Best of Us

Morbid Fascination

Story Summary:
Broken hearts happen to the best of us. AU.

Posted:
08/09/2005
Hits:
506
Author's Note:
Warning for slash, implied femmeslash, inexplicit sex, language, smokingm drinking, implied threesome/moresome, mixing if you know what that is, and general brawndness.


Best of Us

Hermione kissed the society maven on the cheek as she entered the gathering, her son balanced on her hip. "Where is she?" whispered Hermione as she pulled her face away from Pansy's.

The hostess replied curtly, but with a deceptive smile still firmly in place, "Balcony." To the casual guest they looked just as two girlfriends would, discussing clothes, hair, and comparing sex lives.

"This keeps happening to the best of us," observed Hermione with a sigh, shifting the weight of her son to the opposite hip.

Not missing a beat Pansy lifted the baby from his mother and bounced him lightly as she nodded her agreement. "She doesn't think we understand."

Shaking her head Hermione brushed a strand of midnight black hair out of her crystal eyes. "As though we haven't all done this before." Changing tracks quickly Hermione asked, "And Draco?"

Her hot pink lips twisted up in a cool, removed, frown and Pansy nodded her own crown of ebony curls toward the far side of the room. "Bar."

Following the gesture Hermione saw through the weave of people that infuriatingly familiar silver haired devil casually sitting on a white barstool, chatting up the bartender no doubt. "Of course," barked Hermione sarcastically.

"Sometimes," began Pansy in a serious voice that gave away her lie, "You two act almost as though you're going to be married."

Crossing her arms Hermione shook her head slightly, her eyes wrinkling up cynically, "Have you been into Oliver's stash again?"

Chuckling Pansy motioned to her other guests apologetically and passed her godchild back to his mother. After a quick peck on the cheek she started back out into her flat. Dressed in a becoming shade of lemon she stood out properly, mingling through tight gaps in conversation, insisting that the drinks would do people some good, accepting fags from strangers, and touching the arms of friends as they discussed the most erotic weather in the history of England.

Turning away from the sight of Pansy Hermione kissed her son's baldhead and set her jaw determinedly. Her pale blue shoes knocked softly on the wooden floor as she made her way through a throng of people. Around her soft laughter reverberated through ornate wineglasses and floated up to the high ceiling, waiters slipped practically unnoticed about the various cliques, and these cliques were made up of the most exotic people elegantly sprawled on white sofas and up the steps. "Hullo luver," slurred Draco sexily as she quietly appeared at his side.

Arching an eyebrow Hermione looked degradingly at him. She slid up and back on to her barstool, son on lap, and flashed the smallest bit of lower thigh. Tapping her nails on the bar distractedly she shot the bartender a pearl smile and purred, "Gin and tonic," as though it were a viciously naughty drink order. To Draco she said, "You've forgotten to use a coaster. Pansy will murder you."

With practiced selective hearing Draco ignored Hermione and openly took in the thigh revealed by her clingy dress. Her hair, apparently black this month, was piled up simply on her head, and a few tangles hung down temptingly. Smoothly he offered a fag. Her red painted lips dropped open a bit and she pointed to the baby on her lap with a wrist adorned in drips of fine gold. "Children are impressionable."

"Then why the hell did you bring him here?" drawled Draco. "This place is a brothel with clothes."

A brief flash of hurt crossed Hermione's face but she quickly covered it and tilted her head. "Mum and Dad are in Bermuda. Don't know what that place has to do with teeth, and the baby's father had other plans tonight."

Taken aback Draco conceded and reached out his arms to take his son. "It was Blaise," he supplied absentmindedly as he frowned at the specimen in his grip.

"Shit."

"Little ears."

Hermione laughed easily and said, "His name is Leo." Standing up she kissed her son one last time before letting her hand drift into Draco's jacket pocket for the fags. "Thanks," she breathed in his ear suggestively before taking off briskly.

To the ill-fated child unfortunate enough to be called Leo Draco said conversationally, "Typical. Just because I'm shagging Weaselette's brother they think I know exactly what's going on in her life. Just plain typical." After staring at the goggling baby Draco started again. "I'm going to call you Tom, I know a great bartender called Tom."

