I Love(d) You (Once)

Chapter Seven: Pansy Knows Best

"So, how did you like the flowers?" asked Draco as Astoria as she dug around her leather purse, her fingers coming in contact with an assortment of objects as she sifted through its compartments. She gave a huff of relief when she found a cluster of keys and fished them out of her bag. The tumblers in the lock gave a tired groan as she turned the key to the metal door of the art gallery.

She shrugged – it would be utterly unbecoming to be ecstatic over a big bouquet of flowers –"I think red roses are too cliché, but good effort."

"Well that's wonderful," he said, tucking his arm into hers. "Because now you owe me a favour. There are a few people you are obliged to meet."

"What? Right now?"

Draco untucked his arm from Astoria, and pulled his sleeve to reveal his watch. "Tonight, definitely. Where's the carriage stand?"

"You didn't think I'd have plans?"

Having never seen Astoria around anywhere for the last few years, Draco would never admit he thought exactly that. However, he wouldn't prick holes in her pride, not when he needed her cooperation today. "That's why I didn't bother asking. Your plans can wait. I need you tonight."

"What for?" she asked, leading the way in the main street.

"Meeting Blaise and Pansy. They want to and I quote Queen Bitch, 'see you for myself'."

Astoria sighed, if she knew she was going to go somewhere with Draco after work, she'd have worn something fancier. She stared down at her ugg-booted feet. "I don't even have nice shoes on! The two of them are basically your parents; do you expect me to meet them wearing ugg-boots?"

"Well, if it's bothering you that much we'll stop by your apartment and you can change to your heart's desire. I'm never one to get in the way of someone trying to look their personal best."

Astoria's face lit up. "It'll only take five minutes," she promised.

When Astoria disappeared into her bedroom and did not come out after twenty minutes, Draco sighed and picked up a magazine sitting on her coffee table. He had fiddled with the cube Hermione had given him and he had just managed to solve the puzzle. Now the complete cube was safely in his pocket; he'd show Hermione when he saw her next. Tethering on the edge of boredom, he flicked through the latest edition of Witch Weekly with about as much enthusiasm as he had flicking through a textbook as a student. Printed on the front cover with bold yellow lettering was: Potters' Good News. He scowled at the picture of Harry and Ginny waving and smiling at the camera as though they ruled the world. "So the Weaselette is pregnant," he said to himself as he turned the page. His eyes caught sight of another moving picture and he stared at a smaller photograph on the bottom-right corner of the page.

In the picture, Hermione and Ron were on the couch on opposite sides to Ginny. The three of them appeared to be laughing at a joke Harry said, and when Hermione threw her head back he could see the crinkle in the corner of her eyes. It was only when the animation ended did Draco notice Ron's hands were interlinked with hers the whole time. He snapped the magazine shut.

"I'm ready." Astoria appeared out of her bedroom. She caught Draco's expression and frowned, trying to work out the reason. "Not good?"

It took Draco half a second to abandon the couch, and fix his expression on his face. Such a knee-jerk reaction to something like that in a magazine would send him nowhere. So instead, he shifted his face into an amused smirk and almost non-existent eyebrows high. "Darling, you can wear a sack and we would have a hard time beating off the men in the bar." He offered his hand and beckoned to the fireplace. Astoria, smiling uncontrollably from the utter absurdity of Draco's compliment climbed into the fireplace with him. She held onto his arm tightly though there was little need to.

At the bar, Draco filled his glass to the brim and one half-full for Astoria. She rolled her eyes and took the full cup. "I wasn't assuming anything, I err on the side of caution. I don't want any mention of number ones and twos after a drink or two."

"I promise I'll only use those words as a euphemism for your bowel movements," Astoria said, tilting her glass to Draco when a gush of cold air raced into the room, and with it a voluptuous woman in a white-feathered gown appeared. The door slammed shut as all eyes in the bar turned to the entrance. Pansy smiled and gave several nods of greeting, relishing the attention. "Wow," Astoria whispered, "she looks like a bitch."

Draco gave Astoria a wry grin and tried his best not to see the vest Pansy wore across her dress as slaughtered prey she was lugging home. "We don't call her Queen Bitch for nothing."

Having paraded once around the room, ensuring everyone was having the best time the town could offer, Pansy approached the pair with the ferocity of a tyrannosaurus rex. Astoria leant back unconsciously—she had always made an effort to keep her distance away from Pansy Parkinson, her sister's tormentor and general loud-mouth—and mumbled from the corner of her mouth, "I thought you were just being nasty as usual."

