Disclaimer: All familiar characters, places, events, and/or relationships belong to J.K. Rowling, what's mine is mine.

A/N: Yay! Two chapters up once, woot! Anyway, back to the story.

"Some people are like slinkies: not really good for anything... but you can't help laughing when you push them down the stairs."

A Perfect Day to Elope

CHAPTER SIX

In which Draco has a pet snake and Hermioneis slytherinny...

September 24, 2003

"One… two… three…" Draco curled his toes around the end of the board and sprung forward into Mer de Malfoi.

Mer... Lucius was such a self-righteous asshole sometimes... or all the time. The "Mer" was hardly a pool, let alone a sea. It was more of a cove, really, sunk into the ground of a flickering cavern a mile under the Palais, lit by a hundred dragon-shaped lanterns.

He would, naturally, have to ask her whom she was cheating with before he called off the wedding.

In accordance with popular belief, Draco Malfoy was not a virgin. But contrary to popular belief he had never seen more of Pansy Parkinson than what she showed the general public, which was quite a lot as she had graced the pages of "Playwizard" quite a few times, and had starred in the low-budget film "Is That Your Wand In Your Pocket, Or Are You Just Glad to See Me?" No, models were more to his taste… French models- like that Fleur Delacour.

But Hermione Granger, of all people he thought that she would wait until she was married. She never wore anything skimpier than that teddy he'd got her for Valentine's Day, and as far as he knew she'd only worn that once.

The only other person she'd dated since Hogwarts was a Weasley, and no one would shag a Weasley.

Weasley- self-righteous assholes. Who were they to tell him he couldn't marry his fiancé?

Fiancé, it had almost been wife. Damn it Pansy, such a Slytherin- not that there was anything wrong with that.

And now she was pregnant, how? It'd been atleast… three years? Yes, three years since they'd left, at least. If the kid wasn't his it ought to have been born already, unless she'd been cheating on him, and recently too or it would've shown.

"Draco?" his head broke through the icy surface and he met and identical pair of cold gray eyes.

"Yes?"

"You know I don't like awkward silences, silence is a sign of fear or respect, neither of which I have for you, so I'll get to the point." Lucius's expression was unreadable. "You do realize that if, indeed, your… girlfriend is… with child, that would mean…"

"That would mean I would have to marry her, I realize, for the family," Draco interrupted, treading water in the most annoyed way that water can be trodden in.

"For the family, yes… and for your mother, and for your own reputation."

"And for the family's reputation."

"Alright, and it's more than that too." He sighed as Draco swam another length of the pool. "Everyone known you're dating. Everyone assumes you're sleeping together." He grimaced. "If you broke it off and then she had a blonde little illegitimate out of wedlock, you'd look like a heartless asshole."

"Following in dear old dad's footsteps." Draco sneered.

Lucius ignored him. "We've got enoughtrouble to deal with with those damned aurors in and out of the house all day."

"Just imagine how pleased the Prophet would be." Draco formed an invisible marquee in the air- "Acquitted Death Eater Fathers Heartless Asshole, Grandfather to Blonde Bastard." He smirked at his own joke.

"It's not funny, the…" Draco swam off again. "Even if it's not yours- even if it's a Weasley." He kneeled down beside the water, his lips pursed in irritation. "You forget Draco. Nobody..." Lucius cracked his knuckles menacingly. "Nobody cheats a Malfoy,

"You will raise this child as your own, understand?" He grabbed Draco's hair and pulled his head back so that he was looking directly into Lucius's piercingly practiced gaze.

"I never thought of doing anything else," he choked.

"Good." Lucius released Draco's hair "...and your fiancé is upstairs, so you might want to wash before waltzing around in your swim costume."

"I might."

As houses went, Malfoy Manor (or "Palais de Malfoi" as the house elf who'd let her in had called it) was decidedly big. Hermione guessed that the entry hall alone would hold two normal sized houses. The ceiling was a cavernous dome, looming high above her head in the form of an unnervingly realistic dragon mural.

Where the walls were flat they were covered in a dark, dark green, but only spots of wall could be seen. Most of the walls were covered, frame-to-frame, in centuries of white-blonde Malfoys, all of whom were glaring disapprovingly down at her.

"You'd think they'd learn about recessive genes," she muttered to herself.

"What's she doing here" one of the portraits, a little white-blonde boy who looked to be about three, finally said.

"Shut up! We're not to talk to the aurors," the woman who's lap he was seated on hissed.

"I'm not an auror," Hermione replied, trying to seem friendly, or as friendly as one could be to a portrait.

"No-one said anything to you," an old, beaky woman with her tresses done up in an elaborate sculpture atop her head snapped.

