Chapter Seventeen

And Curse the Moon So Dull and Bright

The world froze. For some reason, Draco's eyes locked on the grandfather clock across the room, just behind Pansy's slightly hunched figure: she had thrown her head into her hands and was sobbing silently into her sleeves, her shoulders shaking uncontrollably. Time ticked on, each beat of Draco's internal clock pounding against his skull. He'd realized he'd gone rigid even before the last of Pansy's words hit the floor.

I'm pregnant.

No.

He was sure that it couldn't be so. He checked her face for any indication; he didn't know what he was hoping for...maybe a sign that she was lying, or a twitch of the mouth before she broke into a smile and told him that she was joking...something, anything.

Nothing. She only stared at him, her eyes wide and fearful. She looked frail against the backdrop of the impressive size of the manor's parlor. Draco felt his knees go weak underneath his weight, and it was with what seemed to be great difficulty that he stepped backwards and collapsed onto the leather couch behind him.

"You..." Draco cleared his throat. "You...er, what?" he finished lamely. It was, after all, quite possible that he had misheard her...

Pansy lowered the sleeve of her robes from her face just enough to let one mournful black eye peek out from behind the fabric. "I'm pregnant, Draco," she whispered. Draco knew what she was going to say next before the words even left her lips: "It's yours."

He swallowed. "You mean...that night?" This could not be true.

Pansy nodded, her eyes shifting downward. "I...I went to St. Mungo's. Just to see if I really was...I mean...it's a girl, by the way. Draco—"

At this, Draco's heart lifted a little. He took his eyes off the clock and glanced at her with renewed interest. "A girl?" Maybe this was all a mistake then. He almost felt like laughing from relief. "But Pansy, that's impossible. There hasn't been a girl in the Malfoy line for centuries."

Pansy looked blankly back at him. She blinked.

"Malfoys always have sons." Draco exhaled deeply and grinned, sure that all his problems had been solved by that one simple fact. "That's simply the way it is."

Pansy pursed her lips indignantly and sputtered, "That's...that stupid." She bit her lip and stood up a little straighter. When she spoke again, her voice was stronger, firmer. "She's yours. Who else's would it be?"

At this, Draco could barely hold back a sarcastic snicker. "Do you really expect me to answer that question, Pansy?"

"Draco." Pansy met his eyes again – was that the faint glimmer of tears in the corners of her eyes? "Draco, why would I lie to you about this? I...I know you hate me; I know you don't want me. I just...my father will kick me out if he hears...I've nowhere to go."

"It can't be mine," said Draco firmly. "It was just the one time, and I don't even remember—"

"Just accept it!" Pansy burst out shrilly. She immediately hesitated, looking slightly shocked by her own outburst, but she quickly recovered. "I'm sorry," she said quickly, her voice quiet and apologetic. "This has been so hard on me. Please, Draco, trust me, it's yours. I didn't come here to argue with you—"

"Then why did you come?"

"I..." Pansy sighed. "Draco, our little girl needs a father."

Everything froze, though Draco supposed he had expected this, and wasn't sure what he'd hoped to gain by asking. The future he had let himself dream of, a future with Hermione, however foggy that future may have been…it disappeared.

A long silence passed between them.

"Pansy," croaked Draco finally, "please. Just…just let me be with her."

"But you're the father," she pouted.

"I know, but—"

"I'll tell," she said, her voice still soft, moving closer. "I'll tell Granger what you've done. She deserves to know. She won't want you anyway."

"No! Look, fine, just…just let me tell her on my own, alright?" Draco hated that he was begging. He couldn't believe this was happening. The helplessness he felt rivaled how he had felt during the war, how he had felt when his mother died…he could not bear it….