"You can't change the baby's name," explained Ron tirelessly, kissing Draco warmly.

*

Sipping at her drink Hermione leaned against the wall outside the restroom, watching a couple in the corner trying to hide behind a fichus tree. They were failing magnificently.

"Where were we?" asked Blaise as he emerged from the loo, obviously hoping Hermione had forgotten what it was they were talking about.

"Ginny."

Blaise shrugged and took a drag off Hermione's fag before placing it back in her hand. "It wasn't working."

It wasn't any of her business, but this had never bothered her before so Hermione asked pleasantly enough, "Why not?"

With a soft laugh Blaise's face broke out into a near gracious smile before he ruffled his dark hair, highlighted with something Hermione thought she's seen in Ron's room on her last visit. "There wasn't any chemistry."

Offering up the rest of her fag Hermione nodded her acceptance and said warmly, "Thanks pet."

Pansy appeared at Blaise's shoulder and said, hands on her hips reflexively, "She's so good."

"I love her hair that way," complimented Blaise.

Shuddering Pansy stole the now infamous fag and told Blaise, "I was talking about her humanity not her performance in bed."

Blaise asked curiously, wide eyed too, "You've experienced the later?"

"No," admitted Pansy, "She's solidly into men the poor dear."

"And you're not?" questioned Blaise sardonically.

Beginning to walk away Pansy called over her shoulder, "Only during the work week."

*

Pansy floated away from Blaise, partially following Hermione, but keeping enough distance between them that she looked simply like a hostess who needed a break.

Very funny, she thought, the good hostess doesn't take breaks. Then again the good hostess wore shoes too. Pansy looked down at the lime pedicure Draco had insisted upon earlier in the day as he prepared himself for the rigors of a society function by getting his nails done.

"Hallo boys," she bubbled, reaching the bar and sliding herself between Ron, Draco, and someone who looked so lost she was sure the looked could be bottled and sold for millions.

Numbly Ron said, for the benefit of the misled pup, "This is Pansy Parkinson. Now is the time to remain anonymous."

"You love me Weasel, " snapped Pansy coyly, smashing her fag's remnants into the bottom of his shot glass.

"Bitch."

Draco looked up aghast, "Little ears," he raved matronly, leaving his seat with a glare and rushing away protectively. "Pretend you didn't hear that Tom."

Snorting pristinely Pansy smoothly stole Draco's barstool and turned to Ron, crossing her legs keenly. "And why didn't you explain to him that he can't rename the baby?"

"It was rather like talking to a very sexually experienced wall," quipped the puppy, falling easily into society by kissing Pansy on the neck from behind before walking away tauntingly with his hands in his pockets.

Comprehension drew on her face and Pansy exchanged a wise glance with Ron, "So that's Potter."

"Understand why Draco hates him?"

*

Perhaps the strangest thing Blaise ever saw Draco doing was trying to change the diaper of a baby. This was saying something, as Blaise was fairly sure he'd spent the night in Draco's bed when they were younger until he realized he was almost always into women instead of men.

Almost always.

"The diaper goes over his legs," instructed Blaise reproachfully.

Draco held out the baby quite willingly, "Here."

In one fluid movement Blaise had the child on the bathroom counter and firmly in his diaper. "You owe me."

"I'm dating Weasley."

"Which one?"

"Don't be silly. I'm with George, Ron, and the long haired chap."

"Feel like learning his name?"

"Not particularly."

Blaise bounced the baby on his hip. "Why are you a father? If you can't even keep to one bed partner a month."

Draco made a noise like nothing Blaise had ever heard and ran a hand through his blonde hair worriedly. Shaking like a caffeine addict in serious need of a fix Draco twitched and replied painfully, biting his inner cheek as he spoke, "I don't know, but it hurts, Hermione had to tell me his name."

The dark haired man felt a pang of some slightly foreign emotion and spoke slowly, "This is getting to be a trend."

"What?" snapped Draco, "Having children out of wedlock?"

"No," said Blaise remorsefully, "Hurting the girls."

*

Hermione jimmied the door to the balcony. Locked, damn it!

"Blast," she murmured, "Ginny, luv, open the door."

A deep tenor spoke up behind her and Hermione turned to see a man dressed like a brooding vampire behind her, a slim scar penciled on his head for modern appeal. "She's not coming out."

