this."

She swung a leg over his hips, sinking herself down onto Draco's swollen cock. She pulsed around him, her body, fresh from orgasm, desperate for something to hold on to.

"Yeah, you looked like you were having a good time." Hermione rocked her hips, waiting for Draco's reaction.

"Fuck," Draco cursed. Hermione was beginning to wonder if he knew other words. "You feel amazing; I'm not going to last long."

"Best not waste time then," Blaise snapped, his cool demeanor slipping. He was just as effected by all this as they were. "He prepped you beforehand, yes?" He asked Hermione. She nodded, leaning forward so her chest was flush against Draco's and her stretched arse was on display for Blaise.

Draco cupped her face in his hand and kissed her in a way that felt like a thank you. Like he appreciated that she would do this for him, as if she weren't thoroughly enjoying herself. She accepted the gratitude anyway, kissing him back as she felt the blunt end of Blaise's cock breach her other entrance. She gasped. Breath seemed to leave her body completely. She braced herself for the rest of him. He was thicker than the three fingers Draco had used to prep her and it hurt a bit but Godric knew she liked the pain. She didn't push herself, however, she allowed Blaise to immerse himself in her at his pace. When she felt Blaise's thighs hit hers, she laughed. There was nothing else for her to do. Her vaginal and anal walls were pulsing around the thick lengths within her. She was deliriously full – ardently hubristic!

"Fuck me," she commanded over her shoulder. Blaise complied, pulling out and plundering into her again. Each of Blaise's thrusts pushed Hermione further onto Draco. It was and awkward angle and finding a proper pace wasn't easy but it didn't matter, they were one. Fused together like one frenzied body, desperate for release.

"Oh," thrust, thrust, thrust, "Y-yyyes! More," thrust, thrust, thrust, "harder!" Blaise complied in fucking her from behind and Draco drove into her cunt below. She held onto the sheets like they were her last lifeline. Bolts of pleasure shot up her spine as she keened into the sensation of being taken from both ends.

"You…liking this, Hermione?" Draco asked, knowing she was.

"Bet you do, you slutty little swot," Blaise added. "Being fucked by two cocks at the same time. It's always the quiet ones."

"Felling hell," she said, sweat making her hair stick to her forehead. The room was thick with the smell of sex. She felt hot – too hot – like she might combust at any given moment. "I fucking love it, ok?"

"Yeah you do," Blaise echoed, fucking her harder. Draco latched his mouth onto her throat and sucked hard. There would be a mark. God, she hoped there'd be a mark. Some sort of proof that the intensity she was feeling was real.

She moaned as Blaise reached a hand between her and Draco's bodies and massaged her clit. Hermione nipples brushed against Draco's as all three of their bodies moved together.

"Come on, fuck me," she begged. "Please don't stop." It was almost a sob. She convulsed, both her entrances locking down on their cocks.

"There you go, Love," Draco soothed, "come for us." And with a scream that threatened to rip her throat out - she did.


The next brought a booming knock echoing throughout the Zabini's anything-but-modest mansion. Blaise halted watching his wife get ready – one of his favorite evening activities – to yell at the house elf.

"Poppy," he growled, "would you be so kind as to DO YOUR JOB!"

"It's Ang, Love, and we gave Poppy the evening off, remember? Had some elf festival in Kent," she wrinkled her nose making it look more like a snout than usual, "I try not to ask questions." Blaise huffed.

"House elves with days off…Mother would roll over in her grave," he grumbled as Pansy powdered her face. A third knock. "Do I take your half made face to mean that I am to receive your whore from the – "

"Blaise," Pansy cautioned.

"You've gone soft, Pans... far too much Gryffindor snatch." He watched his wife smirk in the mirror as if to say 'worth it.' Blaise growled. He came up behind her, bit at the tip of her ear, then watched her shudder. Pansy' powder brush slipped from her fingers. Blaise went to answer the door with a satisfied smile plastered on his face.

"That's what your wearing?" Blaise greeted Angelina. She stood in the doorway wearing a cropped Puddlemere Jersey and matching blue shorts that left very little to the imagination. Of course Blaise wasn't complaining, he looked her over – certainly not – but he also knew Pansy was dressed to go out.

"what?" Angelina asked knowingly "Merlin, she's proper dressed isn't she?" Blaise nodded.

