Author's Note: Major teasing on My PART! No spoilers really, just going to get you salivating to know.

Perhaps Vivian is a character that has suffered a character change, a mental change, perhaps started eating more, living a fulfilled and maybe even a little indulgent and sinful life? Who says her curves aren't a little bit on the chubby male side? Who says she's not Hermione, unfaithful to Harry, staying away from home in search of "companions", gothing out and releasing what she always wanted to be (using Ron's position in the Weasley family to help cover it up)? Why else would she constantly walk the street Harry and Draco live on?

What if it is Ron Weasley, alienated from his family after coming out gay, cross-dressing as he had a long time (with only Harry on his side, understanding him)? And he roams Harry's street, staying with him sometime, for need of company, other times at the dingy little apartment, in utter loneliness?

What if it is Ginny, developed into an artist during Hogwarts, inspired to become a goth and to sit around drinking absinthe, smoking cloves, and enjoying herself in goth bars?

Maybe it is a total stranger, just like Vivian appears, with no secret agenda, and I've had everyone sleuthing for no reason, creating a great deal of suspense, as authors can do? Misleading has worked so far, if I had misled, with all my teasers.

Perhaps it is someone like Colin, or another minor character watching from afar, impersonating others in the Erikson-like journey to find oneself and to make an identity (often done, as I learned in reading Psych books, by searching for intimacy, sapping identity from past lovers to create a new, patchwork, "improved" self).

Heh, that's where I get all the twisted inner-thinking, personality-types and twists; I read a LOT of books about a lot of things. (Heheh, I'd add, I almost wrote "thighs" rather than things. How quickly this chapter could have turned pornographic.) Okay, I'll cut with the bad comedy.

We'll find out the first big secret in THIS CHAPTER! One of the above is exactly true, by the way!

Sorry Gary, for the taunting teaser, and for the Draco/Brom error. Fixed it.

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Chapter Eleven

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They walked down the path that lead to the Malfoy Mansion. He saw her look at the flowers that led visitors towards the final curve of the path and to the doorway. Draco knew the Malfoy insignia was on the doors, and there were entire clusters of photographs of the Malfoys in the Entrance Hallway. Letting her see his home would be the ultimate trust, the last step to seal their friendship – if they were truly friends, she would accept his identity and keep it secret from her friends, especially the Potters. The Malfoys had moved into the neighborhood without any hubbub, there wasn't a single person on the street they lived on that knew the identity of the new family.

"Do you want to see the manor?" He asked her, his eyes looking directly into hers, warning her about this important decision; freeing himself from responsibility as it was now her choice.

Vivian grinned, "Of course!"

Draco led her through the final bend of the path and they stood side by side, looking at the enormous manor. Vivian's mouth flew open in surprise, "It's beautiful!" She ran to the fountain, eyeing it, running her fingers on the soft moss that shrouded the birch trees around the fountain's pool.

She turned, her black skirt swirling across her legs, and looked at the large black double-doors, with the family crest and insignia – along with a beautiful Gothic letter M – carved into the wood. He waited to hear her say in shock, "You're a Malfoy?", but she didn't recognize the carvings. She turned to face him. He could see her gazing at him from the corner of his eye as he looked up to examine his own home, as if it was his first time seeing it as well.

Vivian sat on the stone steps leading to the manor's entrance hall. She reached into her purse and pulled out a camera, "Can I? Please?" She asked, " It looks just like the setting of my new story."

"Go ahead," he replied.

Vivian turned and took pictures of the garden, fountains, and then the sprawling, dark mansion. Before he realized, she took a photograph of him, too. He turned and she took one of him facing her, just as he asked, "What do you need me in there for?"

"My photo album," Vivian said.

"I don't photograph well."

"Neither do I; I always cut off the head or the legs," she joked, pretending that this was what me meant.

Draco rolled his eyes, his stomach knotting nervously, and asked, "Are you sure that you want to go inside?"

"I'm positive. Why?"

"Nothing," he pulled open the doors. It was dark inside compared to the sunlit weather outside. Draco moved indoors first and Vivian followed him second. They stood and waited for their eyes to adjust.

Before them was the gold-banister Grand Stairway, leading to the servant quarters and bedrooms upstairs. Rose was their only servant for now; Narcissa was going to send out letters for servants. Rose walked by the two of them and paused, seeing that Draco had brought home a lady. She asked, "Well! Who's this?" Draco was relieved she didn't refer to him as Master Malfoy, as she tended to do.

