L. Breakfast

Pansy is at breakfast when she first hears the news of Draco's engagement to one Astoria Greengrass – Daphne's pretty, shy younger sister who, by all accounts, had turned into something of a man-eater ever since the war had ended. For once this wasn't Pansy's own mind talking, but rather evidence that she had see with her own two eyes – and heard from Daphne herself. Julius Coldwater, Serenus Nyx, Ezekiel Carrington, Blaise Zabini (though who hadn't been with Blaise, really?), Andreas Devereux – and now Draco Malfoy. It was as though Astoria had been working her way through all the eligible purebloods before finally settling on what she thought was the best of the lot.

Well, let her have him. She couldn't think of anyone else who would want Draco – who would be able to put up with him for more than five minutes without ringing his ferrety little neck. Pansy cursed herself for ever having been stupid enough to have thought she was in love with such a man. Now she was nearly twenty-four years old and perfectly aware that she had been an absolute bloody idiot for wasting her time on Draco Malfoy.

Not that she would ever take it back though; she wouldn't trade her son for anything. Even he heartbreak she had suffered at Draco's hands was worth it for him. Procyon meant everything to her now, everything, and she wouldn't trade him for the world.

"Merlin's beard, Pansy, I am so sorry!"

Pansy starts upon seeing Daphne behind her. She hadn't even been aware that her friend had flooed in. Daphne is holding a scrunched up piece of paper in her hand, her eyes blazing with a fury that Pansy hasn't seen in years.

"I told her not to. I bloody well told her, but you know what Astoria's like. Once she sets her mind on something she'll do anything to get it. I bloody told…"

"Daphne," Pansy finds herself whispering, "Why didn't you tell me?"

Daphne falters. "I'm sorry, Pansy. I didn't know until I saw the papers this morning."

She wavering of her voice is enough to convince Pansy that she's telling the truth, but it's not enough for Pansy to stop herself crying. She doesn't know what's wrong with her; she hasn't lost anything. She knows she hasn't lost anything… so why is she crying over Draco Malfoy again?

"Pansy I'm so sorry," Daphne cries. "I honestly didn't know. If I'd have know I wou…"

Pansy interrupts her before she can say another word. "It's fine. I'm not upset."

Daphne stares at her in absolute disbelief.

"Really, Daphne. I'm fine," she says, wiping those stupid tears off her face with the back of her hand and forcing out a laugh. "No offence to your sister, but who would want to marry a bastard like Draco?"

She doesn't mention her brief engagement to the boy, because that was five years ago when she was naïve and stupid so it doesn't even count. It doesn't even count.

"They're well matched," Daphne mutters. "I assure you, Astoria won't be seeing a single sickle of our family's money now. I'm in charge and seeing as she's married Draco of all people, she'll just have to rely on him from now on. I'm sick of politicking and if she wants to play the pureblood princess then she can do it on her own."

It's a long time since Pansy has heard that many words escape Daphne's mouth at once, and that's how she knows that she's telling the truth. Daphne has lost far more from this arrangement than Pansy has. Pansy hasn't lost anything at all, not really… so why is she still crying?

"Mummy, why are you sad?"

She jumps slightly upon seeing her son. Procyon has materialised behind her, a toy dragon clenched under one arm and a sleepy look in his eyes. He has never been fond of getting up in the mornings, not like most children, so she is surprised to see him downstairs so early in the morning.

"Mummy isn't sad," Pansy replies. "Mummy's just crying because Auntie Daphne just told her something so funny that it made her cry."

Procyon just shrugs, settling down at the breakfast table and looking resigned to the fact that adults really are just weird. He sets his toy dragon on a chair next to him before beginning to pretend to feed it half his breakfast.

Procyon is five years old now and the most beautiful child Pansy has ever seen. She isn't just saying that because he's hers – she just knows that it's true. He has Draco's white hair and her black eyes and a sly grin which reminds her ever so slightly of Daphne. In Pansy's eyes her son is an angel, and as unlike Draco he really is one.

Procyon Draco Malfoy really is an angel, and that is why Pansy refrains from telling him that she's crying because his father is a fool whose broken her heart ten times over. He never needs to know that. He never needs to know anything about his father; she knows that her son's life will be better if neither of them ever see Draco again