47. Not Alone
“Friends are helpful not only because they will listen to us, but because they will laugh at us; Through them we learn a little objectivity, a little modesty, a little courtesy; we learn the rules of life and become better players of the game.”
- Will Durant
________________________________________
So Bun Woman had a family. It probably shouldn’t have been, but to Draco this was kind of surprising. He had never really thought about her life after ascending from the fiery crusts of hell, but it made sense, he supposed.
Over the next few weeks Granger began the hunt for her new assistant. He would enter her office and there would be a new person there each time. She made an effort to introduce him to these people when she could, asking for his opinion when she was unsure, and Draco would always find something wrong with them; whether he thought they would not be up to the challenge of making her tea right to whether or not they’d treat the elves properly. He was most likely too harsh and picky, but Draco figured that if someone had to replace him, it had to be someone great. Someone who could do the job better than he ever could, and by the end of the first few weeks he decided that there was no better person other than Alexis. He barely knew her, but something in him was certain she was the best choice, and he made sure to tell Granger exactly that, who also admitted she’d been thinking along the same lines.
And hence Alexis Moore was hired to be Draco’s replacement when the time came. Until then, her and Granger decided she should come around the office when she could to get a better sense of the place. Only Granger was too busy to help Alexis out all the time, and so by some decision made on Granger’s part alone she passed the responsibility over to Draco.
The first couple of days consisted of showing her around the building, giving her as much of a thorough tour as he could, pointing out the best shortcuts for when Granger sent her somewhere to showing her the kind of people who she should and should not avoid. He even told her how to make her coffee and tea (despite that Draco had recently started making Granger get her own when she was not busy).
What he really liked about Alexis was that she seemed to actually listen to him. She was not just nodding along because she was supposed to. And as he continued to teach her how to become the best assistant she could, he started to notice how extortionary alike she was to Granger. In fact, the similarity between them might have been disconcerting if it weren’t for the Slytherin qualities Alexis had. She had a knack for sarcastic remarks and sweet-talking the right people. So really, she was a Slytherin version of Hermione Granger, which in it’s own way was worrying, but he found he liked it all the same.
But still. Even if he was happy with his replacement, that did not mean he was happy about leaving at all. It was not that he had suddenly grown this loving relationship for house elves – though he would keep in mind to treat them better – and it was not even the people he had met and thought to be decent. No, it was that this was the first job he had ever had to work for without his father pulling strings and his mother buttering up the owners. He was treated just as everybody else was. If he arrived late he was in trouble and had to work longer to make up for it. If he did something right he got a raise because he earned it. And he had never thought, but earning things felt a lot better than simply buying them, and he found that for this reason alone he would always have an attachment for this job. Not what he’d anticipated but he thought, as he watched Granger’s eyes light up after helping yet another elf, nothing ever did work out the way you expect them to.
***
“Do you miss it?”
“What?”
“Hogwarts.”
They were eating dinner (pasta), and it was now two hours ago that Harry had owled with the day and month of his wedding printed neatly in Ginny’s handwriting. Hermione had gone straight over to their house and spent an hour gushing with her about what type of flowers they were having and what colour the dress was going to be, and when Ginny had asked for Hermione to be the bridesmaid, by the time she’d arrived back home she was in tears, blubbering about useless things that had Draco keeping his distance for a good twenty minutes. She’d then gone upstairs and taken out her favourite photo album containing photos of all her friends throughout their years at school. It was something she did every once in awhile to remind herself the exact colours of the walls or what the candleholders looked like or just how many stripes were visible on her tie when it was tucked in or just how goofy Ron’s hair would occasionally look.
She was now sitting at the table with the album, looking at pictures from their second year.
“Sometimes,” Draco finally answered. “I didn’t care for it when I was there, but now… well, I spent the most important years of my life at that school.”
Hermione glanced up from the moving photographs in front of her. “You didn’t like Hogwarts?”
Draco shrugged. “It was never as good as I imagined, oddly enough. You’re forgetting that when you’re a Slytherin, things are a lot different. I told you this. People judge you, hate you, are on everybody else’s side but yours.”
Hermione opened her mouth to reply, but stopped, lips parted in a small ‘o’. “You told me that when you were inebriated. Months and months ago. And when I asked you said you didn’t remember anything from that night.”
She thought she saw him curse under his breath as he took a sip from his drink, possibly to cover up the flush slowly creeping up his pale cheeks.
“Draco,” she said sternly when he didn’t elaborate, and he groaned in irritation.
