A/N: Thank you to my readers and reviewers. Hope last chapter was enjoyable and this one is good, too. Tell me what you think if you'd like. R&R, please!
Draco stood outside Curly Girly's Bookshoppe the next evening. It was a quaint shoppe next to Flourish and Blotts and was where Tea Leaves and Scrolls used to be. It had just recently opened a week prior and was a franchise, there being one in each major magical city in Western Europe and were all owned by H.J. Granger.
He folded up the parchment regarding the business information of his ex-girlfriend and shoved it into his pocket and waited for the shoppe lights to diminish. Right on the dot of nine o' clock, the shoppe's lights flickered off, and he watched from the shadows as Hermione locked up the store and ventured down the cobbled streets of Diagon Alley. She smiled and waved hello to those she passed and stealthily he followed behind and hoped that she would not Apparate which thankfully she didn't. She walked towards the back of the Leaky Cauldron, and Draco knew she was going to Muggle London. He cursed and knew he might lose her if he did not follow closer behind. With a sigh, he stopped following her and watched her disappear. He then Apparated home.
The next night he was prepared. He waited around the corner of Charing Cross Road by the Leaky Cauldron. He was out of his own element because he did not often journey out into the Muggle World. Sometimes he and Blaise would hopscotch around certain Muggle spots but not often.
Ten minutes after nine, Hermione exited the Leaky Cauldron and walked down the sidewalk. Counting to fifteen, Draco followed her as nonchalant as possible. He kept his sight on her always, his eyes often drifting to her denim clad derriere causing him to remember what it looked like without denim. He bit back a moan and let the early November chill overwhelm his heated thoughts.
They did not walk long. Hermione entered a large building, and Draco walked by to catch a glimpse of the place. It was an apartment building—nice and upscale. It probably specialized in studio type flats and penthouse suites. It was a place where the young, rich, and single rested their heads for the night.
Draco travelled down the nearest abandoned alley and Apparated home, directly to his office. His mother sat in the cushioned chair facing the fireplace. He directed his gaze at his father's portrait which was empty. His wie more than likely had told him to leave.
"Mother," Draco acknowledged and shed his blazer and draped it across his chair.
"You're home late, again," Narcissa Malfoy clipped. "Why?"
"You know how work is, Mum," he said and leaned over to kiss his mother's forehead. "Where did father go off to."
"I have no idea. I told him to leave." Narcissa waved her hand dismissively at her late husband's vacant portrait. "And he did."
"Is Scorpius in bed?"
"Yes?"
"Astoria?"
"No." Narcissa sniffed and glared into the flames of the fireplace. "She's not here. Where is she, Draco? I haven't seen her almost a week."
"I believe she is at her sister's visiting" Draco lied and noticed his mother's jaw tick. She nodded her head in acceptance, but he knew better than to think she believed his dishonesty.
He left his mother in the office and made way to his bedroom. He undressed and slipped between the sheets with a disappointed groan and sneered at the empty space next to him. Begrudgingly, the neighboring pillows were shoved off the bed, and Draco scooted his body towards the middle and spread himself out.
The next night, he followed Hermione, again. This time, she did not go directly home. The wizard hesitated when Hermione crossed the street instead going her route home. He trailed behind her as close as he could and watched with interest when she entered a café. He Charmed his hair a simple brown and flipped up the collar of his cloak in an attempt to hide some of his face. He entered the restaurant and took a seat in the corner, watching Hermione sit on a stool at the bar area and order coffee. A waitress came by his table, and he ordered a cuppa and settled back into his seat, taking the time to scrutinize every detail of his ex-girlfriend. The changes he noticed were painful to accept. She had aged noticeably but not with wrinkles or frown lines. To Draco, she had aged subtly like any woman who had yet to be married or have children. The last ten years had been kind her for sure. She was still firm in her feminine places and spry looking. When she walked, she naturally swung her hips with mature confidence telling the those around her she was a girl with buoyancy.
The girl at the bar was so very unlike the girl he had loved years ago. So different. The Hermione he knew did not have a natural hip-swing. But then again, she did not have blonde hair and glasses either.
He frowned at the blonde in her hair and at the straightness of it, the tresses spilling over her shoulders and fell below her blades in a thick curtain, and Draco remembered it had been longer when they had been together, nearly to her bum. He recalled the memory of her complaining often about the heavy curls and only kept it long for him. He had loved her hair lengthy and wild, completely in its natural state.
The glasses made him squeamish and reminded him of Potter, but at the same time suited her, brought out her intelligence that her blonde hair covered. Draco had no idea she had ever needed glasses, and that bothered him extensively. She didn't wear them when they were together, nor did she wear those Muggle contact lenses. As far as he knew, her vision had been perfect.
He sipped his Earl Grey while Hermione sipped her coffee. Bloody hell, she even took that different. With each sip the girl swallowed, she added another sugar packet or creamer. She also kept checking her watch and the clock up on the wall with urgency frowning her lips, like she was trying to verify if the time was actually the time.
