September 2007

"Really, Draco. I know we have come to a form of… understanding with each other, but the one thing that I cannot grasp is how you expect me to be okay with Pansy bloody Parkinson as the godmother to my child."

"Posy," Draco said with a smirk, and when Hermione stared back at him with utter confusion, "Pansy Posy Parkinson, not bloody."

Draco was fairly certain if there wasn't a child in her arms she would have hexed his bollocks off.

"You've got to be fucking kidding me. Her name is Pansy Posy Parkinson?"

Draco shrugged. "Her mother's name is Posy."

"It's obnoxious."

"So is her mother."

Draco sighed, standing from the floral upholstered chair he had occupied and fixed his jacket, his eyes twinkling. Hermione wished she could better appreciate how out of place he looked in her livingroom; his dark, clearly expensive apparel was a stark contrast to the vintage muggle furnishings of the room. As he made his way to the fireplace, he spoke again.

"I think Pans might surprise you," he told her.

"Right," she scoffed, "And you and Harry are going to be best friends forever."

Draco glanced back at her with a roll of his eyes. "But really. You would be surprised to know how much the two of you have in common. Pansy is smart - excruciatingly so - she just didn't need to be a swot about it, shove it down everyone's throats," he told her pointedly. "Although, I do believe that if you had been born to magical parents, that ambition to prove yourself would have placed you right into the snake's pit instead of the lion's den."

"Sorry," she said, entirely unapologetic, "But I don't think I'm nearly sly enough."

"Anyway -" he said, his gaze pausing on a photograph of a young Hermione with her parents, "She used to always make these positively ridiculous revision schedules for herself, me, and Theo. Ridiculous of course because I am bloody brilliant and didn't need to revise, and Theo is right sharp. I always thought it seemed like something you would do."

"Revision schedules?" Hermione balked. "I never did such a thing." If Draco hadn't already known this was a lie, the way she blushed would have been a give away. He didn't call her on it, however, just smiled.

"If there hadn't have been - well, a war during our last year, I'm confident you two would have been neck and neck for the top of the class."

"Draco - not that I'm judging, but… she's a shopgirl."

"That she is," he said, smiling fondly. "Her choice, by the way. She was working for the Department of Mysteries translating runes for various studies - all of which I know nothing about, for the record - and one morning she woke up and decided she wanted to design witch's formal wear."

Hermione stared back at Draco with an incredulous frown, her brows furrowed. "You're telling me that a girl I've known most of my life, went to school with, was a secretly one of the smartest students in our class?"

Draco nodded. "And besides that, I'm not giving you much of a choice because I know you want Harry to be Al's godfather, and if Harry Potter is going to be our child's godfather, then Pansy Parkinson will be his godmother. Realistically, we should have had this dealt with months ago."

Hermione opened her mouth to argue, but no words came out. After a moment of silence, she snapped back at him, "Fine. Fine! Pansy Posy Parkinson can be Al's godmother, dammit."

Draco grinned back. "And if I have to be civil to Harry, give Harry a chance, you have to do the same for Pans."

He looked awfully proud of the particular shade of red he had managed to make Hermione turn.

.oOo.

Since Hermione's house seemed to be the most neutral option, they had opted to have the baby shower there. To Hermione's surprise, she was told not to plan a thing - traditionally in the magical community, baby showers were hosted and planned for by the godmother. Of course she had at first been sick over it, but when the day finally arrived, she found herself instead impressed.

When Pansy had shown up at nine o'clock on the dot - a promptness that got the two off on a good foot - she had arrived with with a flurry of caterers and decorators that transformed the small garden in the back into a wonderful, baby-centric area. Hermione had been, understandably, anxious about Pansy's taste in decoration, but by the time that her crew of hired hands was done, she was surprised by just how tactful it all was. There was nothing preposterously extravagant, and she was thankful that the other woman had taken her simple preferences into consideration.

It was two hours before things settled down enough for them to talk, and by that point, all Pansy cared about was getting her hands on her godson.

"I never took you for a baby person, Pansy," Hermione said as the dark-haired woman cooed at the little blonde infant.

"Oh, don't get me wrong," Pansy said with a laugh, "I do not plan on doing this myself anytime soon - as long as the child's not mine, I'm in love," she admitted. "But this one - oh, with Draco's looks and sharp tongue, and your sense and cleverness - he will be a force to reckon with," she said fondly.

Hermione was taken aback by what she was certain was the closest to a compliment she had ever heard Pansy utter, but the moment was completely ruined by, "I mean, assuming he gets more than just the colour of Draco's hair - if it was as blonde as his and big as yours, well, then I'd just feel sorry for the kid."

A/N: Sorry for the break folks! I needed a bit of a holiday.