Chapter Four

The day Taryn checked out of the hospital was surprisingly bright and sunny. She woke up early that morning and dressed comfortably in a pair of black yoga pants paired with a green v neck tee-shirt that made the most of her auburn hair, bringing out the rich red highlights. On her feet she wore a pair of plain black trainers. After asking for a few hair pins, she twirled her thick mane into the high bun that Tracey had seemed to prefer. Taryn figured that since she would be meeting her father for the first time, she should style herself in a way that would seem familiar to him. After getting ready she sat down on the bed, wishing that she was in a Muggle hospital instead. At least there she could watch telly while she waited for Nigel to arrive.

"Taryn?"

Hermione, or rather, Taryn turned toward the softly questioning voice.

A man stood in the doorway of her hospital room. As soon as she laid eyes on him Taryn immediately knew that this man was Tracey's father, Nigel Davis.

Nigel had ash brown hair, liberally streaked with gray. He was a tall, solidly built man, who looked very far from the businessman that he was and more like the blue collar worker that he had been. Nigel and his daughter both had the same arresting, electric blue eyes. He was in his early fifties, but he was still a handsome, compelling man.

Nigel hesitated for a moment before stepping fully into the room. He work dark blue robes that were wrinkled from travel. She knew that he wore the robes simply because they were expected. Nigel was a man more at home wearing jeans and a button down plaid shirt.

He cleared his throat, "They told me that things were going to be strange for you for awhile. I hear that you don't want to be called Tracey, that you'd prefer to be called Taryn now." His voice was melodic, the type of voice that you didn't expect to come from that big barrel chest.

He looked like he was a man that should be chopping lumber. It was almost funny that instead he was the CEO of a overseas container shipping line that transported items for wizards and Muggles alike, though of course the methods differed.

Nigel had started from the bottom up, repairing ship engines to put himself through business school. He had gone to Hogwarts, his brain getting him sorted directly in to Ravenclaw. His parents of course, understood little about the wizarding world being Muggles. While Nigel had loved the fact that he was a wizard, he didn't like the limited amount of fields in wizarding careers. His parents, who had died before Tracey was born, had been very proud of their son, their faces alight as they watched the first person in their family graduate from university.

The ink on his college diploma had scarcely been dry when Nigel hit the ground running, writing business proposals and finding investors to fund his business venture. Many, seeing that Nigel's idea would fill a need in Wizarding economy had wanted to become partners but Nigel refused, wanting to maintain executive control of the company. He'd worked his fingers to the bone making his idea a reality and he'd be damned in anyone would take that from him. Years passed and work seemed to be his only drive until he met met the beautiful Pureblood socialite Claudia Flint. The delicate blonde had fallen in love with the burly businessman seemingly at first sight, spinning wizarding society on its axis. Both the age difference, Nigel had been a good bit older, and the difference in blood status, had prompted many a wagging tongue. Claudia had ignored it all and married her love. They had lived blissfully for the next five years, and their joy seemed to double when Claudia found herself pregnant.

Their love had ended in tragedy when Claudia died from labor complications, after giving birth to their small, premature daughter.

Nigel, in his grief, once again buried himself in his work, turning the simple container ship line into a a global business conglomerate with ventures in many business areas, though mainly within the transportation and energy sectors. He maintained his ship line of course, and became the worlds largest container ship and supply vessel operator in the world. Nigel Davis was a success in both the wizarding and Muggle worlds, but he always made time for his daughter, though not as much as he would like in the recent years.

Taryn nodded at him, committing his familiar face into her own memories. "I guess I don't feel as I once did," she said softly, "The change seemed appropriate."

Nigel seemed to overcome his reserve, rushing forward to draw his daughter into a tight hug. He kissed the top of her head. "Well you look like my Tracey, but if you want to be called Taryn, then that is what I will call you. I am glad to have you back with me, my daughter," he said emotion choking his voice.

