hard time making her trust you again. I would never forgive you, even taking into account the fact that you've brought Bellatrix Lestrange back as an apology gift."
"Thank you, Pansy."
She gave him a slightly apologetic look. "I' m sorry for being so pessimistic. Four months ago, August Winthrop was killed on a mission to a village in Devonshire. He and Millicent had only been married two weeks when it happened."
"Fucking hell," Draco hissed. "What happened?"
"Oddly enough, someone had claimed to have seen you there. The Ministry sent two people to check, which is what they usually do whenever there's a Malfoy sighting, be it you or your father. No one expected that they' d walk right into a Death Eater campsite. These were not Aurors that the Ministry sent. Winthrop was an Administrator, for Merlin's sake. Millicent has been absolutely inconsolable since. Love is horrid a burden, Draco," she said, a bit too fiercely for it not to be a personal comment. "It makes you vulnerable to all sorts of pain, but I'm sure you know that already."
"Which is why you remain happily single, of course?" Draco watched her closely.
She blinked at being the focus of the topic change. "Why yes, exactly."
Draco slung his arm over the headrest of the couch and craned his neck towards the doorway. "Your Boris appears to be taking some time with that tea."
As if on que, there was a distant noise of a cupboard door closing too hard, followed by the sound of something fragile and expensive breaking.
Pansy looked startled for a moment, but quickly recovered with a smile. "The kitchen is some distance away."
Draco hid his amusement. "Yes, I remember."
Pansy's smile turned tight. She rose to her feet. "I'll just see what's keeping him, shall I?"
After a moment's deliberation, Draco removed Harry's prized gloves from his pocket and deliberately left them on the seat next to him.
**
He stayed for three hours. At least Pansy made a much better cup of tea than Potter did. She had decided that she would throw a soiree in a fortnight, to officially open the Manor again and to welcome back its rightful owner. Draco knew better than to decline. It was Pansy's send-off, more than anything else, and he could not begrudge her that.
Draco insisted that she stay on to oversee the obviously successful Hornsbeam business that she was running with the Thimble Creek residents, but she assured that there was already a capable replacement manager trained from the village. It took a bit more digging, but she eventually revealed that she would be relocating to Italy's south, to live in the modest rural home she had purchased and was almost finished refurbishing.
Boris, whom Pansy said was practically unemployable, would have to accompany her.
Out of pity, she claimed.
Pansy was many things, but Draco had never known her to be a soft touch.
Draco would stay in the village inn until the handover was official in two weeks, despite her protests that he immediately move into his old room. After six weeks with Potter, Draco was more than ready for a bit of breathing space.
He was already halfway to the wrought iron gates at the front of the estate, before an out of breath Boris caught up with him.
"Mr. Malfoy, you forgot these!" he called out, holding aloft Harry's gloves.
Draco turned to him, looking impatient. He snatched the gloves back. "Merlin' s tits, Goyle, took you long enough. If I walked any slower, I'd be standing still."
Goyle's mouth dropped open. He looked like a goldfish for about half a minute. "Whatyouyou know!"
"Yes, I know," Draco snapped. "If that over the top display of possessiveness in the foyer wasn't enough to convince me, that multi-coloured safari on Pansy's bed certainly would have done the trick."
The gaping mouth closed. "Yes, well she likes elephants," Goyle muttered.
"So I gather." Draco sighed. "Why the hell are you here? If they catch you, you' ll be doing life in Azkaban! Not to mention what they'd do to her!"
"They're not going to catch me. I'm Boris, remember?"
"Which leads me to ask, where is the real Boris?" Draco narrowed his eyes. "Or don't I want to know?"
"He' s a clerk working in Ulaanbaatar in Mongolia. Hasn' t a clue about all of this and we happen to have enough of his hair to make another year' s supply of Polyjuice andyes ok, you don't want to know."
Draco frowned, "Well you bloody well better hope no one comes back from a holiday there and wonders