A glazed over expression of dewiness flittered over Draco's face and he smiled at the ceiling like he was recalling a memory. "Remember when she did spew?"

"When she did what? Spew? She spewed?"

"You can't remember spew? Our fourth year?"

"Spew," Pansy whispered to herself, thinking he must've lost his mind. Fourth year replayed in her mind, and all she could really place was the Tri-Wizard Tournament, the Cedric boy dying, random faces of Durmstang and Beauxbatons students, and the Yule Ball where Draco finally found the guts to kiss her. That had been a fun night for her and loads of other people.

"Remember the Yule Ball?" she inquired with a grin. "Ron's brothers spiked the punch, and we drank it."

"Yes, I remember," he said hoarsely, like his thoughts were thousands of miles away. "Remember when she wore that pretty dress?"

Instead of asking who again, Pansy tried a new tactic and relaxed in her seat and nodded gingerly. "Yes I do. She looked nice."

"More than nice, but never mind that. I still couldn't stand her. Still can't, actually, but I yearn to shag her all the time."

"What do you like most about her? She seems to have you in quite the peril, Draco. There must be something worthwhile about her. Something that keeps you going back for more?" Pansy winced at her words, unsure of if she was on the right path. For all she knew, she said a very silly thing.

"I like her arse."

"Lovely. Anything else?"

Draco chuckled throatily. "What else is there?" He then quieted and sighed. "I like her eyes and her mouth. I especially like her mouth for numerous reasons. I like her hair and how she keeps it long for me, so when I visit her, I can tug on it while I shag her in oblivion. I like her laugh. She doesn't do it often, at least not around me, but sometimes I get to hear it."

Pansy nodded and refrained from cursing because Draco had yet to give her any kind description that would help her figure out this mystery woman he had a child with.

"Yes, I can understand why you like those things about her. Her eyes are indeed very…"

"Brown. Very brown indeed. They sparkle, too, but they also can be harsh."

"I know, right. I agree," Pansy continued to play along. "And her hair it's so…thick?"

"Yeah," he chuckled. "I love her curls. Scorpius loves them, too. He's five, and he still likes to play with his mummy's hair. It's darling."

Brown eyes, curly thick hair…

"And it's still wild like it was when she was young."

Something cold and terrifying made Pansy's insides freeze and she rasped out, "Still wild, you say?"

"Yes."

Covering her mouth to muffle her gasp, she stared at Draco like he had morphed into a stranger. Shaking her head in denial, she stood up from her seat. "Granger! Oh my Gods, you're talking about Granger! That's…Draco, that's impossible. No one has seen or heard from her in ages. Some say she went back to the Muggle World, gave up her wand and everything. You have completely gone around the twist, you have! Who are you really talking about?"

Her friend did not answer her right away but simply rested in his chair, so she said his name again. His response was not at all what she expected.

"Two years ago in Belgium, Sylvie Jansen sued an apothecary after her ill husband passed away. Do you remember hearing about it?"

"Of course I do, Draco. Apothecaries all over Europe buckled down and had to be even more careful with peoples' medicines and names. A simple misreading of a patient's name cost Michel Jansen's life. Why are you bringing it up?"

"Does your mother's cousin's husband still live in Boston? The solicitor?"

"Well…yes, but I'm not following here. One minute we're talking about a long lost woman and the next you're bringing up a case that has nothing to do with what we were talking about," she said in exasperation and then sobered. "Is it really Granger? Is she the one you were talking about?"

Draco bobbed his head up and down and sucked in a deep breath, telling Pansy he was beginning to sober and he wasn't lying. He pressed the heels of his palms into his eyes and exhaled shakily and said, "I'd like the name of that lawyer and some background information on him. I want to know everything about him before he's hired."

"You want to hire him?" sputtered Pansy. "For what? You have lawyers. Lots of them, and they're here in Britain. Do you need a lawyer in Boston for some reason and…we were talking about Granger. Why are you changing subjects? We need to talk about this?"

"We are!" he snapped and hit his hand on the desk in irritation and glared at her. "I could make you leave, Parkinson. This isn't your business at all."

Controlling her pride, Pansy said calmly, "You're right. It's not, but I think you could use a friend right now. I don't know what happened with…" she paused, "Granger…or why you need a lawyer in Boston. Nevertheless, I get the impression you're dying to tell someone something, and you can tell me. I'm right here, and we already discussed that I don't expose your secrets. Not to anybody. I won't even tell Ron."

"I need another drink," Draco murmured and went to stand, but Pansy stopped him with a peeved glare.

