Ginny thumbed the worn purple fabric of her work robe. It wasn't unusual for her not to receive a compliment on the color; but Draco's catty insult had imbedded itself into her mind. He had expressed to her that purple was a weak and awful color that clashed horribly with her dreadful red hair. She should wear bold colors: white, black and she could possibly even pull off the right shade of red. Deep green would look exceptionally divine.

She let her hands run over the different colored fabrics, resting on a shiny metallic material. She pulled it from it's home, between a black and a green dress. It shimmered gold in the sunlight from the shops wide windows.

Gold. Ginny thought with a smile. Draco would loathe it.

The dress itself wouldn't fit perfectly, she could tell by measuring it with her eye. But that didn't matter between her and Colin they could tailor almost anything. It was a hobby they had begun while still attending Hogwarts. They had found enjoyment in mending the many holes discovered in her secondhand school robes.

Colin often asked her why she never shrunk or tailored her oversized jumpers. She replied 'It would simply seem ungrateful and awfully rude to alter a gift.' He just laughed at her and forced another chocolate sweet into her mouth.

"What do you make of this one?" She asked, holding the gold dress to her chest. It was too long and the hem and extra fabric bunched on the shops wood floor.

"God no." Colin replied.

"Why not? I know it's a bit large but.."

"But nothing," he interrupted. His eyes never leaving the popular quidditch costume in his hand. "The size isn't the problem. It's those gaudy brass tones, they would look awful with your freckles."

Ginny was stung and forcefully hung the gold dress back on the circular rack.

"Thanks." She sarcastically replied, pushing past more dresses and fairytale costumes on the rounder.

"You know, Ginny." Colin said thoughtfully. "I might like salsa dancing, enjoying good wine, and bringing you to the cinema, but I truly do not fancy shopping with you."

"Why not?" She narrowed her brown eyes at him. Her hand resting atop a traditional vixenish vampire ensemble.

He sighed still not looking up from the quidditch costume he had been holding. "Don't look at me like that. I'm simply saying it's not my way of a spending a great day."

"Then please inform me of how exactly you would spend your great day?" She interrupted. Colin was quickly grating her temper and it was taking everything she had in her not to snap at him.

"Well," He began, pulling a short ruffled costume from a rounder with his free hand. He stepped to Ginny and thrust the dress to her chest. We start off finding you the perfect costume for the Annual Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes Charity Masquerade Ball."

Turning to the traveling mirror, she held the costume to her chest. The short red dress and white pinafore fell a few inches past her knees. A small plastic bag holding the matching red cloak and a colorful instructional card, flashing hair extending and curling charms, was attached to the hanger.

"Little Red Riding Hood?" Ginny scoffed.

"Read the card." Colin ordered, ducking around another rounder.

She turned the card over and read the label.

"Gretel?" She asked. "As in Hansel and Gretel?"

"Yes, as in Hansel and Gretel." He replied mimicking her voice. It always irritated Ginny when he mocked her. "C'mon, Gin." He pleaded. "You know we'd look sexy losing our way to grandma's house."

Ginny opened her mouth to argue that he had gotten his fairytales confused, but quickly closed it. There was no use in arguing with Colin on the costume or the tale, he always won in the end.

She imagined every eye turning on her laughing, as she walked into the hall, two gray eyes in particular, but dismissed it quickly. Draco wasn't going to the ball. She hadn't invited him and doubted the twins would be keen on sending him an invitation.

"Treat a very pretty redhead to a late lunch. Then go home for an afternoon nap. Wake 'round eight and floo to the Leaky Cauldron; where I will have Wednesday night drinks with said red head.

"Now for all this to happen you first must purchase this lovely 'Gretel' which I will buy it's equal the Hansel costume. So off you go." He pushed her in the direction of the counter.

"Fine," Ginny marched to the counter, "But if I resemble a girl out of one of Ron's dirty comics or a nasty hag in anyway. I'm allowed to kill you."

"Deal." Colin called, disappearing behind a rack of fairytale costumes.

The man behind the counter gently took the hangered dress from her and carefully wrapped it in brown paper and bound it with white twine.

