A/N: This chapter is...interesting. Maybe a little boring for some. Don't judge yet though! Quite a few of you told me you wanted to hear about the other characters, so, with great ado, I present...

A Very Long Friday (And Some of Saturday) In Which Other Characters Get Face Time.

Psyched?

Lehhgooooo.

Friday

1:01 PM

(Daphne Greengrass' P.O.V)

She sat at the small coffee table, tucked away in the corner of the café, and drank her chocolate hazelnut mocha with a sort of detached enjoyment.

Sure, she could appreciate the way the flavors mixed and swirled in a food connoisseur-esque way, but the caffeine sugar mix wasn't giving her the kick it usually did. And therein lied the problem.

Draco was out with that tart, Deteria, which she knew simply because Blaise wouldn't shut the hell up about it. He seemed extremely pleased that his sister and her "honorary brother" was shacking up. Daphne thought otherwise.

She'd had the chance to briefly re-meet Deteria earlier today, and Daphne had instantly disliked her. Sure, Deteria had been a bitch in Hogwarts, but all Slytherins were at one point or another. It was a coping technique. Even now, Deteria was the epitome of snobby pureblood. She was the type of girl that Draco would take to Ministry balls, shag, and discard in the gutter the next day. Why was he doing this? Especially since he had Granger hanging around him all the time.

Daphne narrowed her eyes as a thought crossed her mind. If Draco was enough of a bastard to Deteria, then she'd surely come running to Blaise in distress. This was undoubtedly all a plot to break her and Blaise up! Merlin, Draco was a manipulative little prat -

"Daphne Greengrass?"

Daphne looked up, her wand drawn under the table, to see the tired face of Hermione Granger staring down at her.

Damn. Exactly whom she wanted to see. Not.

"Granger," Daphne greeted her coolly. "What do you want?"

Granger sighed, cradling the coffee mug in her hand. Daphne was struck by the utter exhaustion in the other woman's face. Why did perfect little Miss Granger look so damn tired? "I just saw you sitting over here," she said, shrugging. "I thought I might say hello."

The silence stretched on as Daphne debated what to say. On one hand, she did not want to speak to Granger, not now, not ever. On the other, there was something serious behind the look in Granger's eye, and Daphne was willing to bet money that Draco was partially behind it all. She couldn't in good conscious ignore Granger in this state. Perhaps it was her feminine sensitivity kicking in, but as Granger muttered a soft apology and turned to go, Daphne pointed to the seat opposite her. "Sit down, Granger."

A slightly suspicious look crossed the other woman's face before she sat obediently. "Okay."

She didn't put down her drink, and Daphne eyed Granger curiously. "You can put down your coffee, Granger."

"My hands are cold," Granger answered softly, blushing slightly. She squeezed the mug before putting it down reluctantly.

Okay, this was strange. Daphne stared at the other woman before shaking her head. "What's the matter?"

Granger stiffened. "Nothing."

"Don't lie to me," Daphne said coolly, staring the other woman down. "I can tell."

Granger expelled a little laugh that was almost a sigh. "Of course you can," she said softly, shaking her head. "All you Slytherins are the same."

Nothing rankled Daphne more than sweeping generalizations, especially ones she'd heard so often it was a miracle she didn't believe them to be true. "Just like all you Gryffindors are the same?" Daphne replied curtly, injecting malice into her voice when she said the G-word. "Really, Granger, grow up."

Another soft chuckle. Okay, this moment was rapidly rising on Daphne's Oddity-Meter, and Daphne had quite a few odd moments in her memory. "Funny," Granger commented, taking a long draw of her coffee.

When she didn't elaborate, Daphne tried to give her the Look she'd copied from Draco long ago. (Of course, when Daphne said 'copied,' she really meant she took the amateur effort of Draco and twisted it to fit her purposes. He'd promptly copied it back from her. Really, it took a girl to teach him how to properly glare). On one hand, Daphne was itching to know what Granger was talking about. She was loath to admit it, but this solemn, quiet Granger was not aligned with her memory of the cheerfully unpopular girl she'd been in Hogwarts. Daphne, perhaps in light of recent events, was willing to re-evaluate her perspective on Granger, even if it was only because she wouldn't say no to another girl companion. On the other hand, Daphne was hesitant into letting her guard down just yet. She'd been hurt far too often in the past to allow this to happen.

Should she inquire as to what the hell Granger was talking about, or wait her out? Sometimes, Daphne loathed being a Slytherin, if only because there were always many potential avenues of action to sort through. Others had it so easy. Did Ron Weasley think through all his actions before doing something stupid? Of course not. Yes, she'd recently acted quite stupid, but that was all the more reason to carefully consider her next move.

Luckily, Granger put down her mug and gave Daphne a wry smile. "I could have said those words along with you. Merlin knows I've said them enough to Malfoy."

Before she could stop herself - for even Daphne slipped up - her face showed a hint of the anguish she was feeling.

