A/N: Sorry dear Readers, I know this took forever and a day to get out, but real life is a horrid bitch sometimes. Hope you enjoy :)

Chapter 2 - A Pinch of Risque

He sat frozen on his bed, legs swung over the side in anticipation of getting up. His eyes fixed on the note held loosely in his hand. He felt heavy, like his limbs were all asleep, dead weight. Unable to move, his thoughts floundered. Buzzing around in his head, no particular order at all.

Unable to fully process the words written neatly on the scrap of paper. The note left behind by the woman he'd brought home last night from The Melting Pot. A beautiful, leggy, brunette Muggle woman in a tight red dress. Who, as it seems, turned out not to be a Muggle at all, but a Muggle-born.

Shit. Fuck. Merlin and Morgana, Circe, Hecate, The Founders and anyone else who wanted a piece, damn him! What the hell was he going to do?! His brain felt overloaded, his body merely a shell as he internally threw himself against the walls of his mind. Shock, panic, and elation laced with an underlying fear that it'd all been a dream. Though, given how stiff and sore his muscles were helped to prove it was not.

His head pounded with the hangover Drunk-Draco had been so kind to leave him with. This was way too much brain function for this early, and after so much whiskey. Thank something for the curtains being closed. 'What fucking time is it anyways…' His wand was around here somewhere...

With groggy effort he put the note back on his nightstand. Well, whatever he was going to do about just how royally he'd fucked up, it was going to be done once he'd taken some of the hangover potion that was in his bathroom cabinet. Then he'd find his wand; it was probably still in his pants. With luck he wouldn't have to leave the country, his mother would be furious if he left again before visiting her.

Dredging up the strength to move his legs, Draco slowly stood up from the mattress. Joints in his back cracking as he stretched lethargically, bare feet chilled on the cold stone tile of his bedroom floor. Naked, he stumbled his way towards the door leading to his en suite bathroom.

When the light came on, a low pitiful groan came from within him. The sudden illumination felt like someone had ground sand into his eyeballs. He stumbled forwards holding an arm over his face.

Fuck him. Fuck life. Why, why did he have so much whiskey? What the hell had he been celebrating? At least it was still the weekend. If Sunday counted as weekend. He lazily shut the bathroom door behind him with his foot.

He flipped off his reflection in the mirror, white-blond hair stood up in a vast disarray of uncoordinated mayhem. Opening the cabinet to his left, he rummaged through it knowing exactly what he was looking for. A slender turquoise bottle that would take away the hammering behind his eyes, and the churning of his stomach.

He spent a full minute searching through the cabinet, moving various glass bottles around before he shut it angrily, wincing at the loud sound. Who the hell goes out drinking and forgets to stock up on hangover potion? Draco-fucking-Malfoy, that's who.

Grumpily he turned away from the cabinet -stupid cabinet, not having what he needed- his eyes stopping on the walk-in shower across the room. Yes, a shower would help. Half of his mind contemplated shutting off that bright-as-sin light as he padded across the floor towards the large fixture that dominated the room. The built-in stone bench had been plenty useful. Definitely sturdy, he'd tested that many times since he'd moved in almost five years ago now.

Draco fiddled slowly with the taps on the wall, getting the temperature just right. Stepping into the spray, he pulled the frosted glass door shut behind him. The groan that left his mouth this time was a decidedly more satisfied one.

The hot water rained down on his stiff muscles, releasing tension. The heat and steam was already easing the throbbing ache of his head. It was bliss and comfort in the form of small droplets. He hummed happily, like a child.

Fuck it, that's what he'd do. He'd just stay here in the hot water for an hour or so. He didn't have anywhere important to be today. As far as he knew, anyways. Draco closed his eyes and carefully lowered himself to the floor of the shower and sat directly under the spray. Just letting the water fall on him, soothe him.

A small happy smile grew on his lips as he replayed last night's events again in his mind. The sweat-soaked skin, the teeth, the sounds she made when he'd lapped at her. His back still stung a bit, red lines of tender skin that her nails had left. It was undeniably one night to remember and definitely not a dream.

The penthouse lift dinged and the tall doors opened to allow entrance. Strappy leaf-green leather sandals didn't make much noise on the expensive ceramic tile of the entryway. They paired excellently with the lilac print sundress that fit as though it had been tailored to her shape.

Long, pin-straight black locks had been twisted into a messy but aesthetically pleasing braid that hung over one shoulder. Large sunglasses perched on top of her head as she walked into Draco's flat, a tray of take-out coffees in one hand, a ring of keys that obviously belonged to her in the other.

The first thing that caught her eye were all of the smudges on the mirrored doors of the front closet. A sculpted eyebrow rose, delicately painted lips upturned in a fast smirk. New plan in mind, she made an effort to keep her footsteps silent as she snuck towards the bedroom, coffee tray in hand. Behind her the lift doors slowly slid shut.

Her smirk transformed into a devious grin as she passed by the felled lamp beside the empty couch, a black men's dress shirt in a small pile nearby. No Blaise then; he must still be away on 'business'. She walked by Draco's boots and socks, his jeans crumpled on the ground; boxer shorts twisted in them as one of the trouser legs had been turned inside out.

She crept down the hallway, able to faintly hear the sound of water running. She stashed her keyring back into the small designer purse hanging off her shoulder, grabbed her wand from a sheath strapped to her thigh under her dress, and quietly opened the bedroom door. Hopeful that she hadn't been noticed yet.

Inching her way into the dark room with a swift glance around, the witch came to the conclusion that it was empty, and the previous occupants were in the shower. With a slight flick of her wand, the heavy curtains flew apart and were promptly tied open with thick twisted silver rope, the heavily tasseled ends swung back and forth. Ostentatious brat.

She snickered under her breath at the state of the large bed - sheets rumpled, blankets strewn, two pillows that had clearly been used. Stowing her wand back in the sheath, perceptive hazel eyes stopped on the scrap of paper left -oh so carelessly- on the night stand.

She swiftly moved through the room to the bedside and set the coffee tray down. Picking up the one meant for her she took a sip before reaching for the note. 'I guess that's just Draco in the shower then…'

Her gaze shot to her left, towards the closed bathroom door. The water was still running, she could tell it was over a body and not simply hitting the shower floor from how it sounded. She shook open the folded paper while taking another sip of her coffee.

She skimmed over the words, a knowing smile on her face. 'Had a good time, blah blah blah, call me.' Everything about this was so obviously a one night stand. He'd been back for less than a day. What did he do? Get home from the Ministry and go drinking? Of course he did. She rolled her eyes and wondered what poor thing had fallen for his charms last night.

As she skimmed, something about the note felt a tiny bit off, but she only gave it half a thought really, paying more attention to her coffee, it needed more cream. Then, she read the numbers -her brow wrinkled; where had she seen them before- and finally the name written at the bottom.

