A/N: Hope everyone liked the previous chapter. Thank you to my readers, reviewers, followers and those who have put this story on their list of favorites.

Thank you Musette Fujiwara for all the wonderful reviews you've given. I know you had a few questions, but you'll have to wait and see. :)

This chapter is a little longer than the last couple so yay! Read and review and tell me what you think. :)

"Draco, I demand you tell me what the matter is this instant," Lucius clipped and Draco squeezed his eyes shut in an attempt to block out his father's voice, his mind wandering elsewhere, far away from this plane of existence.

"Draco!" his father bellowed.

"What?" Draco howled while lifting his forehead from the mantle to scowl up at his father's portrait.

"You have an indentation on your forehead, son," Lucius pointed out irascibility. "Now tell me why you have been acting so strangely. You hardly ever spend time in the office anymore. How are getting any work done?"

"I do have another office. It's at my office building. It actually was your office building, Father. It's the place I go during the day, so I can keep the family's galleons in the millions. That is where I get my work done. That is where I spend all my time."

His father arched a brow at his sarcasm but didn't comment. Instead, he studied his son's appearance and said, "You don't look well. Go to your mother and have her take care of you."

"I don't need Mother to take care of me!" Draco shouted and bolted away from the fireplace, towards the mini-bar. Cursed ulcers be damned. He was having a drink.

Not caring that his father would most likely hop off to his portrait in the master quarters and tattle to his wife, Draco filled his glass to the near brim and guzzled.

"Please, son, tell me what is upsetting you so," his father calmly pleaded with ample amount of strain in his voice.

Draco swallowed the last of his drink and wiped his lips with the back of his hand and winced in pain. Flares of blistering heat swelled up inside of him, and he supposed downing a good measure of alcohol to upset his dead patriarch was a bit overdramatic and a little careless. He stood strong, though. Malfoy pride and all.

Draco wanted to tell him everything.

Badly.

Well, maybe not everything. The important things would be adequate enough.

Like how he was cursed and dying.

He needed to console in someone about his situation. Severus would just tell him to dry his tears and be patient. George Weasley knew about the illness, but Draco would have to drink twenty more glasses of Firewhiskey for him to show up at that Weasel's hovel in hopes of some comfort, meaning death would occur before he'd do something so foolish.

Maybe Draco should go to his mother and have her take care of him, but that idea was quickly dismissed. He would have to drink twelve more glasses to go that route. His mother would have a right fit if he told her he was dying. Of course, he would tell her everything because he would be sloshed, and then she'd be angrier and wail, gnash her teeth, and brew the counter potion herself and force feed it to Granger, uncaring if her illegitimate, Half-Blood grandchild was developing inside the girl.

Draco poured himself another glass, thinking he better get started. He needed to see how drunk he could get before he found a shoulder to cry on.

On Glass four, he gripped his wand and considered Apparating to Granger's and shagging her until the brink of triplets. Across his drunken mind, he saw tempting images of her delectably naked form spread out across a kitchen countertop. Her stomach would be round and above her womanly roundness would be that scar she received from Dolohov, and he would drizzle caramel over the flaw and languidly lick off the sugary goop. He would tell her how beautiful she was and forbid her from showing her scar to anyone but him because she was his and was the only one who fully appreciated her imperfections. Fire would ignite in her eyes, and she would wrap her arms around him and tell him she remembered everything and had forgiven him and missed him terribly.

But then Draco sullenly remembered the more time he spent with her, the quicker his death would come.

On Glass number eight in-a-half, he flicked a little Floo powder into the fireplace and shouted something or other. The first thing he could think of. With sad and a soupy smile, he stepped out of the fireplace and absorbed his surroundings. His eyes fell on the couple copulating on the desk and let out a belch to make his presence known. The couple stopped mid-ahem and turned to face the intruder. The woman, who was on top wore the oddest pair of glasses Draco had ever seen, gifted him a dazzling smile and enthusiastically waved her greeting much like a child waved excitedly to a loved one.