There was a loud whine that seemed to be coming from underground. Angelina looked from Blaise to the floor, she grinned – all white-teeth and dimples. Blaise cursed Angelina for being so damn beautiful. It made despising her very difficult when it could be so easily confused with attraction.

"You have Ginny tied up somewhere down there, don't you,'' she asked. It wasn't really a question.

"I do," Blaise said," though I don't see why that's any concern of yours." He adjusted his collar. "I assume you do not need directions to the master bedroom?" Blaise said, feeling that perhaps Ginny had been kept waiting for long enough.

"No, I'm well acquainted with that particular location in this monster of a house." Blaise scowled, perhaps wishing this was not the case.

"Off with you then."

"My pleasure," she responded and headed upstairs.

Pansy heard the approaching footsteps, smelling rather than feeling Angelina's presence in the room. The Slytherin smiled, she was defiantly wearing the perfuming potion Pansy had given her last week. It was a gift more for herself than anyone, Pansy found the smell of black licorice frightfully intoxicating and she worried what she might do when the smell and all that was Angelina were finally in conjunction.

"You look nice," Angelina said sharply from the door frame. Pansy Pouted.

"Just nice?" She was wearing a 500 galleon outfit, it better be a hell of a lot better than just nice.

Pansy turned around to find Angelina wearing an outfit that looked more suited to the wall of a horny teenager. The witch's long black curls were pulled into a loose bun at the top of her head and there wasn't a shred of makeup to be found. It took everything within Pansy not to smirk.

"A bit overdressed, don't you think?" Angelina continued on, "to be – what was it you said we were doing this evening – oh right, 'watch lesbian porn and, quote, 'do it better'." Angelina arched her eyebrows, arms crossed beneath her breasts, challenging Pansy to deny it.

Pansy glided across the bathroom tile, listening to the clink of her heals. She was almost Angelina's height in them and that made Pansy smile. She flicked her silky black hair over her shoulders, taking Angelina's cheeks in her hands and kissing the exposed nape of her neck. Angelina's breath hitched.

"I'm allowed to change my mind, aren't I?" Pansy moved up to her neck, though the other witch was putting up more of a fight than usual. That was fine, Pansy thought, Slytherin's loved a challenge.

"Not without warning," Angelina chastised, "Look how I'm dressed."

"Mmm," Pansy hummed. "I like the way your dressed." She snuck her free hand down and under the slim material of Angelina's shorts. The Gryffindor allowed her head to fall against the door frame. Pansy could see the battle behind her eyes – fight or give in. In Angelina's defense, Pansy wasn't making it easy on her.

"Fuck," Angelina cursed after Pansy tweaked at that sensitive spot on her clit. This time Pansy let her smirk show.

"That's it, baby," she encouraged as Angelina rocked against her hand in a combination of arousal and frustration.

"I hate you," Angelina said with clenched teeth. Pansy licked a line up her neck and bit, hard, at her earlobe. Angelina arched with a moan.

"Mmhhmm," Pansy pressed a flat palm against her clit and worked her faster, "sounds like it!" Angelina growled.


Pansy watched Angelina throw her head back with laughter, voluminous curls cascading down her back. She had convinced the quidditch player to let her style her for the evening. Pansy's clothes were, obviously, a bit too short for Angelina but the Slytherin felt that was just an added bonus.

"Gods," the witch said, "I haven't been out in ages."

"Yes," Pansy agreed casually, "why is that?" She'd been trying to figure out the quidditch player's secrets for months and had always come up short. She'd hoped alcohol would loosen her tongue.

"I'm always busy," Angelina replied smoothly.

"Hmm," Pansy hummed. The witch was not nearly drunk enough. "Bar keep," she snapped her fingers.

"That's rude," Angelina chastised. Pansy rolled her eyes.

"Not the way I tip," she drawled. Angelina huffed affectionately. "That's right Johnson, you love me." Pansy pressed rouged lips against Angelina's ear, hand voyaging down the athlete's thigh. "Bad bits and all."

"Pansy," Angelina said in warning, looking around the bar for cameras. She was always doing this when they went out and it drove Pansy mad. She leaned back in her seat with an exasperated pout.