"No you don't. Please sit down and tell me why you need a Bostonian lawyer, who is not even that well-known, by the way?"

"That's good. She won't want a flashy attorney, just someone who knows what they are doing."

"And by she, I'm guessing you mean…Granger. My Gods, I can't even say her name! How did you two-"

"I'll contact him as soon as possible. I don't want to waste any more time with this."

"You still haven't told me why you need the lawyer. For the past half-hour, I've been repeating my brains out, trying to get you to answer a handful of a few simple questions."

"Fine," Draco said quietly and rubbed his face like he was exhausted, suddenly appearing quite older than twenty-seven. He pinched the skin between his brows and spoke like his throat was swelling, "I mentioned the Jansen vs. Laurent Apothecaries case because I've been put into a situation quite similar. More than anything, I would prefer one of my own solicitors to take care of this disaster, but given the circumstances, it's out of the question."

"Your medicine got switched with someone else's at an apothecary? Draco that's…I didn't even know you were on medicine."

"Not my medicine, Pansy," he said bitterly and sniffled. "Granger's. Her potions and another customer's potion of the apothecary were not handled with care and were presumably switched up."

Present Day

"Oh my. That could not have been good, but now that you mention it, Miss Granger did say she went through a court case a few years ago." Narcissa tapped her chin thoughtfully, attempting to absorb all the information Pansy had given her. Apparently, Draco had feelings for the girl which ran deeper than merely being the mother of his child. Had Miss Granger not seen her son in high regards? That filthy little tart! She should be so lucky as to have had the attention of Pureblood elegance! From what Pansy had described, that trollop broke her boy's heart.

"And I doubt she told you why," Pansy said.

"I didn't even think to ask," Narcissa admitted. "People and their frivolous legalities don't concern me much. Now tell me what the fuss was about. Draco seemed upset for Miss Granger's welfare. Did she become ill or was she merely upset about having someone else's medicine."

"Uh…" Pansy began and placed a hand on her belly, feeling a sudden jolt from the inside which warmed her heart. She smiled bitter-sweetly at Narcissa. "Both, I guess you could say. Draco had been reluctant to tell me of her condition, but he eventually told me. You see, Mrs. Malfoy, Miss Granger had been on a prescribed potion by her Healer for a few months. According to Draco, she had run out of her monthly supply and went to retrieve a refill from the local apothecary. When she walked out, she had Hermia Grant's prescription. Unfortunately for Miss Granger, the potions looked similar enough for her to go unnoticed that she was drinking someone else's medicine. It only took a few days for her body to catch up, and the effects almost killed her."

"That's horrible," Narcissa stated, feeling only the slightest inkling of pity towards Hermione. "Almost killed her? She's fine now, though, I saw. The effects weren't chronic, I take it."

Pansy clasped her hands and rested them on her prominent belly and looked at the wall behind Narcissa and agreed, "No, it hadn't become chronic, at least not in the physical sense. I'd think she probably suffers emotional trauma, more so than she did before the…"

"Yes?" Narcissa urged.

The younger witch frowned at her untouched tea and then said, "Mrs. Malfoy, Miss Granger had been six months pregnant at the time and miscarried."

After a difficult supper, Blaise lead Hermione and Alex down the hallway in his flat, each side having three doors. He stopped at the middle one on the left and opened it and gestured for his two guests to go in. Once they were inside, he offered, "Alex can sleep here if he wants."

The room was larger than what an eight year old needed and less decorative than his room back in Salem. The walls were white with a simple dark blue border near the edges of the ceiling. There was also a single sofa-chair next to the window and a bookshelf filled with books. Empty frames hung on the wall, so Hermione asked, "Will the portrait occupants be returning?"

"No, they're back in Italy. I'll make sure they stay there," the man replied.

"Do you like this room, Alex?" she asked her son who somberly and slightly bobbed his head up and down. He walked to the king size bed with the starch white comforter and blue swirl-like designs. It had an artfully designed bed posters with blue curtains. He climbed upon it and laid down with his arms and legs spread out. Her boy stayed that way for a few seconds before turning on his side and curling into a ball.

"The bed's kind of big," she quietly said Blaise, thinking her son looked like a very small lump compared to the mattress's size.

"I can make it smaller, but I don't think the transfiguration will hold through the night," he told her. "Would you like me to show you your room?"

"I can just sleep here next to him," she said and swallowed and looked down at the floor. "I don't think I want to leave him alone all night…or ever."

"Are you sure?"