"Draco!" she exclaimed whimsically. "It's so good to see you. I haven't seen you in years. My goodness, your head is sure full of Wrackspurts."

"Lovegood?" questioned Draco, slitting his eyes to focus them better on the girl's blurry and blonde form. He quickly averted his eyes when he realized she was naked and wondered how he ended up at Lovegood's.

"Draco, what the bloody hell are you doing?" a peeved, grumbling voice came from the desk. Risking a look at Lovegood again, Draco swiveled his eyes at the desk and saw Blaise trapped beneath her.

"Blaise!" he greeted with a smile. "Hello! Can I have a drink with you?"

"Uh…" Blaise arched his brows and blinked. "I'm a little busy."

"With Lovegood," added Draco with a nod. "Don't mind me then. I'll just be over here helping myself to the gin. When you're finished, can we talk? It's important. It's about Granger."

"Hermione? I haven't seen her in a while either," Luna said with happiness in her dulcet tone. Draco saw her peer down at the man she was straddling. "Will she be visiting, too?"

"It's one in the morning. Only crazy drunk people Floo to other people's homes at one in the morning for a visit, love. Hermione is neither one of those things," Blaise gently told her, like he was talking to a child and not a fully developed woman. Grinning, Draco lazily eyed the soft pale curves of Lovegood. Fully developed woman, indeed.

"Get your soddin' eyes off her, mate, or I'll bloody toss you back into the fire without even a sprinkle of powder!" Blaise growled and then softened his tone when gazing up Luna. "Sweetheart, slip on that pretty robe I had so much fun ridding you of and wait for me in the bedroom. Make the bed all warm for me, would you? And then when I'm done killing Draco, I'll come and join you and take the robe off again. Hmm? Would you like that?"

"Mmm, yes." Lovegood bobbed her head up and down and swung her leg off of him and hopped from the desk to pick up her robe and slip it on. She brushed by Draco, smiled warmly at him, and disappeared into the hallway but not before saying to Blaise, "Don't serve him any alcohol. It will only hurt him more."

When she was fully out of earshot, Draco licked his loose lips and giggled liquidly. "Where'd you find her, mate?"

"That's none of your concern, Draco," Blaise said while pulling on his trousers and buckling his belt. "Why are you here and sloshed? Granger business, you said? Thought you were done with her."

"Done with her?" Draco questioned forlornly and whipped his head from left to right in denial. "I can't be done with her. I want her."

Blaise paused his fingers which were buttoning up his shirt and stared at him in disbelief. "Want her? Draco, just a few days ago you said 'screw her' and bolted."

"And I did."

"You're joking."

"No, I really did. Remember at the party how you said she was there."

"After you were done shouting at me, you went and found her and screwed her?"

"No, she found me."

"And then you shagged."

"No."

"…"

"I'm going to be a dad, Blaise," snickered Draco in a low and quiet voice like he was telling a secret. Ignoring Blaise's horrified expression, he turned his attention to the bar in front of him and flipped two glasses upwards and shakily filled them with Firewhiskey. Carefully, he turned around, but not too quickly, and handed one of the glasses to his mate who was still rather petrified. Numbly, the man took the offered drink and held it to his chest like it was a lifeline.

"Draco," Blaise said carefully. "For a moment, I thought you said you were going to be a dad."

"And I am…again." Draco beamed and partially leaned his body against the bar for support as he raised his glass in a salute. "Let's celebrate. A toast to me for knocking Granger up! It only took ten years apart, a failed marriage, George Weasley, and a potion to get this far! Clink your glass against mine, and we will drink for, not only celebrating the conception of the first ever Half-Blood Malfoy baby, but the conception of what we hope to be a girl! May she grow up to be as hot as her mum but never allowed to court arses like me! Here, here!"