"Hello Mr. Potter," guessed Hermione correctly, the billionaire was quite infamous.

"Good evening Ms. Granger," he replied smoothly, extending a hand to her.

Arching a brow Hermione placed her empty drink glass in his hand.

*

A small smile played across Ginny's face as she listened to Hermione's wanton shoes clicking off. Opening the door she let Harry slip in beside her.

"You rang?" he asked, slipping the strap of her gown down.

Kissing along Harry's jaw Ginny purred, "Revenge is yummy."

Pulling back for a moment Harry said sagely, "Even the best of us get out hearts broken."

"Fine," snapped Ginny immaturely, "But Blaise broke you first."

Revenge may have tasted like Ginny's overpowering cherry lip gloss, smelt like her sticky fragrance and hair spray, but as Harry left Ginny asleep on a chaise lounge it was satisfying like dark chocolate and red wine at two in the morning.

Maybe that's because it was two in the morning.

*

"Yep," confirmed Draco to Hermione, "She's moved on." He sat on the pure white sofa next to her, holding their child as they returned from walking near the balcony

Shaking her head Hermione accepted both her child and an unlit cigarette. "Damn."

Running a hand though the few wild tendrils of her nightmare colored hair Draco agreed; "Now we have to pick up those pieces."

With a barking laugh Hermione said, "No 'we' about it."

Taken aback Draco snatched Leo/Tom and argued, "Why won't you help?"

A tinkling laugh came from the chair over and Pansy looked up from the place where she was making circles around Ron's nipple through his shirt, "She'll help, it's you that won't."

Standing up Hermione nodded her assent, kissing Draco hard before trotting off without their child.

*

Ron looked at Draco, pushing Pansy off his laugh easily. "She has a point my dragon."

"That's disgusting."

"I know. She's always right."

"No," clarified Draco, shaking his head as Ron fiddled with his knee, "The pet name was disgusting."

Casually shrugging Ron said, "Just experimenting, you know?"

Pansy laughed and walked back out into her guests, twirling around them like a society circus conductor. Occasionally she's smile over at Ron through the space behind some poor bloke's ear before ducking down and reappearing somewhere behind him on the arm of yet another footballer.

A tear of mirth threatening to ruin her purposefully rebellious eyeliner Pansy cackled, "Men are like dogs, " as she passed Hermione going the other direction.

*

Taking those words of wisdom Hermione rocked Leo/Tom on her hip, trying to lull him into some kind of sleep. She couldn't leave yet; her work was not yet done. Carefully she waltzed into an abandoned eve adorned with only a pure white canvas, leaning against the opposite wall Hermione rocked her son gently, smiling at his more peaceful features.

Harry appeared at her side, slipping, unwanted, out of the shadows. "Maybe she doesn't want to be healed," he suggested.

Swallowing a lot of what she wanted to say Hermione stared resolutely at the canvas, (did it even qualify as a painting?), and said, her voice dipped in a dry martini, "We all want to be healed."

"Is that all you see?" pressed Harry, far too wisely to be the tabloid prince, as he nodded to the canvas.

Backing away dramatically Hermione finished their conversation, "Did it ever occur to you that that is all I want to see?"

To the canvas Harry said, "Philosophical bastard."

"Talking about yourself again?" asked Ron, carrying two cigars.

Harry looked down his nose at the taller man and shrugged lopsidedly, "What do you see?"

"What am I supposed to?" Ron calmly lit up his cigar, pressing the second into the breast pocket of his pinstriped blazer.

Scowling at the unspoken insult from his old friend Harry offered more of his oh so wise advice; "There is truth in wine."

Snorting something awful Ron gibbered before giving Harry a nicotine filled kiss, tangling their tongues familiarly. "The things you say you old miser." Taking delicate care Ron slid the second cigar into the back pant pocket of his brother.

As they walked out of the hidden eve, hands in each other's back pockets, Ron pulled away at the last moment and whispered, "Before you make your move on Draco, wipe some of Ginny's lip gloss off."

*

Pansy sat with Hermione on one of the snow white sofas, an elegant gathering it was. Two young women and their cocktails, cigarettes, sinisterly black hair, pink and red lips, and slightly sore feet.

