Chapter Thirteen

And If I Don't Come Home Tonight

The sun streamed through the window almost shyly, barely making its way past the slit between the closed drapes of the room in the Leaky Cauldron.

Draco groaned at the sound of birds chirping outside, forcing him to wake up. His head hurt. A lot.

He tried to think back to what had happened yesterday. Immediately he smiled. He'd seen Hermione yesterday, hadn't he? Yes, and they'd gone out to eat, they'd played the people game, they'd watched a 'movie' which was actually quite the treat, and it had been a very good day overall…

With his eyes still closed, he tried to pull the covers more snugly around him. He frowned. These weren't his sheets…his were a lot softer, purchased from the high-end bedding section of Twilfitt and Tatting's. These sheets were coarse and nowhere near as comfortable. Suddenly, he felt the brush of hair against his face.

Hermione?

He considered this. Perhaps after dinner they'd gone back to her place… Strange, he distinctly remembered going to her flat to pick up his wand. He remembered leaving, but he didn't remember going back… Perhaps she'd come back to his place? He smiled to himself. Perhaps they'd used another room. Yes, that must be it. They were probably in the guest room.

He heard the creak of the mattress as Hermione got up off the bed.

Draco's eyelid cracked open a fraction of an inch. "Whazzat?" he muttered sleepily, turning over on his side to face the wall again. He was so tired…

"Morning, Draco," chirped Pansy cheerily.

Draco's eyes snapped open at the eerily familiar voice. That wasn't Hermione. Terrified out of his wits, Draco slowly rolled himself over—

"BLOODY HELL PANSY! HOW THE FUCK DID YOU GET INTO MY HOUSE!"

Pansy jumped back in shock at his outburst. "This is the Leaky Cauldon, prat!" she retorted, sticking her nose up in the air. Then her expression softened, and she looked at him with wide, doe-like eyes. "You…you don't remember anything from last night?"

At her words, Draco bolted out of bed and stood facing her, scanning the room frantically, his wand at the ready. The room was terribly small and smelled of damp herbs, and the floor beneath him was cold and uncarpeted. There was one solitary window on the wall opposite the front door, but the dusty burgundy drapes were still not drawn.

How did I get here? thought Draco frantically. He couldn't remember a damn thing.

Then he looked down at himself. He was shirtless; he saw the Muggle shirt Hermione had given him lying dejectedly on the floor. His jeans were folded neatly on the chair next to the bed. Standing in nothing but his boxers, Draco looked at Pansy. No.

"Pansy…" warned Draco, pointing menacingly at her with his shaking finger. "Do not fuck with me…"

"You were drinking last night," Pansy blurted out, trying to feign a look of sympathy. "It was terrible, Draco, so I brought you here, I only wanted you to sober up, I swear! But then you…" Pansy let her voice trail off and tried to look embarrassed, hoping that Draco believed her so far.

She smirked inwardly when she saw Draco's look of horror. "What…what happened last night?" He swallowed. "Answer me!" he barked.

"Oh, Draco," she sniffled. "I didn't want to, I know you don't love me, but well, I'd been drinking a little too, and I promise not to tell anyone, we can just forget that we ever—"

"Do not tell me that we had sex last night, Parkinson," Draco cut in, pleading.

She only looked at him helplessly.

"Shit," groaned Draco. Then he buckled over and threw up on the floor.

"Hey, prick," said Pansy, closing the door the Theo's bedroom as she entered. He was lying on the bed staring at the ceiling, seemingly bored out of his mind. He raised his eyes towards her in a way of greeting.

"Hello, Pansy," said Theo. "Do me a favor. Get out of my house?"

"I just came to tell you that my plan is about to work," said Pansy, ignoring Theo's request and turning up her nose in distaste. "And trust me, I really do not want to be here."

"Did you abort my kid yet?" Theo knew he was being insensitive, but he was a bit tired of Pansy barging in on him whenever she pleased.

"No," said Pansy coldly. "And I'm not going to."

At this statement, Theo snorted rather loudly and shook his head dismissively. Pansy kept silent, boring her eyes into him in the most intense and calculating gaze possible. She stared at him like a hawk, moving closer towards him; he scooted over on the bed instinctively, and she sat down next to his horizontal body. She placed her hands on either side of him and positioned herself so that she was right on top of him, her knees locked on either side of his legs, breathing down on him with her eyes full of malice and darkened glee.

"You think I should abort my baby?" she whispered with a smirk.

