Pansy/Draco

I like this one, but it's quite short. Feeling rather ill at the moment, so I'd love some reviews. Thank you for previous reviews :)

Draco Malfoy was stood on Platform 9¾. He'd just waved Scorpius off to his second year at Hogwarts and was in no mood to return home yet. Astoria contracted had Scrofungulus and was confined to a room at St. Mungos; her condition was fine – barely even ill! - but there were no visitors allowed due to the contagious nature of the disease. She'd been in there for a fortnight and, with Scorpius having left for school, Draco could see the next few weeks being exceedingly boring.

As was the custom on the platform, parents mingled and talked for a good half hour after the train had pulled away. Draco couldn't see anyone he felt like talking to. The Potters and the Weasleys were there of course, but although the fall of Voldemort had changed Draco for the better, he still didn't have strong amiable feelings towards his old rivals.

He had come to accept that Pureblood superiority was not only discriminatory but also limiting. People weren't likely to associate with Pureblood supremacists these days which was bad for restoring honour to the family name. Anyway, he'd seen plenty of things which made him appreciate that talent and magic were gifts that could be bestowed upon anybody.

However, Draco Malfoy would never stop being a Slytherin and if he wanted some fun, he was damn well going to get it, and he wasn't going to bother about those pesky moral things, oh no!

He'd decided he'd do just about anything for a bit of fun at that moment, but he had yet to find exactly what that could be. With his trademark Malfoy smirk playing on his lips, he scanned the crowded platform.

It was then that he spotted her. Oh, this was perfect! A slender, black-haired witch stood a little apart from the crowd. To the casual observer, it seemed that she deigned herself too important to talk to the crowd; to Draco, it seemed that they were right. However, he detected something else too. She seemed a little nervous, must be her first year sending her kid away. Draco hadn't seen her since a year after the Battle of Hogwarts, he wanted to relinquish all ties to his former prejudices and she seemed to want to carry on her beliefs. Shame really. The adoration she always provided did wonders for his ego.

She must have moved on though. At Hogwarts she'd always hung around him, flirting, whether he wanted her to or not. But for her to be here, now, she would have had to have had a child. Here alone? Well, Pansy Parkinson wasn't someone you could put up with for long. Her moods were too extreme.

Draco had found his entertainment. It helped that it was wrapped up in a package that appeared to have improved with age. Her features were no longer so pug-like and her body, well, that was something a Malfoy could appreciate. His Astoria had always been a little more curvy. Not that he didn't enjoy that, but a change can be good for a man. He loved his wife, but he wasn't one to say no to temptation. And she wasn't either! Astoria had cheated on him before, and he dealt with it. He'd cheated on her before, and she'd dealt with it. Once more wouldn't hurt. And Pansy looked...regal. And Draco liked regal.

He strode towards her, his cloak swirling round his ankles. He came from behind as to be unnoticed and observed no wedding band on her finger. Stooping slightly, he breathed into her ear.

"Missing the old days, Parkinson?".

She whirled around, her eyes wide with shock. "Draco?"

"Not here, Pans," he pulled her into a niche. He may have been willing to risk Astoria's wrath, but he wasn't stupid. He didn't want to invite it publicly.

They stopped and looked at each other in silence, drinking in every minute change in appearance.

"So, Pans..." Draco eventually began with an arched eyebrow.

"Shut up, Malfoy,". He was surprised by her hostility until she shoved him roughly against the wall, arms around his neck, pulling his head down to meet her lips.

When they finally came up for air, they both looked rather dishevelled. His blonde hair was mussed and her robes were distinctly more crumpled than was fitting for a Parkinson. He clearly still held that affect over her.

"Maybe we should take this elsewhere," the witch grinned impishly. "Back to my place, Drakes. If I remember rightly, I know something else that's 9¾."
He shuddered, he'd always hated being called that, but he wasn't going to refuse. His ego had certainly been stroked by the exaggeration. Pansy was just as good as he'd remembered, and her looks were even better. She wasn't simpering to him quite so much either. Draco found himself feeling that he might just have gotten lucky.

Sometimes people really don't change, eh? Hehe.