"For now, yes," Hermione assured and set her travelling satchel down on the floor next to the sturdy, cedar dresser at the foot of the bed and studied Alex. His eyelids had drifted shut while his breathing became shallow. Gingerly, she took off his shoes and then pulled the sheets down and carefully maneuvered him underneath.

"Will you be turning in, as well?" Blaise asked and Hermione shook her head no.

"No," she said and walked to the light switch next to the door and flipped off the lights and Blaise followed after her. He left the door ajar and walked with her back into the sitting room.

"I'm sorry about dinner. I just thought that Alex might like it because children usually go for macaroni and cheese," he said and she smiled sadly at his unnecessary apology.

"No, it wasn't your fault. It was delicious. Really, it was, it's just…" Hermione sat down on the couch facing the fireplace and contorted her features in anguish, "a long story."

"I have time," he offered and sat down next to her, but she kept her focus on the flames.

"Not that much time, I promise you that."

She didn't see Blaise quirk a brow at the challenge. He made an *ahem* sound and his house-elf appeared in front of Hermione, blocking her view of the flames. He bowed and inquired, "Yes, Master Zabini?"

"Ogden's finest. Two glasses," Blaise told him.

"No," Hermione said to the man and then told the elf, "No."

The elf ignored her and vanished, quickly returning with his master's order and set it on the coffee table before disappearing again. Blaise leaned over and filled a glass half-full of the liquid and offered it to her.

"No, Blaise," she groaned and then he reached over and placed the glass underneath her nose.

"Smell that? Doesn't it smell like salvation?" he taunted with a half-hearted smirk.

"If salvation smelled like damnation."

"Take it, Granger. You know it will make you feel better."

"I sincerely doubt that. I told you I do stupid things when I drink," Hermione reminded but took the glass, so the beverage wouldn't slosh up into her nostrils. With a secure hand around it, the glass now rested safely on her thigh.

"For days after Draco died, I holed up in my room with a goal in mind to never sober. Constantly, I would call upon my house-elf to have a new drink ready for me."

Hermione furrowed her brow and stared at him in antipathy. "That was real thick of you? How did you not get alcohol poisoning?"

"I probably would have if it hadn't been for my elf who had gone to my mother and told her what I had done," explained Blaise with a shrug. "You're not the only one who does stupid things when drunk, Granger."

"You're a moron, Zabini, but my drunken foolishness is not asking for more booze."

"Then what do you do?" he asked with sincere interest.

Waving her hand at him dismissively, she ignored the question. With her glass still resting on her leg, he clinked his to it and said, "Cheers."

"There's nothing cheerful about this situation," she said to him and watched with envy as he guzzled his drink in a few gulps. With temptation, she looked down at her own drink and wondered if it really would be unwise of her to take the edge off this way. Her cigarettes were in her purse. She could simply slither out onto the balcony past the double doors with the blinds on them and have good cry while retrieving her nicotine fix for the night. But maybe a little alcohol wouldn't hurt. Just enough to make her sleepy for night without the burden of dreams.

Bringing the glass to her lips, the smell of damning salvation wafted up her nose once more and the macaroni and cheese churned in her belly, promising her future regurgitation if she went through with it. Despite the warning, she tilted her head back and swallowed a mouthful, her gag reflexes instantly kicking in from the taste.

"Easy, easy," Blaise said and Hermione forced down the burning liquid and wetly coughed.

Wiping gracelessly at her mouth with her sleeve, she wheezed out, "I'm fine. I just haven't had Ogden's finest in…well, I don't think I've ever had it, actually. I preferred trying other drinks. When I was younger, anyway."

"I can get you something else," he said and started naming off some suggestions. "Wine, tequila, vodka, whiskey, Firewhiskey. Name your pick."

Hermione sniffled and licked her lips at the suggestions, smiling kind of shyly. "Do you have butterbeer?"

"You're not going to get drunk off of butterbeer, Granger. You might as well drink fizzy, watered down caramel."

"Do you have it?" Hermione asked again.

Blaise sneered in acceptance and nodded. "Yeah, I got it. I don't know why I have it around now that you mention it, but yes, I have it."

"I'll take that and the vodka if you don't mind." Hermione dodged Blaise's pejorative stare before he summoned his elf again with the order who returned quickly with the drinks.

"This was my drink before I had Alex," she informed while leaning towards the coffee table and grabbing each bottle, simultaneously pouring the liquid into an empty glass, filling it to the brim with light, orangey brown fizz.

"You're going to drink all that piss?" questioned Blaise in revulsion. "What kind of self-respecting witch would drink that?"

Hermione placed her lips on the rim of the glass and swallowed gulp after gulp after gulp until all that was left was foam. Exhaling in victory, she set down the empty glass on the table and hiccupped sharply before lightly burping.

