"That's not funny, Pansy." Hermione dabbed at the corners of her eyes with her napkin and tried to breath past the burn of the wine still caught in her lungs.

"Does it look like I'm laughing?" Pansy had gone horribly pale, all of the color draining from her face as she looked anywhere but at Hermione. She looked like she wanted to vomit or run out of the restaurant. "There is absolutely nothing funny about being drunk enough to bring a Weasley home with me."

Hermione tried to gather her thoughts, but she felt like her brain was just spinning in circles. She genuinely could not wrap her mind around the fact that Pansy would even speak to Charlie Weasley, let alone… "You slept with him?" Hermione glanced around them to make sure no one was listening and then cast a quick muffliato just in case. "What does that even mean?"

"I fucking shagged him, Hermione. What else is there?" Pansy waved down a waiter for a refill of her wine glass and immediately drank a deep sip of it. "I shagged a Weasley."

Hermione wanted to laugh because Pansy said it like she was announcing the death of a close friend. "It's not the end of the world."

Pansy's expression closed off, and a flush of anger rose to her cheeks. "I did not come here to be mocked," she said. "If that is your intention, you may go."

"I'm not making fun of you." Hermione let her hair down from its messy bun and began putting it back up again, the movements of her fingers in her hair soothing her scrambled thoughts. She couldn't believe the notorious Pansy Parkinson managed to not only bring a Gryffindor home with her, and not only a Weasley, but the most elusive Weasley brother with the most non-Slytherin job that could possibly exist. She felt like her whole world had tilted on its axis. She asked without thinking, "How drunk were you?"

"Not nearly as drunk as I would have liked," Pansy muttered. She swirled her wine in the glass, looking into its garnet depths as though the wine held all the answers she was looking for. Based on the night before, it held nothing for her but trouble. "Now do you understand why I asked you to come to lunch with me instead of Draco or, Morgana forbid, Blaise?"

A sharp laugh escaped her, and Hermione quickly pressed her fingers to her lips. "I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to laugh."

The corner of Pansy's lips quirked up into a reluctant smile. "It is quite funny to imagine," she said. "Draco would be all righteous indignation, huffing and puffing about the terrible Weasleys and their horridly red hair."

Hermione pulled a face that was strikingly similar to Draco's stern expression. She deepened her voice and said, "Really, Pansy? A weasel? You should have more class than that. Any wizard would be better than one of them."

Pansy was trying to hide her laughter behind her napkin, but her dark eyes were crinkling in the corners, and Hermione could see her shoulders shaking.

Pleased to see the witch looking less miserable, Hermione went on, "I mean honestly, Pansy, they're so Gryffindor that it bleeds into their bloody hair. You really looked at all those Salazar-damned freckles and said, 'let me shag that'? Have you completely taken leave of your senses?"

"Merlin, he really would." Pansy was laughing hard enough to bring tears to her eyes and a rosy pink to her cheeks. She had the faintest laugh lines next to her eyes that made her look even more warm and inviting when she smiled. Hermione was so used to seeing Pansy with her cold and reserved expressions, her eyes only ever showing an echo of her true emotions, that it was a startling change to see her so openly enjoy herself.

"It really isn't the end of the world." At Pansy's doubtful look, she said, "Honestly, what's the worst that could happen?"

Pansy looked like she wanted to protest, but she eventually nodded her head in agreement. The initial panic and horror at what she had done finally faded, and Pansy let a relieved sigh escape her. "In the end, it was just one night, right?"

"Exactly," Hermione said. "And it's not like you have to see him again if you don't want to."

Pansy flinched.

Hermione's brows slowly rose as she tried and failed to catch Pansy's gaze; the witch was looking anywhere but at her. "Pansy. Is he…" Hermione leaned across the table and whispered, "Is he still at your house?"

Pansy hid her face in her hands and ruefully nodded her head.

"Pansy!"