"Just give me some more time to be with her," he pleaded. "Can't I just give you gold, or something? I'll pay my part, I swear, I just…I care about Hermione…"

Pansy's nose was so high in the air Draco thought that she might fall backwards. "You think I'm that kind of girl?" she asked haughtily. "You think you can just throw some money at me and I'll go away, after what you've done?" She brought her hand up to her face and fanned herself dramatically. "I want our daughter to have a good life. A mother and father. That's all."

"But I can't—"

"YOU CAN!" Pansy almost shrieked, and Draco looked around frantically in fear that his father had heard, but he heard no footsteps down the hall. "You're so selfish!"

Draco said nothing to this accusation. Part of him agreed. If Hermione hadn't been in the picture, he'd know his fate without question. But being with her, being, quite possibly, in love with her – it made him believe in something more. That he might deserve more than a stiff, loveless relationship with Pansy, something built on material and lustful desires, held aloft by lies and manipulation.

But maybe he didn't.

He thought for a long, long time.

Pansy's sickly sweet voice suddenly broke him from his thoughts. "Let's decide on a name, Drakie," Pansy gushed. "Won't that be fun, love? I was thinking something like Marigold."

"That's a stupid name," Draco said automatically, massaging his temples with his fingers.

"It's a flower name," Pansy pouted, her syrupy tone dissolving faster than dried newt's blood in a boiling cauldron. "I'm named after a flower."

"Exactly."

"Well, what is that supposed to mean?" Pansy screeched. Her eyes were wild. She crossed her arms over her chest, and as she adjusted the positioning of her arms several times, Draco wondered if she was deliberately trying to make her breasts look larger. It was all Draco could do to keep from hurling his lunch all over her.

"All Malfoys are named for stars," he explained, surprisingly calm. "Most of them, anyway. So are the Blacks for that matter, save for my mother. She's named after a flower, too, but at least narcissuses are relatively good-looking. We've got a bunch of them outside lining the manor and dispersed around the grounds."

"What are you trying to say?" hissed Pansy.

Draco raised his eyebrows in her direction. "We don't have any pansies in the yard."

The young witch looked as if she were seconds away from strangling Draco. Her slender fingers twitched dangerously, but Draco didn't seem to care.

"Too common," he continued. He knew he was being terrible, but it was all he could do.

"Fuck you," Pansy shot back. She stuck out her lower lip and sighed pitifully.

"A star name, then," said Draco wearily. "What'll it be? I don't care what we name this child, so you get to pick a name."

Pansy scoffed and brushed her hair off her shoulder. "Please, Draco. I don't know any stars."

"We must have studied hundreds in Astronomy."

"Fine, so now I'm stupid?" indicted Pansy, angry tears welling in her eyes. They began to roll down her cheeks in hot streams. She brushed them away. "Well alright then, you got an outstanding O.W.L. in your bloody Astronomy exam, why don't you name our daughter!"

"Chara," said Draco without thinking. He felt guilty giving a name, but it just slipped out.

"Okay," said Pansy softly. "C-A-R-A?"

"There's an 'H'," muttered Draco in annoyance. "C-H-A-R-A. Chara."

"Okay," said Pansy again. "So…how shall we do this? Shall I move in?"

Draco looked at her incredulously. "No," he said. "I haven't decided…I mean, I'm not ready to—" He sighed. He knew that however much he might hate Pansy, and dreaded a future with her, he did not want this baby to be alone with her. "So you're about a month along then?"

"Yes."

"Look, Pansy, if you care about me – and it doesn't matter to me if you do or not, but if you do, I'm begging you….please just give me some time. To—to tell Hermione." He could not look at her, but from the corner of his eye he saw Pansy shifting uncomfortably.

"I'll set you up with everything you need," Draco promised quickly. "Gold for hospital visits, pre-natal draughts, whatever you want. But I need to tell her on my own."

Slowly, with a look of disappointment on her face, Pansy nodded.

"Good," said Draco softly. "Good. Thank you. Now, please leave, Pansy," said Draco, rubbing his temples. "Please. Promise me you'll leave me alone…until the baby's born. Until then I want nothing to do with you. I mean, I can't. I'll ask Theo to help you to and from hospital visits – we can figure out how to deal with this when it's closer to the date…."