Granger caught it, damn her. "I reckon you have enough to worry about concerning Malfoy without me piling on," she said, and Daphne almost had to agree. "His birthday's Sunday, I'm sure you know that. Did you plan the last one? It was brilliant."

This unexpected praise from the Golden Girl of Gryffindor teased a cordial reply out of Daphne. "Thanks," she said, and decided to give Granger something in return. After all, it couldn't exactly be the easiest thing in the world to speak to your Veela's best friend. "I'm supposed to be planning Sunday's affair, but I haven't made much progress."

Granger actually looked thoughtful. "Have you spoken to him about themes?"

Daphne wrinkled her nose as she remembered that conversation. "Briefly."

"You're fighting with him, aren't you?" This observation, seemingly entirely out of character for Granger, took Daphne by surprise. Where had that come from? Daphne opened her mouth to deny it, to say something nasty, to distance herself from this strange comradeship that was forming between them, but Granger shook her head. "I don't need to know. Honestly, I'd rather not talk anymore about Malfoy."

"I agree," Daphne said, as Granger surprised her for the second time in thirty seconds. "You're running a business, aren't you? How is that going?"

She stiffened. Daphne noticed this. interesting. "It's not going so well," Granger admitted carefully. "I'm not much of a businesswoman, to tell you the truth."

The words were out before Daphne could stop them. "Not many know this, but Draco couldn't have done shit without Theo and I. What's not working?"

Friday

1:30 PM

(Hermione Granger's P.O.V)

Had Daphne Greengrass just offered to help? Hermione smiled brightly, ignoring the fact that the past thirty minutes had left her with some serious rethinking to do. Honestly, she'd always thought Greengrass was just another cold Slytherin, a female version of Malfoy.

Hermione could admit when she was wrong, and she admitted it now.

"It's not exactly a business," Hermione said, to stop the silence from stretching. "I wanted to start a research firm, but I'm afraid I'm only good at the actually researching and inventing portion. I've no idea how to get any money to start it."

Greengrass was clearly thinking about the problem, actually thinkingabout it, instead of silently mocking her. She took another sip of her coffee, waiting for the other woman to speak. Truthfully, saying hello to Greengrass had been a completely random act. Hermione had gone out for a quick cup of coffee after speaking to Padma, and when she'd seen Greengrass sitting in the corner, almost looking lost, Hermione had gone over without a second thought.

The other woman was surprising. She had a sharp tone and a no-nonsense exterior that Hermione could respect. Obviously, her and Malfoy were in a fight, but Hermione didn't want to know. Not really. It was probably Malfoy's fault, and anyway, he'd been consuming her life entirely too much lately. Hermione was debating whether to attend his birthday party. She'd received an invitation already - surprisingly enough - but hadn't answered it.

Greengrass opened her mouth again. "I have a few ideas," she said, before her watch beeped. Greengrass checked it and her lips pursed, just slightly, before she returned her gaze to Hermione. "Perhaps we can talk about them tomorrow? I have a meeting in thirty minutes, and I need to mentally prepare myself before speaking to Draco."

This delivery, completely straight-faced and serious, confused Hermione. Was the other woman joking? Her answer was questioned when Greengrass rolled her eyes and actually cracked a smile. "Lighten up, Granger," she said. "I'll owl you."

"Bye," Hermione said, feeling as if she'd stepped into a rabbit hole. "It was nice to meet you."

"Likewise," said Greengrass, who quickly walked away.

Hermione finished her coffee in silence, thinking about her day. It had been rather taxing so far. First, there had been that confrontation with Draco. Next, she'd called Padma on the phone, who had spent five minutes ranting about how stupid Hermione was, the next ten telling her that Malfoy was a huge prat, and the remaining ten ordering Hermione to "stop acting like a pansy and be the strong woman I know you are."

It had actually been quite energizing. Revitalizing, almost.

Hermione finished her drink and set the mug down on the table, tapping it with her wand. It disappeared instantly. She checked her watch - Harry should be home from his morning stint at the Ministry by now. Ginny had told Padma who had told Hermione that Harry was quite upset and wanting to talk to her, but in his sulky, purely boyish way, was refusing to come himself.

She knew she shouldtalk to him, but she wasn't up for anymore strange conversations today. No, she was going to go home and have a day for herself. She had a bit of ice cream left in her freezer, and a few Muggle movies to catch up on. Hermione firmly believed she needed a day to gather her thoughts before she confronted anybody else.

Friday

6:00 PM

(Theodore Zabini's P.O.V)

He reclined on his balcony, watching in amusement as the people on the street below him went upon their business. He was eating a lovely sandwich his house elf had prepared for him, drinking a nice bottle of Firewhiskey, had the wireless playing softly, and was prepared for a nice Friday night all to himself.

That is, until Daphne appeared on his balcony as well.

Damn. She had that look in her eyes, the one where she'd recently come to a conclusion she wasn't about to budge up on. Theo hated to admit it, but he'd always liked that look, full of passion and fire and -

Theodore, he cautioned himself. Stopit.