"So," Ginny began, one hand holding the flap of her large shoulder bag open, while the other rummaged through her bag for her small bag of coins. Her fingers brushed the tube of a muggle cosmetic product, a day old letter from her father, a grumpy action figure one of her nephews had left, and countless other things she had forgotten to discard from her purse; then she felt cold. It felt like nothing more than a late autumn breeze against her skin but she knew it was Narcissa's small money purse.

Instantly Ginny's mind was flooded with images of another world, a richer world, a colder world.

She was no longer in the safety of the costume shop, browsing with her best friend, but in a masculine furnished study. Two identical girls both with hair like spun white-gold stood facing her. They were twins, identical twins, Ginny knew from their indistinguishable appearances. Every biological and material feature equal, down to their matching lilac hair ribbons.

Their pale blue eyes fell past Ginny and to the sandy haired man leaning against his dark ash desk. She was confident they couldn't see her, in visions they never could. But Ginny doubted they would have noticed if she had been present at the time.

"Narcissa." He acknowledged the young girl on the right.

Ginny whispered the name to herself as the girl stepped forward. Draco had told her it was his mother's purse, but she hadn't believed him at the time, as he didn't make it easy to trust him.

The young Narcissa smiled opening her purple velvet purse. The same purple velvet purse Ginny was holding in her own hands. Her smile grew wider as the man filled it with silver sickles.

"Thank-you, Father." Said the minature Narcissa. She took a step back, aligning herself with her sister.

"Enveaus."

Enveaus, the second girl stepped forward. She and her father repeated the same scene Ginny had just witnessed.

"Thank-you, Father." Enveaus smiled, closing her purse and letting it dangle from it's thick cord on her wrist.

"Don't spend it all in one place girls." He said turning his back to them.

The two soft blonde heads turned to each other, smiled and ran from what Ginny assumed was their father's office.

As one of the girls shut the door, one scene dissolved into the next. But Ginny immediately recognized her surroundings.

Light-gray stoned walls, green, red, blue, and yellow banners reflecting the four houses. She was at Hogwarts on a staircase to be specific.

"La Blanche, where are you off to?" A smooth voice asked from behind her.

Ginny turned to come face to face with Draco Malfoy.

He stood on the top stair between the two hand railings, using his long arms to block the tall blonde girl he had addressed from passing.

Sharp gray eyes, pointed nose, and his trademark sneer. Ginny was positive it was Draco, but there was something amiss that confused her.

Small differences not found in this double. Draco's cheeks though barely were softer, his eyes were not so much cold but amused, and Draco stood at least two inches taller.

Small diffrences that she didn't understand until she heard the girl speak.

"Not that it's any of your business Malfoy." A young Narcissa softly spat her future last name and Ginny had never been reminded of Draco so much. "But I was going to Hogsmeade to purchase some sweets."

She dangled her tiny purse before him.

"On the contrary my little betrothed but everything you do is in every way my business. When the Malfoy's invest in something they expect quality." Lucius drawled.

Narcissa flipped her fine blond hair behind her shoulder and easily pushed passed him.

"I'll make you love me." He teased as she walked up the staircase.

As Narcissa stepped onto the landing, Ginny was thrust into another world. She wasn't surprised by the changing in scenery, it was a common trait shared by other dark artifacts. However, she was concerned with the vivid detail she was seeing them in.

"Ginny."

She was standing in a bedroom now. It was dark and warm but, Ginny could smell something. This vision didn't have the welcoming odor of jasmine as the first, or the seductive mixture of pine and cologne from the second but the stale smell of medical potions and unsuccessful spells.

In the lone bed lay a sick and frail but still beautiful woman. Even with her thin limp hair and thinner body, Ginny could still see evidence of Narcissa Malfoy. A flash of white from the shade of a high-backed chair caught Ginny's eye. Draco was sitting back, one hand in his fine hair the other clinched on his knee.

His cold eyes weren't on his white-knuckled fist, but at the large bed that held his mother. There was something in Draco's posture and the expression on his aristocratic features that made Ginny's heart ache. She had never seen him so lost, so young, so vulnerable but also so hopeful. She couldn't understand why but she wanted to go to him, hold and comfort him.

"Ginny." She heard her name a second time.

"Ginny." Two warm hands gently shook her shoulders, pulling her from the vision of Narcissa and Draco.

"Gin, are you okay?" Colin asked.

She tried to say yes, but her voice refused to make a sound.

"Ginny wake-up." Colin shook her again.