Draco clinked his glass with Blaise's which was still dwelling against his chest.

"Granger's pregnant?" Blaise whispered in a terrified tone of voice.

"Yup," Draco said and began nursing his drink.

"You're the father?"

With the glass still glued to his lips, Draco nodded. Blaise mimicked the notion but more gently, like he was coming to accept he was not having an anomalously lucid dream and was regrettably conscious. He tilted his chin downwards and stared blankly into his glass before bringing it up to his lips and swallowing all the liquid in one long gulp. When he was done, he set down his glass at the bar and reached for the bottle of Firewhiskey.

Moments passed and Blaise eventually set the nearly empty bottle aside while Draco had moved on to tequila.

"You shouldn't mix, Draco," pointed out Blaise uncaringly.

"I'm dying anyways," mumbled Draco.

"That's unfortunate."

"Tell me about it."

"So Granger, huh? You shagged her again? I thought you were done with her."

"I was," Draco defended dourly. "But she came to the party looking all pretty and telling me that she's pregnant, and I'm the one who did it, and she's sad. Later we meet, and she's yelling at me and telling me to get away from her, and she's loud, so I kiss her. Remember how I used to do that to her when she was upset. It was a sure way to hold her tongue if you know what I mean. We shag, and then I wake up and she's naked and wild haired and telling me how she doesn't remember me at all from school, but she remembers you." He bit out and glared at his best mate. "And then she's throwing up, then there's her scar issue, and she's all ashamed and shite. What the hell, mate? I don't get it."

"Hermione doesn't have any scars," Blaise slurred, his brow wrinkling. "Her skin is flawless and so smooth. As smooth as Luna's even."

"She hides them, and I mean…I knew they were there, I just forgot, and then she showed me. She was sad after that, but I tried to make her feel pretty. I don't think anyone has made her feel pretty in a long time."

"I tried to make her feel pretty," Blaise offered with a crestfallen expression. "But I admit I was rather torn up about Daphne at the time."

Silence and awkwardness enveloped both of their demeanors.

"Ginny told me everything," Draco said softly, his eyes wet and focused elsewhere. "Ginny told me Hermione hated me so much that she drank a potion to forget me."

"Draco," Blaise started and nudged his head to the side, gesturing for Draco to join him on the sofa. They gathered their glasses and a fresh bottle of Firewhiskey and plopped down on the seats. The glasses were filled, and Blaise continued, "You broke her heart. Terrible thing it was that you did, but I understood why at the time, and I understand now. Doesn't make it any less horrible, though."

"They were going to disown me, my parents. Father was a cough away from hell. I had to, Blaise. I didn't want to. I loved Granger. She was so…" A whimsical smile formed on his lips, "bloody flexible. Still is. I bet she still does…what's it called? Yoga?"

"Luna does yoga."

"Does she?"

"Yeah." Blaise chuckled into his glass. "It's all the rage now. All the younger generation of witches are doing it to keep fit."

"Explains the baby boom. Seems like every lass is pregnant or just had a baby."

"Luna's not pregnant." Blaise smile rather smugly. "She's on the Contraceptive Potion."

"You mean the potion Granger consumed ever so faithfully before I planted my seed?" Draco sniggered darkly, and Blaise's normally dark skin lost a few shades of color, especially in the facial area. "I tell you, mate. It's a conspiracy. I wonder if those yoga instructors are jinxing the classrooms with Fertility Charms."

"I'll look into it," Blaise said seriously.

"Speaking of conspiracy…" Draco finished of his glass before pouring himself another portion of alcohol. "Like I said, I've figured everything out with Granger and why, and who, and what, and where."

"Have you?"

"Yeah," smiled Draco, but it was forced. "I did. For a price, though."

"Everything comes with a price, Draco. We learned that in school. Hell, we learned that from our parents, and even from some of our friends."

