v: The cruel words and the false accusations. The mean looks and the same old frustrations.

Belle finally raises her eyes from the ceramic tile, giving him an apprehensive look. She still has all the intimidation of bunny rabbit, and a disposition that portrays someone constantly on the edge of their seat. Not out of excitement or anticipation though, but because they're too afraid of what will happen if they'll sit back and relax – yet, they're not fully comfortable sitting where they are either, and nervous about falling off. He tries with his might, but simply can't connect this woman to the one at the bar. They're two different people; they must be.

She tentatively touches his desk, "Could—could I have my bag please?"

He sighs, running his hand over his face. Through his fingers, Draco's eyes find Belle's face again. This woman causes nothing but trouble for him, honestly. He briefly wishes he wasn't such a kind and wonderful person, then returns to earth. Draco stands, "I suppose I haven't got much of a choice. I'm going to have to face it sooner or later."

"Face it, Mr. Malfoy?"

"Don't bother with the Mr. Malfoy, my name is Draco." (Mr. Malfoy sends a cold chill down his spine, while spreading dread within his stomach, because the only Mr. Malfoy he knows is someone he doesn't want to be likened to.) "You can't come with me." His tone is firm, causing him to be surprised when she doesn't flinch. He can't work out this weird and strange girl, and it irritates him. She comes barrelling into his life – twice – uninvited and can't even give him the common decency of being transparent.

"Okay." She's silent as he locks away the documents he was reading and retrieves his coat. "Why can't I come with you?"

The phone in his office rings intrusively upon their conversation. Swiftly, Draco presses the button on his intercom to question his secretary, "Who's on the line?"

"Your mother, sir."

Without giving a reply, Draco lets the phone ring out and turns to leave. "You can't come because this is my ex-wife's house, not mine. You can sit on that couch – and that couch alone – until I return. Hopefully, this will be a short visit."

Draco knows all too well that it won't be a short visit. Not only did he show up in the early hours of the morning with an intoxicated, scantily dressed woman at his side, but he also left behind a reminder of it. Astoria was probably thrilled with that – tellingly, this gives Draco some sick sort of satisfaction. He wants to hurt her like she did him. (He claims this, but in reality, Draco hates what they've become. He promised he'd never put his children through a broken or dysfunctional marriage – like his parents did to him.)

He almost knows how this will pan out. Astoria will call him some derogatory names, maybe throw a spell – or an object, she's fond of flinging those around – then tell him she never wants to see him again before finishing off with some comment on him as a father, or even better, how he's just "so much like" his own father. Sometimes, there's even some cries of 'Look what you've done to my life', which he finds the most amusing. He doesn't think Astoria realises how easy she had it following the divorce. Draco doesn't think he could have been kinder unless he gave her his company, which she would hate anyway. Most of all, he doesn't think she realises how little of their peers would have settled things how they did. He signed over nearly everything, without so much as a fighting word. Although, they fought – by god, did they fight.

Apparently, when you're young, all that arguing and fighting means passion. It means opposites attract and you care deeply about each other. However, when you get old, that exact same arguing nature in your relationship becomes a vice and a sign of how far apart you've grown. They never tell you that. It's all passion, until one day, when your wife is using sex purely for bargaining purposes, it's not passion anymore. That's for the youth, and it's silly to try and be what they were as teenagers.

(Draco disagrees with every word. He guesses that's one way in which they did grow apart. Astoria's opinions grew stranger, while his more modern and liberal. )

Even if it does occasionally make him angry to see how they broke down, it doesn't compare to the anger he feels at himself. This anger stems solely from the pain he's putting his son through. He can see the resentment, the hurt that Scorpius feels. Draco wants to scream at him, wants to shake the boy senseless, because doesn't he realise this is actually better? Having two parents who barely even acknowledge each other, who don't even care enough to fight, tore him apart as a child. Doesn't Scorpius know that he is just trying to save him the same fate?

Truthfully, he hadn't wanted the arguments leading to divorce to seep into daily life. He wanted Scorpius to believe that his parents were still friends – that he and Astoria loved each other, they just weren't in love anymore. It didn't work out that way though, and now he's too tired to try. (They sometimes manage to be friends, before everything comes crashing back. There are moments of civility, though.)

Part of him feels like trying with Scorpius is senseless anyway. Fruitless; a road leading nowhere.

With a start, Draco see's he's at his houses door. He'll never get used to be on the other side, being the stranger that has to knock. His knock is purposefully slow, but she'll know it's him from the moment she hears his steps. He has to admit, there is curiosity in his heart as to whether her initial greeting will be falsely cheerful, or downright nasty. His questions are answered when the woman gently prises the door open, looking radiant and a lot better than she did that night. Tilting her head, Astoria's expression turns quizzical. A second later and she's opening the door wider for him to come through.