"Is she okay?" Asked the store clerk. He was standing next to Colin and observing Ginny much like Harry and Hermione had that day in Hermione's office.

"Does she look okay?" Colin snapped.

"I'm fine." Ginny said, hoarsely. Her throat felt dry and scratchy. She slowly blinked her eyes, trying not to grimace at the pain behind her lids. She would soon need her Capitis Doloris potion to delay the oncoming migraine.

"Don't look fine to me darlin'." The owner offered, "What happened here, anyway?"

"Nothing." Colin answered too quickly. Earning him a questioning look from the older man. "She has a syndrome." He almost yelled.

"A syndrome?" The owner asked. He was slowly backing away from Ginny and Colin, and retreating behind his counter.

"Yes a syndrome." There was a degree of victory in Colin's voice. "Very traumatic. Can't take her anywhere."

Ginny rolled her eyes, her shaking fingers carefully digging through her shoulder bag, retrieving her own money. She put the coins on the counter and collected her parcel.

"What was it this time?" Colin asked. His voice was filled with concern as they left the shop, and stepped onto the street.

"Nothing." Ginny lied.

"Ginny don't lie to me." Colin whispered, grabbing her by her upper arm.

"I'm not." She lied, again. Colin would be so disappointed with her, if she were to tell him the truth. How could she even begin to explain what she was doing? Who she was helping? Why she was helping him.

He looked her over again, "Well, are you okay? D'you want to go home?"

Ginny looked at him and felt a great wave of guilt crash over her. Colin was her best friend and she was constantly lying to him, leaving him answer less and needlessly worried.

"Yes mum, I'm fine. It's just sometimes I get the waves." She smiled.

"That's what's wrong with you Untouchables.'" Colin forced a laugh. "Can't take you anywhere."

"I thought you were taking me out to lunch?"

"Lunch?" Colin smiled. "I said I was buying lunch for a pretty red-head. Where do you fit into that equation?"

Colin ducked as Ginny's brown paper parcel flew over his head.

*~*~*~*

Draco sighed, taking a drink of his morning coffee. The warm bitter beverage stinging his tongue, seemed to compliment his foul mood. He let his eyes roam over the front-page of "The Daily Prophet."

He felt a slight uneasiness about reading over his breakfast. In childhood it was forbidden to read at the table. Unfortunately, he had fallen into the bad habit of enjoying a newspaper over his pumpkin-juice and toast squares, while attending Hogwarts.

The Ministry's Most Wanted:

Blaise Zabini evades Aurors, Again.

The crimes stacked against, Mr. Zabini seem to be climbing higher and higher each day. The handsome deatheater, who is well known for his speciality in the Cruciatus Curse, has eluded the Ministry's finest for the past five months and has slipped once more through their fingers. My sources say, that over a weeks time, the Ministry had received numerous anonymous owls informing the authorities of Mr. Zabini's whereabouts. (Continued on Page 6)

Draco quickly flipped to the page.

The former Hogwarts' student, has been spotted as close as Paris, France and as far as Peru, wrapped in what was described from one owl as being "nothing more than a burlap sack."

Ronald Weasley, The Head of The Department of Magical Law Enforcement, son of Ministry Official Arthur Weasley, and brother of future Ministry of Magic candidate Percy Weasley, had taken holiday the two weeks the valuable information came flying in. On one of these many crucial days, he was seen accompanying his well known friend Harry Potter to a Chudley Cannons Quidditch Match.

When contacted for a quote the young Auror was unavailable.

So, where is the young Deatheater, well it seems no one knows.

-Lita Gross

Photo of Blaise Zabini courtesy of The WP.

Photo of Ronald Weasley by Colin Creevey.

Draco was caught between amusement with Weasley and anger at Zabini as he flipped between the pages to study the contrasting photographs.

The spacious cover picture was of a younger Blaise, looking smug in his Slytherin uniform. His long dark hair indistinguishable from the black material of his school robes. The black and white ink caused his eyes to look an ordinary dark gray in place of their abnormal violet shade.

On the sixth page, a small photograph of Weasley nervously smiled up at him. The image of Weasley in his white uniform, his big nose speckled with gray freckles, and his floppy light-gray hair, coupled with the article made Draco smile.

"Idiot." He mumbled to his empty diningroom, thinking that some things never changed.

