Author's Note: Hehehe... I'm not going to say who the person behind the Vivian character is, what gender they really are, whether they are really pureblood or Mudblood, very minor character or one of the more major cast members. There's dozens of possibilities, isn't there? I tried for an odder pairing... maybe it's really crazy and shocking, maybe not, nobody knows other than me what I'm up to... Hehehe, but I'm almost done with the story at chapter 14, and I made it a long, twisted story indeed.

Chapter Three

Draco unfolded the piece of paper Vivian had handed to him. It was a basic resume, with her name (Vivian Crowe), age (18) and address (an apartment), and then a list of references and places her written work had appeared. Draco recognized a few periodicals he would read inside the rather impressively long list.

He was sitting in the café, waiting for Vivian to show herself. He couldn't believe he was going to do this – to actually ask someone else to write a story for him. He couldn't have felt more ashamed of himself, but he just couldn't write this story. He needed someone with a cheerful and loving tone, someone that could make an otherwise sappy and flowery story into a piece that you'd read, clip from the paper, and put inside a diary to keep forever; something that would touch the reader inside.

It was nearing seven in the morning. Just as Draco began to fold Vivian's resume back up, he saw her enter the café. She was dressed oddly, as usual; but this time her lips were natural-colored and her makeup was lighter. She was rather good-looking, something Draco didn't notice as much before, behind all the sharp makeup. Her lips pointed upwards in two sharp little peaks on the top and her bottom lip was fuller and rounded itself like a slightly flattened half-moon, tucking in just before the upper lip ended. She had large brown eyes that peeked out from beneath overgrown bangs.

"Vivian," he said.

She looked up and immediately rushed to his table, sitting herself across from him. " Mr. Breeler!" She smiled brightly, seeing that he was holding her resume, "Did I get accepted? Nobody's contacted me."

"Actually, ah... I haven't given them your resume yet," Draco said uneasily.

"Oh, that's alright," Vivian said quickly, "I didn't mean to make it seem like I had to have it done now, there's no rush, really, I've got Witch's Weekly to write for, and..."

Draco cut her off, " I need your help first."

"Pardon?"

"You asked me to help you get your job. I need you to help me keep mine."

She squinted at him, " I don't understand."

"You see, I've been assigned to do a report on something happy, moral, thoughtful – I've never written anything like it. We've got a new head of the paper, Mrs. Kampf, and she's absolutely insane. She's making us balance tragic, frightening, exciting stories with stories about the home, the neighborhood – trying to soften people a little. It's an insane liberal idea and I hate it, and now that it's my turn to do my part in this whole scheme, I can't do it."

She nodded, "So you want me to write it for you?"

Draco swallowed, " If you could. It seems like something you could do."

Vivian grinned, " Are you serious?"

"Yes?" He didn't know what to expect. She might suddenly laugh at him and say she had no intention to help him cheat his way into keeping his job; she might take him up for his offer; she might demand additional favors from him.

"You think my writing could come off as something Brom Breeler would write?" Her eyes were shimmering now, "That's such a compliment! Of course I'd do it!"

He sighed in relief, " Good. I have an idea for a story, those old ladies that sit around in the park, something touching about them seeing their children and grandchildren grow before their eyes."

"You don't like children," She reminded herself, "Not exactly a piece for you, this story."

"Precisely. I'm not fond of old people, either. Or senseless cheer."

"Mmm."

"What?"

Her eyes were crafty now, like a cat's. She turned her lips into a smile, very slowly, her eyes staring into his, "I have another favor to ask of you, then. Other than handing in my resume."

"What's that?"

"That you'll come out for dinner with me sometime."

Draco had fortunately worn a white shirt with black pants this time, but it had apparently not done the trick. She was still attracted to him somehow, and though he knew he was good-looking, he figured that she would have gotten the message that he didn't really like her or want to have much to do with her, past the small favors they asked of each other.

"I don't understand. Why?" Draco pictured a shady little restaurant, with Vivian and him discussing in hushed voices how to make the column work. Perhaps she just wanted to talk business, talk about her chances of getting a job, or about what it was like to work for the Prophet.

"You look like you're really sad," She said gently, "I want to get you out of the house." She saw his put off expression and added, "Maybe you have a girlfriend! I guess you wouldn't go then, because it would look really bad, wouldn't it? Maybe I'm guessing wrong, you could be the happiest chap in England, I don't know..." She had a tendency to carry on when she was upset about something.

"No, I don't have a girlfriend," Draco said, finally. "I suppose an evening out wouldn't hurt."

"You can bring Katie if you like. I don't mean this in a romantic way. Just a friendly outing, alright?" Vivian patted his hand with her warm fingers.

