Ok, well, hardly anyone sent reviews, but I'm being nice and posting anyway. Enjoy.

(-) MUST SEPARATE (-) MUST SEPARATE (-)

Chapter 19: Empty Libraries

"Say, here's a thought," Mrs. Parkinson said after setting her teacup down with an uncharacteristically loud 'clink', "why don't you show Draco the new piano in the, er...library, Pansy dear. Perhaps you can play for him."

Pansy looked at her mother questioningly, "But mum, we don't have a," and quickly trailed off, apparently thinking better of it. "Right, the, er, new piano," she said in an obviously feigned voice the most unperceptive person in the world would have noticed, "in the...library...".

"Off you go then," Adoria chirped, trying to look as though it was extremely normal to place musical instruments in libraries with her jaw set in a frozen smile and shooing Pansy and Draco away with a wave of her hands.

Draco got to his feet without complaint, almost as anxious to leave the straight backed chairs as much as both their conniving mothers. With a nod he followed Pansy out of the sitting room and down the familiar hallway towards the library.

"So what did your mum expect you to do when we reached the library and found no piano?" Draco asked with a raised eyebrow, turning his head slightly when they were far away enough from their mother's listening ears.

"How do you know we don't have a new piano?" Pansy said, shooting him a challenging glance while her upper lip twitched slightly in betrayal.

Draco smirked and let his eyes wander over the various portraits and painting along the hallway before answering. "First, you may very well have a new piano, but I assume one goes to the library for quiet, and wouldn't a piano defeat that purpose? And second, you know our mothers as well as I do. They're no doubt hoping our little jaunt to the library will set us on the path of spawning hundreds of little heirs for our families."

A smile flickered over Pansy's mouth briefly, and she turned around without a word to begin the walk back to the sitting room, Draco doing the same. Pansy had no desire to see Draco's smug face if they were to enter the library and find it full of books, as usual.

For some time now Draco's body had been wracked with the uneasiness, headaches, and stomach knots his interest in Ginny had induced. And since that night...the night when...well, he felt dizzy, sick and restless but tired. It was odd, this situation with Pansy. Draco hadn't spoken that much in several months, and somehow it seemed to come out all too easily with her. Pansy and he were never friends by Draco's standards, and he spent more time avoiding her (except for the occasional one night stand) to spite his family then he spent with her. But now, with only the sound of Pansy's footsteps next to him, reminding him he wasn't alone, Draco felt unexpectedly at ease.

They reached the sitting room doors and Pansy's hand hovered over the slender handle as if afraid there might be something lurking behind it even more heinous than a pair of marriage-craze mothers. "Suppose we just keep walking and let the meddling twins plot a while longer..." she said with a grin, obviously dreading finishing tea as much as Draco was.

Draco nodded with a knowing look and they continued in their stroll, heading in no particular direction.

"My mum said your 18th birthday was last week," Pansy said, raising a hand to tuck a piece of hair behind her ear before letting her arm once again hang loosely at her side.

"It was," Draco said simply, looking straightforward, his hands clasped tightly behind his back in a rigid manor.

"Get anything good?" She smirked. They exchanged glances again.

"Yes, I did," Draco replied, wondering if there was a hidden meaning to her tone—obviously she would have known he'd received the Dark Mark. "A villa in the south of France," he said, decidedly taking her question literal.

"Isn't that a nice little bribe?" Pansy said sounding somewhat astounded and her eyes darting quickly in the direction of Draco's forearm. The Parkinsons were rich, but even they were more reserved in their purchases than the Malfoy's. The Malfoy's were "exuberant," is how most of the wizarding world put it.

Draco did not reply, and again, a thick and surprisingly comfortable silence surrounded them. They spent several minutes strolling along the candle-lit hallways, passing through various rooms, and taking several different flights of stairs, neither one consciously directing their travel. The teens had been walking in such a steady, fluid kind of stream that it was a surprise when Draco and Pansy turned down a narrow, darker hall and found themselves at a dead end with only a door before them.

"Oh," Pansy said quietly, both of them recognizing for the first time where they had ended up so naturally. "I didn't mean for us to..."

"Neither did I," Draco said honestly, surprising even himself, and shifting his gaze to watch the shadows flicker across Pansy's face from the dimly lit candles above.

Pansy stepped forward with hesitance Draco had never seen her display, and slowly brushed her lips against his.

"Why are you always so cold?" she asked quietly, after pulling slightly back so their mouths hovered only centimeters apart.

"I don't know..." Draco answered just as softly, while his eyes moved back and forth across Pansy's face. As if on cue they both leaned back in quickly, their mouths pressing together hungrily while Pansy's arms moved to encircle Draco's neck while his hands moved to the small of her back.

Draco did not wait long before one of his hands began fumbling for the doorknob, pushing on it and moving them inside quickly. With a swift kick, Draco closed the door to Pansy's bedroom, as if to shut out their two mother's making plans below, the dread of going back to Hogwarts, and the constant reminder that he killed Ginny Weasley.

He paced the room slowly, watching as the house elf scurried about, collecting his clothes and books, and packing them neatly into Draco's trunk with a crisp touch only a trained elf could manage.

"Mistress says master must be ready by 3:00. Yes, we must hurry young master," the elf squeaked out in several breathy bursts. Barely registering that the elf even spoke, Draco continued to pace about his childhood room.

It had only been two days since he and Pansy had been together at the Parkinson's Manor and Draco's continuously drifted back to it. After their rather hot affair there hadn't been that uncomfortable silence like there was with Ginny, Draco remarked. Neither of them had felt the need to talk; to fill the room with unnecessary pleasantries.