He read over the other headlines, hoping for a story to catch his eye and take his thoughts off of Blaise Zabini.

The Biggest Ticket in Town

The Daily Prophet and Witch Weekly are combining their efforts to serve our readers with the details of one of the hottest balls of the year. The 6th Annual Weasley's Wizard Wheezes Halo's Eve Charity Ball, is just around the corner and the guest list is on fire.

Rumored to be attending the extravagant but mysterious event, that's held every year in an unplottable location, is some of Europe's finest Wizards and Witches including, heiress to the Bertie Bott's fortune Betty Bott and beautiful French socialites the Delacour Sisters. However, this event isn't exclusive to wealthy witches and wizards alone. Rumored to attend are Elite Quidditch seekers Viktor Krum and Cho Chang, also World Quidditch Cup winner's Aiden Lynch and Roger Davies. But the list doesn't stop there, decorated Ministry Officials and War Heroes Hermione Granger and Ronald Weasley will be accompanying "the-Boy-Who-Lived," himself Mr. Harry Potter.

Lucky for our readers, the Prophet's star reporter and "Skeeter Prize Winner" Lita Gross with world-renowned photographer, Colin Creevey will be capturing every thrilling moment of the evening.

Draco scoffed at the fall in the Prophet's ancient standards in journalism. Before and during the war it had been a reliable and highly regarded publication; but soon the owners and sold and it was now a small step away from being a tabloid.

He folded it three times and neatly put it on the side of his finished plate. He took the dark napkin from his lap and put it over his breakfast plate. Soon the food and drink had vanished and were replaced with clean goblets and dinnerware.

Draco waited contentedly full, for Edmund to tell him today's responsibilities. He was often glad that when his mother married his father she had brought her house-elf with her. Edmund was able to read and write and basically make Draco's life easier.

He didn't have too wait long, before Edmund walked through one of the two doors into the diningroom. He had a large white scroll tied with a red ribbon wrapped in his tiny hand.

"Ah, Edmund." Draco said yawning. "What are today's toils?"

Edmund unrolled the scroll and read off the first line:

"First off Master Malfoy needs to tends to his mother's nurse. It seems her wages aren't enough."

Draco groaned. He didn't like dealing with the help and their wages. It seemed no matter how much he was willing to pay, they always wanted more. Which prompted him to let them go and start the dreaded cycle all over again. But he couldn't do such things with his mother's nurses no matter how much he disliked them.

She needed twenty-four hour care and he would pay all the money they had in Gringotts and every other wizarding bank they held accounts in to get her just that.

"Give her whatever she wants." He said pouting. "What's next?"

"This evening Masters has a meeting with Miss. Whezzy." Edmund read off the next choir.

"I knew that. What else?"

"Lastly, Masters needs to talks to the Crocottas. It seems Crocottas need different orders after Master's unexpected visitor last week."

Draco visibly flinched. His mind flooding with visions of sharp teeth and stripped eyes.

"Must I?" He asked. "Why can't a stable boy do it?"

Edmund sighed. "Young Masters knows that only Young Masters or Masters is able to controls the dogs. Nots no stable-boy."

"Fine!" Draco spat standing.

~*~*~*~

The stagnant smell of hay assaulted Draco's nostrils as he stepped onto a large wooden crate outside the Crocottas's pen. The barn air was stiff and noisy, so he cleared his throat, hoping to gather their attention. It worked as a dozen bejewelled eyes looked up to him. The large brown half-dog, half-wolf, canines sat in a military style lineup. Each dog patiently awaiting his master's order.

Draco hated the way they looked at him. Their baguette eyes glittering at him, but lacking the respect and loyalty they had held for his father. He swallowed the lump rising in his throat and held the fresh copy of The Daily Prophet he had carried with him from the Manor into the air, for all the Crocottas to see.

Their eyes were immediately transfixed onto the black and white moving photo of Blaise Zabini, winking at them.

"His name," Draco spoke slowly, "is Blaise Zabini."

"Blaise." Some barked. "Zabini." Other's howled.

"A week ago, this man," Draco pointed to the picture for emphasis, "invaded your Master's home, and threatened him.

He watched with a sick delight as their eyes turned savage. His mind filling with the things the magical beasts would do with Zabini.

