A/N: Super apologies for this ridiculously late update! I finished my last year of school this year and have had no time to write. Thankyou to everyone who kept reviewing this year and being a reminder that I have to finish what I started! I will see this through to the end. :)

Previously: Much to his chagrin, Draco discovers that Ron and Hermione are dating. Their growing friendship quickly crumbles as a result of Hermione's "stupidity". After going with Pansy to her mother's, Draco discovers his kind side.

Draco reclined on Pansy's bed, "Are you going to take that off?", he asked, referring to the musty purple monstrosity that she was wearing. With a pause, he added, "Don't worry, I'm not trying anything with you...It just smells weird."

She glanced back at him, mustering a laugh, "Personally, I think the scent of mothballs is perfectly acceptable." Pansy quirked one of her perfectly manicured eyebrows, " And this wonderful juxtaposition of lace, velvet, satin and chiffon is absolutely divine. Don't you agree?"

"No comment." Draco smiled slightly, "Look, you shocked your mum. No need to scare me out of the house." He turned sideways and rested his head on his arm as he looked up at Pansy. She toyed with her long dark hair, scrutinising it in the mirror.

"Yeah the look on her face was priceless." Pansy giggled as she undid the buttons down her back, "I didn't know it was possible to cover this much skin. Remarkable. And he is definitely rethinking his relationship with her. I could see it in his eyes. I mean, if he can't handle me, how is he gonna deal with her in the long run?"

Draco shrugged. He preferred to avoid these kinds of discussions. Families, relationships, feelings. They always ended with some unexpected burst of emotion, an unwanted revelation. "Look, tomorrow we'll go to Diagon Alley, meet Blaise there...And wreak havoc on the poor unsuspecting Diagon Alley folk. How does that sound?"

She inspected his cool grey eyes for a moment, "Wonderful." Pansy extracted herself from the first layer of the dress and began to slowly glide out of the room with a smile. "Goodnight."

Draco quickly sat up, "Where are you going?"

"I'm going to sleep in the guest room. You're sleeping here. I know you've always liked my bed best." Pansy hovered at her door.

"I've always liked your bed because you were in it." He smirked.

"No, it's because you're a princess and its the softest bed in the house. And you definitely need your beauty sleep tonight, you've been looking a bit haggard lately. Don't want to look bad for those Parisian women, do we?" Pansy shut the door with a soft click and chuckled as she Draco frantically rushed over to her mirror.

After a few moments contorting his face at various angles in front of the mirror, he decided that Pansy was lying. Draco looked great. His skin was flawless. Haggard, pfft. Draco glanced down at Pansy's dressing table and noticed a small box behind a cluster of photos. Electric blue, covered in a catastrophe of rainbow jewels. Draco picked it up, feeling the weight of it in his palm. It was the music box he had bought for her when they were 12 or 13.

It was the first and so far, last proper present he had ever given to a girl. There was no apology attached, or an attempt to get in anyone's pants. Draco had seen the box - opening to unicorns dancing in a circle - in a shop window and immediately been reminded of Pansy. He lifted the lid and smiled as the familiar tune drifted back.

"What about her? She's at least an eight." remarked Draco, about a blonde passing by.

"Nah, no way. Maybe a six. Look at her calves! They're huge." Pansy raised her eyebrows delicately.

They both glanced over at Blaise, who simply uttered, "Three", with a nonplussed look of disgust.

The three were seated outside the Witches' Hat, waiting for their second round of drinks. Witches and wizards were bustling around the cobblestone streets, weaving around looking for this and that in an organised sort of chaos, each like an individual particle of sand in a sandstorm. The ground seemed to tremble under their collective weight.

Draco leaned back, his cheeks pink from the cold, "You realise, with your standards, you'll never find a perfect ten?"

"She'd have to be pretty amazing for Blaise to glance twice, let alone ask her out." Pansy rested her chin on her right hand. "So... what does Blaise Zabini's perfect ten look like?"

Draco looked over at Blaise, taking in the outfit consisting wholly of black, with the exception of his navy grey scarf. Draco assumed it was cashmere. Blaise seemed too composed, too nonchalant to be impressed with a girl, let alone fall in love. Blaise winked at them both, "I'll let you know when I see her."

"Can't wait. I look forward to meeting her." Pansy was back to wearing her normal clothes, thankfully. Her camel coloured coat and black gloves shielded her from the chill of the powdery snow.

"And I look forward to screwing her." added Draco with a deadpan expression. "Mate, the best man, the bride. It's practically inevitable."

"And who says that you're going to be best man?" Blaise contemplated for a moment and grinned, "...Actually no, that's a great idea. Your ugliness will make me look much better in comparison."

Draco shook his head, feigning disappointment, "Jealously really doesn't wear well on you."