He prided himself on being realistic, but something about his best friend made that quite difficult to accomplish sometimes.

"Daphne," he said, his voice even. "I'd appreciate it if you did not invite yourself on my Friday nights."

She gave him a smirk. "Yes," she said, voice teasing, "I know Fridays are your 'me' times. Merlin, Theo, you certainly do have a wild side tonight. Firewhiskey and music? You could almost pretend you're out clubbing."

"Why aren't you and the beau out clubbing, Daphne?" Theo asked, ignoring her jibe. He took another sip of Firewhiskey and watched a couple on the streets below engage in a fiery kiss.

Daphne sighed and took a seat opposite him. "Blaise is out with his sister," she said, rolling back her shoulders and sighing. "Give me a shot, Theo."

Why did she do this to him? Why did she appear on his balcony on Fridays like she used to, smiling at him and teasing him, stretching and relaxing around him like he made her feel safe? He had once, months ago, perhaps even weeks ago, when the Silver Trio would spend hours on his balcony, making fun of those below them, drinking and eating.

And then she'd gotten herself a boytoy, Draco was being a bastard to his mate, and he was left alone.

"I hardly think Blaise would appreciate you drinking with another man on a Friday night," he said softly, his eyes roving over her appearance. She looked better than she had earlier, almost calmer.

Daphne shrugged. "What Blaise doesn't know won't hurt him," she said, flashing him a wicked smile.

"No," Theo said, feeling a wave of dislike roll though him. Yes, he disapproved completely of their relationship, but he was not about to let her get drunk with him and lie about it to Blaise. "Go home, Daphne."

The playfulness disappeared from her in an instant. "You'll never guess who I met today," said Daphne, leaning back in her chair. "Hermione Granger."

Theo raised an eyebrow, preparing himself for a jealous tirade. "And?"

Daphne surprised him by quirking her lips. "I offered to meet with her tomorrow to help her with her business."

Granger, again. Merlin. He really had to meet this woman soon. Without letting on how much it surprised him that Daphne was offering to help - was she secretly harboring a plan to take the other woman down? - he simply asked, "Oh?"

Daphne shrugged. His sharp eyes caught the action, dissecting it. He wasn't sure how to act around Daphne, anymore. He didn't enjoy treating his friend like a dungbomb about to explode, but Theo was also well versed in the ways of self-preservation. "I'm not sure why I did, actually," Daphne offered up. Well. This was interesting. Perhaps this new, open side of Daphne was a way to make amends? Was it calculated or real? Theo narrowed his eyes.

"It's very charitable of you."

Daphne quirked a smile. "Oh, shut up, Theo. I know you're judging me." Daphne looked down and picked at her nail polish before seemingly realizing how vulnerable she was exposing herself to be. Her hands smoothed at her sides. "Granger just looked so...tired, I suppose."

Theo didn't say it outright, but as he eyed the circles under Daphne's eyes, barely covered by concealer, the parallels between the two woman was blatantly unsaid. "Daphne," he said softly, "Are you sure this isn't to get back at Draco?"

She was up and pacing, hands clenched at her sides, before he could process her shift in mood. This Daphne wasn't safe. This Daphne was prone to hexes and sudden outbursts of emotions. This Daphne was quite nearly Gryffindor. "I am so sick of Draco!" Daphne said. "It's Draco this and Draco that. Merlin, I am sick of that man."

This made Theo smile. Daphne and Draco had quite a volatile relationship, one born from more sibling rivalry than anything. Anotherreasonforwhyarelationshipbetweenthosetwowouldneverwork, his subconscious whispered before he shut it down. "His birthday is on Sunday, you know. I warrant that deserves a bit of attention."

Whether she was ignoring him or she simply did not hear, Theo didn't know. Daphne continued her rant nonetheless. "I mean, Granger's run ragged, probably stressing about him all the time. Half the time, all Blaise talks about is Draco and his sister, and I am sick of him making me feel guilty every time I see him!"

Theo opened his mouth to point out that she deserved it when Daph sent him a glare that was positively ferocious. And pretty damn attractive.

Control yourself.

"Don't you say anything, Theo," Daphne continued passionately. "I know I bloody well deserved it, but I honestly have enough to worry about with that prat making me feel like rubbish. I've barely had any sleep lately, and Blaise keeps pestering me - " Theo watched intently as Daphne froze before continuing on a different plane, obviously changing the subject. "I haven't talked to you in forever."

Theo, however, was Theo and didn't let the matter go. "What is Blaise pestering you about, Daph?"

Daphne's mouth worked as she tried to decide what to say.

Now, Theo loved Daphne in more ways than one, but he wasn't above guilt tripping her into speaking. He arranged his face mournfully and took a long drag of his drink. "You don't have to tell me," he said, voice soft, staring out of his balcony. "It's okay, Daph."