A name signed in a very familiar curve. She'd learned after all, how to forge that particular witch's handwriting back in fourth year. She'd fondly remember the confusion and drama that had caused for many years to come. So this couldn't possibly be just another girl who happened to have the same name. Draco just didn't have that kind of luck.

Both her eyebrows shot up in realization, and she hastily swallowed the coffee in her mouth; before a loud, sweet sounding laugh burst forth from her lips, nearly echoing off the bedroom walls. The tone of true laughter very different from the cackling snicker she usually let slip in public.

Refolding the paper with one hand she quickly set the note back down on the nightstand along with her coffee, and laughed long and hard. Overjoyed at the massive twist that had just happened to life as she knew it.

Suddenly feeling the need to sit to regain her composure she looked again at the bed. She sure as hell wasn't going to sit on that! Who knew just what had happened on it last night! Poor bed, it sure had seen some crazy shit over the years.

She dropped herself instead onto a plush cobalt-blue living chair situated near the bathroom door. Her posture was far from lady-like as she slouched, intent on having a few more giggles at her friend's expense before she stopped. It'd be better face-to-face anyways.

She completely silenced herself when her ears caught sounds coming from the bathroom other than the water running. "Fuck" thud. "Fuck" thud. "Fuck" thud. It was faint through the door, but she heard it all the same.

She dabbed at the corners of her eyes with her finger-tips, careful not to smudge her eye makeup. Then got up to collect her coffee from the nightstand, a devilish smirk fixed firmly on her face.

Knowing that the bathroom door would be unlocked -the dunce thought he was home alone after all- she held her coffee in one hand, and quietly opened the door with the other. She took a quick sip as she eased the door open slowly, and steam instantly began pouring out of the rather large en suite.

The water falling in the shower was louder now, as was the mantra of "Fuck" thud. "Fuck" thud. "Fuck" thud. Now though, she could tell what the thud was. Draco was gently hitting his forehead on the tiled wall of the large shower.

What the hell was that about? He'd finally banged Granger, and from that note things had gone well! She rolled her eyes at Draco's theatrics. Why did men have to be so confusing? She sneered, the expression looked at home on her face. It was hot as hell in here; he must have the water on scalding. Trying to burn himself alive maybe?

She took another sip of her coffee, entirely amused with this whole situation. He hadn't stopped his mantra, so she could only assume he hadn't noticed her yet. A smirk grew on her lips as she leaned comfortably against the doorframe. Just looking around the spacious bathroom, taking in the multitude of silver and black fixtures. He got new faucets, she raised a brow, when had that happened? "Exciting night I take it?" she asked casually into the steamy bathroom.

The following high-pitched shriek that left Draco's mouth had her immediately bent over in harsh giggles, it was loud enough to echo. She managed to hold her coffee a safe distance away from her mirth. "Oh sweet Goddess! You're hilarious!" she managed through her laughter. "Don't slip and fall now!" She crowed with delight when she heard his feet falter on the wet tile flooring.

"What the fuck Pansy!? Why are you- get out of my bathroom! I'm naked in here!" Came rushed from the other side of the frosted glass doors, his voice part angry, part frustrated but mostly panicked.

She'd succeeded in her aim of startling him, as he'd jumped at the sudden sound of her voice in the mostly quiet seclusion of his bathroom where he'd been cursing his existence and love of whiskey. She'd come to his place with the sole intent of waking his ass up; making him jump out of his skin was an added bonus. Served him right; bastard ate all her muffins last time he'd come over. They'd still been warm from the oven!

Pansy laughed harder. "Of course you're naked in there, you dolt!" She shook her head a little, silver chandelier earrings chiming softly, wide smile on her face. It'd been too long since she'd been able to sneak up on him. He was always one step ahead when they were kids. She was a little put out that she hadn't caught him in bed, but this'd do for now. He had some making up to do. "Finish your moping and get some clothes on. I brought coffee."

She turned to leave the bathroom and made to close the door behind her. But heard his quietly muttered 'fuck you', no matter how hard he'd tried to cover it up. Arguably, not that well. She stopped dead and looked over her shoulder, the devious grin from earlier had returned.

She was going to leave it, not mention a thing until he'd got out of the shower. She could hear the hangover in his voice, had intended to be kind to her oldest friend. But then, then he had to go and do something like that.

So she happily yelled into the bathroom -taking advantage of the acoustics- "After that you can tell me alllll about Granger! Ten Galleons says she's a screamer!" She closed the door with a snicker. Pleased with herself as the mantra started up again, but this time the word 'fuck' was replaced with 'kill me'.

With a small but audible crack Hermione appeared at the Potter's, an Unplottable and secret-kept acreage somewhere in northern England. She stumbled for a moment while she found her bearings in the large meadow-like clearing.

In a single breath she'd travelled from sturdy cement and towering buildings to loamy grass and wildflowers, dense forest on all sides. A small dirt road behind her led into the trees, stretching a good three to four miles before it met the main road. The quiet was lovely, peaceful.

She smoothed her small strapless red dress, trying to pull it farther down her bare legs in an futile effort to cover them up. Her knickers were still in the depths of her small purse, having been shoved in there earlier this morning, so she felt a wee bit exposed.

Starting in the direction of the house, her footsteps were a tinge more wobbly than was usual. The large amount of alcohol she'd consumed last night - well, that was more than reason enough for the bright witch's shuffling.

Thank Merlin for the charms in her shoes or else she'd have tripped already, and with the way her head was acting, she might've just stayed there lying amongst the flowers. The butterflies could have her, breakfast be damned.

The blazing mid-morning sun of August comfortably warmed her bared skin. Truly it was a beautiful day, as if the weather were in the same mood as she -though definitely not as hungover. A pair of thick dark sunglasses covered her eyes, her mass of brown curls incredibly bushy -pins long forgotten- and the only description that could do it justice was sex-hair. She still felt tingly from 'getting better acquainted' with that blond Muggle man.

Putting one crimson pump in front of the other she slowly walked, steady as she could, until she reached a low two-door wooden gate. It creaked cheerfully open for her, allowing her inside. The beginnings of a gravel path led the way towards a house that was hidden deep within the enormous sprawling garden before her. Various colors and types of butterflies flitted about the multitude of flowers.

Her head however was pulsating with every step, every crunch of the small rocks underfoot. Her stomach had begun to complain about the abuse it had been put through, and the lack of food so far. Fingers weakly clutching her small purse, Hermione was trying to ignore the tiny knot of humiliation that was taking root inside her as she made her way through the gardens.

This was called 'The Walk of Shame' after all, and something she'd never really done before. Not for lack of trying, to be frank. At least it was worth it. A large happy grin split her face. The knot unraveled. Very worth it. Maybe he'd call. Or text, or something. 'I wonder what his name is? I can't very well continue calling him Blondie.' She snickered quietly at the thought.

She passed by large bushes of blooming flowers and multiple trees that looked like they should belong in an orchard. All around her was an explosion of vivid colors and hues. The Potter's garden was a mix of both ordinary and magical plants. Flowers grew alongside vegetables and herbs.