"What can I get you?" the bartender asked irritably. Perhaps she was not partial to being referred to as barkeep either. No bother, Pansy knew the type, bad muggle false lashes, sleek chavette ponytail; she was a muggle born witch that felt cutoff from both communities she was thrust into, muggle and magical, so she turned tricks for both to feel wanted. It was sad but common. Pansy discovered this unfortunate normality when she was in her sex worker phase.

At the end of the night Pansy would put the witch in contact with one of the older, rich closet cases she knew. They were always looking for a permanent girl and never looked bad doing it. Pansy had a list a mile long of potential employers for the barkeep from her "Mummy" phase. And people said she wasn't nice.

Just then, a silver wisp the shape of a frog floated between them. It was a patronus Pansy didn't recognize.

"Urgent Notice," it said. "this is an urgent notice from St. Mungos hospital for the next of kin of patient, George Weasley. Take the purple frying pan. Urgent Notice –" it began again but before it could get through the message a second time Angelina was already off her stool and ready to leave.

"I have to go," she said. Pansy nodded as the other witch apparated away. The Slytherin removed her wand from the holster on her leg and collected Angelina's apparation location signature. Strictly speaking, that sort of magic is very illegal but being a Parkinson had its perks now didn't it.

The barkeep was looking to her for some sort of explanation.

"Your guess is as good as mine," Pansy said. She reached in her clutch and pulled out a long shimmering cloak more than 10 times its size. Pansy threw it over her shoulders and looked down to confirm that she was invisible. It was only good for a few uses but it'd do nicely for today.

"Th-th-that's an invisibility cloak," the barkeep stammered.

"Yes, good," Pansy replied, "someone's taught you something. Now, listen closely because I don't have time to give you the whole talk."

"It's weird talkin to someone invisible."

"Hey, focus!" Pansy snapped her fingers. "There is fifty galleons and a list of names in my bag. Floo call a witch named Morgana Salvador, the address will be below her name." The barkeep was staring at her blankly. "Or don't," Pansy said, "but if you ever get tired of fucking random patrons who don't pay you nearly what your worth, this is your out." Pansy held her wand steady, preparing to apparate to wherever the hell Angelina went. "Oh and she'll want to test you out first. Spend what feels like too much time on the nipples and you're golden." Then she was off.

"Freddie!" Pansy heard when she arrived at Angelina's location. "Freddie," the witch kept shrieking.

The realization that Fred had been the name of the deceased Weasley twin floated to the forefront of Pansy's mind. Salazar, she thought, was Angelina mad? Was that her big secret? The thought made Pansy feel… well it made her feel, wasn't that bad enough? She needn't go putting emotions at the end of it.

"Mum! Mumma," a child called back. Pansy and Angelina turned to face the direction of the voice at the same time but there was nothing there. Just a coffee table in a small living room.

"Mum, it's me," the voice said again. This time Pansy thought it sounded more like a little boy. "I'm invisible. Mumma, Daddy's hurt." Angelina bent down in front of the coffee table and help out her arms.

"Come to me, Darling." And Pansy assumed he did because it looked like Angelina was holding air.

"They were looking for me, Mummy." It came out more like a sob. "But I didn't want Daddy to get in trouble, so I thought very hard about hiding and I turned invisible. I'm magic, Mum, like you and Dad!"

Pansy watched as the boy gradually became visible in Angelina's – his mother's – arms. Angelina started to cry and Pansy was experiencing that unfamiliar pulling in her chest. Damn it, she was feeling again. That was so not on.

"I'm so proud of you," Angelina said, sounding more maternal than Pansy was altogether comfortable with. Apparently she was still, in fact, in her prostitution and mummy phase.

"Are you Ok?" Angelina went on. "What happened?"

"D-ddady was… he aaaand the knife. D-ddaddy…" The child looked and sounded like he was having some sort of episode. Angelina rubbed at his back, calming him down.

"It's ok. Don't worry," Angelina soothed. But Pansy was not a child and could tell there were marked notes of anxiety in Angelina's voice. "Freddie, can we go see Daddy at the hospital? They want us to go check on him." The boy nodded.

Angelina stood, looking around for something, Pansy wasn't quite sure what. What had the mungos patronus said, "take the purple frying pan." It was a portkey, she reasoned. She situated herself as close to Angelina and the child as possible without being detected. She didn't want to be discovered but she also couldn't risk them taking the Portkey without her.

Angelina and Pansy found the pan at the same time. It was resting on the armchair next to a large plant with yellow polka dots on the leaves.