As expected, Daphne sighed loudly and sat back down. "The bloody prat keeps saying we aren't shagging enough," she admitted, and Theo very nearly spit out his drink.

He did notneed to know that.

"Excellent," he said hastily, mentally throwing up at the thought of the copulating couple while simultaneously doing internal backflips at the thought that said copulating couple weren't copulating anymore.

She laughed at his discomfort. "You asked."

"I've decided I do not want to know more."

Daphne flipped her hair and gave him a smile, and it was so like the old her that he ignored the awkwardness of the conversation. "Anyway, you distracted me earlier. I've decided that you are going to help me help Granger."

"Why on Earth would I do that?" Theo said, just to distract her, as he mulled it over.

On one hand, it meant spending large amounts of time with Daphne and Granger without Draco.

On the other, it meant spending large amounts of time with Daphne and Granger without Draco.

He was in.

Friday

6:00 PM

(Narcissa Malfoy's P.O.V)

On a scale of one to ten, she supposed her relationship with Draco had proceeded to a four. Perhaps a four point four. Not entirely the result she wanted, but she supposed coming from zero, a 4.4 wasn't overly disappointing.

A relationship that certainly was at zero was her sister, Andromeda. Narcissa sighs she re-reads a letter for the fifth time, still unsure as to her next course of action.

Narcissa -

I have heard you are back in England. We have much to discuss, especially concerning your son and Hermione Granger.

Saturday, 12:00 PM at my place.

-Andromeda

It was short, curt, and hardly sisterly, but it was something. Of course Andy knew about the Veela blessing. How had Narcissa forgotten? The first time Andy had seen Draco she would have undoubtedly known -

Narcissa paused as a new thought struck her. When had her sister seen Draco? Narcissa could not remember a time when the two had met.

"Still pondering, micara?"

Narcissa smiled at the lilting accent. Draco and Vedette had hardly spoken lately, but the portrait had been invaluable to Narcissa. Although Vedette's image had been preserved at a young age, she had been through quite a lot in her short years. "Hello, Vedette."

"What is in the letter?" Vedette asked, moving fluidly through the portraits until she reached a small one sitting on the coffee table in front of Narcissa. She titled her head up and brushed blond hair away from her face. "Is it from Draco?"

Narcissa shook her head. "It's from my sister," she said softly. "Andy wants me to visit tomorrow to discuss the Veela situation."

Vedette crossed her legs and gave Narcissa a calculating look. "Simply to discuss this situation?"

"Of course," Narcissa said. Although she wanted to entertain thoughts that her sister wished to speak to her for other reasons, she knew Andy wasn't likely to forgive and forget any time soon. "Andy holds grudges, Vedette. It's the Black genes."

"The Black genes that are in you as well," Vedette pointed out, her voice soft. "Narcissa, I would not dispose of this situation quite so easily, micara. This could be the opportunity you are waiting for."

It was occasionally jarring for Narcissa to hear a younger woman call her micara,my dear, but one could not look at Vedette and not feel younger, humbled. The other woman had a grace and presence, even in a painting, that Narcissa acknowledged. "I don't know, Vedette," Narcissa admitted, shaking her head. It was easy to tell the truth in the company of the other woman. Perhaps they both knew the other would not judge. "Andy is quite close with Harry Potter and the Weasleys."

"Even better," Vedette said. "This provides an opportunity to redeem yourself, and the Malfoy-Black name, in the eyes of them as well."

Narcissa sighed, and she bit her lip. "I suppose, Vedette."

Vedette's smile was gentle. "Excellent, micara.Reply to her now."

Narcissa summoned her elf and began to ask for a sheet of her nicest parchment, but then she changed her mind. "Get me a simple type," she ordered her elf. "Not too fussy."

Her letter was only slightly longer than her sister's:

Dear Andromeda,

I await this visit eagerly. You are correct in saying we have much to discuss, far more than the simple Veela matter. I trust you have heard from Harry Potter all about the blessing; I am sure he is very agitated. Please, try to keep an open mind about this mess. I'm sure you remember Bella's situation. Would you like me to bring Draco?

Narcissa

Friday

8:00 PM

(Harry Potter's P.O.V)

He couldn't get over it. Hermione was always the most reasonable of them all, the one with her head screwed on straight. He couldn't even remember the last time she went on a second date!

Ginny had stopped frowning at his angry muttering half an hour ago and left to put James to bed, but he still wouldn't budge.

Harry had gone to the library yesterday and checked out five books on Veelas. He'd been researching the cruse when not doing his Auror work, and the more he read the more hopeless he became.

How? How could Hermione, his Mione, be a mate? Bonded to DracoMalfoy, the little fucker? How was that even allowed? Harry's eyes dropped to the Blood Bond hidden on his wrist. Hermione was bonded to him. She was his. He'd laid claim on her first - as a sister, of course - and Malfoy had no right to barge in.

Ginny came back into the room and perched on the arm of his chair, leaning forward to talk to him. "Harry, dear," she said, her voice low, caressing the syllables. "James is asleep."