They were generally harmless, but there were some dangerous ones 'thrown in for fun' according to Ginny, though she'd sold her mum a well-spun tale about gnome deterrent. Out of all her children Molly was quite pleased it was her daughter who'd taken a shine to gardening.

It was a gorgeous sanctuary behind a low wooden wall that surrounded most of the seemingly modest property. It had been well established over the four or so years the Potters had lived here. Harry took comfort in knowing it was definitely more impressive than any garden his Aunt Petunia had visited or could ever hope to dream up.

In the midst of the large lovingly-kept garden stood an old stone cottage with a two-story turret. It was the sort of cottage you'd expect to find in a fairy tale come to life: arched wooden doors with wrought iron fixtures, piled stone walls that held up a rounded dark-thatch roof, and peaked leaded glass windows framed by opened wooden shutters. It was a beautiful home and 'perfect for starting a family', as Molly had been generous enough to point out when they'd bought it.

A few feet behind the home was the treeline to the forest that hid the secluded cottage. The Potters tried their best to keep their private lives as private as possible. Reporters had quickly found the address to the first flat Harry and Ginny had bought together in the city, forcing them to move out within the same week they'd moved in. It was still a sore topic for Harry.

Concealed within that great forest behind the cottage was a secret, frequently used Quidditch pitch Ginny and Harry had built together from the ground up. Money had been no object when the newlyweds agreed on it; the enormous sums of money Harry had access to was being put to good use, other than doting on his friends, family and godson.

The resulting arguments over the fourteen months it took only served to further cement their love for each other instead of splinter it. Hermione had pointed out that usually couples would put small things together -like furniture- or renovate parts of their home, not design and construct their own private stadium. Harry had just waved that off with a grin. "What's the point of being the The Chosen One, if I can't have a Quidditch pitch in my backyard?"

Hermione willed her feet up the three low steps onto the porch, where two pairs of wellingtons stood side-by-side next to the front door. She rapped her knuckles against the wood door, grumbling at the loud sound that felt like it echoed in her skull. They knew she was here already, that the front garden gate had opened at all was a good sign. Besides, they were expecting her; she'd just got off the phone with Harry before Disapparating.

'Why does the sun have to be so bright?' She made a disgruntled face, emoting her mental complaint while she waited for the door to open. Though she knew she was more than welcome to just walk in, she'd been raised to be polite, and as such would wait for her entry to be given by the home's owner.

Well, that and she didn't want to walk in on any 'morning activities'. Again. Something Hermione was quite keen on forgetting had ever happened at all, and in such high numbers. The months after the newly-wed couple had returned from their honeymoon had been nothing short of eye-opening.

After a few moments of waiting, the door opened to reveal Harry with bedhead to end all bedhead. He was clad only in loose black and grey plaid pajama bottoms, his favored round-framed glasses, a grin and a fair amount of red bite marks smattering his neck and bare chest.

Hermione raised a brow, then her sunglasses followed and were set atop her head in the large nest of chestnut curls. She laughed quietly in regards to her headache as she gave him a once-over, "Ate you alive, did they?" she teased while grinning at her long-time best friend, eyes squinting slightly in the morning light without her sunglasses.

The dark-haired young man huffed a laugh. "Good morning to you, too, Hermione. You're one to talk. Have you looked at your neck yet? We match." Harry pointed at her with a lopsided grin. "Besides, I think I did most of the eating." He moved aside to let Hermione into the cottage he called home. She pulled the sunglasses off her head and dropped them into the depths of her clutch purse as she passed by him, stepping into the well-lit front hall.

A few family pictures hung on the walls; some Weasleys waved at her from both sides of the wide hallway, as did an enlarged portrait of Lily and James dressed in their wedding attire. Shedding her heels with a sigh of relief, Hermione set them down on the mat next to multiple other shoes that belonged to the Potters and the pair of blue pumps Luna had worn last night.

Harry shut the front door, bottle-green eyes glinting with mischief as he turned around to look at her properly. "Is this the part where I say, 'young lady, where have you been all night?'" He deepened his tone to sound like a disapproving father and crossed his arms over his bare chest. "I'd think it's fairly obvious with how you're walking." He snickered, unable to keep the grin off his face.

She swatted his arm. "Goodness Harry! You're crude when you're this happy." Her face was bright with a smile, though it was a slight mess of slept-in makeup. Harry grinned at her and led the way towards the kitchen, an obvious bounce in his step. She could already smell bacon sizzling in a pan and freshly baked bread. A contented humming noise came from the back of her throat as she inhaled the delicious scent.

Breakfast sounded like a wonderful idea right now; maybe it'd help her stomach. It growled loudly as if in response. She put a hand over it and smiled sheepishly at Harry, who'd looked over his shoulder in confusion. "For a second there, I thought you'd brought Crookshanks with you." He snickered at her narrowed eyes.

The pair walked through a large sitting room towards the back of the house where there was a decent-sized kitchen. Ginny, like her mother, was a natural when it came to baking and cooking, and Harry had honed some of the skills forced on him in his childhood. More often than not there'd be fresh cookies or some other pastry to be snacked on sitting on the counters.

The sitting room they passed through was decorated with various Hogwarts and Quidditch memorabilia. It looked like a more personalized version of the Gryffindor common room, with comfy-looking red couches, a couple of wingback chairs, and bookshelves that held more knick-knacks than books.

Harry's old Hogwarts trunk served as the coffee table. The walls were home to many photos -both magical and not- of friends and family, and a few paintings here and there of beautiful scenery. A pair of broomsticks hung crossed above the stone mantle of the fireplace, where moving photos of Harry and Ginny's wedding day were displayed in beautiful hand-carved wooden frames.

Those were new; Hermione made a note to ask about them later. With Harry's back facing her she snickered at the new sight of a few more bite marks that peeked from just over the top of his pajama bottoms. They'd really got him all over, "My god, just what did they do to you?" She mumbled it to herself more than asked the question of Harry.

Harry looked over his shoulder, eyes still twinkling, he heard her. "You wanna know what they did to me?" He clucked his tongue, and shook his head slowly. "Poor choice of words 'Mione." he admonished her. The devilish grin that spread across his face was both attractive -there was no denying he'd filled out nicely- and, to her, reminiscent of days long since passed.

He pushed open the two-way swing door into the kitchen, attention still on her as he crossed the threshold. She could picture that same smile on a young Harry's face as they snuck around dark Hogwarts corridors. How far they'd come since then. He continued on before she could open her mouth to stop him. "Well, it all started when I went to pick them up-"

Harry could still quite clearly remember arriving outside the noisy Muggle club, where he'd quickly been man-handled by his wife. She and Luna had been waiting outside the club in the alley for him, making small-talk with Hermione's bouncer-friend by the doors. The brunette, however, had been nowhere in sight.