"Gods, I've drank the Black Lake's worth of Firewhiskey, and I'm sobering," groaned Draco as he rubbed his eyes and his forehead. His eyes stung and his throat swelled. The pain in stomach was gone, but he knew it would return with a vengeance sooner or later.

"Merlin, are you tearing up?" Blaise question in a baffled voice. "Is it because your tipsy or because of something else?"

"Both," sniffled Draco, and he swallowed. "Blaise, the price was too high."

"Why? Because Granger's up the duff with your bastard? No need to get into a state of the sniffles, Draco. Happens to the best of us. There's a whole race of Half-bloods conceived from a scandalous affair between sexy Muggle-Borns and kind of married Purebloods."

Draco exhaled softly with a grim smile. "That's not really what worries me. I wasn't joking when I said I was dying."

And he told Blaise everything.

"Mate," whispered his friend and morosely nudged his friend in the bicep with a playful punch. "I always said Granger was going to be the death of you. Are you sure you can hang in there for seven months?"

"I have to."

"She's going to have to do this all by herself, you know. You say you want her, but you can't be there. If by chance she contacts you for anything, you can't run to her side."

"I don't want her, want her," Draco claimed and Blaise rolled his eyes with a scoff. "And I know I can't be there. I think she'll be okay, though. I don't think she has a lot of faith in men."

"She doesn't," Blaise confirmed.

"I'm going to take advantage of that fact. I'm sure Potter's wife will be thrilled."

"You won't be there to see her give birth. How do you feel about that? I'm not sure what you and Granger have, but it's still a baby you made with her."

"I don't even know if I'll ever even get the privilege to properly meet the kid," snorted Draco but was anything mirthful. "She'll have the baby, and I'll give her time to heal and such before scampering over and spiking her tea with the counteragent. Then she'll remember and hate me again and leave. I won't see her ever again. I won't hear from her ever again, and she won't let me near the child."

"You don't know that." Blaise patted Draco's shoulder in comfort. "If the baby is cute enough, she'll forgive you and want more. Until then, I suggest you start working out. Look fit and build those muscles. Ladies like that."

"I have health concerns at the moment, and I'm not necessarily looking to court Granger again. Bloody hell, Blaise, I wish…I wish that I had never made my feelings known unto her when we were young. Better yet, it would have been better ifFred Bloody Weasley lived. She would've been happy with him. He would've made her laugh."

Blaise stroked his chin. "I suppose, but you and Granger had something special for a while there. Great memories."

"Which she hid from herself," Draco broodily reminded his friend.

"If it wouldn't turn into such an effing disaster, would you not want them either? And really think about it, before you answer."

"No, I wouldn't want them, especially now that I know everything."

"You didn't even think about it, Draco. Do you even remember?"

"Of course I do," Draco snarled, tossing his friend a dirty look.

"Really? Are the memories something you can just think back on, or are you really remembering them?"

"You're such a sap, Blaise."

"And you're a tosser. I'm just arguing with you. For the smartest witch of our era, Granger made a stupid decision, and I know you won't make the same mistake, but you should never think some memories aren't worth the trouble. Every memory, good or bad, is worth having. They are like history, and sometimes they keep us from repeating things that shouldn't be repeated. Most likely, Magical Britain will never have a war like we grew up with ever again. Everything that happened from when we were children up until the end was essential. We saw the mistakes our parents made, and we won't do the same. Our children are growing up in a world they deserve because of our memories.

"Despite Daphne being a Greengrass again, I have Tamara and Jacob every weekend. Most importantly, I have Tamara and Jacob and fabulous memories of their mother before we both decided to have our Midlife Crisis in our early years and at the same time. I'd do it again, you know, even if I knew I couldn't change a damned thing between their mother and me. Anyway, I've left my blonde nymph waiting long enough. Crash here or go back home. Don't care. Just think about what I said."

Draco watched Blaise leave and then refilled his glass and took a sip. He was going to need it if he was going to take his mate's advice.