"I know," Pansy groaned. "I'm horrible, aren't I?"

"Horrible?" Hermione threw her napkin at Pansy. "You shagged him and left him in your house."

Pansy threw the napkin back and snapped, "There's nothing wrong with that."

"Are you just hoping he'll leave while you're out to lunch with me?" Seeing the blush that rose to Pansy's cheeks, Hermione's mouth dropped open in shock. "You scheming snake."

"That's a compliment, love." Pansy smirked at her and said, "I will admit to being embarrassed that I brought a Weasley home, but don't expect me to apologize for leaving a one night stand before he's woken up. It's not my fault he's a bloody heavy sleeper."

Hermione's mouth opened and closed several times, but no words came out. She had absolutely no idea what kind of advice Pansy could have been hoping to get from her. Hermione had never been in a situation like this; a random wizard left in her bed. A horrible thought dawned on her. She didn't think Charlie would ever do such a thing, but she still asked, "What if he goes nosing through your house? You aren't there to stop him from rifling through your personal belongings."

"He can't." Pansy's brows furrowed as she weighed whether or not she wanted to disclose certain information to Hermione.

Personally, Hermione knew far more about Pansy than she would like at this point, but her curiosity and need to know things was enjoying this conversation far too much.

"I didn't bring him back to my family estate. He's in a flat I own specifically for situations like these."

Hermione's jaw dropped open once more. "You have a flat specifically for bringing random wizards home and leaving them there."

"You make it sound so barbaric," Pansy complained. "I value my privacy, and I like to keep my private life and my conquests separate."

"You're as bad as Blaise."

Pansy gasped and looked like she was about to throw her wine glass at Hermione. "You take that back," she hissed. "I am nothing like that womanizing cad."

"You have a shag flat," Hermione pointed out. "Look me in the eye, and tell me Blaise doesn't have one of those."

Looking like she'd sucked on a lemon, Pansy glared fiercely at her and said nothing.

"Exactly," Hermione said with a smug smile. "You two are bird of a feather whether you like to admit it or not."

"Disgusting."

Their waiter must have been holding their food until he was sure they weren't going to kill each other because the moment their conversation lulled, he appeared with their lunch. The witches ate quietly, each content to mull over their own thoughts and predicaments. Hermione especially was working to compartmentalize so many new revelations about Pansy and decide how she felt about them. If she had been told in her final year at Hogwarts that she would be sitting here at lunch with Pansy, quickly becoming friends with the infamous Silver Trio, and dating Draco Malfoy, she would have laughed. School prejudices aside, there was something different about her friendships with Pansy and Theo. Had she changed so much that these people had begun to feel like home to her?

Shaking her head, Hermione mentally pulled herself away from that train of thought. She knew better; it would bring nothing but heartache to think about her parents.

Looking up at Pansy, Hermione marveled at how put together the witch could look. Especially knowing what awaited her at that highly questionable flat of hers. Hermione grinned to herself at the thought of poor Charlie Weasley waking up, hungover and in a Slytherin's home. How the world had changed. She didn't know much about Charlie, having only met him a handful of times, but she knew enough about the Weasleys to know this situation was far from over.

"What if he's still there when you go home?" Hermione watched Pansy carefully and tried to hide her teasing smile.

Pansy slowly set down her fork and seemed to consider her question. "I don't think he'd be foolish enough to stay," she said. "I made it quite clear this was a one-time mistake not to be repeated."

"Did you?"

A flash of uncertainty passed over Pansy's face, but she still nodded her head firmly. "No matter how drunk I might have been, I would never extend an open invitation to Weasley."

"I told you not to drink during the quidditch games, but no one ever listens to me," Hermione lamented. "Next time, lay off the firewhiskey."

"There won't be a next time," Pansy said firmly. "If he's smart, he'll go back to Romania and his dragons, and we'll both pretend it never happened."

"Yes," Hermione agreed, "because Weasleys are so good at doing what they're told."