"You ready, Freddie?" Angelina asked. He took a deep breath and nodded. "on the count of three." Pansy prepared herself, securing the invisibility cloak so there wouldn't be any slip ups. "One. Two. Three!"

It took everything in Pansy not to curse when her ankle rolled upon landing. Never, she cursed herself, portkey in heals. She was sure her head slipped from the cloak in the frenzy but thankfully Angelina was too distracted to notice. The boy, on the other hand, was staring confusedly where Pansy now stood invisible.

"Patient name?" a frazzled looking witch asked Angelina.

"Huh?" she responded, clearly needing a minute to right herself.

"You arrived here by mungos portkey, did you not?" Angelina nodded, "I need the name of the patient you're here to see."

"Oh, um, George Weasley," Angelina said. The nurse looked up from her clipboard for the first time.

"Holy shit," she said with a wide smile. "You're Angelina Johnson."

"Yes," Angelina said shortly. "Where's my husband."

"I didn't know you were married? My boyfriend is going to freak when –" the nurse began. Angelina gave her a livid stare that made unspeakable things happen to Pansy's insides.

"Of course, Ms. Johnson," the nurse hastened. "I'll go get the healer."

It wasn't a minute later that a witch in white robes appeared.

"Ms. Johnson?" the healer asked. She nodded, looking to Pansy like she was at the end of her rope.

"Your husband is responding well to treatment." Angelina audibly inhaled. "He will survive this."

"Of course he will," Angelina said as if there were no other option. "Can we see him now?"

"Yes, but there are some things we need to discuss that are best not said in front of the child." The boy looked as perturbed as his mother. Twin faces of fiery distain.

"He's been through a lot," Angelina said, "he can take it."

"Very well," said the healer, disapprovingly. "The emergency team on duty found your husband in the kitchen being attacked by enchanted knives. There was a protective barrier put around the kitchen, keeping the knives and himself inside." Angelina nodded her head expressionless. "We checked your husband's wand, ma'am, he performed both spells himself. Given your husband's mental instability since the war, we believe this was an attempt at his life."

"You're wrong," Angelina said resolutely. "Where is he?"

The healer sighed, looking helpless. "Through the doors," he pointed, "room 13. But only adults are allowed in that ward, it's hospital policy."

"What do you suggest I do then, healer?" Angelina said through gritted teeth.

"Is there not someone you could floo to watch him. We also have a wonderful daycare center that opens at 7am tomorrow morning." Angelina looked like she was about to throttle the witch.

When the healer walked away, Pansy took a deep breath and pulled off the invisibility cloak.

"I'll stay with him," Pansy said, waiting for Angelina to attack.

She looked from Pansy to the cloak and back again. She was past mad. If eyes could burn, Pansy would be ash on St. Mungo's floor. Angelina looked at her son and Pansy blessed him because she was pretty sure he was the only reason she was alive.

"I will deal with you later," she said harshly. "Freddie," the boy nodded. "put the bad lady's cloak on." The child looked to Pansy for permission. She nodded and the child wasted no time in scooping it up off the ground and throwing it over himself.

"I'm invisible again," he said louder than a whisper. Angelina shushed him.

"Parkinson," Angelina spat. "You tell anyone about this and I'll make sure you rot in Azkaban for following my apparition– "

"your bloody secret's safe with me," Pansy assured, "Salazar, I'm not a monster."

"Sure could have fooled me," Angelina snapped. She grabbed onto an invisible hand (to anyone else it would just look like a fist) and headed in the direction the healer told her.


Angelina and Fred walked into room 13 not knowing what they would find, but a fully bandaged George Weasley with a huge smile of his face definitely did not seem in realm of possibility. Alas…

"Damn," George practically whistled, "if I'd known setting a bunch of knives on myself would make you dress like that, I would have done it months ago." Angelina looked down at herself and realized she was still wearing Pansy's ridiculously short black dress.

"That's not funny," Angelina chastised.

"Sure it is," said George. She gave him a sad look. "Bloody hell, Angelina," he whined, "I didn't try to off myself. You, more than anyone, know I wouldn't take my life for granted like that."

"The healers think you did," Angelina responded.

"Well the healers know fuck all, ok. You're my wife." He gave her one of his infectious smiles and it was so much like the old him that it took her by surprise. "You really think I'd do that?"