Harry grunted, his eyes roving the page. Thereisnoknowncure,andwhilemostVeelascoexistwiththeirmate,afewpairshavetroubleadjusting...

Ginny frowned and tried again. "Harry, love," she whispered, her voice a suggestive lilt. "James is asleep and we have the whole house...to ourselves."

'The Veela pairs that cannot live with each other are theorized to be created with a flaw in the genetic material, and cannot live in close proximity; however, they are reports of the members finding happiness elsewhere.'

Mione did have a chance, then. Well, Harry would bloody make sure that she was happy. He didn't nearly die with her only to have her unhappy. "Listen, Gin," he muttered tiredly. "Can we do this later? I'm busy."

His wife was determined, however, and she trailed kisses up the side of his jaw to end up near his ear. He didn't move. "I want you, Harry," Ginny very nearly moaned in his ear. "Merlin, it's been so long, Harry, please."

Normally, he'd discard the book in favor of a shag with Ginny, especially a Ginny that was coming close to begging. Normally. However, this wasn't a normal situation, and this wasn't just for anybody that he was researching. This was for Hermione. "Gin, I need to finish this."

Ginny didn't give up. She tugged the book out of his hands and Banished it to some part of their house, eliciting a groan of disapproval. Ignoring this, she clambered onto his lap and pressed her body into his, stretching like a cat. "You're working too hard," said Ginny. "Hermione can research on her own. Merlin she knows she beats you at researching. She doesn't need you." The redhead paused to shoot him a 'come-hither' type look.

His jaw tightened. "Listen, Ginny, I am not going to abandon my best friend." He shifted uncomfortably as under her weight as she shot him an angry glare.

"No, you listen, Harry," Ginny said, taking a deep, calming breath. "You can't fix things for Hermione. I know she's like your sister but she can handle Malfoy on her own."

Well, Ginny could say all that she wanted, but Harry wasn't going to listen. He loved Hermione, and he wasn't going to just settle and wait for her to battle things out herself. She'd never once left him alone, and he was hardly going to do that to her. Even Ron agreed with him on that one. "Ginny, Hermione needs somebody to stand up for her."

"She has Padma!" Ginny protested. Harry tried to think of a polite way to get her off his lap - he loved Ginny, but Merlin, he was getting a cramp. He knew that if he said anything she'd get offended, though. Harry had always been rubbish at talking to girls. "She has Ron, and her parents, and all of her friends."

"So you're suggesting that I should stand by simply because she has others there for her? Newsflash, Gin, her parents are in Australia and I'm the best she's got." Harry closed his mouth with a snap after the final heated word left it. Shit. Why the hell didn't he have a mental filter?

Ginny pulled away, eyes flashing. Damn. GInny always got upset by these declarations of his love for Hermione, but at the same time, Harry thought rebelliously, he was rather damn tired of it. "Harry, this isn't Hogwarts anymore," she protested, making an obvious effort not to hex him. "Hermione's a big girl. Your first priority is your family, Harry, and that is me and James."

"Hermione is part of my family, Ginny." He said quietly, willing his eyes away from the Bond on his wrist.

Ginny stood, red hair whipping around. Despite the irate looks he was getting that promised certain harm, Harry couldn't help but thank Merlin she was off his lap. His legs had fallen asleep. "Merlin, Harry, one would think you were in love with her!"

"I am not," he said automatically. "I love you, Ginny."

"Well you sure as hell don't show it," GInny said dramatically. "Maybe you should had married her instead!"

Harry sat, shellshocked, as Ginny stormed away. Yes, he loved Hermione but didn't love her -

Did he?

His eyes dropped again to his wrist and he rubbed it, uncomfortable. Why did Ginny always do this? He was simply trying to help his best friend, and Ginny had to get jealous. Merlin.

Harry opened the next book on his list and began reading, ignoring all thoughts of his wife for the moment. He was unsettled by their argument but he knew from experience the best thing to do was to leave her alone. Anyway, he had Hermione to think about. He wouldn't give up. Not for her. Not now.

Friday

8:15 PM

(GInny Weasley's P.O.V)

Merlin's saggy left testicle, that prat was acting like he was bloody well in love with Hermione! Ginny was sick of it, sick of hearing of hearing Mionein every other sentence out of her husband's mouth. Harry had James, and Harry had her. Why did he even need Hermione?

Yes, at the beginning of Ginny and Harry's relationship, Hermione had always been a little too close to Harry for her liking, but Ginny ignored it. The two were best friends, siblings. They'd nearly died together. They'd spent seven years nearly dying together. That kind of bond wasn't easily erased, but Ginny consoled herself by remembering that she had Harry. Harry loved her.

James was asleep, and it was the perfect opportunity to spend some alone time with Harry. What did he do? Did he give her that lazy, sexy smirk and tell her to "get ready, hon," and that'd he'd "be right there"?

No.

He'd brushed her away, argued with her, blown her off to do some research for Hermione.