Pansy looked once more like she might vomit, and this time Hermione couldn't help but laugh.

—..—

Harry and Draco visited twelve pubs before they finally found the right one. It was almost disturbing how many pubs in Wizarding London had a white horse outside the building. Draco was beginning to fear they might need to venture into the muggle world when they finally stumbled upon the Staggering Steed.

They stood outside the front door and gazed at the sign incredulously.

Draco shook his head firmly and said, "That's not a horse."

"I mean…" Harry hesitated. Maybe it was because he had seen so many horses, or maybe it was a truly horrible craftsmanship, but he thought the pub's sign looked more like an alpaca than a horse. But he really didn't want to keep searching for the right place. "It could be a horse. If you tilt your head a little. And squint."

Draco scoffed. "It looks like a dog."

"It must be a horse with a pub name like Staggering Steed."

"Is it called the Staggering Steed because a drunken horse carved it?"

Harry looked unamused by his sarcasm. "Maybe the weather has worn away at its original shape."

"It looks as though a child carved it with a dull knife." Draco crossed his arms over his chest and frowned. "A blind child. A blind child that's never held a knife before in its life."

Harry shrugged. "At least it's white."

Draco looked at him as though he'd lost his mind and waved his hand dismissively at the sign. "That is not white. It might have been white fifty years ago, but no one in their right mind would call that paint white."

Harry's response was cut off by the front door opening with enough force to knock into the pub wall and send the almost-horse sign swaying dangerously on its rusted hangings. A short, elderly woman came tottering out and smiled up at them. Her gray hair and plentiful wrinkles portrayed her old age as did her slow, shambling walk. Draco was shocked that someone of her age would be in a pub like that. "Are you boys admiring my sign?"

Draco cringed and held back whatever comment he wanted to say. She seemed too kind for his sense of humor.

"Uh, yes ma'am, we were." Harry stumbled over his words trying his best to look appreciative of the white horse.

"It was given to me long ago," she said. Draco could tell she was about to start a very long story as she shuffled over towards the bench by the door and slowly took a seat. "The sweetest boy made it for me when I first opened the place."

Draco arched an eyebrow at Harry and smirked; he knew it had been made by a child.

Harry ignored him and instead smiled kindly at her and moved to help her sit down. "It's a lovely gift."

"He was a good boy, made sure I hung it up first thing. He said, 'Maeve, this horse is full of good luck and will bring everyone to your pub, just you wait.' And sure enough, I've never been empty. He and his sister were such sweet little things, always helping out around town."

"I'm sorry," Draco interrupted. "Did you say your name was Maeve?"

She smiled up at him but with a hint of confusion. "Yes, I did."

"We've been looking for you," Harry said while taking a seat next to her. "We were told you might be able to help us."

"Were you?"

"Yes, we were told you might be able to tell us where we can find Aoibheann."

A bright smile lit up her face. "Oh, but of course I can! She's my favorite granddaughter, she is. Though not by blood of course, but this town's so small everyone might as well be family. She's gone off to Ireland though, sweet adventurous heart that she is. This time of year she'll probably be over by Galway waiting on the selkies to come in for the winter."

"The selkies?"

"Oh yes, they come into Inishmaan every winter. Aoibheann helps them there with clothes and food. The muggles think the whole island is abandoned, but she's developed a whole town there to keep them safe from muggle view."

"Thank you so much," Harry said enthusiastically. Finally he was getting somewhere. Maybe this trip wasn't hopeless after all.

"Of course, dear," she said and patted Harry's hand. "I know how hard it can be to find a good community, but sweet Aoibheann knows many places you two can be happy. You'll have your pick of places to settle down."

Confusion flooded Harry's face. "Settle down?"

"But of course." Maeve smiled sweetly at them and asked, "How long have you boys known each other?"