“Okay, so maybe I lied to you. Don’t look at me like that,” he said, seeing her lean back in her chair and cross her arms with her lips pressed tightly together. “Can you honestly blame me? I mean, why would I willingly choose to admit I spilled out my sorrows and asked you to spend the night with me if I could avoid it?”
“Well, it might’ve proved you had guts, for one,” she said shortly.
Draco set down his fork. “That night was just a huge mistake on my part. I was so furious when I woke up.”
“Why?” she asked. “What was so bad about it? If anything it made me start to like you, or at the very least, tolerate you.”
Draco’s eyes darted downwards, and it was this simple movement that had her realising that was exactly the problem.
“Lets just eat,” he suggested, stabbing his fork onto his plate. He ate so proper and so unlike Ron. She remembered one of the first nights they’d actually eaten together, and she had set out a whole roll of serviettes for Draco, expecting him to eat just as badly as Ron, if not worse, but he’d barely used any.
“You know,” she spoke suddenly, when half the food on their plates was gone, “it didn’t have to be like that. In school. I think that if you’d wanted you could have proved the whole lot of us wrong, showed the other houses that not all Slytherins have to be bad. We should have all stopped being so biased, but you could have shown us.”
Draco chewed his pasta slowly for a moment, considering. “I wouldn’t have been the right person to do that. I was one of the ones you were all right about. But there were some people I remember… ones who were good.”
“What about in sixth year, then?” she questioned, unable to stop, the thought that things could’ve been different between them making her feel strange and almost ridiculously sad. “If you came to us and said something before that school year ever started. Before you even got the – the mark. We could’ve helped you. Gotten Dumbledore or Moody or Kingsley –”
“Tell me something, Granger.” He was all business now, shoving aside his plate. “Say I did ask for help from anyone in the Order save for Snape and Dumbledore. Would they have helped me without question?”
“I –”
“Without question,” he emphasised.
She paused, wanting to give the correct answer but also not wanting him to think he’d gotten the best of her. “Probably not,” she said at last, “but –”
“What if I went to Potter and Weasley?” he interrupted again.
“That really depends on – well,” she stuttered, hating herself for it, “if you’d gone to Harry when he’d started suspecting something –”
“This is before I got the mark. Before Potter started following me around like a dog.”
She huffed in displeasure. “Then I suppose not.”
Draco nodded at her answer and leant forward, the chair creaking softly in the silence. “And if I’d asked you for help, if I’d told you everything that I was supposed to do and what was happening, would you have believed me without hesitation?”
Hermione looked away from his piercing stare, crossing her arms even tighter into her chest and chewing on her lip. The quietness held for almost a minute before she accepted involuntarily that Draco needed an answer.
“No,” she answered grudgingly. “I wouldn’t have.”
He smiled, but it did not touch his eyes. “There you have it.”
***
“What do you think about kids?”
“Kids?”
“Yeah.”
Draco’s steps slowed as he walked down the street of Hogsmeade, and he looked at Pansy curiously, wondering how they’d went from discussing the worst flavoured Bertie Botts bean to this; if subjects changes could even be that quick.
“I don’t know. There’s not much to say about them. They poop. They smell. Cry when things don’t go their way. Eat everything in sight. Talk too much.”
Pansy smiled. “Sounds like a lot of adults I know.”
“Yeah. But kids are worse.” He kicked a stone that was on the ground and watched it skip ahead of them. “I’m glad I was an only child.”
“No you’re not,” she corrected. “I remember you used to complain all the time.”
“I was younger then. I know better now.” He glanced at her sideways. “Why are we talking about this anyway?”
The smile on her face dissolved, and she turned to the store they were just passing, looked through the window, and at first he thought it was just because she could not meet his gaze. But then he saw that through the window was a baby’s crib, complete with a teddy bear. He stood beside her and looked at their reflections in the glass. He had never really noticed how small Pansy was before. Shorter than Granger, even. Or perhaps it only appeared that way because Pansy’s hair was actually manageable. He thought back to a time when they were the same height, when they had met just after the sorting. She had sat beside him at the Slytherin table, had kept her eyes downcast, and he remembered asking her what kind of drink she had even though he knew it was Pumpkin Juice.
Through the reflection, he saw her lip tremble, and he turned to look her in the face.
“Pansy?” he asked. She shook her head and tried to turn away again, but he wouldn’t have it. “Pansy,” he tried again, serious, putting a hand on her arm. “What’s wrong?”
She looked at him, her eyes desperate and lost. He was not prepared to see her like this, had only ever seen her look like this during the war, and for a second it rendered him speechless, his mind unable to keep up with her sudden turn of emotions, unable to understand what was happening or why she was not talking when usually it was an effort to shut her up. He knew her well enough by now to know that if Pansy was silent, something was terribly wrong.