"That's right," he encouraged, "and if he is to step one foot into Malfoy Park. Your master wishes for him to not step out."

A small squeak disturbed the quiet air the dogs turned in unison to their stall gate. It always unnerved Draco the way they seemed to move as one. Running as a perfect machine was a trait shared by their entire breed. It made them the perfect predator, but also fickle and just creepy.

Draco lazily let his eyes roam to the target of his animals, expecting to find a lost house-elf knee high in hay, or the on-duty stableboy, Jack, but it was neither.

Trembling under her short brown suede coat and black messenger bag, Ginny stared in disbelief at the conversing canines. Her large brown eyes were wide as the dogs stood defensively, their multiple rows of sharp yellow teeth bared, and a low guttural growl, that made Draco involuntarily shiver escaped them.

"Unten." He ordered. He didn't raise his voice but they immediately retreated, each disgruntled beast taking their place in line.

He turned to Ginny from his high perch. Looking down on her, she stood silently, but her gaze had shifted from the crocottas to him. He tried to read her eyes, measure how much she had learned while standing there unnoticed.

From the expression she wore of equal parts horror and confusion, Draco felt a since of uneasiness.

He stepped down from the wooden crate, despite landing lightly on the barns dirt floor, his black buskins made an audible click. That seemed to echo in the now quiet barn.

"Not that I'm not happy to see you, but what in the bloody hell are you doing here?" He asked, trying to sound as casually as he could.

*~*~*~*

"What in the hell are those Mal-" Ginny started, but in one swift movement Draco had abadoned his newspatper and pinned her against a gate. He covered her mouth with his hand, the broadside of his pinky pressed against her nose and his palm comfortably encased her lips.

"No names." He hissed. His face bent down and inches from her own. The abrupt motion had jerked her from her fear and confusion of the vocalizing dogs.

"Mal!" They snapped their jaws, jumping at the thick wooden gate between her and them. She couldn't see them as Draco had her back pressed to the fence, but she imagined their sharp teeth dripping with white foam.

"Zu ihren ecken!" Draco commanded, not removing his hand from Ginny's mouth. His hand smelled of a sweet coffee he'd had for breakfast and fresh newspaper, but his spicy cologne was a little stronger. Ginny wasn't sure if it was the cologne or her fear of the dogs but she felt dizzy.

She kept her eyes trained on his trying to figure out what was happening. Draco stared over her shoulder between two planks watching the dogs. His hair had grown too long and the white tips brushed the bottom of his cheek bones.

"Those dogs were talking." Ginny mumbled against his hand. She didn't know if Draco understood, because his only response was a lifted pale eyebrow.

"Of course they were." He hissed. His eyes locked with hers and he removed his hand but not his body. "They are Crocottas."

"Crocottas?" Ginny asked in disbelief.

"Yes, Crocottas. You know the Indian dog-wolf."

Ginny shrugged her shoulders.

"Learns the names of unsuspecting traveling gits, beckons to them, then rips them to shreds."

"Sorry. No."

"Striped gemmed-eyes foretell the future."

"Wait you mean those Crocotta's. How in the hell did you get one of those?"

"Actually, I have six." He leaned onto his hand.

"Six?"

"Yes, We-" His eyes quickly moved through the planks again. "Weasley six." He whispered,"Merlin, is your whole lot this daft."

"You mind your's Malfoy, and I'll mind mine." Ginny murmured, regretting the words as they passed off her lips. The image of Narcissa laying bedridden flashed through her mind, and she felt a wave of guilt.

A flicker passed behind his pale eyes and Ginny was sure if she hadn't been this close to him, she would have never seen it. She looked again but it was gone as quickly as it had appeared.

"I'll take that into consideration." He smirked.

"So," She began, ducking from under Draco's arm and trying to flow their conversation into a more pleasant subject. "Where did you buy them from?"

"My great-grandfather Augustus Malfoy, was given them as wedding gifts." He whispered walking beside Ginny as they left the barn and walked out into the gray light of the late evening.

"Oh." Ginny answered, thinking it odd that giving homicidal dogs as a gift was normal to Draco. "They were presents."

"Well, it's not like great-grandfather was going to buy them. You do know it's illegal to actually buy one, right."

"It's illegal to own one."