Draco's brain came to a screeching halt. Form the sound of things, this Aoibheann was known for sheltering and rehoming magical beings, and despite the modern views most magical communities held, he had a horrible sinking feeling that Maeve had gotten the wrong impression of Harry and himself. He jumped to correct her line of thinking but was beat to the punch by Harry.

"Almost ten years now. We went to school together."

"Ten years," she sighed wistfully. "Such a long time. I'd known my Sibyl only half that long when we met Aoibheann. You boys are such good role models for other young men. So brave."

"Brave?" Harry asked in confusion.

Draco immediately jumped in to try and fix the situation. "Ma'am, I appreciate your forward thinking. In today's society, it's refreshing to know people from all generations are so supportive of the homosexual community. However—"

"Oh no we're not—" Harry interrupted him. "We're just, um, it's not…"

"Oh don't worry sweetie," she patted Harry's hand softly. "I think it's wonderful that you two love each other enough to express it so openly. You should be proud." She patted his hand again and tottered off back into the pub leaving the pair of them stunned.

Harry stared after her, his eyes as wide as saucers. "She thinks we're…"

"Correct." Draco shoved his hands into his pockets and considered how far a trip to Inishmaan would be. They could probably portkey if they needed to, but that would require a trip back to the Ministry. He hated backtracking.

Harry was still staring at the pub door. "But we're not…"

"No, we are not."

Harry scratched the top of his head and tried futilely not to blush. "Should we go find her and explain?"

Draco sighed, "It's a bit late for that, and we've lost enough time trying to find this place."

They were both quiet for a long moment before Harry finally muttered, "Can't believe she thought you'd be my type."

"That's what you're upset about?"

"I'm just saying," Harry said defensively, "even if I were into blokes, you'd be at the bottom of my list."

Draco scoffed. "For your information, Potter, I'm a catch."

As the sun finally began to set on the most exhausting day, Draco and Harry made their way back to Harry's office in the Ministry. Draco sat in the plush chair across from Harry's desk and let out a long sigh. He couldn't wait to down a dreamless sleep potion and fall into bed.

Harry looked to be feeling about the same as he took of his spectacles and rubbed at his eyes. His ridiculous hair was standing up in every direction and looked in desperate need of a comb. "I'll have to file the paperwork for a trip to Ireland," he said, his exhaustion leaking into his voice. Just the thought of doing that paperwork seemed to make him sink further into his chair. "After that, I can grab one of the aurors and make the trip —"

"I'm coming with you." The way Draco said this made it clear there was no room for argument. "I know I'm not an auror, but this directly effects my family and the Malfoy reputation."

Harry looked at him for several moments, his green eyes analyzing every micro-expression on Draco's face. He slowly nodded his head and placed his spectacles back on his nose. "Very well. You'll have to sign the appropriate wavers and such."

"Of course." Draco rose from his seat, his muscles protesting at the movement. "Owl me the forms, and send another one when everything is arranged." He went to leave but was stopped by Harry very obviously clearing his throat. Draco turned and gave him a skeptical look.

"You should tell Hermione what's going on." Harry held a hand up when Draco opened his mouth to protest and said, "I understand this is a private family matter, but you need to remember who she is. To Hermione, anyone important in her life is seen as family. Excluding her from the situation would be the same as telling her she isn't family. Just keep that in mind."

Draco bit the inside of his cheek and stared at the floor, part of him wanting to argue the absurdity of sharing such personal information with someone he had only been dating for a few months. But this was Hermione, and she was different from every other witch. Rather than argue, he simply nodded his head and left the office, feeling chagrined about taking dating advice from Harry Potter of all people. He would tell her, he decided. Just not yet.

-..-

AN: Poor Pansy... On the bright side, the shenanigans of Harry and Draco are well underway! I wonder when Draco will finally decide to talk to Hermione about it all. He's just so stubborn. Well, I hope you all have a wonderful week! As always, thanks for reading and let me know what you think! Reviews give me life and make my day!