There’s nothing to tell.
Ice clinked against the walls of the firewhiskey tumbler Draco held in between long fingers.
“Another?” Blaise asked, reaching for the crystal decanter.
“Unless you want me sleeping on your couch tonight, I wouldn’t.”
Blaise chuckled, “We are quite literally in a hotel, get your own room, Malfoy.”
Malfoy, deep in his cups, had forgotten they were not in the study of the Zabini Estate. The Zabinis were living in a rather swanky suite in the Ned London, an expensive hotel on Poultry Street. “Remind me again why we aren’t at your estate?”
“Ginevra’s orders. Until she is done with her redecorating, I am not to return home.”
“Good luck with that,” Malfoy smirked, “with your luck, it’ll be a warren in no time. What did they call their ancestral home? The Burren?”
“The Burrow.” Blaise corrected, “And I won’t have you insult my wife’s family like that,” Blaise paused, “Even if she is related to a bunch of weasels.”
“I think it’s rabbits that live in warrens,” Draco said, voice lofty. “When is Ginevra due to return, so that I might splinch myself on my way home to avoid her ire?”
“Probably in the next hour or so. She mentioned she wanted to stop by the three Ws on the way home.”
“I think three Ws is worse than just calling it the joke shop.” Draco frowned.
“The joke shop doesn’t sound as refined as the three Ws.” Blaise said, topping Draco’s tumbler off despite his protests. “What will you do next?” Blaise asked, “I’m surprised that the moment you saw Nott you didn’t avada him where he stood.”
“He owled, shortly before they arrived.” Draco sighed, “I hadn’t expected his companion to be her.”
“What exactly did he say in his letter?”
“That he and his wife would need safe passage through my floo, as the floo at Nott Manor had been damaged for some time. I knew that the ancestral wards needed work, though he hadn’t told me that his mother, madder than Bellatrix, had closed the wards to him and essentially corrupted the magic there.”
Blaise raised an eyebrow, “How did he make it through?”
“She was dead before we arrived, that much I’m sure of. Though I don’t know if it was by her own hand or–,” Draco trailed off, taking a sip from his tumbler.
“Another’s,” Blaise finished.
“The Nott I knew was incapable of hurting anyone, let alone his mother.”
“But this is not the Nott we knew,” Blaise said, “I know that girl wonder has a golden fanny, but do you really think that he would be willing to throw away his friendship with you for a woman?”
Draco didn’t answer, watching cars go by on the street outside.
“I thought we were brothers,” Draco’s voice was low. “I was wrong, I suppose.”
“You were brothers, once.” Blaise suggested, pouring another finger of whiskey into the tumbler.
“Brothers don’t run away and never write you again.”
Blaise opened a bag of candied nuts, pouring them into a crystal candy dish on the table. “I could write to him, set up a time for us to meet.” Blaise said, “I’ll see what I can find out.”
“Take the She-Weasel, too.” Draco said after a moment. “I think he’ll have his guard down more if he thinks its a double date.”
Blaise ran his hand over the steel bar of the footboard. The plush chairs that faced the window were close enough to the bed that Draco could have touched the white down duvet. “What about the child?” Blaise asked. “I know you haven’t had time to discuss custody arrangements yet, but Granger will stay in London, right?”
“She’ll stay.” Draco’s voice was soft, the cool drops of condensation on his fingers where the skin met the glass was not the reason for his sudden drop in temperature. “Blaise, the child…she’s extraordinary.”
“I expected nothing less of a Malfoy.”
“She isn’t one — not yet anyway.” Draco said, “She’s a Granger, through and through.”
“Are you going to tell her, Draco?”
“Tell her what?” Draco asked, reaching for the packet of cigarettes on the bistro table in between them. “There’s nothing to tell.”