Ginny considered herself very reasonable, but she couldn't always control herself when Hermione was in the picture. Bloody Hermione. Ginny also considered herself best friends with Hermione - they'd practically lived with each other for more than seven years - but the other woman had to back the fuck off.

Ginny sighed and got into bed, drawing the covers up around her. She was tired of thinking about Hermione, the third person in Harry and her supposed marriage of two.

Friday

8:15 PM

(Draco Malfoy's P.O.V)

He shifted uncomfortably in his seat, unaware of the drama that had been playing out all day. Draco had been holed up in his office for the past couple of hours, and he was pleased to say that he was all caught up on his workload.

He jabbed his wand to the right, muttering Theo's name distractedly as his eyes searched for a specific document. He'd been sketching out some plans for the Zabini Operations that he wanted his crafty friend to look at before Draco discussed it with his mother.

No reply came from Theo's office. Draco frowned and repeated the motion, a silverly blue stream of light flashing in the dark office before disappearing. Draco hadn't ventured out of his office since the incident with Granger, but he was sure Theo was next door diligently working. Where else would he be? Theo and Daphne weren't speaking, which only led Draco - unless Theo wanted to speak to Gregory or Zabini, which Draco doubted.

When, yet again, no answering spell came from Theo's office, Draco tried a different spell. He went over to the wall connecting their offices and traced a small square on it with his glowing wand, murmuring various incantations under his breath. When he pulled his wand away, the square turned transparent and Draco peered into Theo's office.

Where the devil was he?

Draco scowled, storming out of his office. The few dedicated employees who were still there at 8:00 PM on a Friday night - there was a suspicious lack of them - looked up curiously as their boss reached Daphne's new office and flung the door open.

She wasn't there either, by Merlin.

Where the hell were his friends? Why were they abandoning Dragon? They had a tradition, Draco thought moodily. Work late on Fridays and then go to Theo's and get drunk. Now it looked like they'd all abandoned him.

Draco didn't like this. He didn't like this at all. He'd managed to put aside his personal drama with the Frigid Bitch in order to get some serious work done. He stayed at his company all day, not opening his door for any distractions. He'd spent an inordinate amount of time going over numbers through Floo with Gringotts, figuring out a plan for the next couple of weeks.

What had they done?

Nothing.

Friday

9:30 PM

(Ron Weasley's P.O.V)

Unbeknownst to him, Ron was feeling quite similar to Draco Malfoy at the moment. Of course, if he knew he was sharing anything with the ferret, he'd probably ask George to help him off himself. Luckily for his life, Ron was unaware that the resentment he was feeling towards his two best friends was nearly identical to Malfoy's.

Ron had stopped by Hermione's tiny flat the other day to try a newly written apology. All he'd managed to get out was "I reckon I could've worked a bit harder last time so I didn't bollocks it up, but Mione, a bloke has other things to worry about too," before she'd crisply informed him she was having a 'me day' and that he was not involved.

What was up her arse?

Ron hadn't even managed to get to the good part of the apology, where he'd managed to not insult the slimy snake more than twice. Blimey, had Hermione no respect for him? What in Merlin's name was a 'me day,' anyhow?

From there, Ron had stopped by the Burrow to say hi to his parents and perhaps see if Harry and Ginny were there, but he'd got roped into eating a tea snack - if it made his mum happy, he'd do it - and so it took another hour before he Apparated to the Ministry to find Harry.

Ron scowled as he remember how it had taken him nearly thirty minutes to locate somebody who could tell him where Harry was, only to find that he'd just gone home while Ron was talking to the stupid security guard. The git. Ron had gone to Harry's house but, as he stood outside the door preparing to knock, heard the most frightful wail coming from titchy little James Potter.

Naturally, Ron had left in a hurry.

Ron, who was sitting in his own flat, eating takeout, bit into a piece of bread moodily. When he'd gone backto Harry's house, his own sister had muttered something about Harry being obsessed with Veelas and told him to come back tomorrow after she'd "knocked some sense into the giant prat."

All of this had led to his current position, alone in his flat on a Friday night, listening to a Quidditch game on the wireless and utterly alone.

His friends were useless.

Ron munched on his supper, thinking about how damn lame he was at the moment. If Harry and Hermione had thought to abandon him, well, he'd bloody well abandon them.

So Ron, being Ron, shoveled the rest of his supper into his mouth and Floo called some of the boys from Quidditch, asking them to go out for a pint.

Friday

10:00 PM

(Blaise Zabini's P.O.V)

The plan was going brilliantly.

He'd stole a fair bit of money from that bastard Malfoy, and he knew nobody could pin it on him. In fact, his mother had revealed that Malfoy blamed his mother. How bloody perfect was that?

Even better, he had plans to do it again. Oh, the possibilities were unlimited. Blaise fully intended to take a galleon for every single time that asshole had insulted him, made him look stupid, and managed to one-up him. It would take Malfoy - well, Malfoy's money - a bloody long time to repay him, Blaise thought gleefully. The best part was, he had Malfoy's girl!