"You can't run from me forever, Draco," she whispered sadly. "One day you'll see that I really do love you."

"Please get out," he repeated, trying to keep his tone cordial. She walked out the door, her hands on her stomach. Draco was so angry with both her and himself that it didn't even occur to him that her stomach stuck out far too much for a girl who had supposedly only been pregnant for one month.

Pansy hurried out of the forest and towards Nott Mansion. She felt the whole world was squeezing in at the sides, crushing her. Her plan was working, it seemed, fueled by Draco's guilt about leaving a child parentless, but not quite foolproof just yet.

When Fibby let her in, Theo was already sitting on a slim bench by the door, putting on his shoes.

"Where are you going?" Pansy asked in an accusing tone.

"Draco's," Theo said simply. "He owled. Said it was important."

"Oh," said Pansy. "Did he say why?"

Theo made a big show of putting on his left shoe and slamming his foot down. He rested his hands on his knees and with a big sigh, lifted his head up to look her in the eyes.

"Well," he said impatiently, "I reckon it has something to do with the fact that you told him he's the father of whatever you have brewing in there"—he gestured in the general direction of her belly—"and he has nowhere to turn. Poor bloke." Theo looked thoughtful for a moment, then shook his head and started on his right shoe.

"Would it be so bad, being with me?" Pansy wondered.

Theo, though he very much disliked Pansy, tried to make his face look kind. "Pansy," he explained, "We got along at Hogwarts. You're not a terrible person. But…you do terrible things. You're lying to someone so that you can be with them. How can you build something on that?"

"You lie to your girlfriend every day," Pansy retorted, and felt very proud of herself for the quick argument. "You lie to her every day when you cheat on her. You're lying to Draco about not being the real father of my child. He's lying to Granger that he didn't spend a night with me…oh, wipe that look off your face, he doesn't know we didn't do anything…."

But Theodore Nott suddenly looked very thoughtful. Too thoughtful, and a little guilty, and Pansy didn't like it.

"How are you getting to the Malfoys', anyway?" Pansy asked. She stole a quick glance out the window; she knew Theo couldn't Apparate, and that Draco would sometimes pick him up.

"Oh, I reckon I'll fly today," answered Theo, but his eyes were on the floor and he seemed deep in thought. His frown was growing deeper by the second. "I guess I'll go get my broom…."

Pansy seized her chance when his back was turned and he had started walking out of the foyer. She had never been particularly quick or bright in school, but she was surprised to find that when her future depended on it, she drew her want quickly and silently and with perfect aim, shot a Memory Charm Theodore's way….

"Obliviate."

Theo stumbled a bit while walking, then stopped. After a long pause, he turned around.

"Pansy!" he said rather brightly, his face marked with happy confusion. "What a nice surprise…did you just get here?"

"Yes," said Pansy quickly. "I don't know if you've heard, but Draco and I…"

"Oh yes," said Theo. "Draco just owled and said he had some news…I should really get going…I don't suppose you'd like to come?"

Pansy shook her head fiercely. "The news is about me, Theo," she explained quickly. "We—I'm pregnant, Theo. It's his baby." She hoped with all of her might that she had executed her memory charm flawlessly, that she had not wiped too much or too little.

With great relief, she saw Theo's eyes bulge ever so slightly, and he swept hurriedly from the hall to fetch his broomstick.

Draco's mind was positively reeling.

As he paced back and forth in his bedroom, he realized he had been impossibly stupid to think that he could escape the life his father had chiseled out for him, that his mistakes would never catch up to him, that he might have deserved true happiness.