"It's my friend, Vivian Crowe," Draco told her. Vivian curtsied playfully towards Rose.

"Are you his mother?" Vivian asked.

"No, I'm just a live-in servant," Rose chuckled, "the lady of the house is upstairs. I'll ask her to come down if you would like."

"It's fine," Draco said.

Rose shuffled away and Draco turned around again and saw Vivian looking at the portrait gallery in the next room – the living room. Past it was the library and a grand ballroom.

He moved towards her, ready to explain. She was silent, looking at a picture of Lucius, Narcissa, and Draco (he was 13 in it); Her eyes widened in surprise, "Are you related to the Malfoys?"

"Yes," Draco said uneasily.

She looked at the consecutive photographs. They followed Draco as he grew and matured from picture to picture. Then, no photos hung to capture the few months that it took for him to grow upwards at an ungodly pace, to lose all the baby fat on his face and body; just a final photograph of him, alone, at nineteen, looking quite different, quite adult.

"Are you..." Her voice died in her throat in surprise.

"Draco?" Narcissa called, descending the staircase.

Vivian's hand covered her mouth.

Draco lookeda t his mother and said, "Yes, Mother?"

Narcissa approached them. Vivian stared at Narcissa, her face blank and even paler than it was normally. Her hand fell from her mouth to her side and she gathered enough strength to say, "Uh, my name is Vivian Crowe, I work at the Daily Prophet with Draco."

"How nice," Narcissa's eyes surveyed Vivian's entire body, from her newly colored black hair, to her eyeliner-traced eyes, and down her black shirt and floor-length black skirt. Narcissa smiled, but Draco could tell she disapproved.

"I'm showing her our home," Draco said hastily.

"Oh, excuse me for interrupting, go ahead," NArcissa stepped aside, and Draco moved past her. Vivian followed him, looking at the ground; Draco led her up the staircase and to his room, where he shut the door, put the trenchcoat on his desk, then turned and faced her.

"You're Draco Malfoy," She whispered, stunned.

He nodded, "Brom Breeler is my penname. I wanted to... to keep anonymity, so I could get better interviews, more scoop; I luckily don't look much like my parents or my childhood self. I ..." He began to explain but halted, seeing her eyes looking at him in a completely different way.

"I can't believe it, I can't, I don't know why I didn't notice," she muttered to herself.

"Did you know me when I was younger?" Draco ventured.

She looked away and shook her head, "No, but I heard of you. Heard you and your family were awfully proud, completely prejudiced against most people; haughty, pompous, stuffy purebloods."

"That's us, alright."

She looked at him, " I'm just really shocked. I guess - - I guess there is good in the Malfoy family, after all."

Draco sighed, "I'm sorry for misleading you. I felt... strange, I suppose; as if I could do certain things as Brom Breeler that Draco Malfoy was too proud to do," He felt he was justified in his actions.

Vivian sat on his window's cozy, blanket-lined seat and plucked at the towel on the laundry basket. She lifted it and saw the bird in it. He was already off the splint. He flew out of the basket and knocked against Draco's chest, then landed on Vivian's shoulder. "Is this your bird?" She asked cheerfully. Draco relaxed. An unspoken forgiveness occurred between them; the worst was over and he didn't care any longer.

"Yes. Can we please keep my identity a secret? Between us?"

She nodded her head vigorously, "Of course," Her finger stroked the little sparrow.

"Let's set him free."

"Are you ready to?" She put her hand over the pigeon and held him in between her two cupped hands, warming its little body.

"He's healed," Draco said. He pulled open his window. A warm wind rushed into the room, and Vivian held her hands out of the window. "Ready?" She called over the whistle of the wind.

"Go!" He replied enthusiastically, leaning forwards.

She pulled her hands apart. The sparrow's black eye stole a last glance of Draco and Vivian and leapt from her hands. The warm updraft carried him as his wings fluttered open from his sides. He chirped triumphantly and flew into the trees. Seconds later, an entire flock of sparrows soared from the row of birches and sailed into the distance.

He realized she had pressed up against him, her back to his chest, her hands held out into the wind. He felt an unfamiliar tug of desire inside that he didn't like. Draco stepped back and closed the window, forcing her to withdraw her hands.

"Wow," Vivian said.

He sat on his bed and cracked his knuckles. There was a funny atmosphere between them suddenly. She laughed easily but she was nervous too, or at least a bit uneasy. She plopped herself on the bed beside him, once again challenging his personal space. He felt the crackle of electric-like discomfort in him, raising the hairs on his neck.