Drunk Ginny was a handsy Ginny, especially when it came to him. That he'd been expecting; the sex was pretty wicked after his wife had gone out with the girls. What he'd not been expecting was the small pale hand belonging to Luna expertly working at the belt on his trousers. Or Luna's explanation of Hermione's whereabouts - 'living the dream' she'd said- and the quick words whispered in his ear about how their plans had been altered, and had he ever been with two witches at once? Ginny had some intriguing ideas about the rest of their night.

Hermione entered the kitchen behind Harry in time to hear, "Harry James, if you finish that sentence, I'm hiding your broom," she paused, "or breaking it. Haven't decided yet." Ginny's groggy voice came slightly muffled from underneath a tangled curtain of red hair. The young Mrs. Potter was slumped forwards in her seat, head in her arms on the table, hiding as best she could from the light the streaming through her kitchen windows.

From what Hermione could tell, she was swimming in her husband's plush housecoat. His frame was so much larger than hers that Ginny looked draped in more soft blanket than robe. "Luna won't give me coffee," she whined. She didn't look up to greet her friend or husband, but revealed the rather large mug from under her arms, that had apparently so far remained empty.

"Ooh, a coffee would be fantastic right now." Hermione stretched her arms above her head, the soft pop of her shoulders was quite satisfying. Only after having the thought that her strapless dress might not have stayed in place, she swiftly glanced down to make sure it had.

Which it did, so far so good. No breasts at the breakfast table was a decent start. On the far side of the kitchen swaying side to side, humming to herself was the source of the mouth-watering smell of breakfast.

"It's Luna, Gin. She's got her reasons. You didn't question her last-" Harry was interrupted by having to catch a pepper shaker that had been haphazardly thrown in his direction by his wife. He grinned at her amused, smug about his reflexes. Hermione just shook her head, having given up long ago trying to understand their relationship.

Across the kitchen Luna stood barefoot in front of the stove-top, a spatula in one hand, her wand in the other. Her long hair was loose and swayed with her, while mostly covering her back, though her arms were bare. The frying pan before her was filled with thick strips of cooking bacon, a loaf of bread was rising in the oven by her shins.

To her right on the countertop was a large serving dish piled high with steaming french toast, a stasis charm shimmered overtop it in a small pale pink dome. Luna spun around at the sound of Hermione's voice, blonde hair catching the light from the nearby window.

"Hermione! Good morning!" The former-Ravenclaw was extremely cheery. Hermione's eyes widened, eyebrows raising. Luna was wearing what looked like a pair of Ginny's sweat-pants -the word Harpy in script up the side of one leg- as well as one of Ginny's aprons. A full one that looped around the neck, covered the chest and tied behind the waist.

Thank Merlin for that! As the apron was the only thing, other than the pilfered sweat-pants Luna seemed to be wearing right now. So much for no breasts at the breakfast table. "Sit down, you've had a long night! I put a cushion on your chair." The blonde offered her a bright smile, pointed at the table with the spatula then spun twice in a full circle, before attending to her cooking.

Hermione sighed good-naturedly, some things never change. "Thanks Luna." Looks like it was a good night all around. But the morning, well, that was still up for debate. Especially where Ginny was concerned. Hermione smiled weakly at her friend as she sat down across from Ginny at the table. "I told you, tequila is dangerous."

She was feeling the proof herself, as she set her clutch down beside her own empty mug and raised her hands to rub fingertips into her temples. Her head ached, the sun too bright, even the snap and crackle of the cooking bacon was grating. Thankful that she'd slept in, she was sure it would have been much worse earlier. This cushion was actually quite comfortable though.

"Shut up." was the muffled reply, paired with the slow movement of Ginny turning her wrist and raising her middle finger in Hermione's direction. "All your fault…" Her hand dropped back to the table with a small thump, and the redhead groaned as if in pain.

Harry looked at his grumpy wife lovingly, a smile on his face. "She was still sleeping when I called you." He explained to Hermione as he set the pepper shaker back down with the rest of the condiments, then sat at the table beside Ginny and started to rub her back in small soothing circles.

The wooden dining table was in the center of the kitchen, and had been set for the four of them; an empty mug, some cutlery and a plate sat in front each of their chairs. "I'm not surprised though; she must have worn herself out after last night. Great work-out." Harry was snickering again as he patted her on the head. Ginny was mumbling beneath her hair, something about murder, pain and coffee.

Hermione heard the word coffee again and perked up a little. "Coffee, please. And if anyone has a hangover potion, I'll love you forever." She was debating whether or not to lay her head down like Ginny had. Her headache was getting worse by the second.

She was hardly expecting Ginny to shoot up straight in her seat and proclaim loudly to the kitchen, "Why doesn't anyone have any hangover potion?!" A tiny almost-sob escaped her mouth before she put her head back down on her arms, groaning. "No more… Ever."

Harry resumed rubbing her back and looked over at Hermione with a sheepish smile.

"Uh yeah, we're kinda out. See... uh, well, Seamus, Ron and I-" He stammered a bit and Hermione held up her hand to stop him there.

"I'm nearly positive that I don't care." Hermione grabbed her mug and fiddled with the handle. Harry sighed, intelligently knowing now was not the time for this conversation or any conversation that had to do with Ron. "What I do want to know is this news you said Luna has. And when the apothecary opens, because my brain is trying to kill me." She said as she spun her mug around slowly on the table. "It's working…" she mumbled at the empty ceramic.

Luna walked over -a spring in her step- and set the serving dish of freshly cooked bacon and french toast in the middle of the table. As she bent over, Hermione got a startling view down the front of her apron. Her mouth snapped shut and she looked down quickly, averting her eyes.

Harry was still trying to comfort Ginny when Luna, instead of sitting down at the table with them, skipped out of the kitchen without a word, still humming whatever tune she was before as she pushed open the swinging door into the sitting room.

Harry and Hermione locked eyes and shared a shrug. Then he started to fill a plate for himself and his wife while Hermione began to pile bacon onto hers. As the door swung back and forth they heard the roar of the floo in the other room being activated, and Luna almost singing merrily into the green flames, "Longbottom Hall."

"How is she so cheery? She drank like a fish last night," Hermione murmured to no one in particular as she added french toast to her plate.

Moments later they heard Neville's voice. "Morning Harry, little earl- Luna?" the voice sounded surprised, "What are you doing at Har- you know what, I don't even want to know." He sighed; it sounded like the embers hissing in the fireplace.

Luna took everything in stride, "Good morning Neville! I hope your Tauven flowers are doing well. They need to be watered soon, if I remember right." She rocked back and forth on her heels, hands clasped behind her back, bright smile still fixed to her face. "As to the what, I'm making coffee actually."

Harry and Hermione had both stopped eating to listen in on the conversation taking place in the living room; the door had closed, so they almost had to strain to hear. Hermione was mostly listening because she heard the world coffee again. Harry was just curious. Ginny, however, was too hungover to care about much and just wanted the world to stop moving.