"Bye dove," cooed Oliver, kissing Pansy half on the cheek and half on the corner of her mouth like more than an old lover. Without a word Pansy saw Oliver out the door with her eyes, smiling seductively at her handbag of the week.

"He has a good arse," commented Hermione loosely.

Opening her mouth to add a remark on various derrieres Pansy choked back her words and nodded to something happening at the back of the flat. Hermione turned to see what could silence her friend and saw a slim figure in a stunning silver dress, tousled titan hair, and teary eyes. "Anything?" asked Ginny, settling down between Pansy and Hermione, dropping her chunky heels and clutch on the wooden floor.

With a content grin Hermione wrapped her arms around Ginny, offering both cigarette and alcohol to the girl. "Blaise hasn't said anything pet."

"Sorry," said Pansy off-handedly, taking a drag followed by a sip.

"But it's not like you did much to make him notice," sang Draco knowingly, returning to the circle of sofas, his hands slung into the pockets of his trousers charmingly.

Hermione arched an eyebrow at his empty arms. Draco mouthed, "Blaise," in return. That didn't do much to quell Hermione's worry, but she kept her arms protectively around Ginny.

"Pardon?" screeched Ginny, gesturing at the dress and at Harry as the dark knight leaned against the fireplace.

Draco shrugged, perching on the arm of the sofa nearest Pansy, playing with her hair as it began to fall down. "Exactly."

Ginny gaped wordlessly before saying numbly to the entire room, "He doesn't make any sense. I did everything."

Harry looked up from examining his shoes to say, "You did too much."

Ron nodded his agreement, slumping into an ivory chair with a glass of dubious pastel content.

"Love is frivolous," sighed Ginny, burrowing into Hermione.

"Oh I wouldn't say that," chimed the rest of the room at the same time, exchanging glances and blushing lightly as Ginny's screams were muffled by Hermione's shoulder.

*

The strange sight that met Blaise as he returned to the prime of the flat with Leo/Tom in his arms, fresh from the loo, could only be classified as the work of a very twisted upper power.

Pansy was stroking Ginny's hair as the younger girl leaned back on her stomach, Ginny had her eyes closed in pain. Draco and Harry were discreetly exchanging kisses in the flashes from the firelight, and Hermione was draped over Ron, her head resting in the crook of his neck.

Leo/Tom: "Gurg." Chuckling Blaise kissed the baby on the head, smiling at Hermione; he too had fallen in love with her child.

To Ginny he extended a hand, "Are you with me tonight?"

Before the red head could make a fool of herself any further Hermione stood up, smoothing down her skirt and looped her arm through Blaise's, saying coyly as she did, "You're with me tonight."

"And you're with me," sang Draco, gathering his son in his arms warmly, "Leo, I like that."

Insert Pansy's exasperated sigh here.

With a broad smile Hermione took Draco's face in her hands and pulled his lips to hers for a brutal fight kiss before looking at her son and saying, "Time to met your daddy."

"Love you," hissed Draco, the first to walk out into the cool London air.

Ron rolled his eyes before kissing Pansy on the cheek in thanks, then picking his sister up in his arms, saying as wisely as he dared, "To the pub."

"'Night," called Hermione to the Weasley siblings.

Stepping away from the fireplace, Harry stooped to scoop up Ginny's left over footwear and bag. "That is my qu too." Pansy drew Harry into a hug, pulling the cigar out of his back pocket and waving it under her nose before lighting it for him.

"Go get them," advised Blaise.

Hermione kissed the society maven on the cheek as she left the gathering, her impromptu toy waiting at the door with a small, misunderstanding smile playing on his lips. "You'll be a heartbreaker someday," whispered Pansy to Hermione.

"It happens to the best of us," shrugged Hermione, her eyes sparkling as she let Blaise lead her into the cool vestiges of dawn.

Pansy looked at the bartender like he was a fresh cut of sirloin.


Author notes: This took forever. It's meant to be a look into social frugility, much in the ilk of Wilde of Camus. It's also meant to be a challenge to my normal writing style by doing something for the sheer sake of art as opposed to doing something for the sake of plot and doing so with lacking details and a hidden set of morals.

Review. Flames welcome as always.