Per the usual, thank you to Mcal for her amazing beta'ing! (Any remaining mistakes are mine)

Also, as per usual, I still own no rights to Harry Potter.

Chapter 13

It was with no small amount of trepidation that Draco watched the elves move box after box into the guest suite. He told himself it was temporary, she would land on her feet and move out in no time; but her sharp, decisive orders for her unpacking informed him otherwise. Pansy had moved in to the Manor; and it seemed she was determined to be properly settled.

Of course, the distraught woman of the previous day was nowhere to be seen.

Even Draco could admit Pansy looked pitiful and lost as she burst into the solarium during tea.

"They're contesting the sale!" She wailed, her hair awry and black smudges trailing down her cheeks.

His mother, bless her, had taken Pansy in her arms and tried to soothe her distress, but the wails increased in volume and pitch until Draco could scarcely tolerate it. And he thought that would be the worst of it until Pansy launched herself at him. Her unruly-and still confusing-curls tickling his face and smothering his nose with their overly floral scent, as she proceeded to soak the front of his shirt with her tears, all the while clutching to him and begging. "Hold me closer, Draco, make it all go away." That, was by far worse. Those maddening curls put him in mind of Hermione, but try as they might, the twisting tresses paled in comparison.

"Pansy, dear, who is contesting what sale, exactly?"

With a great sniff, she pulled Draco closer as she moaned, "My house! They're trying to take back my house!" Draco tried to push the coarse, noxiously sweet smelling hair out of his nostrils under the guise of patting her head consolingly.

"Who is?"

"The family of the previous owner," she sobbed, "they say the sale was illegal and I have to be out in twenty four hours!" Her choking sobs grew louder. Draco's shirt grew wetter.

"Oh, dear, well that is quite unfortunate. Perhaps you could stay in one of our guest suites?" Narcissa offered.

Draco shot his mother a look over the top of Pansy's head he hoped conveyed his alarm and general disagreement with this idea, but she chose to ignore him. Pansy, chose to draw him tighter into her embrace and squirm inappropriately. Draco patted her in as comforting a manner as he could muster, throwing in a muttered 'there, there,' for good measure and peeled her from his person.

Thankfully she went willingly, dropping to the sofa, and helping herself to tea and biscuits. She calmed considerably and seemed eager to coordinate with Narcissa on the logistics of the move.

Draco sat in quiet shock as his tea cooled to an unacceptable temperature, and the tear stains crusted over on his shirt.

Before leaving for work, his mother reminded him that Pansy has lost much due to circumstance as well; being sure to add, "How can one in good conscience call themselves a friend and not extend the hand of hospitality?"

Too exhausted by the ordeal to argue, Draco conceded and escaped to work, hoping to avoid any manual labor.

Alas, his plans were foiled. Stepping out of the Floo, he was accosted by a manically charged Pansy, who henceforth dragged him toward the east wing guest suite-the guest suite closest to his room.

"Draco, you simply must help me arrange my things," Pansy chattered as she tugged his arm, "It's just such a darling thing your doing for me. I simply can't imagine not having the room perfect. It wouldn't do at all for your ancestral home to be cluttered haphazardly." She tittered out a laugh, the sound shrill and grating, but mercifully, they had arrived at her door and she released him.

The room was, in fact, quite cluttered at the moment. Pansy's clothing lay about in piles on every available surface. And Draco watched as a line of elves brought more boxes through the door.

"Pansy, did you only bring clothes?" Draco asked as he opened a box and pulled out an endless wave of pink ruffles.

Pansy's eyes grew bright and rounded as she watched the layers of chiffon emerge from the box, she grasped it from Draco's hand and spun around, fanning the skirts about her in an imaginary dance. Sighing down at the frock, "I only brought the things I love." She dropped the dress onto the floor and sauntered toward Draco, her lips pursed in a pout, "You do want me to have the things I love don't you?" she whispered as she reached as if to put her hand on his chest.

Draco stepped away, and nodded, "Of course, Pansy. If the clothing makes you happy, then you should have it here while you stay."

She took a step toward him, but he nodded once and turned quickly from the room, ignoring the disappointment in Pansy's eyes as he retreated. Breaching the threshold, he was passed by a spritely elf, carrying something covered by a sheet. Making way for the busy elf, he stepped just outside the door.

"Missy Pansy, I have your bird." He could hear the excitement in the elf's voice.