"On the contrary my little Untouchable. It's illegal to buy one, not own one." He teased. "Loopholes love. Loopholes."

Ginny was reminded of her vision of Lucius and Narcissa, as she and Draco walked across the Manor's bright green lawn on their way to the castle and a question tugged at her mind.

"Draco how's your mother?" She sprung the question, not knowing any other way to come around to it.

"My mother's fine." He said, looking at her suspiciously.

"Now back to the crocottas. See this ring," he lifted his well manicured hand to her face as they took the first concrete steps. On his long index finger he wore a large silver ring bearing a unique green stone."This is was taken from Mercee'. He was given to me on my first birthday by mother's sister Enveaus. She thought a crocotta would be a delightful pet for a young boy. My father disagreed and unfortunately by the time I reached five years, I had developed the nasty little habit of bringing the disgusting beast into my room. My father found out and quickly disposed of my only pet."

"I'm sorry." She replied. She didn't know exactly know how to respond to Draco's little emotional out pour chiefly since it was void of emotion.

"Don't be." He said matter-of-factly, "I stopped suffering from fleabites and got a lovely ring out of it."

They walked in silence to the manor's large doors before either spoke again.

Ginny's curiosity over Draco's ill mother was overwhelming. She understood that he enjoyed delving into everyone else's personal woes and declaring them to the world, but when it came to himself, he was a rather private person.

"Draco, are you sure your mother's okay?" She asked, nervously.

He stopped short from walking through the open door and turned to her. His gray eyes narrowed.

"What do you mean?" He asked evenly.

"Is she okay? Is she ill?" She asked, genuinely concerned. Maybe she had not seen a past vision, but a future one. It wouldn't be the first time, that her foresight had been wrong or crossed.

"Of course my mother's okay." He snapped confidently, but their was something in his demeanor that made Ginny want to ask again.

"There is no need to snap at me," She argued, "all I asked was how your mother was?"

"My mother's fine." He growled, "How's yours? Still dead I presume or have there been in new developments?"

Ginny didn't exactly know why her hand was stinging so badly or why she had hot tears in her eyes till she looked up to Draco who was holding a hand to his now pink cheek.

"You slapped me." He said in amazement.

"Damn right I slapped you." Ginny hissed, finding herself. Her emotions were running wild from anger to grief and it was hard to concentrate on her task. "I've taken everything from you. Your childish tantrums, your catty insults, the hurtful words you've thrown at me everyday I've worked for you. But nothing, Nothing!" She yelled seeing him clearly in her anger. "Will allow you to ever speak ill of my mother? Do you understand."

Draco looked down at her, his eyes for once revealing his emotion of disbelief.

"So are you coming up to work?" He asked.

"No, Draco." She said quietly, her throat sore and voice hoarse from yelling. "You can save your mother without me."

Ginny turned from him and the door, to take one of the many gray-stoned paths that led to the front of the manor. She wiped the angry tears off her burning cheeks and the blurring ones from her eyes.

She climbed into her coach feeling something stronger than anger, she was feeling a betrayal and sadness that she hadn't felt in a very long time.

*~*~*~*

The Second of March

I have lived a hundred years and fed off many races, but I have never tasted flesh as sweet as that of the beautiful caramel women of New Orleans. Their blended blood of alcohol and southern sweets is like a fine wine to me.

I have spent the last few days feeding off of

Draco dropped the journal he was reading onto his desk. Ever since his spat with Ginny a day ago, he had been feeling an overwhelming since of something. He wasn't firm on what the nagging feeling was, but was content in the fact it was quickly morphing into aggravation.

He stared at the small black Egyptian artifact on his dark desk. His mother had bought the miniature sphinx for him the Christmas of his fifth year. It was charmed to help with his studies; riddling him on his exam questions.

Draco never used it. He thought it was dense and useless but always kept it atop his desk in plain view. He didn't want to harm his mother's feelings.

But this evening he was almost hypnotized by it. His eyes trained on it, as thoughts of Ginny swam in his head.

She had told him that she didn't want to and wouldn't help him anymore, but she couldn't have possibly meant it. What he had said wasn't that bad, was it?

He groaned in helplessness.

What was he supposed to do now?

Ginny had a majority of the books, Zabini's dagger, and above all Ginny knew too many of his secrets.

What if she decided to find the map on her own. How was he going to succeed when Ginny was holding all the cards?