"And I didn't say anything to you," Hermione snapped back, her tongue proving once again to cut any argument into shreds.

"Filthy mudblood," the largest portrait, a painting of Lucius himself, muttered.

At this, every portrait seemed to have something to say and the room was filled with "Mudblood? Never in my house!" and "That damn elf! Spy! Spy!" and "That lying wench! Get her out! Get her out!" and "I told you she was an auror! Lies!"

Hermione sighed and sat down, then thought better of it and jumped up again. You never could be sure what was laced with the dark arts, especially in a Malfoy Mansion. She eyed the chair apprehensively.

"The aurors took away all the cursed chairs," a voice by her ear drawled. She turned around and found her herself looking at a very familiar profile.

"Why didn't you say anything before?" she hissed.

"Why would I help a filthy mudblood like you?" Draco's portrait sneered. Hermione leaned forward to read the tiny plaque stuck at the bottom of the frame.

"Draco Lucifer Malfoy," she read aloud, "Age 13, oh… you are a slimy little git aren't you?"

"Atleast I'm not a mudblood," he snapped. She laughed.

"Atleast I can turn my head properly." She grinned, Draco's profilescowled.

"I suppose this boy over here is you too then?" She pointed at the small boy who'd first spoken.

"Most likely,"

"You're so cute!" she cooed, moving over to examine the next picture. "Draco Lucifer Malfoy and Narcissa Daphne Black Malfoy, ages three and twenty-three." Draco eyed her appraisingly, which was ridiculous of course because he was much too young to have anything to judge her against, and Narcissa's eyes were narrowed at her as one might look at a particularly troublesome stain.

"Hi, my name is Draco," he said finally. Narcissa snatched his hand away as he raised it to wave. "What's your name?". Hermione laughed, she'd never really thought of her boyfriend- no, her fiancé- as every being a child, and if she had it had always been along the lines of "What it must have been like to grow up in Malfoy Manor." There he looked oddly, normal.

"My name's Hermione," she replied, smiling genuinely back at the fidgety little boy.

"That's a funny name."

"My parents are crazy."

"You know what Herm… Hermi… Hermo… you know what?"

"What?"

"I had a pet snake once."

"Did you?"

"Yep, his name was, um… Boni… Bonifa… it was a little hard, cause I'm a little bit little and I can't say some big words, so I just called him Bo."

"Really? And what happened to Bo?"

"He ran away."

"Oh."

"But it's okay cause he took his leash with him, so someone could find him and he could be their pet now and they could feed him, and pet him for me."

"That's good."

"Yeah, and mummy says, mummy, mummy says we could get a dragon, maybe, sometime, if Bo doesn't come back."

"I never did get that dragon." Hermione turned to face her fiancé, who was dripping water all over the marble and, naturally, still wearing his swim costume.

"So Bo came back then?" she teased as he made an attempt to brush a wet strand of hair off of his forehead.

"Nope, Bo did not." He stopped playing with his hair and turned to face her. "You've come to apologize then?"

"For what?" She raised a quizzical eyebrow at him. his expression was, like so many of the portraits' that lined his entry hall, unreadable.

"For sleeping with a Weasley, of course. Oh, it's not like I'm surprised. I would have been surprised if you said you'd slept with Potter, but then that would mean that he'd have to have a definite gender, and as it is he does not."

She seemed torn between anger and confusion for a moment before her hand rose and cuffed his arrogant countenance.

"That was uncalled for," he snarled, rubbing his cheek where her fingerprints were still red beneath his left eye.

"That was uncalled for," she retorted, showing no signs of moving to kiss his boo-boo, or even apologize for slapping him.

"What?" he mirrored her wrathful glare.

"You didn't need to insult my friends, or me." She flared, bristling at the utter stupidity of his question.

"And you didn't need to lie to me!" he retorted, vehemently taking an intimidating step towards her and drawing up to his full stature.

"I didn't lie to you," she roared, then froze. "I just, omitted the truth," she mumbled, avoiding his gaze.

"What? Oh, yes, sure love, I'm just going to go shag a weasel now, if that's alright with you," he roared, "sure, it didn't at all sound like 'Right love, just going to the grocery.'"

"You ignorant asshole! You don't even bother to think that maybe, once, the world isn't out to get you. Maybe, just this one time, your girlfriend isn't a sneaky, cheating gold digger who's out for all she can get. Maybe, did you think, maybe this once, you don't know the whole story."

"I apparently didn't know you were sleeping with Weasley!"

"hm… maybe that's because I WASN'T!"