Theo rolled his eyes and started to push her off him, but she held fast to his wrists. "Yeah," he grunted. "If you want my honest opinion, I'm not very confident in your abilities as a mother. Better not to live. And I'm sure as hell not going to take care of it. That just isn't me."

"It's not your baby, Theo," she continued to whisper. "It's not your baby anymore."

"Pansy, what the hell are you talking about?"

"I said it's not your damn baby," she spat, releasing his wrists and getting up from the bed. She stood up and walked over to Theo's desk, rifling through the pieces of parchment stacked sloppily next to the inkwell. Pansy gave Theo a furtive glance. "You look confused," she said.

"I thought you said it couldn't be anyone else's," muttered Theo in a low, confused voice. "You said I was the only possible father…"

"Draco and I had sex," said Pansy simply, waiting to see his reaction, and she got her wish—Theo's eyes looked like they were about to fall out of his skull.

"You WHAT?!" he roared, springing up from the bed and almost falling off in his excitement. He settled back down, sitting upright. Pansy smiled at him peacefully, twirling a quill around her fingers. She cocked her head to the side; her smile widened dangerously.

"Oh, don't worry, I won't tell Granger," said Pansy, a malevolent gleam in her eyes. "It was that love potion," she giggled happily. "Last night…"

"Last night," Theo repeated in a flat tone. Then his expression relaxed again, and he started talking slowly to her as though she were a small child. "Pansy, don't be daft. If it was only last night, Draco can't be the father, honestly. The way it works—"

"He doesn't know that."

At these words, everything fell silent and Theo stared.

"All he knows is that he woke up next to me this morning with no clothes on," she continued brightly, setting the quill down on the desk with all the others scattered on top. "You should have seen him bolt out of the room when I told him that we had sex. He actually vomited, but don't tell anyone that. From his point of view, he's on very thin ice right now. In fact, he's probably wondering right now if he remembered to cast a birth-control charm on me last night…"

Theo slowly began shaking his head. His jaw hung open; his face was expressionless.

"And in one month," she enthused, her eyes sparkling with malevolence, "I'll go find Draco at Flourish and Blotts…and I'll tell him I'm pregnant."

"Pansy…" Theo murmured.

"You've dropped your jaw on the floor, dear," said Pansy sweetly.

"You're insane," said Theo.

Pansy giggled. "I'm brilliant; he'll think it's his."

"That's stupid. There are so many things wrong with your plan. First of all, the girl will have black hair…look at us."

At this comment, Pansy pulled out the vial. Theo stared at it, slowly comprehending; the golden strands of hair encased in the crystal vial fell in Theo's line of vision and he shook his head more firmly still.

"You are a monster," he stated calmly, watching Pansy continue to twirl the quill around her fingers, humming softly to herself. "You'd really do that to Draco? You'd lie about the baby?"

"That's what I said, isn't it?" answered Pansy. "You said yourself you won't take care of it. I'm doing what's best for my child."

"And what if I tell him?" Theo remarked abrasively, giving her a look of pure disgust. "I'll tell him you lied…"

"Then everyone will know the baby is really yours," said Pansy with mock sympathy, pouting her lips and then laughing coldly. "You can either let me win…or you can lose."

Theo was silent for just a brief moment as he pondered this. He could just come clean…that would be the right thing to do…but that would jeopardize his relationship with Sophie and ultimately his fortune…and Theo doubted Draco's thing with Granger would last anyway. "Fine," said Theo slowly, "I won't say anything, for now."

"Will you make the Unbreakable Vow?" asked Pansy loudly, her nose in the air.

Theo squinted at her incredulously. "Uh…no," he said. "I'm not an idiot."

Pansy glared at him, disappointed; she'd been hoping he'd say yes without much convincing, but things just weren't going her way. "It goes both ways," she reminded him. "I won't be able to tell anyone about you cheating on Sophie, or that you're the real father."

Theo shook his head. "Yeah, well maybe I'll think about it." He studied her, trying to understand the malevolent gleam in her usually dull black eyes. "You really did have sex with him last night, didn't you?" said Theo tonelessly. Maybe the two of them would end up together after all….

Pansy smirked. "Of course." Pansy hoped that Theo wouldn't see past her lie.

"Well, please get out of my house," said Theo. Pansy rolled her eyes, turned on her heel and Disapparated. The loud CRACK that followed echoed in Theo's ears, pounding repeatedly in his skull as he wondered what he could possibly do to stop this.