"But she's not," the smooth voice of his mind told him. "You still have one thing she doesn't."

*~*~*~*

"Pansy. Pansy. Pansy. How are the trepidations of motherhood working for you?" Draco Malfoy, a man she had not seen since her wedding day, asked. He was casually leaning on his elbow, against the dark oak mantle of her study's stone fireplace.

"How did you get passed the gaurds?" She asked, slamming the Holm-oak door and trying to keep her voice from betraying her anger. "Who let you in here?"

"I'm not going to say but, don't let anyone tell you a galleon here and a death threat there, won't get you far in life." He smirked. "But I must say the reason's I'm here are much more important."

"So, it's not a rumor, you really are pissing away your inheritance. Your father always said you were the bad seed. Did he not?" She matched his smirk, taking a seat in one of the many uncomfortable chairs arranged away from the fireplace.

"That one really hurt." He walked silently around her chair, a delicate pale hand on his black button-down shirt; and over where if he had one his heart would be, in mock pain. He sat in the dark velvet chair across from her, his cold gray eyes wandering over the family paintings. They lingered on one, before coming back to lock with her's.

"Decent portrayal of the hag, by the way how is your whore of a mother?"

"Dead. And your lunatic of a Father?"

"Not near enough." He smiled. It was a cruel smile that didn't reach his eyes. Pansy knew Draco didn't mean what he said of his father, but neither had she.

"How have you been holding up without your mother?" He continued, "What has it been since she passed? Three years?

"Four, but let's skip the idle chat, Draco. Tell me why you're here and what it will cost to make you go away." She asked.

A service door opened and her first floor house-elf Bink, cloaked in her pink toga, sidestepped into the room. She was delicately balancing two small trays, each holding two pieces of Pansy's antique Chinese tea set.

"What makes you believe that I want something?" He asked, lightly taking the delicate blue and white tea cup and saucer from the offered tray.

"After three years, Draco Malfoy shows up in my study out of the blue. Do give me some credit darling." She drawled, leaving the saucer and only taking the matching cup. The edges were hot from the tea and she wanted to wince but she wouldn't give Draco the pleasure.

"Very perceptive, Parkinson."

She bit the side of her cheek at the use of her maiden name.

"It's Price." She forced through gritted teeth.

"So, I've heard." He drawled.

"You were at the wedding."

"Was I?" He asked, lazily. His gaze wandering across the paintings again. Pansy had often wondered if there was anyone or anything that held Draco's attention longer than ten seconds.

She was still in mild shock to see Draco sitting across from her. The last time she had seen him was the evening of her wedding day, he had been dancing with his mother.

His physical appearance had altered little. The changes were mainly of a late adolescent boy maturing into a young man. His white-blonde hair was shorter and at measure a shade lighter. His shoulders looked broader under his black cloak but other than that, he could still be considered disgustingly young. But yet somehow there was something different about him.

From the 'Prophet' and other publications she had followed him loosely. He was still apart of one of the richest wizard families in Europe and the Malfoy stock hadn't dwindled a knut.

So, why was he here?

What were these reasons he spoke of.

"What do you want?" She snapped, letting her curiosity and aggravation with him slip.

"Tsk. Tsk. No reason to get snappy." He patronized. "I simply have a proposition for you, my little Egyptian Princess." He offered smiling, that alluring smile that seemed to have dissolved her robes and inhibitions, while at Hogwarts.

*~*~*~*~*

An antique teacup shattering on the marble floor was the only sound that echoed through the large study, and Draco braced himself for Pansy's assault.

"You want me to what?!" She yelled standing on her feet. Her face had gone an unnatural shade of red, which seemed to only be magnified by the pink ruffled robes she wore.

"I simply want you to come to Cairo with me and decipher some hieroglyphics." He repeated, patiently taking a sip of his warm tea. Pansy really could be quiet theatrical. "So are you going to help me or not?"

"Not." She replied crossing her arms over her chest. Her thin mouth set in a straight line, and her pug-nose slightly lifted into the air.

"Then explain to me why." He pressed. He felt his temper thinning. He was not accustomed to being told no, especially from Pansy.

"Because nothing is simple with you Draco. Nothing." She calmly said, sitting back in her chair and crossing her legs. "And I've got responsibilities now, my daughter, my estate, my husbands business.."