"I think we both know, Mr. Zabini, that I'm no self-respecting witch," Hermione said and hiccupped again followed by refilling the glass.

"You're going to have another?" squeaked Blaise in alarm.

"I really shouldn't, but I haven't had one since I was…" she squint her eyes and cocked her head to the side in thought, "twenty-two, I think. The States don't have butterbeer. Besides, I want to sleep well tonight. I don't want to think about having to go over to Malfoy Manor tomorrow. I don't want to think about anything right now."

Hermione drained her second glass in a few short seconds and then clenched her eyes shut and whipped her head back and forth.

Sensing that the woman was beginning to lose her inhibitions, Blaise slowed down on his sips. He was most certainly going to take advantage of the opportunity presenting itself by asking light, unimposing questions.

"So, Granger, tell me about your bookstore? When did you start it up?"

"Hmm? Oh, my bookstore? I opened it up a year and half ago. I actually bought it from the previous owner who was looking to move."

"What made you decide to do that? What were you doing before?"

Hermione blinked at him, and Blaise could tell she was not sloshed enough to provide all details. She replied, "I sold cosmetics for a number of years. Since Alex was practically newborn. It was only supposed to be a temporary thing, just a job to help me save up to go back to school, but I started building a small business for myself. I was getting paid quite a lot of money doing that, but Alex was growing up. We were still living in the flat Draco set us up in. I decided to change my priorities a bit. Instead of saving up for school, I decided to save up for a house. I hadn't lived long in my house when…"

"Yes?" Blaise urged for her to go on and watched her slurp at her drink and set down the glass, unaware of the foam mustache she was sporting. Her eyes grew dewy and her entire demeanor closed itself off from him.

"I don't want to talk about it," she said very quietly and looked away.

"What do you want to talk about?" he asked, encouraging her to talk. The more she talked, the more he knew about her. The more he knew about her, the better the puzzle pieces fit. And bloody hell, she was the most complex jigsaw catastrophe he had ever come across.

Hermione's vision blurred and tilted, the dying flames of the fireplace luring her into a trance. After a while, she asked, "How can you have a fireplace in your apartment? Where does the smoke go?"

"Wherever I want it," he replied and finished off his glass and poured himself another. Instead of sipping this one, he downed the drink like he did his first one and exhaled sharply, pinching the bridge of his nose to ease the burn. He turned his head and saw Hermione staring at him; her head leaned back against the cushion with her eyes glazed and unseeing, catching the fire's light from the Floo.

"You have a foam mustache," he told her and reached over and brushed his right thumb above her lip, dragging it across the skin to catch every bit and then went rigid when he felt something wet prick the digit and lick away the butterbeer and vodka remnants.

"Granger," he said warningly, but if she heard him, she made no indication of such. He pulled his hand back and leaned away from her, the idea of running hadn't even crossed his mind.

Hermione hooked her arm over the top of the couch and used the back for leverage in helping her kneel on the cushions and woozily crawl towards him. The closer she came, the farther he leaned away until his back was flat against the cushion. Silently, he watched crawl above him where she hovered for a split second before lowering her body down flush against his, releasing her entire weight upon him, and he offhandedly thought how grateful he was that she wasn't hefty woman. Fuller-figured was the right term for her.

Blaise felt her warm breath tickle his chin and swallowed insecurely and hoarsely said, "I don't think-"

"Me neither," she interjected and placed her lips on his.

To be continued...

A/N: Remember what I said in my A/N a couple of chapters ago? No matter what you read in future chapters…I still stand by that firmly.

Thank you readers, followers, reviewers, and those who have placed this fic on their favorite's list.

Thank you to: hkmac, youcantbesirius-1, Kar-Kar93, twiliteroket, Musette Fujiwara, Anna122, Angel Girl5, Guest, alina290, Vaneesa85, and Aya Diefair for the reviews. Very nice things were said, and I enjoyed reading them.

I did get some questions, but I feel like I've already answered them, either by past A/Ns or through the story. I know sometimes we as readers don't catch everything in every single chapter, so it never hurts to go back and reread. Don't take this the wrong way, my lovely readers and reviewers, but I super-duper don't like repeating myself. And I'm fully aware I get questions just for the sake of a question, but for those who are serious about wanting to know something, be cautionary with your inquiries and be sure to catch A/Ns. I know I can't always answer them because of spoiler issues concerning future chapters, but I always try to touch base with them. I do read all the feedback I get and try to take great care with my reader's comments. Love you all, I promise! :)