When Theo entered Flourish and Blotts, the first thing he noticed was Draco's absence. Draco's coworker Mart was off in the corner unpacking boxes while Cyrus, his boss, was helping customers. Theo narrowed his eyes and scanned the store once more—this was strange; Theo was almost certain that Draco worked most Fridays…

After Theo had kicked Pansy out of Nott Mansion, he'd Flooed over to Diagon Alley and walked the short distance to Flourish and Blotts to see Draco. Theo knew he couldn't tell Draco that he was the real father of Pansy's baby…he couldn't even tell Draco that Pansy was pregnant. As much as Theo hated himself for it, he would have to let Pansy go through with her plan…otherwise Theo would be hit with the consequences. He just wasn't ready for that.

But Theo could tell Draco about the love potion, he figured. At least it would ease his conscience a little. Theo walked towards the back of the store where Cyrus was standing; the elderly man was now magicking dust off the shelves with his wand, paying great attention to his task. He looked up at the sound of Theo's footsteps.

"May I help you?" he asked in a friendly tone.

Theo nodded. "I'm looking for Draco Malfoy," he said. "He should be working."

"Ah," said Cyrus shortly, peering at Theo over his spectacles and squinting his eyes at him curiously. "Yes, Draco is resting in the lounge. He's been a little under the weather since he came into work an hour ago. Disappointing…but everyone has bad days… Feel free to check on him if you like. Maybe it will cheer him up."

Cyrus graciously directed Theo towards the workers' lounge. Right before Theo's hand turned the door handle open, he heard violent wretching sounds. He pushed open the door and saw Draco leaned over the side of the couch, his head buried in the wastebasket.

"Draco?"

He looked up at the sound of his name, and Theo could see that Draco looked terrible. His skin was a pale and sickly yellow, and he was trembling as he clutched the rim of the wastebasket with both hands.

"Hello," said Draco calmly, then hunched back over and vomited once more.

"Bloody Merlin, what's wrong with you?" asked Theo, walking over to him and feeling his forehead; his skin was cold and clammy.

"Dunno," coughed Draco. "Been sick since this morning…can't remember anything…"

"You were with Pansy," said Theo in a low voice, and Draco looked up sharply.

"You know?" he asked in a panicked voice. The wastebasket clanged against the floor as Draco began to shake more violently. "Holy Hufflepuff, how many people has she been telling?"

Theo patted Draco roughly on the shoulder. "Don't worry," he assured him. "I'm the only one who knows…"

"Theo, I fucked up," sputtered Draco, his voice weak and feeble. He seemed to struggle to form the words. "I can't even remember what happened…I had such…such a g-great time with Hermione, I guess I thought I'd stop by the Leaky Cauldron for a quick drink…"

Theo was very silent.

"I was drunk. A-and then," Draco continued, coughing between sentences and gripping the wastebasket so tightly that his knuckles were white and his hands were shaking, "and then I…I think I must have…I slept with Pansy…"

Draco brought his eyes up to meet Theo's black ones. His face was etched with pain, and sweat was dripping from his brows as he shuddered silently. The room was not cold, but Theo knew that somehow Draco was very, very sick, perhaps just from the shock of what had happened.

"I didn't want to sleep with her, I didn't even know I slept with her…I care about Hermione, Theo…why would I—and now—"

"Draco, look," said Theo in a heavy tone. "You know this thing with Granger, whatever it is…you know it can't last, right?"

Draco stared at Theo for a brief moment before throwing up again in the wastebasket. He wrinkled his nose at the contents and cleared it away with his wand before heaving once more. "I never said I wanted anything to last," he managed to gasp out.

"Alright, but I know you." Theo shuffled his feet uncomfortably as he watched Draco throw up little by little. There seemed to be nothing left in his stomach so he was just throwing up pale globs of stomach acid. "I just felt that you should know Pansy brewed a love potion and had Tom slip it into your drink last night," said Theo finally.

Draco met Theo's eyes, a look of horror and confusion on his face. The corners of his mouth were crusted with vomit. "What?" he asked blankly.

"She brewed a love potion," repeated Theo. "That's why you—that's why you had sex with her."

"You knew?" asked Draco softly, his voice so low that it sounded dangerous. He seemed to be extremely angry.

"No, I didn't," insisted Theo quickly. "Pansy came over this morning to brag about it to me. I kicked her out and came here as soon as I could. What's…what's wrong with you?"

Instead of answering, Draco vomited again.

Just then, the door to the workers' lounge burst open. Theo and Draco looked over and saw that Hermione had burst into the room with Mart right behind her. Hermione looked very worried.