"Ugh, that thing," He heard her scoff, the soft femininity in her voice from moments before gone, "Just stick it over there… and DON'T get it close to my clothes. It will get feathers and shit everywhere."

Stepping down the hall, Draco couldn't shake the uneasy feeling that there was something amiss with Pansy.

So he avoided her. He went to the office earlier, worked later, scheduled tea with friends and harassed Potter more just to be outside the Manor. If Pansy found him she would simper, toy with her hair and try to stand within his personal space. What good manners he possessed were surely being tested and the fact that she was monopolizing his home and his mother… well, to put it mildly, he was on edge.

It was a great relief the previous night when his mother informed him that she and Pansy would be shopping the next day. Draco was growing weary of avoiding home and coveted the opportunity to wander the halls and brood in solitude.

The day broke grey and dreary-a perfect day for brooding as it were-and Draco took breakfast in his room before adjourning to his study to simply read and be.

Quiet introspection and literature seemed the ideal way to pass the day, but when Draco was grazing the shelves for his next read he found it, Hogwarts, A History, Hermione's favorite book. He'd watched her so many times; hair piled on her head, soft leggings and one of his old quidditch shirts, curled up on the sofa to just flip through the pages and gently trace the pictures and her favorite passages. The look on her face when she read it to him was glowing and open; her umber eyes alight with wonder; wonder that shone in her eyes whenever she did magic - or watched anyone do magic. Hermione had treated magic as the gift it was.

As he opened the well-loved tome, something fluttered to the ground. Bending to pick it up, Draco found the pure white feather he'd taken in his pocket from Pansy's house. He never knew why he felt compelled to keep it, or why he'd tucked it in this particular book.

Replacing the downy marker he tucked the book mindlessly to his side; he felt restless and useless and just generally forlorn today. His life - everyone's life - was going on, moving forward, but still he felt stalled. When he'd finished Hogwarts and moved in with Hermione, he imagined rainy days would be for quiet tea and love making; the sweet frivolity of simply being with the woman he loved, but she remained missing and he and the Aurors remained ignorant of her whereabouts.

Having begun to wander, he found himself, inexplicably, in front of Pansy's door. Even though her room was near his, he'd avoided this hallway since her arrival.

He stared at her door for a long moment, reaching out to push it inward, but stopping himself at the last second. Then he heard it, the soft coo of Pansy's dove and he gave in to the impulse.

Entering the room, he found the decor largely unchanged, save for the ornate cage in front of the window. The rainy weather set a diffuse light throughout the room, painting a forlorn aura and strange shadows through the filigreed bars of the enclosure.

Draco pulled a chair closer to the cage and simply looked at the bird for a long moment. Its dark eyes surveyed him in turn and he reached a finger through the bars to stroke its wing. It gave a soft coo and edged over on the perch as if to get closer to the curious wizard.

"You're quite soft."

The bird only looked at him.

"I don't know why I'm talking to a bird. It's not like you can answer me." He rolled his eyes and scoffed at himself.

The bird cooed in response.

"Just as well. I'm afraid I'm maudlin company today as it is."

The bird tilted its head and Draco chuckled. "Perhaps a bit of reading?"

The dove cooed once more. Draco considered it an affirmative noise and cracked open the book beneath his arm.

And that's how it became something of a habit; sneaking into Pansy's room to talk to her bird. Draco often found himself questioning his sanity whenever he got the notion to tell the bird about this or that. It was a ruddy bird.

So on a lazy Saturday, when his mother and Pansy were again out stimulating the economy, he found himself seated by the wrought iron cage as he prepared to read more of Hogwarts, A History.

"Where did we leave off last time?" He flicked the pages with the tip of his finger, "Ah, yes, the ceiling of the Great Hall." He cleared his throat dramatically, "Charmed to reflect the sky outside the castle, the Great Hall ceiling is an example of the power of collaborative magic. Upon the inception of the charter…"

"Draco?" Pansy's voice startled him. "What are you doing?"

Before you get upset with Narcissa, please try to remember that she's known Pansy since she was a child and in the aftermath of war and loss, may inadvertently overlook certain concerning things in an effort to be protective and attempt to set things to rights. Narcissa is healing too, be kind to her (and to me since I wrote her that way :) ).

Thanks once again for reading and reviewing. I hope you're enjoying it!

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