"Well you certainly weren't doing anything with me. I'd think if you were gonna shag someone you'd shag your boyfriend."

"Well apparently you think wrong, If I was gonna shag someone, I'd shag my husband, and as of yet I haven't got one."

"Really? You'd think it'd be easy for such a lovely little tart like you to find a husband, but apparently not, apparently they don't like mudbloods where you're- oh shit…"

"You… you…" Hermione's entire form had tensed and she was shaking with the force of holding the monsoon of words that had suddenly welled up inside her throat at the same time as attempting to stay standing while she was certain every ounce of blood inside her had turned to pure, red rage.

"Oh, damn it Hermione…" he took a step towards her and she took two steps backwards.

"It's Granger to you," she snarled through clenched teeth, then turned on her heel and ran headlong out the front door.

She didn't go far. In fact, she stayed close enough so that when he went speeding out the door after her (after, mind you, a very long self-bashing session in his entry hall) he tripped over her and fell head-over-heels down the unnecessarily long black marble stairway. The experience would later be compared to that of getting married.

"Oh my god! Draco!" she screamed and bounded down the steps after him, drawing her wand from her pants pocket and streaking after him. "Arrestez Momentum!" she bellowed. There was a sharp white light and his rapid descent slowed as though he were falling through very thick water. He tumbled down one last step before landing with a painful sounding crack.

"Oh my god, are you alright?" Hermione gasped, tumbling off of the bottom stair to land on the ground beside him.

"Yes," he lied, trying to ignore the pain in his back.

"Good." She grinned and sat herself on his stomach. "Now..." she began, "You are not to move or try to move until I've had my say, alright?"

"I don't like that plan."

She ignored him and continued in a low whisper. "From our little scene in the minister's office yesterday..."

"Two days ago," he interrupted. She sighed.

"From our little scene in the minister's office two days ago, one can draw a number of conclusions. One of these conclusions being that I'm pregnant."

"Gee, where would someone get a crazy idea like that?" he snapped.

"I want to marry you. But due to our"

"You certainly have an odd way of showing it," he drawled.

"Due to our differences"

"No, just stop," he barked. She frowned and looked as though she might say something but then thought better of it and nodded. "I don't want to marry you. You're right, there are a number of conclusions one can draw from our 'little scene', none of them leading up to us living 'happily ever after'. The first conclusion is that A) You're pregnant and B) the baby must be mine since we're engaged and you're you." He paused. She didn't show signs of commenting so he continued. "That'd be lovely, as then you would have shagged me senseless at some point or another, and then we could live 'happily ever after'. But you haven't, much to my lonely displeasure mind you, I think that'd be something to see. So the bastard isn't and never has been mine."

"But, see..."

"One would then assume that you've been sneaking around behind my back. This is quite a disturbing assumption because then one would ask 'Was it just once? Was it more? Is it a fling? Is it love?' And if, indeed, it was love, what am I to do? Because then you clearly don't love me yet I am forced to marry you. You see?"

She thought about this for a moment and then replied: "And one would think one was very smart for assuming as thus, correct? And one would be very smart, but not as smart as one thinks one is." Draco frowned, watching his plan crumble around him as she moved in for the blow. "Because one would not be thinking about who else was there..."

"Me, you, and..." his voice trailed off.

"And Lucius, who hates me with every fiber of his fiberless being." She nodded.

If, at that moment, Draco Malfoy's thought process had been a thousand-piece jigsaw puzzle, one could have watched the final pieces clicking into place, starting a long chain of reactions that began with his eyes lighting up and ended with him sitting up so quickly that Hermione was thrown onto the ground beside him.

"You... and Lucius... and..." he faltered, fumbling over the words that usually came so naturally. "You knew!"

"I didn't know anything, I guessed." She blushed, looking, for reasons he would never understand, deeply ashamed.

"You knew and you... and you told him you were pregnant so he'd force us to get married! That's genius!"

"I don't know about that..." she laughed.

"That brilliant! That's genius! That's Slytherinny! That's hot!"

"Hot?" She sat up, eyeing him curiously.

"Sexy, randy, risque, Malfoy-esque"

"Alright, I get it. It's not that impressive." She blushed and even deeper shade of scarlet.

"Not that impressive? It's brilliant! You are a genius!"

"Does that mean you want to marry me again?"

"Indeed." He slapped his palm against the marble ground for emphasis. "Now, where are we going for dinner?"

"We are not going anywhere." She stood to brush a bit of dust off her lap.

"Wha-"

"After you called me a... a that. You'd be lucky to get a kiss goodbye!"

"Am I lucky then?" He stood up in front of her.

"Very." She grinned. "So where are we going?"