“Pansy.” His voice was cool and hard, one he had not heard in a long time. A couple of people passing looked back at them.
“I – I –”
“You what?” he pressed.
“I think I – I’m –” tears threatened to spill over her cheeks, “pregnant.”
His attention did not leave her face. He barely moved at all. The seconds ticked by. Then he cleared his throat, thinking that if he didn’t he might lose his voice. “Pregnant,” he repeated, the word hanging strange and unnerving between them.
Pansy’s hands covered her face. “Oh god, oh god, oh god,” she murmured frantically. “I’m so sorry, Draco.” She peaked at him from between her fingers. “I didn’t – I never meant to dump this on you. I just – had to say something.”
“No, I’m, uh, happy that you did,” he said, tone near brittle. He did not know what to do with this information, had trouble getting past the probability that Pansy could be a mother.
“I thought about – y-you know. Talking to Hermione. But I notice how she gets kind of weird about this sort of stuff, and I wanted to tell you first because I’ve known you longer and you’re my best friend and I’m so sorry to tell you like this it’s just really –”
“No,” Draco said again, trying to pull himself together, or at least look calm. “I’m just… well, a little warning would have been nice. When you said you wanted to go to Hogsmeade and get chocolate I had no idea that was code for I’m-going-to-tell-you-that-I’m-pregnant-but-first-lets-get-candy.
She laughed, but it was strained and almost insane-like. The kind of laugh you gave when you were too tired and everything was hilarious.
“Pansy,” he said sternly, and she stopped giggling straight away, the laughter having pushed forth her tears. “Do you know for sure you’re pregnant?” He faltered slightly on the last word, but did not think Pansy noticed.
“No,” she said, and more tears came to her eyes. “All I know is that I’m late. Like, really late, and I’ve just been too scared to do anything about it. You know me,” she said, her smile close to apologetic, “I can’t do anything on my own.”
He knew that Pansy was not the most independent person out there, but that did not mean he liked hearing her say it. “You shouldn’t do this alone anyway,” he told her. “And you won’t ever have to.”
Recovering from his surprise, Draco began thinking about which was the closet chemist. He knew there was some kind of spell to tell whether or not you were pregnant, but being male he had never thought to learn it and was pretty certain Pansy would not know it either. There was Granger, whom he could call. She probably would be the best person for this type of situation, despite what Pansy had said. But Granger was at Potter’s again helping to plan that bloody wedding of his. He had a feeling she wouldn’t be mad if he disrupted her from that, but thought about how excited she was before she left that morning, and decided he really didn’t need her that much. He could make do with a chemist. Teenagers had to use the Muggle test stick things for when they hadn’t yet learned the spell. If they could figure out what they were looking for he could.
“Draco?” Pansy asked softly, her voice far away as he continued to think.
“Hm?” His response was a few seconds late.
“Are you going to leave me?”
“I think the only chemist I know of is the one near that park Granger’s always going to,” he mused to himself. “Or there’s that one near that bar I once went – what was that?” What Pansy had said finally clicked. “I said you wouldn’t be doing this alone.”
“You say that now, but – but –” again she had that lost look in her eye, “what if Blaise leaves me? This wasn’t planned. He won’t want a kid this young, he can barely take care of himself, and n-neither can I. And when Blaise leaves, you’ll leave too, because you’ve always been closer to him than you ever were with me, and –”
“No,” he said again, his hold on her arm slipping down to take her hand instead, gripping it tightly. He bent down a little so as to look her right in the eye. “Listen, Blaise may be a git at times, but he loves you. I know he does. And he would never leave you like this. Ever. And even if he did, I’m not going anywhere. He and I are with you, okay? So is Hermione. We’re here for good. Understand?”
“But –”
“Pansy. You’re not going to be alone.”
She stared back at him for several seconds, then she broke out in a watery smile, a totally different smile to the arrogant one she normally had. He pulled her in for a hug, and when she pulled back he did not care that she had dirtied his shirt with makeup and tears.
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Next chapter; so I kinda feel like the pregnancy thing here ended rather suddenly. But do not fear, we pick up from here :) ha, I just rhymed.
“Blaise is gone.”
Granger set down her Daily Prophet. “I thought he would.”
~
Also, if some of you are wondering what the point is of some scenes here, bascially I'm just cleaning up loose ends to make way for the climax. Like having them acknowledge sixth year, how Hermione's friends react around her Slytherin pals, etc. I think you get the idea.
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