She's donning navy robes, clinching at the waist and flowing delicately to the ground. Her hair is pinned back, and he manages to notice she's wearing make-up. Why does she look so nice? There's a smell of his favourite perfume, the one he always bought her, which causes suspicion to creep up on him. Is she dating someone? Draco isn't sure how he feels about that.

They're in the kitchen now, which he's not too concerned about. He's comfortable here, hence him making himself completely at home as he sits down at the island. His feet rest on the bottom of the chair beside him, and his eyes fall upon his ex. He assumes that she's expecting a long visit – much to his chagrin – because she turns to boil the kettle. "What are you doing here, Draco?"

"Shall I wait for the coffee and tea to begin?"

She shoots him a look, then returns to the kettle, "It's not for you. I have someone coming over."

Draco stands, coming to lean against the counter beside her. He bends his head close to hers, trying to catch her gaze, "A man?" It's none of his business, he knows that, but his insatiable curiosity is eating at him. Although, it's a bit of a stretch to say he's an insatiably curious person. Astoria looks up at him, stirring the coffee slowly as she debates her reply.

"It's honestly nothing to do with you."

He accepts this, because she is perfectly within her rights to say that. Draco's not going to pressure her, or beg for answers, or even go into some dramatic and unrealistic jealous rage. "Okay. If you want to talk about anything, I'm here though." The words surprise him, too.

She snorts. "You're here? Really? Because during the nights, when I'm alone in this huge, cold and empty manor, you're not here."

"Why are you doing this?" He asks, running a hand through his hair. They've been over this, through it and around it. There's no more to discuss, and for this reason, he can't understand why she's bringing it up.

"Because we're not together anymore," She says quietly, not meeting his eyes again. "And I'm scared of being alone."

He feels strange. Draco and Astoria haven't broached these topics in a long time; he had been under the impression that they were laid to rest. It's nearly a year. He isn't her confidante anymore, he's not someone who can save her and make the world seem like a better place. What's more, is that this is the first perfectly civil conversation they've had in a long time. Usually, it starts off civil – in this scenario, he comes into the kitchen then and says something accidentally insensitive ("Hope you're treating the house well. I worked hard for it.") which causes her to start a screaming match ("You're an insensitive jerk. Why did I ever marry you?"). Today, however, Astoria's not in the mood for this it seems, and neither is he, because so far he's been rather sensitive indeed to the situation.

Taking this all into account, he hasn't a bog of how to respond. "Well, we both just have to grow accustomed to it. It'll take time."

"I've a date in an hour." Comes rushing out. To compensate for this, she hands him the cup of coffee – despite saying it isn't for him – and takes a sip of her tea.

Draco nods slowly, startled by the lack of feeling he has towards those words. They elicit no anger, sadness or jealousy. It's at this point that their progress enters his mind. They're not in love. This saddens him, even if he has known it a long time. It wasn't fully real until this moment. "That's good."

Astoria nods, and he could be mistaken, but it seems like she lets out a sigh of relief then. It strikes him that none of this is his business. He definitely doesn't want to be speaking to her about his next conquest. He finally gathers his courage then, and braces himself for the response, "So, did you find a bag in the lawn?"

Her eyes flash, a dark look coming over her face. It's gone as quickly as it came though, leaving him puzzled. He never did understand his ex-wife, and he somehow assumes that he never will, now. "Yes, I did. I don't want to talk about that because it makes me so angry, Draco." The last two words and spat out through gritted teeth. He's beginning to remember her mood swings.

Despite having a limited emotional range (or at least on show), he's starting to see what their interaction today has been all about. She felt some unreasonable and illogical burden of guilt because she's dating, causing her to temporarily ignore the 'bag situation'. He swallows heavily. Now that she knows there's no reason to be guilty, she hasn't got much reason to treat him nicely.

There's something one should know about Astoria – she's insane. At least in Draco's opinion. He often told her she was a manic-depressive, which would you believe, never did him any favours during their time together. She's selfish, not unlike him, and always puts her own needs ahead of anyone else's. Love is putting another's happiness before your own? That's never been the case for him, and he's ninety-nine percent sure he and Astoria were in love. In any case, she's not going to listen to any explanation he has for her. Astoria hears what she wants to. He's the villain, she's the damsel in distress – the hero is lost somewhere along the way.

He knows all this, is even prepared for the reaction he predicted earlier now that the niceties are out of the way. Part of him thinks she forgot about her bag till now, being so self-centred that all she thought about was her date. Still, knowing all this, her next words knocks his pulse out of beat, "I know we used to be something, that we're still parents together and friends on some level – maybe – but I'm going to the police."

His immediate thoughts are voiced aloud, "Excuse me? What the hell are you on, woman? I didn't do anything!"

"Besides trespassing on my property at night –"

"They'll laugh you out of the station if that's your report." He comments, mind working rapidly to catch up with her crazy thoughts.