"I'm very sorry to have bothered you so early, and I promise I'll pay you later. My wallet is somewhere upstairs with my knickers. Unless it moved." She tapped her index finger on the tip of her nose, and looked curiously in the direction of the staircase as if it might hop down them. "But I'd like to purchase some of that hangover powder you've invented." She returned her attention to the face in the fire. "The vanilla one, please." She smiled serenely.

Stuttering came from the fireplace, "Wha- Luna, how did - how do you know about that?" he paused, "Never mind." There was another sigh, "Why, why do you even question her Neville?" the head in the emerald flames asked himself. "Give me a minute, Luna." He sounded slightly defeated.

Hermione looked at Harry, "Vanilla hangover powder? What?" The raven-haired man shrugged, his expression telling her he knew as much as she did. He chewed on a piece of bacon, a thoughtful look growing on his face.

"Dunno. It's Luna, though, right? And Neville invented it, so…" Suddenly a white-faced Ginny sat up from beside Harry and rushed out of the kitchen, her hands covering her mouth. "Uh oh…" Harry frowned at his wife's retreating figure. He threw a half-hearted glare Hermione's way. "Tequila, you said?" The brunette didn't reply, just grinned and ate some of her breakfast.

Luna walked back into the kitchen with a small fabric bag in her hand. She'd started humming again, though the tune had changed. "There's a list actually." She inserted herself into the conversation as if she'd never left the kitchen. "Tequila's hardly the beginning. Next time we should do it alphabetically." She danced her way across the kitchen towards the coffee maker, tossing the small bag between her hands. She pressed a few buttons on the Muggle machine. It quickly came to life and began the process of producing the much-needed caffeine.

She started recalling said list, "Goldschlager, rum, whiskey, schnapps, vodka, a few of those mixed drinks, I'm sure there were more. I know I had some brandy." She set the bag on the counter and began to braid a small section of her hair while she waited on the coffee to finish. "We did a lot of shots. Oh! And Hermione made a wonderful play on words about Gin and gin." She smiled at them over her shoulder, her wand sticking out from a side pocket of the pilfered sweat pants. There definitely weren't any knickers underneath.

Harry looked dumbfounded. "How in the hell was she still coherent when I picked you two up last night?" He looked over at the empty seat Ginny had previously been occupying, mouth hanging open slightly. "Now I'm surprised she didn't just pass out as soon as we got home…"

Hermione snorted into her bacon. "I'd thought that was going to happen, to be honest. Definitely proved me wrong." She waved her fork at Harry's torso, bringing back up all the dark red marks that covered a lot of him. "Or was that Luna?" she smirked, then looked in Luna's direction.

The blonde was bent over a little rummaging in the cutlery drawer, though she had her wand pointed at the now whirring and sparkling coffee maker. Had it always sparkled? Hermione shrugged off the half-thought, and concentrated instead on the delicious smell of coffee that wafted across the kitchen.

Harry answered her little jab despite the slight blush creeping up his cheeks. "Luna was busy." He shoveled a large forkful of french toast into his mouth. Hermione looked over at him quickly and snickered at first, then quickly grimaced in pain and held the side of her head.

Zig-zagging back over to the table, Luna came bearing a full carafe of steaming fresh coffee in one hand, the small bag and a tablespoon in the other.

The smell must have roused Ginny, because she came back through the swinging door just as Luna started spooning some of the powder into the mug beside Ginny's plate. "Feeling better?" she asked the redhead. She added in Harry's direction, "I may have accidentally charmed your coffee maker. If it starts singing around four pm, please let me know." She smiled, and Harry just shook his head amused.

Ginny switched out Harry's houserobe for some shorts and a tank top. She sat back down and was giving her mug an excited look, near bouncing in anticipation as Luna poured coffee into her waiting mug. "Yes, coffee, oh sweet merciful Merlin, thank you. Coffee." She looked better than she had before; the color had returned to her face. She must have felt better, too, now that she was mostly dressed instead of draped in the large robe, which only made Hermione wonder if she had been wearing anything at all underneath it before.

Luna shook her hips in time with the clinking of the spoon on the mug as she stirred in the powder, humming her small tune. Once Luna had finished and moved on, the redhead's hands instantly wrapped around the steaming mug.

Hermione was doing her best to pay attention to her breakfast rather than the drape of Luna's apron. Why did that woman have to be so well endowed and shameless! The song she was humming was sparking memories from the previous night. A blush rose up her cheeks, better acquainted indeed.

Luna did the same for both Hermione's mug and her own, spooning in the powder and then filling it with coffee. "First mug, no sugar, cream or milk. It'll discombobulate the powder," she advised and looked pointedly at Ginny, who'd reached for the sugar bowl. Pouring Harry's last and withholding the powder from his, Luna then spun around once more to put the carafe back.

Hermione let out a small relieved sigh under her breath as Luna's body moved away. She really needed to put a shirt on. It was distracting, all that pale skin and blonde hair. It made her mind travel, not that she really needed any more help. Her overactive imagination and stellar memory -despite the alcohol- were doing that just fine. Especially if Luna kept on humming songs that'd been playing last night at the club.

Harry, who hadn't indulged last night was free to put whatever he wanted into his coffee. He grinned smugly at Ginny as he spooned sugar slowly into his steaming mug. He knew all too well that she liked some coffee with her sugar, and Luna's prescription was no doubt messing with her morning ritual. Across the table he watched Hermione groan in delight the moment her mug reached her lips.

Ginny glared over her left shoulder at Harry and growled, "I will make you eat the whole damn bowl, Potter. Spoon, too." Her mood instantly changed in a reaction similar to Hermione's when she took her first sip. Now Ginny wasn't paying any attention to her husband; she had eyes only for the vanilla-flavored coffee that would hopefully make her feel better. It smelled fine, tasted fine. Trust in Luna, right?

Harry was chuckling at them both through a mouthful of bacon. "So hang over powder? Is it working yet?" He looked from his wife, who was petting the side of her mug affectionately as she sipped from it, to Hermione, who had yet to stop drinking from hers.

Luna sat down on Hermione's right across from Harry, still looking as though she didn't need any herself. Hermione was nodding slowly in answer to Harry as she drank. The humming sound she made was a distinct yes. "What does it taste like?" He asked with a curious tone.

Luna began using her fork to cut up her french toast, then speared it with her knife before eating it. Harry watched her for a moment, fascinated, before returning his attention to Hermione.

She finally stopped and licked her lips before replying, "Like a vanilla cappuccino that's making my headache just melt away." Hermione sighed happily as she set down her nearly empty mug beside her plate. "Thank you very much, Luna. Definitely needed that." She turned to smile at the blonde next to her, who was maneuvering a piece of french toast into her mouth via knife.

Luna's lips upturned in a grin as she chewed and swallowed. "Speaking of getting what you needed, did you bite him like I asked?" Hermione's brows rose high, startled at the question. Ginny grinned toothily across the table at her friends, and Harry spluttered into his coffee.