Around 9:30, a melodic tune erupted from her coat pocket. Draco watched her fish out a cellular phone, flip it open, and press it to her ear. After a few minutes of conversation, Hermione flipped the phone shut, paid for her coffee, and exited the establishment with him not too far behind. She crossed the street and headed towards her apartment building. He watched her enter the lobby through the glass doors and window and greet those she passed before returning home where he laid awake during the night thinking about who Hermione was talking to on the phone. Odds were Draco didn't even know the person. Not many magical people had cellular phones. From the girl's behavior, she was waiting for this person at the café and had a cancellation at the last minute.
Jealousy tugged at Draco's heartstrings, wondering if she had been waiting for a date. He hoped she hadn't. Perhaps it was her a Muggle friend or her mum. Hermione and her mum were close.
The following night, he refrained from stalking Hermione again. Instead, he Floo-ed over to Pansy's where he found her right in the Living Room laying on the sofa looking half-dead.
"Draco, kill me," whispered Pansy upon his entrance.
"Oh come now, Parkinson. Bucker up. You're almost there," Draco said and sat by Pansy's bare feet. He shifted a little so they fell into his lap. Delicately, he messaged her them and earned a pleased whimper from the woman.
"That feels nice. Mmmm," she sighed happily. "I've been on my feet all day trying to keep the kids from burning down the house."
"You have Fire Resistant Charms coated on the entire property. I don't think you have to worry about charred belongings."
"Somehow Joseph broke through the Charms and distracted the House-elves away from the kitchen and…I'm sure you can see where this is going."
"I believe so. Where's the Weasel?" Draco asked.
"He's with Potter. They're on some case or other in Germany. I didn't want him to leave so close to the baby being born, but you know how Gryffindors are."
"And the Little Weasels?"
"Sleeping. It's bloody not fair. I want to sleep, but this one's keeping me up with the kicking and the twirling and the pissing."
Draco chuckled and deepened his ministration on her foot. He smiled approvingly at the Slytherin green nail polish adorning her toes with the sparkly, silver swirls. Guilt churned in his stomach for what he was about to do, but it really had been too perfect to find Pansy without the care of her husband and in such a delicate and barefooted state. He gripped the top of her foot with one hand and dug his thumb into the sole with the other.
"Pansy?" Draco sing-songed.
"Hmmm?" Pansy hummed, her eyes closed.
"I ran into Granger the other day."
Expectedly, Pansy's blue eyes fluttered open and a perfect mask of shock appeared on her face.
"Really? I didn't know she was back in England."
Draco nodded but caught her lie. "It appears so, and she was looking well. Sounding well." His thumb stopped prodding into her sole and gently swiped up the middle part with his nail. Her knee jerked and her foot spasm-ed.
"Draco." Pansy's voice rose in warning.
"What do you know, Pansy?" Draco's voice lowered threateningly as he wiggled his thumb in promise. The witch flung daggers with her eyes at him and flared her nostrils with promise of revenge.
"I have no idea as to what you are talking about."
Draco raised an eyebrow and pricked the tip of his thumb at the heel of Pansy's foot. She tried to wiggle her leg away, but his strong hold kept her foot still.
"Are you sure?" His digit raised a fraction and Pansy whined.
"Please don't," she begged. Undeterred, Draco dragged his thumb another fraction evoking a teeth gritted hiss out of Pansy. She glared at him and lifted her heavy upper half to her hands. "Draco!"
"Tell me, Parkinson," Draco demanded.
"I have nothing to say," Pansy forced out.
"I am sorry then," Draco apologized before whipping his thumb up and down the sensitive flesh of her foot. She squirmed and gasped for breath.
"Stop, please. Draco! I will hex you, I swear on Salazar's name!"
"Where's your wand?" Draco chuckled and added his forefinger to the mix. "Now tell me everything."
"You bastard!" Pansy wheezed. "Pee on you, I will. I'll give birth right here and now! I'll force you to watch me give birth! You thought you were so lucky to miss Scorpius' arrival! I bask at the thought of you never wanting to touch another woman ever again!"
"Tell me, Pansy, and I will stop."
"I can't! I promised!" Pansy griped
"Did you take a Wizarding Oath?"
"No!"
"Did you participate in an Unbreakable Vow?"
"No!"
"Then you can tell me."
"No!"
"Then I won't stop."
A torturous sob escaped Pansy, startling Draco out of his ministrations. His hands flew away from her foot and lifted her leg, so he could get off the couch. He knelt down by her form and studied her, wondering if he hurt her somehow. When he realized her sobs were more sorrowful painful, he felt a little relief. However, tear after tear escaped Pansy, and Draco had no idea what to do or how to fix it.
