His focus shifted back to the building in front of him, across the narrow street, and what would happen inside of it very shortly. They'd left England in... a bit of a hurry. The married contingent of their little cadre having given some (likely half assed) explanation about going on a belated stag-trip to France before Potter and Susan's second wedding. They were all unsure whether Susan or Pansy had believed Potter or Weasley, but the women had agreed to stay at Nott Manor to watch over Hermione, who hadn't woken since she'd passed out at the first wedding. Susan, worried about dehydration, had hooked her up to an IV, something that had to be explained to Draco as he hadn't seen it happen the first time around. He'd looked in on her before they'd departed, squeezing her cold hand and kissing her damp forehead with a whispered "I'm sorry, I'll fix it," before he'd joined the others in the Floo parlor. He knew the others had all gone to see her as well, though they'd done it privately, as he had. None of them had said goodbye to Pansy or Susan - other than a brief "see you later" sort of thing before retreating towards the Floo. The look on Susan's face had been... resigned. The look on Pansy's something more sinister, but he'd paid them no mind. If they lived through the day, Pansy could exact whatever revenge she wanted.