"Look, we all know that-" Pansy's voice faded as she squinted her kohl-rimmed eyes at a point in the distance, "Um...I'll be right back."

The boys whipped around to see what she was looking at, but could only catch a fleeting glimpse of Pansy before she disappeared into the crowd. Draco frowned at Blaise, "What the hell?"

Blaise shrugged, "Nevermind. There's something I've been meaning to talk to you about anyway."

Draco responded simply by raising his eyebrow.

"Whilst I was waiting for you two before, I saw Weasley wearing a dress with a wig with face putty plastered on his face in some alley-"

"Oh that," Draco cut in, "I almost forgot." He stood up, motioning pressing a camera shutter with his finger.

Blaise swiftly pushed him back down with a stern arm, "I don't know what is going on between you two, but I can't remember the last time you went behind my back on a prank."

"'Behind my back' is such a negative term. I prefer 'independent thinking'." Draco smiled indulgently.

"If you think that you're changing the subject by discussing semantics, you underestimate me." Blaise was perfectly serious, Draco was attempting to lighten the mood.

Draco shrugged off Blaise's hand, "What's the big issue?"

"We both know that this has gone beyond simple fun and games -"

"I have no idea what you're talking about. It's us against Potter and Weasley. It always has been."

"No, it's not really like that, is it? You have some vendetta against Weasley. And it needs to stop now. We have enough compromising photos. I don't know what you want to accomplish, but it's getting ridiculous." However, Blaise's tone indicated that he knew exactly what Draco wanted to accomplish.

Draco lighthearted smile quickly turned into a scowl, "So you've jumped ship to Weasley too?" Granger's bushy head flashed in his mind and his eyes flashed dangerously.

"I haven't." Blaise held his eye contact with Draco, his voice unwavering, "And you know I wouldn't. But this prank...it's too much."

Draco stood up briskly, "Yeah, well, I hope you two enjoy your lives together. I'm going to find Pansy." He dropped a couple of galleons on the table and turned away in a huff.

Who did Blaise think he was, talking to him like that? What was so good about Weasley anyway? He was dumb and ugly and redheaded and freckled. And just to show Blaise how this wasn't a vendetta, he would throw all of the photos of Weasley on Blaise's bed tonight., so he could have them. Ok, maybe all but one.

Draco scoured the streets. He couldn't see Pansy anywhere. Where did she go?

He wandered around aimlessly for a while, although Draco would never admit that he did anything without aim. As he turned the corner into a quiet street, Draco collided with another body. "Watch where you're -" A brief moment of surprise crossed his face before his signature sneer set back into place. "Oh, it's you."

Granger looked up at him with a strange look on her face. Tentatively, she ventured, "Hi."

Draco had expected a confrontation. Subsequently, he didn't know what to say, so Draco stalked off without announcement.

After a few moments, she called out, "Wait!". Naturally, he didn't. Draco could hear her hastily walking up to him.

"What's wrong with you?" she scolded.

He bristled, "How dare you question me like there's something wrong with my state of mind? Clearly you're the one that's deranged."

Granger rolled her eyes, "Deranged? Before the holidays, everything was going well. I daresay we were almost…friends." He snorted, but she continued, "And now you're acting like a spoilt brat again."

Looking at her filled him with rage. That frizzy hair, the determined nose, strong brows. "Don't mistake yourself, Granger. I don't need anymore friends. The stuff before, being civil to you - it was just to make my mornings easier. Clearly you've read too much into it." His cool eyes glazed over, "It won't happen anymore. I'd misjudged you for someone who's capable of making good life decisions." After a final glance, he left Granger alone with an indignant look on her face in the alleyway.

After that, Draco found himself a cosy corner in a coffee shop and began to pen a vitriolic letter.

Draco had come to hate the sound of silver cutlery clinking against expensive china. It was always an indication of a stalling conversation, the preamble to silence. In Pansy's ostentatious dining room, there seemed to be two distinctive anti-conversations. Blaise and Draco. Pansy and her mother. The moist sound of chewing and soundless air was amplified by the high ceiling. Draco and Blaise still hadn't talked since the morning at Diagon Alley.

Being the semi-hostess, Pansy felt obliged to make conversation, "So when are you two leaving tomorrow? Straight to Paris?"

Blaise looked to Draco to answer, "I was thinking that we overstay our welcome until after lunch, then floo to Blaise's uncle's apartment."

Pansy's mother, Bella, smiled indulgently, "Don't ever talk like that! You two will never overstay your welcome!" She spoke with her usual dramatic flourish. "What about you, Pansy, darling? Will you be visiting the boys?"