Taryn was still in his arms, confusion warring within her. She didn't know this man. He was Tracey's father, and yet she had memories of him. Memories of him tucking her into bed, reading her to sleep, and trying his best to to comb her hair, but ending with a crooked ponytail for his endeavors. It was strange. It was like watching a movie, but with the mute button turned on. You saw all of the images, but you didn't get the dialog or the accompanying music. There wasn't anything to attach her emotionally, and while she could see that Nigel was a good father, she didn't feel it.

Taryn raised a hand to pat Nigel awkwardly on the back. "Well, I'm glad to be back," she said hoarsely, guilt killing her. This man didn't even know that his daughter was dead, and that a doppelganger was in her place. That is what Taryn felt like, a stand in, and she felt terrible that this man didn't even have the option to truly grieve.

Nigel nodded, releasing her. "I don't mind that there will be some differences. They told me to expect some blank areas in your memories and some changes in personality. I don't want you to worry about those things though. Just remember that I am just glad to have you back and that I'm happy that you are healthy. You must be ready to go home. I've been told that the food here is awful," he said jokingly, his blue eyes twinkling.

She found herself smiling in response. "You got that right."

Taryn filled out the proper discharge papers, and despite her protests, was seated in a wheelchair and taken down to the hospital lobby.

"I can walk perfectly fine," she groused.

Nigel smiled down at his daughter in amusement. "Its hospital policy. I know that you feel fine, but it would make us all feel better if you took it easy." He nodded his thanks at the mediwitch before she turned, wheeling the chair away.

Nigel pulled out his wand, tapping it on the small cuff on his wrist. Minutes later a black Rolls-Royce Phantom IV pulled up to the curb, its engine idling quietly.

A man of medium height wearing a black suit, leather gloves, and a matching hat stepped from the drivers seat. His shoes were polished to such a shine, that Taryn was sure if she looked she could see her refection in them.

As soon as his eyes met hers, his wide mouth broke into a smile, transforming his rather plain pale face into something cheerful and engaging.

"Miss Taryn! I'm very glad to see that you are okay. Catherine has been so worried. I think that she baked three chocolate cakes in anticipation of your arrival," the man said as he opened the backseat door for Taryn and her father.

Taryn's brow crinkled for a moment as she thought. The man's name was Reginald Withers, and she had memories of him dropping her off at primary school. Catherine, his wife, was a short motherly woman with soft green eyes and a rather plump figure due to all the baking she did when she allowed herself to become upset. Due to the stress and worry over Voldemort's return, she was baking more than ever.

Reggie and Cathy had been with the Davis family for such a long time that the relationship wasn't strictly employee and employer any longer. The couple were closer to family, and since they were childless, Tracey had become their child by proxy.

"I can't wait to eat some. You won't believe how awful the food is at St. Mungo's. I swear, if I see another square of gelatin in the next six months, well I might start a wave of Jell-O art. I think it would look better sliding down the wall," Taryn said.

Reggie and Nigel chucked, shaking their heads at the notion.

The drive to Dorset seemed to fly by and soon they were slowly driving down the street to Davis house.

Despite being surrounded by a large stone wall and an equally tall gate, Davis House was a modest home set directly in the center of large grounds. The house was a large two story mock bungalow, with several outbuildings set in back that included a six car garage. A trail leading down to a private beach provided a breathtaking backdrop for the home.

Taryn loved the house on first sight. She was glad that she would not be living in a large austere manor home with dusty sets of armor in its halls. The house was painted a calm gray-blue with darker blue accents. The inset front porch was painted white, the color echoing on the tops of the four columns that accented the porch. The base of the columns were set with slate gray and bluish round stones and gave the home a organic feel.

Nigel had built the home for Claudia after they had toured the states on their honeymoon. They had fallen in love with the bungalow home type and had wanted something similar for their own home.

Taryn walked up the wide steps, glancing at the inviting porch swing before walking through the beautiful twin panel door with its single-panel sidelites all done in a rich mahogany.

