Author's Note: Sorry for the long break between updates. I'm trying to keep all of my stories moving…and that action alone is somehow slowing me down even further, lol.

Train rides were perhaps the most boring form of torture still used by society. As the Hogwarts Express traveled further and further from the school, Pansy realized that this ride would be no exception to the rules. She had never been forced to endure it alone, though. Even during her first journey to Hogwarts, she had already found her self socializing with those who would soon become her house mates. Her eleven-year-old self had already known that she would be a Slytherin. She had to be, so said her parents and so said those who could become her allies at school. Pansy had been more outgoing then, turning up her nose and snapping at any underdressed mudblood to look in her direction. She'd even picked a few fights with those she thought beneath her.

Pansy looked out the train window, smirking at that thought. I suppose I've sobered up over the years. In all honestly, she still did not care how many people still hated her for her allegiance to Slytherin and all things the house stood for. Who cared that over half the female population of Hogwarts was stilled pissed at her for her flirty grins and loud mouth? It didn't matter, especially now that she was leaving. "Never to return," she muttered, neither happy nor chilled by the words.

She leaned back in her seat, hands folded across her lap. For a moment, she imagined that she was stroking Draco's fine blond locks, running her fingers through every hair in reverence. Her cheeks warmed at the thought of that moment of leisurely intimacy. If only they had been alone, if only he had been paying attention to her instead of thinking about the future. . . Such thoughts churned in her mind, slowly creating a cyclone of chaos that came with every memory of her child's father. She bit her lip to keep from screaming out her frustrations. What if he was never thinking of me when I lay in his arms? Every moment we touched he was in another place, far away. Was it because he never wanted to be here—with me?

Draco had been more sensitive that any other person knew, but he kept it inside, hidden deep and locked away. When he'd made love to her the first time, his first time, his body had been cold, so cold, and hers so afire that she had been afraid that he felt nothing for her. The second time though, almost a year later, she had looked into his eyes and saw past the layer of ice. Flames licked and burned in those eyes, and not all of them had been lust. She knew that at least one ember was kindled by love. After Christmas holiday, he had came back to school, his whole body blazing. Draco hadn't wanted them to loose themselves at school—he did not wish to be caught with his shorts down by some do-gooder like McGonagall, but he hadn't been able to contain his desire for long. He took her into a classroom that had not been used for years, and undressed her slowly, taking his time for once in his life. He was savoring it, afraid that he would never be about to enjoy her ever again. It was the essence of perfection.

Thinking back on the last time she had been with her lover put Pansy's mind to ease. He had to care for her. It wasn't just sex, or some teenage obsession. It was more, and it had produced a baby. And Pansy was determined that her baby would be able to live life knowing that it was loved by two people, its mother and father.

The smooth whistle of the train's brakes called for Pansy look out the window of her compartment. She stared down at the platform. I wasn't very crowded. She had never seen so few parents waiting to pick up their children, nor had so seen so few students exiting the train. She stood, grabbing her possessions and filing into the corridor to make her way out of the 'iron maiden on wheels'.

Pansy watched family hug their children, comforting their sons and daughters and lending a hand with their trunks. She rolled her eyes and walked past them, toward the muggle exit, glad that she had changed out of her robes earlier. Before the funeral, she had shrunk her trunk and put into her small bag, deciding it was better for the house elves not to find her possessions and try sending them to the Parkinson estate. After all, she might need to sell the books and such for a few knuts, if her funds were drained too quickly.

Muggles were pushing by her, and she raised her chin as if she were making her way through muck instead of people. She stepped outside of the train station into muggle London. "Now where?" she snapped. A stuffy looking man in a tweed suit stared at her for a moment until she glared in his direction and sent him on his way with a rude, universal hand gesture. Pansy stepped away from the busy street and leaned against a muggle shop, ignoring the still mannequin staring down at her from under a huge white hat. She huffed, frustration pulsing through her again.

She was supposed to find somewhere to stay for the night, but where was she going to find a hotel in this madness of a city? She was about to release a very unlady-like growl when she caught sight of Harry Potter walking out of the train station, trunk in tow. His two muggle-loving friends were at his sides, Weasel King and the mudblood brain.

"Are you sure you don't want us to come with you, mate?" Ron Weasley asked.

Potter turned with a small, reassuring grin on his face. "I'm just going to the Dursley's for a few weeks, Ron, like I promised Prof. Dumbledore. I'll see you at the wedding, then we'll discuss our traveling. I still don't think your mother will care much for me after I drag you away."

Pansy turned away, not wanting any one to notice that she was half way interested in what the 'Golden Trio' had to say to one another. The Gryffindor three went their separate ways (most likely with hugs and kisses), but Potter remained, standing by the curve of the street, trunk handle still in hand. The Slytherin walked up beside him, unable to stop herself.

"Waiting for your pet muggles, Potter?" Pansy sneered.

Harry Potter kept his eyes on the vehicles driving past. "As a matter of fact, I am, Parkinson. What, planning to whisk me away with your Death Eater friends? Or does the thought of all these watching muggles turn you off." he asked.

Pansy's face blushed. "You bastard," she snapped. "What do you know about anything? Nothing, that's what!" She wanted to storm away, but instead she crossed her arms childishly, waiting for a reply.

Potter was silent a moment, poking around for the right answer. "Sorry," he said, his voice low. "You're right. I know nothing about you."

Pansy wanted to ask him then. After all, he was being civil. Who could ask for a better chance to interrogate him? She frowned, his words not sitting well with her. "And I doubt you're very willing to learn," she hissed. Pansy turned on her heel, walking away from the Boy-Who-Lived, no destination in sight or mind. Not for the first time, she wanted to disappear.

End Notes: I hope that chapter made a smidgen of sense. Don't worry—you'll get to hear from Draco very soon. R&R