~Asphodel~

chapter 8

DISCLAIMER: Harry Potter belongs to J.K. Rowling. This fiction is purely for my own enjoyment and yours. No money is being made by me or anyone else from this fiction.

Draco swore loudly for ten minutes after a fearful house elf told him Hermione had left with the girls. Infuriating woman! Who was she to think she could just up and leave in a situation like this? He needed to get out of here! He slammed the the book was was reading and flung it across the room, pacing angrily. He needed to talk to someone else who might understand this madness. Professor Snape, he thought immediately, but just as quickly dismissed the thought. I don't need his derision; I'll go to him as a last resort, he decided. But if not Professor Snape, then who? Draco paced some more. He needed to see someone who was in the accident with him. If he and Granger were aware of what was going on, shouldn't everyone else who was in the accident be too?

I'll go talk to Pansy, he decided after a moment. At least Pansy would understand the horror of being married to Granger. If nothing else, she could at least make him feel better. As soon as he reached this decision, he ran to the main fireplace and grabbed some floo powder. Briefly he wondered if Pansy had found herself married in this messed up world too, and therefore might have a different last name, but he dismissed the thought and called out loudly, "Pansy Parkinson Residence!" The magic would know who he meant, he thought as the green flames enveloped him.

When he arrived, he stepped out of the fireplace into a large, open room painted a pristine white with black trimming on the walls and black leather furniture. He frowned. This was not the Parkinson house, he knew, so it must be Pansy's personal flat. He eyed the room carefully. Everything was either black or white, with the exception of some tasteful splashes of bright pink pillows or wall ornaments. It looked like a designer flat, meant to be looked at, not lived in.

"Hello?" he called out. "Pansy? Are you here?" Draco waved his wand to clean himself of any soot on his clothes and walked out into the room. He heard some clanging going on in a room off to the right, so he headed towards the sound. When he entered the room, his mouth dropped open in shock. He was in a large kitchen, again decorated in black and white, though this time the accent color was red. Pansy stood in the middle of the room at a large counter, flour smudged on her cheek, her jet black hair pulled up into a messy bun (yet artfully done), dressed in a light pink day robe. In her arms she held a large mixing bowl, and was currently whisking a white frothy mix. Pots and pans and bowls filled with other mixtures were spread out on the floury countertop in front of her and she was quietly humming to her herself.

"Pansy?" Draco said, his disbelief of the scene before him leaking into his voice. She jumped, startled, caught sight of Draco, and gave him a beaming smile. Draco was stunned. He wasn't sure he had ever seen Pansy smile so, so...contentedly?

"Draco!" she said, surprise in her voice. "I didn't hear you floo in. Is Hermione with you?" she asked, the smile still on her face. Draco's stomach plummeted. Obviously Pansy was affected by whatever madness was in this world too. The Pansy he knew would never call Granger by her first name, and she certainly wouldn't have done it with such a happy face.

"No," Draco said. He couldn't keep the bitterness out of his voice. Pansy picked up on it immediately and set down her bowl.

"Draco, what's wrong? Nothing happened to Hermione and the baby, did it?" Draco flinched when she said 'baby'. Pansy noticed and looked at him closer. "Draco, you're a mess. Come in, sit down, and tell me what's happened. I was just making a bit of breakfast for Theo and I—he's coming over later, but we have time to talk."

Confusion covered Draco's face as he allowed Pansy to pull him into the kitchen and lead him to an ebony table with a checkered table cloth covering it (red and white, of course). "Theo?" he asked.