"I need to know; it's important to me that you bit him." She looked Hermione dead in the eyes, utterly serious. Her knife and fork hovered over her plate, waiting. With a red tinged face Hermione stuck her tongue out childishly at her and quickly looked away. Luna grinned. "I'll take that as a yes." She resumed eating her breakfast.

Ginny spared a quick glance for her husband before her eyes returned to Hermione. "Blondie, right?" she sounded uncertain. "Didn't I yell something about ass?" She looked down at her bacon like it might have the answer. "I think it was Blondie. Or did I call you Blondie?" she mused, gaze flicking for a second over at Luna. Trying to remember details wasn't as easy for her.

Harry raised a brow. "Blondie?" His tone immediately took on a teasing lilt. "Hermione Granger, did you go home with a blond man last night?" He grinned across the table at the now glowering brunette. "Was he cute? Oooh did he have muscles?" Harry asked in a high pitched voice, elbows on the table, hands under his chin batting his lashes at her.

A small square of french toast bounced off his forehead, causing Ginny to snicker. "I'll thank you not to tease me, Mister three-way-with-my-wife-and-one-of-her-best-friends!" Hermione huffed out in a rush before picking her coffee back up to finish it, clearly done with that conversation.

Ginny put down her fork with a clang, laughing at her friend. "Oh Mione! You make it sound like you're put out about not being included!" She threw her head back and laughed harder.

Luna swallowed her bite, "If we're looking for special occasions I think Hermione's birthday is next. September, right?" She smiled at the brunette as though she'd been helpful.

Hermione's face took on a very pink-like quality, and she was almost sure she was blushing head to toe. "I think I'm quite alright. Thank-you," she squeaked into her coffee mug, trying to hide her face from the table. She knew Ginny was joking, but Luna was more than serious in the offer.

The blonde piped up over Ginny's tapering giggles, "You bit him, yes?" At Hermione's nod, Luna continued her query, "So, what does he taste like?" Hermione tilted her head to actually give it some thought, but Luna continued, "I've always been under the impression he'd be a bit minty." Harry started chuckling again. "But as you've had actual first-hand experience, I concluded you'd be the best to ask." She looked thoughtful for a split second. "Also no one else I've asked will tell me," she finished with a bright smile.

It took seconds for Hermione's mind to process the new information, but it certainly felt like an eternity. "Wait-what?" She blinked once, twice. "Luna, are you saying you know who he is?!" she asked desperately, trying her best not to externally freak out if the answer was yes. 'If Luna knows him, then he's NOT a Muggle!'

Harry was watching her reaction. Her eyes widening, posture straightening. The little manic look she got when she was about to bolt or start demanding things at wand-point.

'That must mean he knew who I was! He knew exactly what he was doing! What have I done? Oh Godric, what if he was a reporter?! Please, please let this not get to the Prophet… I can see the headlines now! What if there are pictures?!' On the outside Hermione was sitting stiffly in her chair, both hands clasped tightly around the handle of her fork. She looked like she'd just been told her entire career was in ruins.

Chin still resting on his hand, Harry kept his gaze on Hermione, an amused smile on his face. "I can hear you thinking from over here, 'Mione." He smiled calmly at her, years of practice with similar situations helping him. "I'm sure everything is fine. Nothing is going to happen. You can stop strangling the cutlery now." He reached across the table and grabbed her empty mug. "I'll get you more coffee. You," he pointed at her as got up from his seat, "calm your shit." Ginny was looking at him adoringly while he handled the well-known over-thinking of their friend.

Ginny turned to Luna, who'd resumed eating her breakfast in her unusual way, though it was obvious she was still waiting for Hermione's answer. Ginny intended to find out who this mystery man was, "So-" but she was cut off by Hermione's phone beeping loudly from inside the clutch purse beside her plate. This particular beep indicating she'd received a text message from an unknown sender. "Bloody hell, that's loud as fuck," Ginny commented blandly, eyes locked onto the clutch as if she could will away the sound.

Hermione jumped in her seat, startled out of her daze, and hurriedly started to scour through the depths of the small charmed bag for her phone. Just dumping it out on the table, would be disastrous. "Sorry! Sorry! I had it on really loud so I could hear it while we were at the club!" She spoke loudly over the beeping, which was only increasing in volume.

Harry winced as he finished pouring coffee into Hermione's mug, the beeping obviously starting to get to him. Luna continued to eat her breakfast as if nothing had happened at all, but her lips were quirked in a smile, and her blue eyes twinkled with barely restrained delight.

When Draco stumbled from his bedroom dressed in jeans and a navy blue t-shirt, he was met with rock music coming from his kitchen. He figured Pansy must have turned on the stereo that sat on the counter top. His penthouse had an open-floor concept, so when he entered the living room, he could see Pansy in the kitchen, opening various drawers and then closing them as she looked for something.

"Cutlery's in the top drawer to your right, Pans." He spoke flatly. The bright light coming from the floor to ceiling windows was killing him. Stupid fucking sun. "What are you doing, anyways?" He shuffled through the living room, and sat down none too gently on one of the stools at the island in the middle of his kitchen, his hand instantly reaching for the large take-away coffee that'd been bought for him. Pansy's was beside her purse on the island top near the seat next to his.

She found the drawer and pulled out two pairs of knives and forks. "Well, since I happened to notice you have a hangover, I can only assume you're out of hangover potion again." She threw him an annoyed look over her shoulder. This occurred more often than it should in her opinion.

He had the decency to look slightly sheepish but started to defend himself. "I've only been home for-"

She cut him off and continued, "So, going out for brunch seemed like a bad idea. What with you looking like complete shit and all." Putting the cutlery down on the island, she waved her hand at his pale complexion and still damp hair with a teasing grin. "Being the kind-hearted and loving friend that I am," Draco started to snicker, but she continued, "I graciously decided to make you breakfast, you twat." She began looking through cupboards for plates but found only more food and glassware. She spun back around and glared at him. "Why did you move everything! I can't find a damn thing now!"

He grinned and drank deeply from his coffee prolonging his answer. "I felt I needed the change," he said imperiously, then smirked at her. "I also knew it'd piss you off. You were here more than your own place; admit it." He chuckled into his coffee before taking another sip. "Speaking of hangover potion, I'll buy you a new pair of shoes if you have any on you right now."

She flicked her wand at the oven; it opened, and a full muffin tin floated out and landed on heating pads on the counter. "Deal." She levitated the food from the pan onto a serving platter. She picked up the plates and set them down on the island, one in front of Draco the other to his immediate left for herself. Grabbing her coffee and taking a sip, she flicked her wand again, and the platter floated from the counter to the island and set itself down in front of them.

Pansy sat on the stool beside Draco, who simply tilted his head and was looking at 'breakfast' with a curious expression, as if he couldn't quite figure out what it was. She rolled her eyes, "It's scrambled eggs wrapped in bacon with cheese on top. Now shut up and eat it, or you're still buying me shoes for cooking for you and you'll just have to find your own potion." She set down her wand and coffee, picked up her fork and put three of the egg muffins on her plate.