"Maybe." Pansy tucked a strand of loose hair behind her ear, "I think -"

"Stop fidgeting with your hair, dear." cut in Bella, "Have you combed it?" As usual, she seemed deaf to Pansy's words, having only sight for her imperfections.

Pansy immediately extracted her hand, as if touching scalding water, but retorted, "That's the point." She looked away and slid a potato onto her fork.

In a stage whisper, Bella called across the table, "Another potato? Really?" She shook her head, "You know, I can already tell your metabolism is slowing down."

Pansy immediately dropped the fork with the potato and looked down, too embarrassed to meet either of her guests in the eye.

Draco and Blaise both had their mouths open, ready to talk, but neither could find the right words.

It was Bella that continued the conversation a moment later, with no indication that she noticed Pansy's upset expression, "Will you be visiting Madame Beart's patisserie? It's divine."

Blaise kept an eye on Pansy as he responded no. She didn't speak for a few minutes, and after that, gave only mono-syllabic answers if she was being addressed directly. Immediately after the last course, Pansy excused herself, leaving Draco and Blaise with her mother to devour the ice cream and crème brulee.

Upon finishing dessert, Draco and Blaise looked for Pansy. She wasn't in her room, the pool, the fountain, the deck, the library or the inner garden. After donning heavy coats and gloves, they ventured to the edges of the property, but no sight nor sound of her could be detected. They weren't too worried about her, Pansy could hold her own no matter where she was. But nevertheless, she was never well after dealing with the ex-Mrs Parkinson. The two boys had walked in silence until Blaise cleared his throat. "Maybe Pansy went to go see Nott." His speech escaped in breaths of smoke.

"Mmhm." answered Draco. He wasn't in the mood to respond. It was plausible, but he doubted that there was any comfort to be found in that oaf.

"Maybe we should just wait for her at the gates." Blaise indicated past the winding stone pathway to the bench near the large iron-cast gates. "We'll see her when she comes back."

Draco answered brusquely, not making it easy to continue any semblance of a conversation. "Ok." Blaise was totally out of line this morning. As if Draco cared enough about Weasley to launch a vendetta. He was just a perfect weak target. But he could let it go. Because he didn't care about Weasley. Yeah. Of course.

Draco's anger towards, well, everything, came in peaks and troughs throughout the day, culminating in his filthy mood at the end of the night. It simmered in the background until Draco was consciously reminded of Blaise or Granger or Weasley, then it came to the fore. Worrying about Pansy didn't ease tensions either.

Silence settled for a few moments as they began to walk to the seat. Again, it was Blaise that disturbed the quiet, "Mate. Let's agree to disagree. Move on. I'd rather not take this with us to Paris." It was the closest a Slytherin could come to an apology, and they both knew this.

Draco looked at his best friend for a moment and offered his hand, "Yeah, I don't want you distracting my game."

Blaise's dark eyes twinkled with enjoyment as he sat down on the bench, "That assumes you have any to begin with."

The glacial veneers over Draco's eyes melted as the two joked, not noticing progress of the moon as it moved from one side of the sky to the other.

As Blaise's eyes began to droop, he decided to go inside to get some coffee for them as they waited for Pansy.

The shadows of the trees danced an elegant waltz with the winter breeze as a lead. Draco sucked in the prickly air, enjoying the intensity as it shot through his nose and throat. Embraced by the dark, everything felt scant.

Throughout the past few months, the same question had been running through his mind. Which side? Draco had stopped believing in the Dark Lord's ideologies around third or fourth year. But submission was easier than resistance. If he swapped, joined the good side...Draco envisioned Potter, Granger and Weasley in his mind. Potter's messy hair and dopey smile, Granger attached to Weasley. It was disgusting.

His opinion of Granger had been improving before she associated herself with Weasley. The thought of Granger reminded Draco of their Podbaby. He sat up in surprise. Draco hadn't thought of it since they left school.

Granger had brought in some bald pale thing with a greenish thing thing one night after her prefect duty with Weasley. Attached to its wrist was an identification number, the same as their dorm number. Being her usual conscientious self, Granger sent an owl to Professor Bane immediately and prevented anyone from interacting with the escaped podbaby. Yet she cooed over it like some overbearing mother hen.

Draco wondered what kind of tasks they'd have to complete with it. He did not want to feed, bathe or change the thing. He remembered the Professor saying how the babies would inherit 2 sets of genetics based on random selection. With blonde hair, a burgeoning smirk and the cunning to escape, Draco was sure he was the "father". Maybe they had to teach them life skills, some stupid parallel of the course they were doing.

Draco sat for another long while until he realised that Pansy probably wouldn't be coming home tonight, and Blaise was not bringing those coffees. He'd get them back. Draco lay down on the bench and arranged his cloak around him, too tired to walk back. "Fuckers." he whispered.