"Oh, she doesn't live with me, it's really chance whether she is or isn't with me, I just watch her sometimes," Draco explained. Then he added, processing the second part of her sentence, "Of course this is just a...a friendly outing. I'm certainly not interested." There, he had said it.

He had almost expected at least a bit of hurt to cross her face, but there was none. She just grinned again, nodded, and whipped out a purse, pulling out her belongings.

"What're you ...?"

She found a plain white index card inside it and a pen. She scrawled on it, Vivian, 5:00 p.m., Friday, Meet at Café. She handed it to him. " We'll meet here this Friday. That's the night I have open."

"Alright. We'll stay here?"

"No, I'll take you someplace. You won't find it on your own."

He imagined the eerie smoke-filled restaurant again and shuddered internally. "Alright, I'll see you then."

"Great," Vivian continued to sit beside him, however.

Draco thought that after they'd finish talking business, she'd leave. Instead, she looked as if she intended to spend the rest of his time in the café with him. This girl obviously had no sense to her, no ability to read people; couldn't she tell that he didn't want to chat? Draco never chatted. It was busy work for the mouth. He could say in a sentence what would take Vivian an entire conversation to get around to. That was how he was.

The waitress came up to their table and Draco ordered his coffee with cream and white chocolate shavings. She ordered the apple-cinnamon oatmeal, then took out a magazine.

At least she'll keep quiet, he thought to himself, and felt as if he could even enjoy the morning, if she'd keep quiet enough. She was pleasant to look at and he wasn't that much a loner to be averse to any sort of company.

Yet, it wasn't to be, apparently.

"They published my favorite story," She said seconds after opening the magazine.

"How nice," Draco said musingly.

The waitress returned, set down Draco's coffee and Vivian's oatmeal, and then waited as they both paid separately. Vivian continued the conversation as the waitress left, "I got paid very little for it, less than usual, but it's an honor. My favorite story, you know. My first one I wrote, that's why."

"I see." He wouldn't have asked why, and he certainly wasn't glad that she went on to tell him so.

He finished his coffee quickly and stood.

"When do you want the story?" Vivian asked.

"When I meet you for dinner?" He suggested.

"Fabulous, thank you," She grinned.

He didn't smile back. He nodded goodbye to her and left, feeling somewhat confused. She was far too cheerful for him, it was overbearing – as if someone had opened his mind and started pouring sugar in, to the point where he could barely handle it. It had been a while since he'd really mixed with people of his age, other than at work; Draco was a loner and liked to work privately, on his own time, without anyone around him. He figured his parents would eventually find him a girl due to his lack of interest.

He knew he wasn't gay, that was far from it, but he was not interested nevertheless, as he had always been. Draco preferred it that way. Now that there was a random girl mixed up into his life, he realized with some bitterness how long it has been since he had dated. Of course, it was a silly think to reflect on as he was still single, and Vivian was not looking to date him. He hoped not, anyway, for he would certainly turn her down. Nobody in their right minds could be so upbeat. It would drive him insane.

Draco walked all the way home thinking these thoughts. By the time he reached his door, a deep autumnal rain was pouring. He stepped into his home, took off his shoes and left them on the mat that was beside the doorway for the very purpose of holding dirty shoes, and then stood there for no reason at all.

He simply stood, leaning against the half-empty door, staring at the water beginning to puddle through the entrance doorway, looking rather forlorn.

Only a few minutes later, when Rose came up to him and asked if he was hungry, did he come out of his unusual trance.

&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&

Thursday came slowly, as Draco no longer had a story to work on and had nothing to do but lounge around his home or take prolonged walks around the neighborhood. He avoided the café for three days in a row, to minimize his exposure to Vivian. Something about her confused him and he didn't want to keep being confronted by her, endlessly puzzling over whatever it was that confounded him.

Thursday afternoon, Katie was dropped off at his home again, this time until late evening, George assured. Draco led her upstairs and left her in her room with a 1,000 piece puzzle and two children's books that he had found hidden away in his closet. One was strictly about dragons, going into great depth about every aspect of dragon rearing, dragons in the wild and in captivity. He had loved the book, though it was rather simple and consisted mostly of fine illustrations with captions beneath them.

He would never admit it to anyone, but when he found it (he had been looking for books with Katie in mind, as he figured himself too boring to amuse her alone) he had taken it and opened the cover and started to read it again. After the first page, he was hooked, and he slowly sat himself at the foot of his four-poster bed and indulged his mind with page after page of his childhood.

By the time he reached the last page, he had tears in his eyes, which he didn't even want to begin to explain. He remembered how he bought the book at a store that was long gone from Hogsmeade, and how Narcissa would read it to him until he'd fall asleep. Together they read it at least four or five times front-to-cover before he moved on to another book. Draco could picture his mother now, turning the book to face him, showing the pictures. He had to be seven or eight.