Vivian turned her face to look at him, her nose centimeters from his right cheek. He stood at once, as if a magnetic force that repelled him from her side.

She watched him pace the room, then lean on his desk, half-sitting on the corner of it. Draco said, piercing the silence, "I'm almost done with my newest story for the paper. Did you write yours?"

"I started," She said, then added hesitantly, "I think I'll keep it to myself though, and write about something else. It turned out way too personal... about my family and stuff."

"I'd avoid it too, then. These damn feel-good, happy-go-lucky articles," he sighed, "at least you finally came to the Prophet; all your writing comes off as happy and kind, and you'll just do all those articles and leave the hard stuff to what I and the others are used to."

"Good, I like them," Vivian said.

They sat in silence again.

"Wow, so you're Draco Malfoy."

"I changed quite a bit, from the face, the body. You've seen the pictures downstairs, how awkward I was," Draco confided, "I was way shorter than some of my classmates by seventh year. I grew a whole lot in about eight month's time."

"No wonder you're tall and thin now. You were stretched length-wise," There was more silence.

"Show me around, then," Vivian suggested, "What's your favorite room in the entire mansion?"

"Oh! The library," Draco said, "It's absolutely gorgeous."

He opened the bedroom door, relieved to finally leave his room. Vivian exited, a few steps behind him. "I can't believe how big this place is, how grand," She ran her fingers down the gold banister, "I'm scared to touch anything."

Draco grinned, "I grew up accustomed to great wealth, luckily; so I'm not too intimidated. My father..." He stopped. A look of depression crossed his face and Vivian noticed it immediately, and looked lost as to what was wrong, but then she realized that Lucius Malfoy had died just a few night before; she felt taken aback and whispered, "Oh, Draco, your father..."

He shook his head, " He wasn't well, he was out of his mind ever since the stroke really changed him. It's another reason us Malfoys kept such a low profile since the fall of You-Know-Who."

Vivian put her hand on his elbow, yet it felt like a very intimate touch. She said, "I'm so sorry, I didn't lose anyone from my immediate family, I have no idea how awful it must be," She remembered the death jokes she had teased him with this very morning and said, "And this morning! I feel so insensitive."

"You didn't know, and besides, it really cheered me up," They were crossing the living room; he paused at their fireplace and motioned at the painting over the fireplace. It was a rather hazy acrylic piece of a bridge over a rushing stream, trees and shrubbery in the background. A sole bird was silhouetted against the blue sky. Draco laughed, changing the topic, "I did that, sixth year."

She gave it a critical glance-over, "It's not bad. A little smudged, but I like it."

"It was a present for my mother. It took ages and I worked on it at home during Christmas break," Draco shrugged. He continued to lead her to the other side of the room, then paused and said, "Close your eyes."

Vivian closed her eyes.

Draco took her hand and led her into the center of the library. He dropped her hand, took a few steps aside, and said, "You can open them."

Vivian saw the enormous shelves stacked tall with books, going up two stories high. Her lips parted in delight as she looked up at the domed ceiling, at the angels and demons looking at her them; the beautiful pillars and plaster-carvings and ornaments in the corners of the library. She spun around, the angels and demons dancing over her, the dozens of eyes that seemed to follow you wherever you stood; the pained expressions, the triumphant angels! The colors, vivid, ranging from soft grays to sharp reds, swirls of paint, studded with precious stones, the curtains made of gilded thread – and the windows! Two stories high, the top half stained glass, the bottom half looking out onto one of the largest and most beautiful gardens in England.

Draco watched her and smiled when her eyes fell upon his face again. "How can you live in this house, in any other room, with a room like this in here! It's absolutely astounding," Vivian's voice quivered with tears, " I've never been anywhere so beautiful."

Draco was surprised by her tearful appreciation. She was truly an artist at heart. She laughed and explained to him, "For a minute there I pretended this was all a present, a gift for me or something. I couldn't help but cry."

"It is sort of a present, you can come by and read at any time."

"I never thought I'd be a guest at the Malfoy manor, not to mention Draco Malfoy's friend," Vivian looked overwhelmed, "I'm just floored now by all this."

"I hope this all explains about my nature, and my dislike to Harry Potter, and his Mudblood Hermione and the Weasleys," he told her.

"I understand," Vivian said, finally, "I don't understand hating people that much, but I've had my own fair share of prejudice against certain people. If I had known you were a Malfoy I wouldn't have tried to strike up a conversation that one day."

