Day Two

Draco scowled as he and the rest of the Slytherins made their way down to the group of people waiting to go to Hogsmead. Pansy was holding their baby (gosh that sounded weird) over her shoulder and glowering at anyone that looked at her strangely. It seemed the rest of the school had not been informed about the Baby Assignment, as anyone carrying round the sacks of flour either got sniggered or yelled at.

It got very annoying after a while.

So, as you could imagine, no one particularly wanted to be out and about with the 'babies'...at something like a Hogsmead weekend, for example...Because the teens usually looked forwards to these days of freedom, being burdened with a baby just made them more grumpy.

Despite it being a May morning, it was still rather chilly. Clouds of air billowed from everyone's lips as they hopped around, rubbing their forearms and trying to keep warm. Unfortunately for them, no one paid enough attention in Charms to know any heating spells. The grumbling and complaining grew louder and louder until the thestral-drawn carriages arrived.

"So what are we supposed to get?"

"I don't know! Check the booklet."

"Booklet?! You've had a blinking booklet this whole time?"

"Well...yeah."

"Why did you not TELL me??"

"It was funny watching you trying to use a fork to feed the baby marmalade."

"Give me that!"

Draco snatched the booklet from Pansy's pocket, swearing under his breath. Pansy smirked smugly, considering her revenge taken.

"Right. Shopping...there's a whole list of stuff – pushchairs, bottles, highchairs..."

"It'll be like shopping for a real baby," Pansy giggled. Draco stared at her.

"Don't tell me you're enjoying this?" he snapped accusingly, "You've gone soft!"

"No!" she covered quickly, "I mean, some aspects of this project have been...amusing."

She cradled the baby in one arm and mimed trying to shovel something into its mouth with the other hand, and then gasping dramatically and jumping back, as if splashed in the face with something. Draco narrowed his eyes.

"You better watch that tongue, Parkinson, no one likes a lippy wife." He hissed.

The look of mingled shock and terror on Pansy's face made him look away, regretting his retort already. They had a kind of unspoken agreement that neither of them would mention the arranged marriage until they had to. It was common knowledge that a high-profile daddy would disown his daughter if she did not find a good husband. Mr Parkinson didn't seem to trust Pansy's judgement on the matter, so the two had been betrothed from infancy.

Draco glanced up at her. To his horror, fear shone clearly in her face. If the Malfoys called off the marriage, she might as well disown herself now.

Pansy blinked, and it was gone. Her face twisted to a mask of indifference and she jiggled the baby, eyes down.

"Let's go to that shop." She said simply, betraying no emotion.

To her surprise, instead of walking straight on past her, Draco held out his arm. It was his silent apology. She slipped her hand into the crook of his elbow, cradling the 'baby' in her other hand.

"Never mention that again."

"I won't."

That evening the two of them sat in the common room by the fire. They had bought boundless items for the baby, courtesy of Draco's father. Pansy was feeding the baby with one of the bottles they had purchased. Draco was lounging on the sofa with his arms behind his head. It was late, and there were only a few people left that hadn't retired to bed.

"You know, if my father makes me marry some other woman, I'd hire you as our nanny."

Pansy looked up sharply. Crabbe and Goyle were snoring loudly, slumped in armchairs on the other side of the room. Blaise Zabini was snogging a random girl in the other corner of the room.

"I told you not to mention that." She growled. Then curiosity got the better of her, "Why?"

"So I could have an affair with you, of course." He drawled, smirking. She raised her eyebrows. The arrogant git.

"If anyone married you but me, I'd have to kill her." She said simply.

He sat up and looked at her. He wasn't sure if she was serious or not, "You'll need someone organised and cunning to murder her."

"Any suggestions?"

"Me, duh. I'd help you."

A smile flickered over Pansy's face. She liked this game. "We couldn't get married in this country, though; we'd be obvious murder suspects!"

He lay back down, "I like Italy."

"I'll hold you to that." She chuckled.