In all fairness, 'you're my wife' didn't have the same meaning for them as it did for most couples. They hadn't even really been a couple, more like depression fueled drinking budies that fucked on occasion. She'd lost her parents in the war, he lost his brother. Misery loved company and that's what they were for each other. Then she got pregnant and George's episodes got more serious. The nly reason they got married in the first place was so Mrs. Weasley stopped worrying herself sick every time she got hospital patronus at 3 o'clock in the morning. Angelina loved George, if she were honest with herself, she always had but she was more of a nurse than a wife. A witch that poly juiced as her husband every Sunday for dinner at the Weasley's, so his family wouldn't worry. A witch who had to hide her child and sell her body to racist git she went to school with. So, she couldn't say for sure whether or not he did it. Sh obviously hoped he didn't.

"Explain yourself," She said sitting on the end of the bed and pulling Freddie up beside her.

"He still invisible?" George asked. "He was incredible, he was, never seen anything like it. I'm so proud Freddie, you hear me – "

"George," Angelina yelled, "What the hell happened?"

"Right, so I'm doing good, Ang. Really good, you know? And, I don't know, I was playing with Freddie and all of a sudden, I feel happy. It was like I knew things were going to be better. So I decided to cook you this fancy dinner to tell you how good I've been – steak and mash, the works! Only when go to patronus you, it won't work. Most of my happiest memories involve Fred, so would I just end up getting upset and the charm wouldn't work. You know how I get when I can't work a spell."

"Oh you mean the foolhardy technique of waving your wand about like an idiot?"

"Yeah, that. Well, it didn't work so well this time. I raged one too many times in the direction of the knives and they went haywire. I didn't want them flying out and attacking the kid – "

"So you put a shield up to keep them inside with you," He nodded.

"Vuala George appetite!" Freddie laughed and Angelina found it hard not to.

"You're an idiot," Angelina teased.

"So you keep telling me," George smiled.

"You look so much like before," Angelina said, tears stuck in her eyes.

"I meant it, Ang. I feel a lot better! I- I want us to be a proper family." Angelina took a bandaged hand in her own.

"Hold your horses, knife boy. Let's get you out of the hospital first, Ok?" He grinned so hard his forehead wrinkled.

"fair."


Astoria arrived about ten minutes late to the impromptu meeting she'd been summoned to by her husband, Pansy and Blaise. If she was being totally honest with herself, she probably could have arrived on time but she wanted to delay the headache as long as possible. Nothing good was to come from a Zabini conference and she'd been avoiding it all day.

"Prompt as ever, Astoria," Pansy said with a drawl. The witch merely rolled her eyes and took her seat next to Draco at their tea table. It was a lovely, rustic piece of outdoor furniture overlooking the manor gardens. If you were quiet enough, fairies might join you for tea. As practical a woman as she was, Astoria always got a sort of guilty pleasure from this. A pleasure that intensified when she saw the joy it gave Luna.

"I was otherwise detained, Mrs. Zabini. It happens to those of us who work. You mightn't know."

"Retract your claws, Tori," Draco said, kissing her on the cheek. Astoria accepted the gesture though she wasn't found of the command. "They come in piece," he continued as if he'd said nothing wrong. He is beautiful and so, so naive. But this was a crucial time in her marriage, now more than ever she needed to pick her battles with the precision of Lady Salazar herself.

She gave Pansy a false smile and settled into her seat like a cat ready to pounce.

"There's a point to this little get together, I assume."

"Yes," Pansy answered with a thrilled smile at her lips. Astoria found it unnerving, like seeing elderly wizards in muggle clothing. Pansy took her husband's hand. "We've decided to have a child." Draco choked, his face turning red, eyes bulging like they were about to pop out of his head.

"And," Blaise said irritably.

"There's an and – "Draco chimed!

"And," Pansy repeated, "we've decided to do it monogamously." Astoria's lips curled up into a smile she couldn't suppress if she wanted to. Blaise and Pansy were the last couple she'd expect to go the traditional route.

"Just until the pregnancy or is this a permanent decision?" Astoria asked with renewed interest.

"It's permanent, I'm afraid," said Blaise with a grin like Hades. "You will have to find it within yourself to resist me." Astoria crinkled her nose.

"Salazar, it was one night in Belgium two years ago. Let. It. Go."