He had few memories as fond as this one. He had closed the book and transported it to Katie's room – as she stayed in it almost as much as the rest of the residents of the Malfoy mansion did – leaving it on her desk.

Now, the day after, he stood in the doorway of Katie's room. The only reason he was stuck here was because Katie, too, was standing rigidly in the doorway.

"Well? Go on in," Draco prompted. He wanted to read the paper, for his morning routine of getting the paper and reading it in the café had been interrupted and he had to pick it up in the evening from a newspaper stand instead; therefore burdening his schedule in the evenings with having to find some time to read it.

"I don't want to," She grumbled.

"Why?"

"It's boring!" She whined.

"I found some books," Draco offered.

"So?" Katie bounded across the room on her thin little legs and looked at both books carefully. "Bo - - ring." She stretched the 'o' for a good six seconds.

"No it isn't," Draco stammered angrily an instant later, but caught himself – what was he getting excited for over some children's books? – and added, "It'll expand your mind a little."

"I don't want to expand my mind," Katie jumped onto the bed, despite all the times Draco told her not to jump on the bed. She hopped twice, then fell on her behind on it and threw a pillow at him, "Pillow fight!"

The pillow bounced from his hip and fell to the floor, a feather escaping the slip it was in and clinging to Draco's pants. He stared at Katie, hoping she could see in his eyes how much he detested her, then said, " You throw something across this room again and you're going to have to spend the evening with me, and trust me, that's boring."

Katie seemed eager to take him up on his offer, and before Draco could back down from his threat, she threw the second book, a half-finished coloring book, at him.

"Get down off the bed," Draco hissed.

She stood on it and grinned defiantly.

"You're ten years old, you're too old for this," Draco muttered, rubbing his temples. And I'm too young to care about some snot-nosed little brat, he thought angrily, his nostrils flaring. He pulled a few strands of pale hair behind his left ear and walked over to the bed and grasped Katie's arm firmly, but not violently; it wouldn't hurt but it gave him a sense of control over her.

He pulled her down off the bed and onto the floor.

"Pick up the pillow," He instructed gravely.

She did, hitting him in the rear with it as she walked by, and then threw it onto the bed from a meter away. He decided not to comment, but said instead, " You're going to stay with me in the library for a good hour or two as I read the paper."

"Good," Katie declared.

"Why?"

"I'll find something to do then, we could talk," She responded.

"No, you don't understand. I'll be reading, not talking."

"You can't ignore me," She threatened.

"I could, too," Draco quarreled.

"Prove it," Her nose wrinkled in excitement at this new game she found, of aggravating her cousin.

Draco took her arm and led her from the room. "I don't understand why your father can't just finalize this divorce, what's taking so long?" Draco said, quite unsympathetic to Katie's family. "Who do you want to live with?"

"Both of them," She said softly.

He frowned and kept walking. He wasn't good at consoling anybody, especially not children. As they neared the staircase, he managed to say, "You know it'll be hard to do that once they move as far apart as they can from each other, you know? Unless your new home will have a really long hallway."

Katie giggled.

Draco stared at her coldly, but no longer with indifference. He felt an odd pang of sympathy unlike his previous feeling of responsibility to be kind. After all, he felt he was losing a parent as well. His own father was slowly slipping away (and at that very moment upstairs, crumpling papers, putting them in a wastebasket, then unfurling them and putting them on his desk, back and forth, for the past hour).

"What?"

"Just thinking," He said finally.

They walked down the stairs. Halfway through he loosened his hold on her hand, at the bottom of the staircase he had let her go completely.

"Your fingers are really cold," Katie criticized him.

"I have a long body and a little heart," He joked, "And it's made out of stone."

She grinned again, her eyes shimmering. She looked really happy – too happy – and suddenly he realized that the glow in her eyes were tears rather than mirth. He put a hand on her shoulder awkwardly, "Don't cry, if you rub a stone long enough it turns into a diamond. My fingers are cold because I keep rubbing it. It's becoming shiny," He kidded on, haplessly, his lips and mouth working against his mind. Somewhere deep within, he truly felt like making her stop crying, even though outwardly and in his logical thoughts he was unwilling and uninterested.

Katie pressed a fist to her right eye and wiped angrily, "Mom's been sending Dad owls, Howlers. One came in the middle of the night and woke me up. She was swearing in it and everything. He sends them back, too, I hear him shrieking at our owl. Poor Gulliver," Tears tumbled down her face.

Draco stooped over her, as she barely reached the middle of his chest, and handed her a handkerchief. She cried into it for a few minutes as they walked towards the library. He didn't know what to say and he felt he had exhausted most of his love and kindness for humanity with the cheering-up he had tried to do.