"Pans, I'm sorry," he offered. She shook her head and waved her arm at him indicating she wanted his help. He helped her to her feet. When she was steady, she braced her hands on his shoulders and sighed deeply before pushing him with all her might. With sad eyes and a triumphant smirk, she watched him fall to ground right on his arse.
"What the-" Draco started as he climbed back up to his feet and rubbed his sore bum with his hand.
"You deserved that, you slimy prat!" Pansy screeched and dabbed at her eyes with the sides of her palms and sniffled. Draco briefly wondered if she had faked the tears in order for him to stop but saw the genuine reluctance in his friend's eyes.
A long moment of silence passed between them, before Draco summoned up the courage to speak. "Please tell me."
"Draco…" she started and shook her head from left to right."I can't."
"Please," he begged. "I deserve to know."
Pansy sighed and placed her hands on her belly. "That's up for debate, I'm afraid."
"What does that mean?" Draco scoffed.
"It means nothing. Go home, Draco. Go to sleep. Forget about, Granger."
"Funny, Blaise said the same thing," Draco grumbled and folded his arms. "If you don't tell me, I will go to Potter's. I'm not nearly as fond of the She-Weasel as I am of you, so I will probably use my wand on her to get all the information I need."
"And how are you going to get passed the wards? Hmm?" Pansy inquired with a small smirk.
"Details," Draco shot back with a smirk of his own which faded quickly back into a serious grim line. "Now tell me everything."
Pansy suddenly looked even more strained than she did before. Awkwardly, she let herself fall back on the sofa and let the soft cushion envelope her once more. She propped her feet up on the coffee table in front of her and tossed the blonde an unreadable expression before turning her head left to right.
"No. I can't do that. I promised."
"Promised who exactly and about what?" Draco pressed.
"Don't try to trap me in my words, Draco. I know you are good at doing that, but not nearly as good as you think you are. Your subtlety has diminished rapidly in your old age."
Draco saw what Pansy was trying to do, starting a fight by insulting his lack of sensible, Slytherin qualities. His pride demanded that he fight back by verbally pinpointing every inadequacy about his female friend but refrained from following through. He needed to keep his eye on the prize.
"Please, Pansy. Tell me something. Anything."
Pansy sucked her bottom lip into her mouth and gnawed on it pensively for a moment before letting loose a deep, aggravated breath. "Fine, I will tell you that Hermione Granger doesn't remember you, and I am aware of it and have been for…a while."
Draco replayed the words in his head over and over again, searching for a tell. All he could extract was Pansy's hesitancy at the end. She had known for a while…but not always? That could mean anything. He chose the pathway of perhaps Pansy had once been out of the loop, as well, at one point in time meaning that whoever she made a promise to was not to Hermione Granger. It was mostly likely to her husband.
"I need to know more. Like all who knows. How did Blaise know? How did this happen?" Draco pushed.
"I promised," she said, shaking her head from left to right.
"I'm your best friend. You should tell me."
Pansy blanched at his words before shaking her head no once more. "No, Sweetheart, you're not. Ron's my best friend, and I promised him."
In Draco's third year at Hogwarts, Hermione Granger slapped him good and proper right across the face, her small but determined fingers connecting with his cheek, dragging harshly across his young face, and breaking his nose. Putting it plainly, it had hurt and not just physically. His pride and dignity lowered quite a bit. Though he had eventually gained most of that back within the next few years, it was a well-known fact that Draco Malfoy had been beaten by a girl. That temporary and humiliating downfall did not hold a candle to what he felt at that moment standing like a discarded puppy in Pansy's Living Room. His first girlfriend, his best friend from childhood had betrayed him for a Weasley.
"Oh, Draco," Pansy's voice softened. "Don't look at me like that. You know I love you, but Ronald's my husband, and I love him more and in a completely different way. You're married. You should understand."
He didn't, and Draco loathed the thought. Understand? Understand what? Marriage? Commitment? Promises simply bound by love and trust?
Rubbish!
"I have to leave," whispered Draco and started towards the Floo. "Obviously you can't help me. I apologize for intruding in more ways than one."
Before he tossed the Floo Powder, Pansy called out to him. "I will say that it's better this way, and you should leave Granger alone. She's not going to be here for much longer."
"What do you mean?"
"She owns the Curly Girly Bookshoppes which are all over Magical Western Europe. Every time she opens a new store, she moves and sets up her business up, hires and trains employees, and then moves on."
Draco said nothing but gave a curt nod and Floo-ed back home to his office. He stepped out of the fireplace and turned to face his father who pursed his lips at his son's attention.
"What should I do, Father?"
"Well," Lucius scoffed. "Given if I even was aware of what you are talking about, you know what I would do. The question is, boy," he quirked his brow challengingly, "are you willing to go that far?"
Staring pensively into the flames, the younger Malfoy mulled over his father's words before pinning his gaze on his the portrait and answered.
"Yes."