They stood there, looking at each other.

"Oh," Vivian realized something and said, "I'm going to be away the rest of this week, I'm going to visit my family. I haven't seen them in a long while."

"Have fun," He said, finally, "I don't really like most of my family. Katie – if you remember her – is still tolerable, but her parents are ridiculous. They're going through the stupidest, most drawn-out divorce ever. Poor Katie's caught in the middle of it, and her father keeps dumping her here. Her mother's watching her for now though."

"Awful, divorces," Vivian shook her head and then said, "Who am I to judge that though, maybe it's for the best; I come from a close-knit, loving family, but sometimes it's better for people to split than to suffer."

"I'll write you, maybe, in the meantime? I might have something to complain about and have nobody to rant to."

Vivian shook her head, "I'd rather not bother your owl with it, I'm really busy when I visit my family."

"Just in case? Give me their address?"

"Write to me your rants, but keep them; I'll read them when I get home."

He found this strange but shrugged and said, "Alright, whatever you wish."

She smiled at him sympathetically, "I'm sorry, it has been nice seeing your home, but I really ought to get going. I'm packing and leaving tonight."

"I'll walk you out."

They walked towards the front door together. Vivian said, "You really have changed quite a bit. Once that wall of distrust disintegrated between us, it's been much better. We're still quite opposite each other; I'm outgoing in all the areas you're locked-up-inside over; you're unforgiving about things I tend to let go easily. Yet we can be good friends. That was my goal from the very beginning, I think. To really give you a look at the world you never did before. None of that semi-researched, two-sided, 'unbiased' stuff that goes on in your articles, as fine a job as you do with it. Really letting you see it, that's really what it's all about."

"I guess I'll thank you someday, but I still feel like you just took control away from me and spun me in circles for a while," Draco smirked, "I like having control sometimes too."

"That's another good thing. You learned to relax and let someone else direct you for a while. Admit that it feels nice to not plan everything out from start to finish, and to have the same over-planned day, over and over until you die?"

"I admit, it's nice to have change sometimes."

"Well, good, then," She opened the door, "I'll be going then."

"Good-bye," He told her.

She nodded, "I'll write if anything."

"Alright," He replied.

Vivian then slipped outside and closed the door. He stood by the closed doors, hearing the clack of her heels descend the steps and then shuffle through the gravel-like path. He turned and saw his mother standing behind him, pale as a scepter and frowning at him.

"Who is she?"

"Just a co-worker. Just a friend," Draco defended.

"I don't like her. She looks like one of those empty-headed artist types, the kind that bothered me back when I went to school. No future at all, lost in their own folly about making the world a real good place," Narcissa sounded just like his thoughts sounded, weeks before.

"It's not like I'm going to wed her," Draco shrugged it off lightly.

"I hope not, I know a woman's intentions when I see them; I was young once too. I've had boys like me that were quite below me; there are many fine girls that don't have to shop in second-hand stores; she smelled like mothballs, and the way she looked at you – she fancies you."

"Nah, Vivian?" Draco shook his head, "Not for a while now. Maybe a little at the start, but I think she's come off it."

"She does," Narcissa said, "And I would keep her at a distance, or else you'll have a heart to break soon."

Draco frowned, "You don't even know her."

"I know how to tell if someone is nothing, or something, and she is nothing."

He knew he wouldn't win, "Perhaps."

She was moving away; she looked at him from over her shoulder and said, once again, "Be careful, she knows who you are now; it was a stupid idea to bring her here. She'd just black mail you, she knows you're rich and single and that you are hiding your true identity."

Draco just shook his head and started walking up the staircase.

Narcissa shouted after him, "I won't have her coming here again."

He closed the door to his room and sat at his desk, writing his first rant to Vivian.

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She had packed all her things, written a letter ahead of time to warn her family she was coming, and now she stood just opposite her old family home, ready to knock on the door. Vivian had felt a little alienated from them after she left school, for she had pursued her own interests then, as a legal adult in their world; she began to dress as she wished and had suppressed back at home, and began to write and paint anew in her own apartment. Though her father and mother helped her out with costs, her new job at the Daily Prophet made her fully independent, for she was getting a very large paycheck for an entry-level journalist.

She knocked.

Her mother pulled the door open, rearranging her newest baby girl squealing on her shoulder and exclaimed, "Ginny!"

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Author: All I can say is :-)