"Draco!" she cried, and rushed over to him to take his temperature.

"I told her she wasn't allowed in," mumbled Mart, fidgeting awkwardly. "I said no visitors…"

"Bugger off, Mart," growled Draco, reaching up to hold Hermione's hand. "Theo's here, anyway." Mart grunted and walked out of the lounge, leaving Hermione with Draco and Theo.

"Draco, what's wrong?" asked Hermione in a soothing tone, stroking his hair with her free hand and clutching his cold and sweaty hand with the other. "I came in to visit you, but Cyrus said you were sick and that you came in late. You never come in late, Draco."

Draco just shook his head; he looked as though he were about to cry.

Hermione turned to look at Theo. "What the hell happened?" she demanded coldly.

"Don't look at me," Theo shot back.

Draco grasped Hermione's arm with his other hand and pulled her down so that she was kneeling beside him. "Pansy," he gasped out. His voice was hoarse, sanded down from the amount of vomiting he'd done.

Hermione shook her head, not understanding. "What about Pansy?" she asked. "Pansy Parkinson?"

"Pansy tricked me into drinking a love potion," admitted Draco guiltily, though he conveniently forgot to mention the second part of the night. "Luckily for me she's terrible at potions, but as a result"—he bent over and promptly threw up into the cauldron he was holding—"I think I'm sick."

"A potion reaction?" Hermione looked worried. "Dear Lord, we had Potions together in school, I remember what her grades were like….Grab hold of my hand, Draco, we're going to St. Mungo's."

Theo lifted his hand in protest. "You can't just—"

Hermione shot Theo a very nasty look. "It was very nice meeting you, Theodore," she said as politely as she could. She clutched Draco's arm in her hand and turned on her heel sharply, Apparating the two of them to St. Mungo's.

"I'm fine, Hermione, it'll stop eventually," insisted Draco, but as he spoke his arms were draped across her shoulders so that she could support his limp figure. Hermione wove through the crowd in the lobby, making her way to the front desk. St. Mungo's was relatively empty on this day, so there was no line.

"Potion poisoning," said Hermione once they had reached the front desk.

"You'll want the third floor, then," drawled the Welcome Witch, not looking up from the newspaper she was reading. Hermione thanked her and made her way to the lift.

Hermione didn't have much difficulty hoisting Draco towards the elevator; he wasn't completely motionless and could still shuffle his feet around a bit. He was just tired, and he had to stop every few minutes to throw up on the floor. Hermione was getting a bit tired of the rude stares she got from other people, but she continued to clean up Draco's messes with a sweep of her wand. She did have to genuinely appreciate magic in times like these.

Finally, they reached the third floor. A dark-haired witch greeted them outside the ward. Hermione glanced at her nametag—it read 'Maribeth Mable, Mediwitch.' Maribeth levitated Draco over to the nearest cot and magicked the covers over him. He hit the bed with a gentle thud and shuddered violently.

"What seems to be the problem?" asked Maribeth, furrowing her thin eyebrows as she examined him.

"He's been vomiting nonstop," said Hermione irritably, as though it were obvious.

"Was this a potion poisoning or a plant poisoning?"

"Potion," answered Hermione, making her way over to where Draco lay. "It was a love potion, actually, though I'm not sure what kind."

Maribeth gave Hermione a stern look.

"It wasn't my love potion!" protested Hermione hotly, and Maribeth relaxed slightly. "It was another girl…I wasn't there, but I do know that she brewed it wrongly, though. She wasn't very bright in school."

"Alright," Maribeth nodded. "We'll run a test on the potion, obtain the list of ingredients and get to work on the antidote immediately. I expect you'll wish to stay here with Mr…?"

"Malfoy," said Hermione. Maribeth nodded, scribbled the name on a pad of parchment she was carrying in her breast pocket. She bent down, stuck an uncomfortable-looking metal instrument into Draco's mouth and then retrieved it. She read the words that had magically appeared on the instrument, made a disapproving 'tut, tut' sound, and began to walk out of the room.

"Well, we'll have the antidote ready in no time. I'll be sending another Healer shortly to make sure you two are alright." She had taken out her notepad again and was scribbling furiously. "Now, she's still in training and doing her rotations but she's still one of our best, but don't be afraid to ask for me if you need someone more experienced," she called over her shoulder. Hermione nodded and sat down in the chair next to Draco's bed. He turned his face to look at her. His eyelids were half closed, and his lips were bluish and chapped. As he held her hands in his, she could feel that he was still cold and clammy.