"I said besides, didn't I? Anyway, of course I was going to go through the skanks bag." Astoria puts down her mug of tea before placing her palms on the counter, inhaling deeply. After far too long of this dramatic scene, right before he's about to point this out, she turns to him, "But drugs, Draco?" To be fair, she appears to be as shocked as him. Puzzled, confused, baffled. He's pretty sure their expressions are the same.

"Wh-what?"

She lets out a humourless laugh, shaking her head in disappointment. "Don't play dumb. I'm not in the mood for it. You have a son, you know. Are you trying to hurt him more?" He's so used to her throwing parental jabs his way that Draco doesn't react, but this is more due to the fact that he's speechless. For some reason, he can't wrap his head around the fact that the woman he rescued was an addict.

He doesn't know why it's so hard to believe – she was a mess that night. She had been so well-groomed though, wearing such well-made clothes (what little she wore) and donning expensive jewellery. He knows expensive when he see's it, and all of her outfit was expensive. As this runs through his mind, Astoria continues, "He's had enough pain in his life, Draco. I can't be the mother that allows their child to go through that kind of pain, all because of some stupid theory to do with needing both parents. Bottom line is that he doesn't need both parents. And god, how did things get so bad for you that you resorted to that? I could have helped a little. Sent you somewhere, I mean, not help you personally. Look, I'm going to report this, I've no choice. As a consequence, I'll be going to court to have you removed from Scorpiu—"

"I didn't take the drugs, Astoria," He tells her firmly, annoyance lacing his tone. He's beyond annoyed at her, actually. For her to think he is an addict – does she think him so filthy? So reckless? So indifferent to his son? He doesn't even want to explain himself to her. The fact that she's threatening to get a restraining order against his son forces him to, however. "Do I look like I carry a handbag? It was the girls, you silly woman. And no, I didn't have sex with her, she's not my 'whore' or 'skank'. I saved her from being attacked – so there you go. Get off your high horse and dramatics now."

She doesn't have a chance to reply, because as soon as Draco glances at his watch, he's speaking again, "Your date will be here soon. Where's the bag?"

Unable to say any more, she responds simply, "I disposed of it, of course."

"You were going to go to the police without evidence?" He asks, raising a brow. "Your bluff has been called. Good day Astoria, enjoy your date."

He can't lie to himself, or to anyone else – Draco is fuming. Again, he's not used to this feeling of rage anymore, but it always seems to accompany his arguments with Astoria. Lately, those arguments only leave him feeling weary, but today he's angry. Firstly, because of Astoria. How could she think he would take drugs? It offends him that she thinks so little of him, that she could possibly conceive the thought that he would throw away the semblance of a relationship he has with his son.

Secondly, Belle and her whole baggage sends waves of ire in his system. How dare she? She comes into his life, armed with narcotics, leaving them at his house, then demands them back? How dare she. It's then that he decides she's going to be the one to suffer his wrath, because it's obviously not going to be Astoria.

Yes, he's also infuriated with himself – because he didn't have to help the stupid woman, he didn't have to suddenly be all noble and stupid, because everything in this situation is stupid. He's not a charitable, helpful or empathetic person, so why he chose that woman and that night of all times to be those things boggles his mind.

There's a stomp in his step as he breezes into the office, leaving a gaggle of surprised and confused people in his wake. Ignoring his secretary who opens his mouth to speak, Draco wrenches open the doors of his office and slams them behind him. The show has officially started, folks.

Belle jumps up from her place on the couch, having not moved since he left. He couldn't care less if she did anyway, because there's not much of interest in here. Besides his whole life. Again, nothing of much interest to a common druggie. He shoots her his filthiest look, recalling the sneer he was so fond of as a teenager. It comes back to him easily, "You can go find another bag. I'm not going to help you with your addiction, you common and senseless woman."

Another woman should respond to such an insult, but she only appears despondent, "You have to give it back! That—that cost me a lot of money, you know. It's not just run-of-the-mill weed. Do you know what you're doing?"

Draco shakes his head, all of a sudden sick of the sight of her. "Get out of my office."

She stands there watching as he returns to his desk. She stares until he begins to feel it – but studiously ignores it – then tucks a strand of hair behind her ear. Belle then straightens out her clothes in a useless manner, attempting to look more sophisticated or something – Draco's not quite sure. He makes a gesture, as if to say, what are you waiting for?

She takes this prompt and leaves. But just as she has her hand on the door knob, her voice calls out to him, "Lucius would have appreciated the gravity in this situation." Draco pauses mid-sentence in his report, the grip on his pen becoming tighter. Again today, his mind has to work at a mile a minute to decipher this irritating woman. He remembers something then, and this intrigues – or annoys? – him more than anything.

She claimed she didn't know him, nor the Malfoy name.

Every chapter of this fic seems to end with a dramatic sentence... but I do love the dramatics. I've not much to say in this AN, except thank you for reading and please review :) Disclaimer: I do not own HP or "This Aint a Love Song" by Scouting for Girls.
CN.