He felt like he was swimming in thoughts, and as he clutched the sides of his dresser so tightly his knuckles grew white, he thought back to his sixth year at Hogwarts, how he had felt so alone, sobbing in the bathroom with Moaning Myrtle as the weight of an impossible task loomed above him…

He felt the same now. He knew he had two options. He could raise this child with Pansy, a woman he did not love, and whom he was almost sure did not truly love him but rather the idea of him. Or he could abandon his child and Pansy, do the selfish thing and stay with Hermione, who surely would leave him when she discovered that he had abandoned a daughter who needed him desperately.

There was a quiet knock on his bedroom door, and Theo entered, looking grim.

"Hey, mate," he said. "I just saw Pansy. She—she told me about…" He trailed off, looking awkward.

"Yeah," Draco muttered.

Theo sat down on Draco's bed; Draco was still standing in front of his heavy oak dresser, and in the mirror he could see Theo sitting him, his mousy face lined with pity. Draco had no intention of turning around; it was a lot easier talking to his reflection than to his face.

"What are you going to do?" Theo asked.

Draco was silent for a while.

"I reckon…" Draco started this sentence several times, but was afraid to finish it for fear it would set his future in stone. "I reckon…I'll have to be there for the baby, won't I?"

"It would be the right thing to do, I suppose."

"If the baby's mine, that is." Draco felt bitterness spreading throughout his body.

"Yeah…" Theo looked hopeful. "Good point. It might not even be yours."

"You sleep around all the time," said Draco, and he recognized the accusatory tone in his own voice. "How come you've never had this problem before? Just my bad luck?"

Theo looked confused for a moment, then said, "You know, you're right. I've been thinking…I'm thinking it's time to change my ways. Sophie deserves better." He looked guilty for a moment, then said, "But let's not talk about me. Are you going to marry her, then?"

Draco gave a noncommittal jerk of the head. "I don't know how I'm going to tell Hermione."

"Granger?" asked Theo. "Oh. Right."

"I know you don't get it," said Draco testily, "but she's the only person I've really got to talk to about—about anything! About all this guilt I have"—he gestured frantically at his chest, and suddenly he was on a tirade—"that none of you or Pansy or Goyle seem to have, the way we all escaped like cowards through a hole when You-Know-Who was attacking Hogwarts, the fear I felt, still feel, it's tearing me apart and I can't stop having nightmares—"

He stopped abruptly and averted his eyes from Theo's reflection in the mirror; he'd said too much. Even though Theo might be his closest classmate, their friendship had never reached this level of intimacy. Draco, thinking about this, realized that this was a very sad thing indeed.

The only person he could talk to was Hermione. But he couldn't talk to her.

Theo stared at Draco for a while. Draco was sure Theo was filled with malicious glee, smirking inwardly at the high and mighty Draco Malfoy who had once bragged, laughing to a circle of eager Slytherins, about the dangerous quest the Dark Lord had hand-picked him for…

But instead, Theo said, "Look, why don't you just wait it out? Like you said, you don't know if it's yours."

It seemed like such a simple suggestion, but a stupid one, as Draco didn't believe in living in the moment without any regard to the future. He supposed there was a small chance that Pansy was mistaken, but he would be lucky if that were true, and to live blindly in borrowed bliss and ignorance was irresponsible and pointless. Still, it was tempting.

After Theo had left, Draco continued pacing across his bedroom floor. He had waved Bitsy away half a dozen times, her pleas for him to eat growing ever stronger.

He thought for hours about how to tell Hermione, if there was any way to continue the relationship with Pansy tugging on his one arm with a imminent baby and his father tugging on his other with his Gringott's account and demands for a pureblooded daughter-in-law. But no solution came to him. He kept seeing a family portrait in his mind: he with his sullen, unsmiling face and empty eyes sitting next to Pansy, who was beaming and gripping Draco's shoulder, and a faceless child, features blurred and distorted, wailing loudly and trying to crawl away from her mother…

He grabbed his head, resisting the urge to squeeze the image out of existence.

There was one thing Draco was sure about.

Tomorrow, he was going to quit his job.