He pushed open the doorway to the library and sat himself down comfortably on the couch. He had expected Katie would take the childish, silver and green beanbag chair in the corner of the room, but she sat right next to him, pulling her knees to her chest. There was a giant scab on the left one.

"What's that from?" Draco asked curiously.

"Oh," She looked at her leg as if she was seeing it for the first time, then said, " Fell off my broom."

"Playing Quidditch?"

"Yeah. I want to be on the team next year at Hogwarts," She confessed in a hushed tone, "I've been practicing alone to do all sorts of things, like ducking and dodging and tail spins, even though my Mom doesn't even know I have a broom. Dad bought it."

"So maybe you'd rather be with George," Draco said.

"No, because my mother gets me gifts too. They're trying to buy me over somehow," Katie explained, "It's getting really silly. Almost every day, someone gives me a gift. And most of the days that I stay here are days I'm supposed to be at my Mom's, but she moved into this teeny apartment for the time being until she buys herself a home away from Dad."

"I see," He sighed.

"Did you play Quidditch?"

"Did I!" Draco said excitedly, "I became captain for Slytherin sixth year. That's when I got my first and last girlfriend too, a Slytherin fourth year. She'd come and cheer for me in the stands and get really red whenever I'd look at her."

"That's cute," She said.

Draco gesticulated wildly, showing his hand, his own self on a broom, zooming and then, pinkie extended, grasping the Snitch, "I caught it a record three times that year."

"Awesome," She tucked her legs beneath her behind now, resting on her heels. " What about your girlfriend? Tell me about her."

"Eh," his enthusiasm faded greatly, "Her name was Clara."

"What did she look like?"

"Reddish-brown hair to her shoulders, blue eyes. Half Irish, half British. She had really bad teeth as far as I remember, though."

"Did you kiss her?"

"No," Draco said, then suddenly realized he'd never had his first kiss, other than a joking kiss as a toddler to a cousin or a friend. He chose not to say it, for it was the first time in many months that he had even come across such a thought. He never felt the lack of a woman in his life; he was very good at keeping a schedule every day, day after day, doing the same things to amuse himelf.

"No?" She asked, then laughed.

"I didn't feel like it," he admitted half-heartedly.

"Why not?"

"I didn't like her that much, not like she liked me," he responded.

"Why not?"

"I don't know," he said finally, "Just wasn't as interested. I was doing really well in all my subjects at the time and I was trying to focus on that, and on Quidditch. All that mess with You-Know-Who really got in the way as well," he confessed, "we broke up at the start of seventh year. It was too hard for me to keep a relationship. Always busy."

"That stinks," She grumbled, "What about other girlfriends?"

"Oh, you know, just an odd one here or there," he lied, not knowing why. For the first time it felt a little shameful, and here he was opening his heart to a ten-year-old girl! He turned and grasped his paper, "And now, as I said, I'll be reading."

"Aww," Katie said, "You were beginning to be fun."

"Thank Merlin that I stopped in time," Draco said, then touched his chest, "still stone."

"Nah. It's probably this big bleedy mess," She murmured.

"Wonderful," Draco responded, "I'm a big bleedy mess inside."

"And all your organs gushing stuff back and forth," Katie divulged.

"Where'd you get this nonsense from?" Draco gave her a fierce glare.

"An anatomy book Mom got me," She smirked, "It had all these illustrations of everything. Everything," she flushed a little.

Draco rolled his eyes and slowly begin to lose himself in the Sports Pages.

"Draco," She tugged on his sleeve, "Keep talking, you're kind of cool once you get into the groove."

"I'm reading," He said, "That's what I came here to do. You said you'd talk, and I believe I'm all talked out. So you can go talk to that beanbag chair and I'll find out whether Poland's Quidditch team won against our national team."

She slid off the couch and left the room and came back a few minutes later with the two books Draco found for her. She mumbled under her breath critically for a few minutes but soon lost herself in the pages and pages of stories, informative passages, and pictures on dragons. Draco looked up after a half-hour or so and felt almost envious. He didn't realize how quickly people grew up until he was an adult himself. He never really enjoyed his childhood as much as he could have; he had more enemies than friends and his closest comrades, Crabbe and Goyle, were miles behind him mentally. He was used to dealing with life on his own.

Katie glanced up at the same time and her eyes caught his. "The Russian black-winged one, this one," she lifted the page, "lays eggs the size of watermelons. Weird."

He nodded to himself and didn't feel the need to reply. He felt somewhat satisfied having the fact read back to him, after reading it the night before. A childish thought, I knew that before you, ha!, emerged in his mind, but he didn't tease her. He wasn't a child anymore.