"Don't you have nannies?" He interrupted. He was honestly shocked at the meaningful position Pansy held her daughter.

"And most important, I'm not associated with you people anymore."

"You people?" He asked curiously. "What do you mean by you people?"
"Let' not play that game. The servants warned me Zabini was trying to get onto the estate two weeks ago. My servants are very loyal, Draco. I'm surprised you made it this far. You must tell me how you truly did it, so I can prepare for future attacks."

"Get used to disappointment." He said flatly.

He knew Pansy was telling the truth about Zabini. Simply because she had no reason to lie.

"So, no matter what I say. I won't change your mind?" He asked.

He was growing tired of fighting. Losing his civility and letting the sole string that was his father pull at his heart seemed easier than arguing with this dull cow all evening.

"Sorry to have disturbed you." He apologized. "I thank you for the tea, but I must be going."

"Don't worry I won't keep you."Pansy said stiffly.

He put his teacup and saucer on the offered tray and rose from his chair. He was at the door before he faced her again.

"Though, I must ask one last question Pansy." He turned to her his face completely unreadable. "How is your little girl?

Pansy's face quickly drained of it's red color, and he was sure had she not been sitting her knees would have buckled.

"You wouldn't?" She whispered in disbelief.

"Would I?" He asked innocently. "It would be such a shame to see something unfortunate happen to that bundle of red curls and blue eyes.

Draco knew his eyes were glittering with malice, and he wondered if he might appear anything like a crocotta. Because, he most definitely felt like one.

"I'll do it." Pansy whispered so softly, Draco didn't quite hear her.

"Come, again?" He asked, with a satisfied smirk on his lips. His father had once said that with the right incentive you could make anyone do anything for you.

"I'll do it." She screeched at him. Her blue eyes filled with tears. "But only this one time and you must promise to me that you'll never harm Rose. Ever!"

"Deal. Now, we're both under wizarding contract, you know."

"Yes." She answered, her eyes bearing hatred into his.

Draco had never imagined to see so much anger coming from her, and was surprised that he didn't really care.

The two stood in a tense silence staring at each other and Draco was getting bored when Pansy spoke again.

"Is there anything else I can do for you?" She asked flatly.

"Actually," He began lightly, "I just need one more favor."



A/N: Okay. Okay. I know this was a long and boring chapter, especially after such a long hiatus, but I guarantee the next chapter is much better and Draco's not such an arse.

Also, I'm looking for a beta to help with my grammar and such so if anybody's up for the job. Just write me.

Disclaimers:

The characters: Don't own anything they all belong to JK.

Beasts: Crocottas: Are from 'The Book of Dragons and Other Mythical Beasts' by Joseph Higg

Must also note that I've been quoting movies and haven't even noticed. Sorry, 'The Princess Bride' and 'Gone with the Wind.'

Reviewers: Katrina: Thanks so much. You know I love your story too. Fiery-dragon: I'm glad you love it and our putting some of the plot pieces together. I hope I don't disappoint. Anaxandra: I'm happy you took notice. Thanks for the compliments: I try hard to keep the conversations fluent, the story intriguing and most of all the characters in-character. I have to admit I'm happy you called me out on Draco being over dramatic, I guess I kind of expect spoiled-brats (knowing so many of them) that they are a tad on the dramatic side. Draco's sunburn will comeback up and I'll explain why he was so ignorant to it. Kaelli Karali: I'm glad you like it, and hope to hold onto you as a reader. Danielle: Thanks so much for the compliment. I'm sorry I couldn't get the chapter out quick enough. Congratulations you got almost all of them correct thanks for guessing. The one that no-one got is 'Learn to Crawl' it's on the Spiderman Soundtrack. Blazefury-My smut princess. I have to say your writings are beautiful and I can't wait to read more of 'Unexpected Tendencies.' The Colin-Ginny relationship is going to get even closer, so I'm delighted you like it. Evon-Thanks for the encouragement, and don't worry Mr. Malfoy will be doing all kinds of moves in future chapters. Amber/VF-or as I refer to say my heart of the fandom. You've been their since the beginning.(tear) Just teasing. Thanks for saying you liked the way I write D/G, that they're different. It's compliments like that, that kept me writing, and really should be given to you.