It was then he noticed the new pile of dishes in his kitchen sink. Draco sighed and muttered a terse thank you, before he started eating. He wasn't surprised that it was good; Pansy wasn't a fantastic cook, but it surely beat anything he could make.

He reminded himself to grab his own wand from where it had rolled underneath the couch. The two of them ate and sat in the comfortable silence of two people who have known each other a long time. The rock music Pansy had put on played in the background, he had the absent thought that Muggle music was incredibly better, or at least more diverse. His world sorely needed an update in that respect.

He was paying attention to unwrapping a strip of bacon from around the little egg muffin when Pansy gently nudged his shoulder with hers. "I missed you, you fucking prat." She said softly, staring straight ahead, refusing to look at him, and then slowly leaned her head down onto his shoulder while he chewed.

He leaned his head on top of hers staring at the same spot on the wall, just below his kitchen cabinets, a small and surprised smile on his face. "Missed you too, you utter bitch." Then he sat back up and grabbed his coffee, and she did the same.

Finishing off the last bite on her plate, Pansy pushed it forward and rested her elbows on the island top. She regarded Draco for a few seconds before she pulled a slender turquoise bottle from inside her purse. She set it on the island top as if to tease him, then slid it towards him.

He greedily took it, tore out the stopper, and hastily gulped down its entire contents. Once he'd swallowed he could feel it; his headache was gone, the roiling in his gut gone. Even the small aches and stiffness he hadn't realized he had were gone. He wiped his mouth with a napkin from a holder on the island. It was visibly apparent just how much better he felt.

She smiled happily at him. "Now," she drank some more off her coffee, "you have two minutes to tell me exactly what the fuck happened last night, or so help me Salazar, I will hand deliver this to Theo myself." She pulled the note Hermione had written and left him out from underneath her purse, and waved it at him.

He gaped at her open-mouthed. He could have sworn that was still on his nightstand when he'd left his bedroom! "You have no reason to- why would you- Theo doesn't- he knows that I- you wouldn't dare!" He nearly resembled a small child about to throw a tantrum, which was amusing coming from a man of his height and stature.

She grinned deviously. "What? Wouldn't dare give dear our Theodore proof that you've slept with the woman he's had goo-goo eyes for since the Yule Ball in fourth year? Or the woman he's been working so closely with for the last year and a half?"

Draco shot her a glare, went to retort, then changed tack. "Wait, Granger's in politics?" That didn't seem like her. When did that happen? He couldn't have been gone that long.

She sighed, "You're such a moron, Draco. Really, do you not read anything other than those damn rune books?" She rolled her eyes again. "Granger's the Junior-Head of the International Magical Office of Law." His reaction was less than she'd hoped, so she continued, "You know, the advisers to the Minister and the Wizengamot, answers to the International Confederation of Wizards - they govern the fucking DMLE!"

The look she gave him only lasted a second, but she was clearly exasperated as recognition finally dawned on him. "I'm surprised you didn't know; it was international news when she was appointed." She looked at her manicure.

Her right ring fingernail was starting to chip, she'd need to get it fixed. "Or perhaps you were too busy with whatever you were doing, traipsing about looking for broken statues. In the fucking jungle, of all places." She added as an afterthought, "How are you not tanned to hell? Or burnt?"

Draco groaned and rested his forehead beside his plate on the countertop. The cool touch of polished stone helping ease his growing irritation and, possibly, the disbelief (or was it denial) that so much had changed in his absence.

His voice was slightly muffled when he spoke. "I went to other places after the jungle. Would you please get to the point, Pans?" He sat up, sounding bored. "I'm getting old here. The fuck does this have to do with Theo? He doesn't even have a job." She had to be pulling his leg; there was no way Granger had risen that high up so quickly though they did call her the Brightest Witch of this Age…

"Well, when you up and vanish to Brazil for three years - yes Draco, I know more than just jungle. One of us actually talks to your mother." She smirked at his flabbergasted expression, "Anyways, after weeks of working together on some special project -he does actually have a job- Theo and Granger started getting cozy in the workplace." she grimaced.

"First name basis, lunch dates. He even gave her flowers on Valentine's day." She didn't see or perhaps ignored how uncomfortable Draco started to look. Maybe feeling he deserved some of it for just up and leaving the country without a word.

She continued, "'Work friends' he says. Ha! Poor sod's fallen for her, I think. It's like one of those gaudy Kestral Wynne romance novels Blaise loves so much." She snickered to herself. "And you," she tossed a crumpled up napkin at him; it bounced off his shoulder and rolled away on the floor. "You were nowhere to be found, no owl could reach you, no house elf, no nothing. For years! If it wasn't for your mum, I'd have thought you died somewhere."

She narrowed her eyes when he started making cutesy 'awwww' noises at her. "So, naturally Theo is under the assumption she's- what did you guys call it back at Hogwarts?" She tapped her finger on her painted bottom lip, "Ah, yes, fair game."

Draco snorted into what was left of his breakfast; a bit of remaining egg flew off his plate and hit the side of his take-out coffee. "Yes, because Theo is looking to settle down with some quill-pusher. War heroine or not." He shook his head in denial. "You know how he is just as well as I do. Different witch every other week. Sometimes two at a time."

He waved off Pansy's touting of Hermione's career. "Besides, whatever position Granger has now, it's probably just for Ministry publicity. She's a figurehead puppet at best, I assure you. She's smart yeah, I'll give her that. But she's not some genius fear-inspiring lawmaker. She's only twenty-four, for Merlin's sake."

He relaxed in the thought that Granger wasn't Theo's usual sort of woman. She didn't seem the type to sleep around. He conveniently ignored that he himself was proof that she, in fact, did. "She was always too goody-goody for Theo's tastes anyways. Sweet and innocent." But then his mind supplied just how ferally they had come together last night, and his doubts grew harder to ignore.

Pansy glowered at him. "Sweet? Not that she was ever sweet, but do you even comprehend the type of woman she is? You've been gone for over three years Draco, three!" Her voice rising with her words, "A lot can happen in that span of time. People change! She's not some quill-pusher, or a puppet either. Have you listened to a damn word I've said?!" Pansy started to fiddle with the end of her braid as she took a calming breath, "She's definitely not the same little girl we used to torment at Hogwarts."

Pansy, for once in her life, looked serious. "She's got power you idiot, and she's ruthless. She's a political darling, with contacts everywhere. If you run, she can find you. Anywhere you hide, she can find you. Anywhere in the world! Maybe other dimensions and planes, who knows. Granger's always been a bit, let's go with curious…" She looked like she was close to grabbing his shoulders and shaking him.