"What are you two gossiping about?" she said, tossing her red vest down onto the couch and sinking herself into the sofa. She turned to face the pair and placed a manicured hand over her collarbone. "Me perhaps?"

Draco rolled his eyes. "It's not always about you."

Pansy snorted and she tapped Draco on the shoulder with sharp raps. "You, go bring me a drink. I'm not here to put up with your horrid personality tonight." She shifted in her seat and leaned closer to Astoria. "I'm here to get to know your darling little girlfriend here."

Astoria opened her mouth but Pansy put up a hand to stop her from speaking. She had a personal philosophy that mouths were deceitful and physical appearances were misleading. She scrutinised Astoria as though trying to figure out what Draco liked about her. Though Astoria knew her fashion and seemed nice enough (in Pansy's twisted standards), she couldn't see how her friend had fallen for her. Pansy appraised Astoria for a moment, trying to discern where her vulnerabilities laid and ignored the roll of her eyes in favour of blinking a couple of times to moisten her eyes. It was repayment, to repay even after all these years of Draco protecting her from the horrors of the war; now it was her time to cover his back and make what game she was playing. "Astoria," she said shakily. "What if I told you I still loved Draco?"

Astoria snorted. "You don't fool me. But I'd tell you to stay away."

Pansy downed Draco's glass of fire-whiskey and traced the rim of her glass with her forefinger. "Interesting."

"What?"

Pansy studied her for a longer moment and smirked. "Interesting."

Astoria's face grew hot. She tried calming her nerves with another sip of alcohol. "What do you mean?"

"A certain ugly duckling has occupied my little boy for the last three years. I find it hard to believe he fell in love with you so quickly."

"You think Draco's playing me?"

"No, but I just can't stand the two of you acting as though you're serious when…" Quick as a viper, Pansy lunged and yanked the chain of Astoria's purse off her lap. Pansy stood up and the purse swung two and fro between the girls, with the mouth of a bottle of firewhiskey tilted precariously above it. "I don't understand your situation too well."

"What?" said Astoria, her eyes glued to her purse. "You're going to be pay if you pour that. I'll rip out your eyelash extensions."

"What's going on?" Draco appeared in front of them, holding a colourful cocktail for Pansy.

"Just getting to know her," said Pansy silkily. "You two have gotten chummy too soon." She shot Draco a look which meant she wanted answers—whether he knew, and was he okay with it? And what was he planning?—a look and Draco sighed. Only Pansy could catch onto such subtle nuances so quickly.

"Well, I'm fine with it as long as Blaise gives me his suit and stops introducing random women to me," confessed Draco. He pushed the base until of the bottle of firewhiskey was upright again before placing both hands over Pansy's fingers. He pried her fingers off one by one, thumb first, until he was the only one holding the neck of the bottle and poured the remaining alcohol into a glass for Pansy. Offering her the drink, Draco sat down next to Pansy and turned towards her. "You're not telling him."

Pansy batted her long eyelash (extensions) at him. "If you buy me a new handbag."

"I'll make it two," Draco promised her.

"Why are you so concerned about tricking Blaise anyway?" Astoria asked Draco. "And what's this about a suit?"

"It's nothing much, don't worry about it," he said, knowing his bet wouldn't impress her. "Blaise thinks I'm pining. If I don't fool him, he's going to make me do something stupid and I'll embarrass myself. I'll be cast into exile, into the mountains and never see the lights of civilisation again."

Pansy cackled and tapped a finger on his cheek. "He's always been a dramatic little thing."

"So yeah, don't tell Blaise—"

"Tell Blaise what?" Like the devil, Blaise appeared in front of them with a loud snap. He grinned and shrugged off his leather jacket, flinging it onto an empty chair. Pansy squealed and jumped up, giving the man a kiss on both cheeks before shoving Draco away and wedging Blaise between him and her.

"Draco's was just asking me to tell you not to touch Astoria," said Pansy, waggling her eyebrows at him. "He's quite protective of this one."

Blaise smiled at Astoria who shot him a polite smile. He gave her a wink and leaned back into the sofa, resting his head on Pansy's shoulders. "That's cool. I think. So things between you guys are serious?"

"Good enough to introduce you two," said Draco.

"Do you owe me or what?" Pansy mouthed to Astoria.

"What?" she asked, pretending she couldn't read lips.

Pansy smirked and gave Blaise a quick peck. Blaise waggled his eyebrows at her and she cackled. Pansy gave Astoria a knowing smile, before she leaned over Draco's back so that she could whisper into her ear. Her voice was so soft, Astoria just made out her words, though Pansy's lips were so close her lipstick most definitely caught a few wisps of her straw-blonde strands floating around her face. "Don't hurt him."