He had never intended to get with Daphne. But, when he'd run into the woman while staking out Malfoy's place, Blaise hadn't been able to control himself. There had always been something about bossy, smart, sexy witches that made his mouth water. After all, when Blaise had managed to get Daphne to submit to him, well, he longed to march up to Malfoy's rat face and tell him exactly what one third of the Silver Trio was doing night after night.

Oh, and Daphne was so willing, too. All it took were some pretty words, gifts, and fun nights out to have Daph clinging to him. The best part was, Malfoy didn't even try to break them up.

Still, Daphne had been holding out on him lately. Blaise frowned as he recalled the past couple of weeks, where when he'd come into her flat and kissed her and commanded her to strip, she'd refused. "I'm too busy," Blaise mocked her voice. "Draco has me doing all the work I missed at the same time as the work I have to do now."

Well, Malfoy could go fuck himself. Or rather, fuck somebody else.

That was where Deteria came in.

Daphne had shaken her head when he proposed the idea of those two getting together. To her, it was unthinkable. "You're offering your sister up to shag somebody you hate?" Daph had asked incredulously.

Not exactly. Blaise didn't quite want to think about his sister's sexual exploits in great detail, but when he'd told Det about the plan, she'd offered herself. Even though he'd been solidly against it at the beginning, it not only made perfect sense, but it also helped his relationship with Daph. After all, if Malfoy was caught up in his sister, he hardly could break Blaise and Daph up.

Blaise smirked maliciously. Malfoy had always said Blaise was almost worse at being a Slytherin than Crabbe and Goyle. He'd be eating his words now, Blaise knew it.

A commotion from his Floo distracted Blaise from his thoughts, and he looked to see his sister clambering ungracefully through the grate. Blaise winced at the image. She did not look as happy as he thought she would. "Merlin, Blaise," Deteria said angrily. "Your Floo is disgraceful. Have you changed the wards again?"

"Of course not," Blaise shot back. "It's just that you never could use a Floo."

His sister furrowed dark, slim eyebrows and gave him a rather rude hand gesture. That was Deteria, all right. Their mother always said that Det came out of her womb cursing the world. She sniffed, arranged her hair, and sat gracefully down on his couch.

"It didn't go well, then?" Blaise offered up.

"Well? It went fabulously," Deteria said, her voice acidic. He grinned, but his hopes were shot down as she continued, "If fabulous means that Draco sent me a note telling me that he couldn't make it because of work."

Work? Draco didn't do work. He slimed his way into a high position and hexed people in order to get their galleons. What was Malfoy playing at?

Deteria sniffed again and shifted on the couch. "I told him that if he didn't see me tomorrow at 12:00 sharp, he's lost all chance with me," she said, her nose turning up slightly. "He told me ten minutes later he had just made a reservation at Talons for that time."

Blaise whistled. Talons was an expensive wizarding lunch place, only for the elite. How the hell did Malfoy bypass the six-month waiting list to coolly get a reservation for Talons in ten minutes?

Probablykilledsomebodytogetthemoffthewaitinglist, Blaise thought morbidly. Merlin, he hated that man.

Deteria sighed and stood up. "Mother says the plans are going well," she continued, her voice shifting into fluidity. "Remember: 33%."

"Not hardly," said Blaise incredulously. "Det, you haven't done shit. 10%."

She looked away, running her hand along the back of his couch. Blaise watched suspiciously as his sister paced up and down, appearing to consider his proposal. "No. You think I will settle for such a measly sum? Merlin, Blaise, it's like you aren't my brother. 33% of the profit and be thankful it isn't more."

"15%," Blaise conceded, "And that's my final offer."

Her eyes flashed and the sly Deteria from five seconds earlier vanished in a blink of an eye. "You listen to me, Blaise. I expect money, and I expect it soon. Do you understand?"

Blaise eyed his younger sister and puffed out his chest. "No, Deteria, I don't," he said, imitating her threatening tone. "I'll give you 15%, not a galleon more, and you will be happy. Do you understand?"

His sister's laugh was high and mocking. "Give it to me, Blaise!"

"No."

Deteria yelled in frustration and shot a nasty hex at him. Blaise dove to the floor and pulled out his own wand, eyes flashing. "Stupefy!" Blaise shouted, aiming at his sister's legs.

She blocked it and shot a Confringo at him - what the hell was she thinking? - but Blaise managed to Expelliarmus her wand away from her. Spats between the siblings were not uncommon, but Deteria had always won back in their school days. Well, if Det didn't know by now, he was different. Blaise considered himself a new man, a changed man, one who was ultimately stronger and much more badass than Malfoy could ever hope to be.