"Please get well," she whispered.

Draco gave a loud, hacking cough, then settled down and said, "I'm not fragile, Granger, honestly. I'll be fine."

She smiled back weakly. She gripped his hand a little tighter as she heard the sound of the door swing open.

"Hermione?" Ginny had just entered the room wearing Healer's robes. She caught sight of Draco's pale and limp form, and her jaw dropped. Her eyes lingered on him for a second, then moved back to Hermione. Her gaze fell to Hermione's hand clasping Draco's, and she gasped. Somehow her jaw had dropped even lower. "What are you doing with him?"

Hermione stood up in shock at the sight of her friend. "Ginny, this—"

"What will Robert think?" Ginny had dropped the tray of refreshments she'd been carrying; the tea was spilt on the floor, and bars of chocolate had broken into pieces.

"Oh," Hermione sighed in relief, laughing a little. "That's what you're worried about. You see, Robert—"

"Hermione, what's going on?" groaned Draco miserably, screwing his eyes shut and pulling the covers over his head.

"You two are on first name terms, then?" concluded Ginny in horror, picking up the tray and stuffing it roughly into one of the drawers by the door. "Goodness, Hermione, I don't suppose Robert knows that you're here with him?"

"This is Robert," said Hermione. Ginny froze. There was a split second of silence during which Draco grabbed the bucket next to his bed and vomited into it.

"I'm sorry, Ginny," Hermione continued, looking guilty. "It was a Glamour Charm…I thought it'd be fun…It was last minute when you owled asking me to go for coffee, and I already had plans with Draco and I didn't want to cancel, but I knew you'd be taken aback by the sight of him, and I meant to tell you—"

"It's fine, Hermione," said Ginny slowly, looking at Draco as he vomited again into the basin. "Honestly, I'm more upset that you thought you had to lie to me. But if you don't mind my asking…" Ginny lowered her voice, "…why Draco Malfoy?"

Hermione looked Ginny straight in the eyes. "I don't know, Ginny. But that's the magic of it."

Ginny bit her lip. "Alright, Hermione…"

"Please don't tell Harry or Ron," begged Hermione. Her voice was very quiet. "I'll tell them eventually, but I want this to be a secret at first. See if it…if it lasts."

The redhead sighed and nodded reluctantly, agreeing. Hermione swept her up into a hug. Draco threw up again, and the sounds of his wretching seemed to wake both girls up from their embrace. Hermione rushed over to him and grasped his hands.

"How are you doing?" she asked nervously.

"Obviously not very well," croaked Draco. He jerked a thumb in Ginny's direction. "Does she approve of me?"

Hermione glanced quickly at Ginny. "Er, yes, of course," she said.

Just then Maribeth Mable came striding across the ward, a tiny bottle of potion in her hand. She roughly tilted Draco's head back and poured the contents into his mouth. "That silly girl put Firewhiskey into the potion, can you believe it?" She shook her head. "Alcohol and Ashwinder's eggs make a nasty combination. But this simple antidote will do the trick."

Sure enough, the color was beginning to return in Draco's cheek. He was no longer the ghastly chalk color he'd been…he was now a healthy ivory, Hermione considered in amusement. Relieved, she flung her arms around his and kissed him on the cheek. Ginny cringed.

"Tell Weasley not to give me such dirty looks," grumbled Draco, raising an eyebrow in Ginny's direction.

Hermione gasped. "You just raised one eyebrow, Draco!"

"I suppose," he said. But he smiled.

"I was really, really worried about you," said Hermione with palpable relief. "Stupid Pansy and that love potion…it's lucky she's so daft, imagine if the love potion had actually worked?"

In response, he held her closer, trying to ignore the turbulent thoughts that were running through his head. So what if he'd had sex with Pansy? He could just forget about it. He was with Hermione now, and that was all that mattered. Try as Pansy might, she couldn't prove anything; Draco was confident that Hermione would always believe his word over hers.

He would just forget about his night with Pansy; he couldn't remember it anyway, and besides, it hadn't really been him. He'd bury the notion in the back of his mind, just like he'd buried away History of Magic dates and useless spells and old memories he'd long since forgotten. This was just another small, insignificant memory that wouldn't matter by tomorrow.

Draco would soon find out that while it was possible to forget about a number of things, this was not one of them. He would fall asleep each night regretting that he had ever had sex with Pansy, unaware that the night in question would one day come back to haunt him.