"Technically, it was a night and a morning…" Astoria almost reached for her wand but Pansy hit her tactless husband first and Astoria decided that was punishment enough – for now.

"Anyway," said Pansy with edge. "Our marriage wasn't working this way. We were angry and jealous all the time and," Astoria did not miss her sad glance at Blaise, "falling for other people."

"But we love each other more," Blaise said confidently. "Honestly, who's as barking as she is? I wouldn't trade her for the world, so I won't be sharing either." Pansy smiled again. It was making Astoria ill. Ill and bored. And perhaps a bit anxious but that last bit needn't be worried about.

At least Astoria was doing better than Draco, her husband looked like a ghost had flown right through him.

"Do close your mouth dear, it's not nearly as attractive as you think it is," she mocked. He replied with a sarcastic HaHa. "Not that I'm not… happy for the two of you and your new found monogamy, but I fail to see how this has anything to do with us." Astoria said.

Pansy and Blaise shared a look like they were revving up for something big. Of course, Astoria didn't miss a second of it. "What's with the dramatics Zabini's? You're not going to ask us to be god parents are you, because Draco and I are firmly against children, even in the event of your unfortunate demise."

Draco cringed and Pansy let out a full bellied laugh.

"Please," she continued laughing. "Draco's always wanted children. As in multiple. We used to talk about it all the time when –"

'when you used to date and dream about your future pureblood children', Astoria would have finished for Pansy if she hadn't been stopped short at the livid look on Blaise's face. She thought it'd served Pansy right. The bint had no business poking her rather hoggish nose into her marriage, just because she wanted to become a breeding factory didn't mean Astoria did.

"Draco can talk for himself, thanks," Draco said. Astoria promptly kissed him in reward. It had taken a lot of convincing to rid her husband of the notions of little brats running around the manor, but like most things when it came to Astoria, Draco eventually gave in.

"We'd like to buy out two of your girls," Blaise finally said, matter of fact.

"Wonder which ones those are?" Draco said sarcastically.

"Why?" laughed Astoria. She thought taking two whores off her hands was a strange way to celebrate one's decision to go monogamous. But as soon she got her answer, she regretted it. She was soon bored to death by a sob tale about Weasleys and houses and mothers and MORE Weasleys. It was all very – pedestrian.

"So what you're saying is you want to remove temptation," Astoria said, sifting through the bullshit like it was a sale on dragon hide's at Malkins. Pansy had the decency to look like she was going to deny it but Blaise simply answered –

"Yes."

"No," Draco said.

"Full sentences dear," Astoria corrected.

"No, they're not for sale. You want to buy out both my quidditch players? I don't think so. You want to play happy family – fine. Leave my girls out of it." Astoria pinched the bridge of her nose.

"Of course they can buy them out, Drake. You're acting like a spoiled child. Surly you don't have time to play with them anymore with all that time you spend with, Granger," she grinned a grin of won arguments. "Lately, even I've had trouble securing a spot." Draco looked like he desperately wanted to spar but at the last line he held his tongue. Astoria turned back to the Zabini's. "Save them, your marriage, buy them out, whatever you'd like to call it – they're yours."

"Take Lovegood too, while you're at it," Draco said, seething. Astoria turned to him with such a speed that you couldn't hear Pansy gasp.

"You insist on playing childish games Draco, fine, let me put on my party hat. You wanted Angelina and Ginny to fulfil some quidditch fantasy that you're already bored of. Now that somebody else wants them, however, you have renewed interest. Either way, they are novelty fucks. My pet is not. Don't insult her by the comparison. Luna and your Gryffindor stay – the other two go." Astoria had chosen her battle and she was determined to win. "Final word." Draco got up from his chair scraping loudly against the patio and stormed into the house.

Astoria pursed her lips, looking from his exit point to the Zabini's; they were shocked and truly no one could blame them. Astoria and Draco never quarreled and if they did, they were never common enough to do it public. This couldn't be helped, however, Astoria was not his submissive little Gryffindor and it seemed her husband needed reminding.

"Give Draco until the new year to play," Astoria said, "you know how men are with their toys." She stood up straightening her coat. "You all know the way out," she turned to follow Draco, "Oh and," she smiled, "congratulations."


So there it is! This chapter gave me so much trouble and I'm still not sure if I liked the way it turned out. Do your worst!

xxxPTP