Friday

10:30 PM

(Padma Patil's P.O.V)

Padma narrowed her eyes in concentration, her wand focused on the ring of flames dancing beneath the black pot. She twisted her wand to the side and the flames rose, just slightly, as the bubbling in the pot intensified. She bit her lip as she mentally reviewed the next stage of instructions. If she didn't do this step just right, the entire dish would be ruined -

Now! As the bubbles began to spill over the top of the pot, Padma flicked her wand in a series of motions, turning the flames off completely. The sugar snap peas were transferred into a colander in the blink of an eye and doused in water. Padma, frowning just slightly, scooped a handful of ice out of her ice box and scattered them on top of the peas.

Finally, she stepped back. The peas were a lovely green color, and they appeared to be crisp and firm. The pasta was aldenteand the sauce was simmering in a red saucepan.

She smiled in satisfaction.

Hermione never quite understood Padma's obsession with cooking. She firmly believed that Padma's careful deliberation equated her stressing about the precise measurements of spices and the like. Padma disagreed. She was perfectly able to methodically complete something without worrying about it.

Although, Padma wouldn't call it quite methodical. That implied a sense of calm. When Padma cooked, her body often thrummed with anticipation as she waited for the next step, where she would have to flip an omelet with a steady hand in the few seconds before the cheese melted all over the plate. Flipping it too soon would result in a rubbery texture, but holding it too late left a dreadful mess.

Padma checked her watch. It was 10:30; perfect timing. 'Mione refused to heavy meals after seven, claiming it was bad for the health, but Padma had been raised to eat late and she continued the tradition now. Hogwarts had served dinner from 6:00 to 8:00 most days, with most students trickling in at about seven. Padma had always nibbled her food during these times before eating a bit more from her stash of food at 10.

She scooped the pasta onto a plate, spooned a few of the juiciest looking peas next to that, and adorned the entire thing with a healthy dollop of sauce. She made sure not to drown the other tastes before sprinkling Parmesan cheese over it. Perfect.

Padma had just settled into her dining room and switched on the Muggle telly - Hermione had gotten her hooked on the thing years ago - when her Floo chimed softly.

Assuming it was Hermione, Padma waved her wand absently to let the person in. She kept her wand trained the door, just as a precaution, although when she saw the person walking in she let her hand fall to the side.

"Hey, Parv," Padma said, only slightly uncomfortable. Parvati and Padma had been getting closer lately but they were nowhere close to the old levels of intimacy. Padma had used to know Parvati better than she knew herself, as cliched as the expression was, but that was hardly the case now.

Parvati gave Padma a small smile. "Hey, Pads. Having supper?"

She nodded and only hesitated slightly before offering, "Would you like some?"

To her surprise, Parvati accepted and the next five minutes saw the twins eating pasta quietly.

Finally, Padma spoke. "What are you doing here?"

"Can't I visit my baby sister?" Parvati's sly grin was fleeting.

Padma wrinkled her nose, getting back into the teasing relationship that was so comfortable between them. "Honestly, Parv, you're only older by about half an hour - "

"And I will always have that half hour more of knowledge and experience," Parvati said sweetly. She shrugged one shoulder and turned to the telly, where a dramatic couple appeared to be deciding whether to kiss or slap each other. "What is this that you are watching?"

Padma flushed quietly and murmured something out that vaguely resembled a corny soap opera title.

Parvati started laughing and said, "Aw, baby sis, I'm so proud of you! You refused to read those romance novels in Hogwarts - "

"They're trashy!"

Parvati continued, grinning, "And now you're making up for lost time for watching trashy telly shows!

Padma reluctantly started laughing as well. She didn't particularly find it funny, but her sister was here, and laughing, and really - Padma could use a little de-stress time to herself.

Saturday

12:00 PM

(Narcissa Malfoy's P.O.V)

Narcissa stood outside of her sister's modest home, hesitating.

She really shouldn't be afraid, she knew this. She was dressed impeccably in casual robes, silver ones to match her eyes. Her hair was pulled back in an elegant bun, and Vedette had proclaimed her the picture of elegance.

Still, she knew that knocking on the door would change an uneasy truce between the sisters, if "truce" in this situation meant "not talking at all." She hadn't seen her sister in years. What was she supposed to say?

Narcissa,youarebeingridiculous,she told herself sternly, and knocked firmly three times.

She heard the pounding of footsteps from the other side of the door and a child calling, "Grandmum, can I open the door?"

The reply, faint but still discernible, made her bit her lip in realization. Andy called, "Wait for me, Teddy!"

Theodore Lupin.

Narcissa had forgotten about her sister's grandson.

The door was pulled open, and Narcissa had to fight to maintain her self control. Andy looked nearly the same as she remembered - she had those same dark, mischievous eyes, the same dark, wavy hair that was now slightly graying. "Narcissa," she said, and her voice even sounded the same. Merlin, this would be harder than she'd thought. "Come in."

A/N: yeah...the ending petered out a bit. This is unbetaed 'cause I realized I took WAY TOO LONG to hammer this out. I promise promise promise that next chapter will be better. Tell me if you like the other characters or if you yawned your way through this...kthanksbyeloveyouall.