"Thanks," Draco had said while he zipped up his slacks and Pansy slipped back into her skirt. She didn't respond and Draco knew she understood his somewhat nonchalant comment. It was then Draco had realized that Pansy was not like other girls. She was unique, like Ginny had been, but because of entirely different reasons.

They had finished dressing in silence and had exited the room before Pansy ever spoke. "So will you be paying more attention to me once we get back to Hogwarts, then?" she had said with a mischievous gleam common to her eyes and a sassy, confident tone.

The corner of Draco's mouth had turned up with ease. "After a performance like that? Attention isn't all you'll be getting. Just don't tell our mums. No need to give them the slightest ounce of hope."

If Pansy hadn't been raised well, Draco would have sworn she would have snorted. But she had contained herself and simply nodded.

"Finished young master. I is taking master's trunk downstairs now to wait for master," the house elf said, bowing low so his pillow case covering hung with the weight of gravity off his bony form, before beginning to heave the clearly dominant trunk with his small arms.

Draco gave a small nod and crossed the room to where his cloak lay across the arms of his desk chair. On his way, Draco caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror and recognized, once again, the distinct and intricate Dark Mark on his forearm. Immediately he unbuttoned the cuffs of his shirt and began unrolling his sleeves, making a mental note to be more careful in the future. Hogwarts was not a place to display such things. Waving a banner with a picture of a snarling Dark Lord while and jumping up and down at the Ministry of Magic would be comparable to letting the "wrong" kind of person see Draco's new brand.

Slipping his cloak on quickly, Draco left his room and headed for the fireplace that would take him back to Hogwarts. He was going back different—no longer was he a sneering, sniveling boy riding on his father's coat tails. With Ginny's murder, he had proved his strength and valiance. He was a new person—killing had assured that.

"There you are son," Narcissa cooed upon Draco's approached, turning away from Lucius and holding her arm out to invite him for one of her trademark half-embraces.

Draco nodded and stepped forward, letting one hand lightly press against his mother shoulder. To his great surprise, Narcissa's other arm reached up and pulled Draco into a hug—a complete hug—so that Draco's chin was forced to rest on his mother's shoulder. His gaze traveled to his father, silently questioning him, when Narcissa continued to cling to Draco. Lucius' eyes rolled in such an exasperated manner way that Draco was sure he was thinking, "women."

Narcissa must have remembered herself shortly after because she pulled away and began needlessly straightening Draco's cloak. "Yes, well," she said, adverting her eyes. "It has been lovely having you home. Be good at school, darling."

"Yes mum," Draco replied, stepping back, a little flustered from his mother's surprise attack. "Father," he added with a nod.

"Try not to kill Potter again, Draco. Not now at least," Lucius smirked, clapping a hand on his son's back as Draco stepped into the fireplace.

Draco looked at his parents again before muttering, "Hogwarts" and casting the emerald powder across the hearth with a snap. Instantly his body reeled and spun into a black tunnel of hundreds of fireplaces rushing by, stopping finally with an intense jolt and no warning.

"Welcome back Mr. Malfoy," a familiar voice said, making Draco open his eyes. Before him stood Albus Dumbledore, looking back at him with strangely tired eyes behind his half-moon spectacles. Draco stepped out of the fireplace, his trunk appearing seconds later, and nodded to the Headmaster.

"I hope you left your family well," Dumbledore said in a way that proved sincerity in his inquiry.

"Yes sir," was Draco's short reply.

"I understand that you had your birthday while at home," the Headmaster began, crossing his office still full of strange gadgets and gesturing for Draco to sit as Dumbledore situated himself at his desk. Annoyed, Draco lowered himself into one of the chairs; suddenly feeling like it was more of an interrogation than a friendly discussion. Draco did not reply. "It was your 18th, was it not?"

Resigned to the fact that he was now obligated to answer, Draco said a simple, "yes."

Dumbledore seemed to be satisfied with Draco's strained answer, no doubt he already knew what his reply would be anyway.

"I'm sure while you were away you heard of the tragedy misfortune that befell one of the students..." the old wizard said with a raised eyebrow, as if this beginning would convince Draco to pour out everything he knew.

"I did not hear, sir," Draco replied tonelessly. He had shut out the world entirely after he killed Ginny—no newspapers, no owls, no conversation. It was not entirely a lie.

Dumbledore paused and nudged his spectacles further up the bridge of his crooked nose. "She disappeared one day after lessons, and her housemates reported it once she did not show up for supper. A day later her body was found by a muggle farmhouse in an empty field. The ministry sent investigators immediately and from what they can tell, they suspect the Dark Lord and his Death Eaters," Dumbledore explained quickly, his tone hiding little his obvious frustration.

"And what does this have to do with me, Headmaster?" Draco asked once he managed to find his voice, and taking a moment to relax his clenched fists he locked eyes with Dumbledore for an instant.

"Your family is so connected with the...ministry, I thought you must have heard something about it. After all, the unfortunate girl's family has worked for the ministry for decades against the Dark Lord and his supporters," the Headmaster replied, breaking the link between their gaze and shuffling through his papers.

Draco suddenly rose to his feet, the situation becoming unbearably uncomfortable. "I'd like to return to my House professor, if that's alright. I have a lot of homework to catch up on." It was then Draco noticed the prints on each of the armrests left from his perspiring hands.

Professor Dumbledore seemed to have noticed the same thing and paused a moment before looking back at Draco. "Of course." Draco turned to leave immediately, shrinking his trunk and picking it up; he could not leave fast enough.

"Draco," Dumbledore called, making him turn hesitantly. "You can come and see me any time you would like—if there's anything you ever want to discuss."

With a nod, Draco turned, pulled open one of the double doors and hurried down the winding staircase.