"So why, why on this damned rock did you think screwing the bushy-haired brunette hours after you come back to Britain was any sort of a good fucking idea?!" She was breathing heavily, glaring at him and his stupid face. She quickly finished the last of her coffee to stop herself from more ranting.

Draco was looking pointedly at the remnants of the breakfast she'd made him. "I didn't know it was her." He narrowed his eyes, glaring at the plate as if it was at fault, irritated that she was making him tell her this. She'd find out somehow anyways, better now than later through gossip. "I thought she was a Muggle," he muttered, fully anticipating the uproarious laughter that spilled forth from Pansy.

The raven-haired young woman was actually holding her stomach as she laughed. "Oh! This just keeps getting better!" She tried to taper off her laughing by biting her lip, but failed when Draco then explained that he was almost sure Hermione hadn't known it was him either.

"I need to write this down!" she shrieked. "This is gold, Draco! Blaise would give his left nut to be here right now!" Her laughter finally abated due more to her need to breath properly than Draco's glare. She patted his cheek condescendingly.

He swatted her hand away and flicked some egg at her from his plate. "Shut your face. You're not being helpful. Blaise would be on the floor swooning, and begging for details." He sighed and finished his coffee, biting the proverbial hex, "What the fuck do I do?"

Out of all of his closest friends, Pansy was the only female. One of his very first friends in fact. She knew him the best. Hell, he was pretty sure that Pansy knew about his crush on Granger, before Draco knew himself. She was brash, loud, confident, and honest to the point of brutality. She'd still know more about these matters than Theo and Blaise would. Maybe not Blaise.

Pansy gave him a cheeky grin, "Cheer from the rooftops? Steal one of those new Time-Turners and tell thirteen year old Draco it does get better. I don't know, maybe you could," she gasped and put a hand to her chest, "you could call her! Or text her! You can thank Hermione for that one by the way, all the Muggle technology that's been introduced."

Draco got up from the island during her tirade and bent down to look for his wand. He was pretty sure it had rolled underneath the couch. He tried to ignore her, not that it had ever worked before.

"It does say 'fantastic time' on this. Must have made a good impression." Pansy held the note open in front of her as if for reference. "And she wants to see you again, that's a good sign right? Guess you didn't fuck up too bad, not telling her your name and all." She started snickering again. "Blondie."

Standing in the middle of his living room Draco pinched the bridge of his nose. If only he had his wand right now. "Pansy, you have to be one of the most confusing people I've ever had the pleasure of knowing, and I met Xenophilius Lovegood in the Amazon."

His facial expression was enough to tell her that was going to be another entertaining story. "So perhaps you could make up your bloody mind on whether my sleeping with Granger was a good idea or not." He looked slightly irritated as he straightened back up. His wand hadn't been there.

She sighed. "Okay, look, I'm not saying it was a bad idea, kind of hilarious now that I know you didn't know it was her." She smirked, then returned to serious, "but think of it this way, this happens so soon after you return to Britain, after being gone for three, almost four years. Just poof, gone. Merlin knows where!"

He shot her a look. "Of course, some of us know better," she continued, "but the reporters definitely don't. And Granger left Weasley -quite publically might I add- it was beautiful!" Her lips upturned in a grin when she noticed how pleased he looked at that bit of information. "But, it was almost three weeks on the dot after you vanished that she did it."

Pansy toyed with her empty cup. "For a little while there were even some rumours going around that one day Granger would just be gone, too. No doubt to meet up with the missing Malfoy heir. I'm pretty sure Weasley had a hand in those." Draco stopped dead in his wand-search. "Skeeter went wild with that. I guess you two have a lot of 'repressed sexual tension' that's been noticed." She shot him a smirk, "her words, not mine."

His gaze flitted about the floor, looking for his wand. "Yes, because you haven't said anything remotely similar." He deadpanned. "It'll be fine. No one else knows." He waved it off. "We met in a Muggle dance club, and she said she was…" He stopped looking, "out with friends. I saw her talking to them. Holy fuck." Draco sat down on the floor of his living room, utterly stunned at his realization. "That was Loony Lovegood and Potter's wife. Apparently I have a nice ass." His mouth hung open a bit and he blinked in confusion. How hadn't he put that together?

Pansy's eyebrows shot up into her hairline, and she was biting her bottom lip to keep from laughing again. Draco could hear her stifling her giggles though, and he turned his head slowly to look at her, "Go ahead, Pans." He looked shocked, eyes wide. What he was feeling was similar to the out-of-body experience he'd had whilst originally reading the note, just significantly less.

Louder than before, Pansy's sweet-sounding laughter echoed through the penthouse. Draco remained seated on the floor, still looking around slowly for his wand, while Pansy laughed and then once again subsided. "Draco, thank you, just thank you. This has been the best morning I've had in a long time!"

He found the crumpled up napkin she'd thrown at him earlier and tossed it back, hitting her in the nose. It didn't even phase her as she snickered at him from her stool at the island. "Try over by the arm chair." She pointed in its direction, a helpful smile on her face.

He nodded, got up from the floor, and slowly made his way towards the chair, looking everywhere as he went. Once Draco's back was turned, Pansy quickly grabbed her wand off the island top and muttered a quiet, "Accio cell phone."

Luckily Draco stayed with his back turned to her and was looking in the opposite direction of the hallway, when his phone came soaring through the air from his bedroom. She snatched it mid-flight, nearly fumbling it before getting a good grip.

She hastily shoved the phone under her purse when Draco turned back around, "Nope. I'll be right back, just gonna see if I left it in my room." He muttered something about drunken wandless magic as he left the kitchen/living room.

She knew for certain his wand was under his still-discarded pants in the middle of the floor. Which he'd so far left alone. She'd checked earlier while making breakfast.

A sneaky little smile crossed Pansy's face as she pulled Draco's phone out from underneath her purse. Making it through the passcode easily enough, she quickly sent off a text to the number written on the note. She hadn't noticed she was cackling under her breath as she hit send.

Or that it was loud enough for Draco -who had come back into the kitchen- to hear. He quickly noticed his cell phone in her hands. The thing was stupidly expensive. Some wizard in Dubai had figured out how to make them work with magic; he could call a Floo if he wanted.

"Pansy Francesca Alora Parkinson!" he thundered. "The fuck are you doing?!" He quickly snatched his phone from her grasp, looming over her at this unequal height.

She grinned triumphantly up at him from her stool. "You can tower over, and fail to intimidate me all you like, Dragon; I still can and will make you cry like a toddler without his stuffie." If there was one thing she'd never be afraid of, it was Draco. She could vividly remember what he looked like covered in pudding, being scolded by his mum. It had always been so much fun getting him into trouble.

"What did you DO Pansy!" He demanded, gripping his phone tightly with both hands. He held it to his chest as if to protect it from her, and glared at his oldest friend.

She half-shrugged with practiced nonchalance, "I simply did what I knew you'd be too griffin-shit to do." Pansy pointed at the cell phone in his hands. "I asked your dear Princess for a second date."

"I hate you."