They entryway was painted in a golden beige and led directly into the living room also painted in the same shade. A large hearth used the same stones found in the columns outside. Surrounding the hearth were large wood lined patio doors leading out to the back yard and the sea beyond.

"Dad, if you don't mind, I'm going upstairs to rest for a bit," Taryn lied. She actually wanted to make a thorough snoop around Tracey's room.

"That's fine. I'll have one of the house elves come to wake you for supper. We have many things to discuss and we can talk then," Nigel said.

Taryn nodded walking upstairs to her new bedroom. When she stepped inside she found that she actually liked the decor.

The bed was the focal point of the room. It was a simple, yet sculptural white painted wooden four-poster king size bed. It had a white tailored muslin valance topping it that matched the white comforter. Placed upon it were mounds of snowy white, blue, and mint green pillows. The green of the pillows matched the soft soothing green painted walls. Behind the bed were a series of sliding windows that led out to a large balcony that boasted a small table and chair set. To the right of the bed was a large white set of drawers and a walk in closet that Taryn fully intended to explore. To the left of the bed was a small, white bedside table that held a small blue lamp. Also to the left was a white, soft looking armchair with a blue throw draped on back. There were twelve muted green picture frames with white mounts, all displaying French watercolor prints.

Taryn walked to set of built in bookcases, and while noting the beautifully bound selection of classics, she was more interested in the many photo albums.

She pulled a thick pale pink album first and found it filled with pictures of just Tracey. It seemed that Tracey had studied ballet based on the amount of photos depicting the girl doing various poses. The photos didn't tell Taryn much beyond the fact that Tracey had been able to perform a beautiful arabesque on point. That photo, seemed to be the most recent. Tracey had apparently been very serious about her dancing. Taryn knew that if she wanted to pass herself off as Tracey, well, she had better become serious about it herself. She wasn't afraid, it was learning after all, and Taryn had never backed down from knowledge.

She looked all around the room, but apart from the Slytherin robes in the huge closet, there wasn't much to go on to prepare her for Slytherin house. Oh, she had vague memories, but nothing concrete. It seemed that she actually needed to be in the place, or meet the a particular person before more memories would reveal themselves. It frustrated her beyond belief, and she found herself actually taking the nap that the had lied about wanting.

Taryn didn't know how to interact with this man. Nigel was not sure where to start with the many revelations that he had to share.

"Taryn," he began, "There are serious things that we need to discuss."

Taryn looked up from the glass of tea that she had been stirring, sweetener packets decorating the table in front of her. "What sorts of things?"

"You know that I have never been a believer in coddling you. I think that it is important that you know that things are about to change for us. Some things have already changed. First a bit of good news. Jillian and I have married," Nigel said, watching Taryn sharply for her reaction.

Taryn nodded slowly. It was a good thing. Jillian Kane was a lovely woman. At least from the snippets of memory that she had. Nigel and Jillian had dated for years, meeting for the first time when Jillian became Tracey's private dance instructor.

Jillian was pretty woman, with dark brown hair and matching eyes. Despite being a talented witch, she had immersed herself in the study of dance, reaching the rank of principal artist of Terpsikhore Ballet, under the tutelage of Sergei Chekhov, a master of dance himself. When an injury ended her performance career, Jillian devoted herself to the instruction of dance, leading the way for many other hopeful girls. It seemed that Tracey, for a time, had wanted to follow in her famous teacher's footsteps. Tracey had been a good, solid dancer but had not possessed the greatness needed for a principal position. Still, she had hoped for a place within a ballet company. Years of study, recitals, and performances had bonded the Jillian and Tracey. Jillian had been important to the Tracey and Taryn knew that it would be important to foster a relationship with the woman.

"I'm very glad for you, Dad," Taryn finally said.

Nigel smiled in relief. He knew that Tracey and Jillian adored each other, but he had still had a bout of nervousness at the thought of telling his only child that he had remarried. He'd wanted to wait for Tracey to be healthy once more so that she could be a part of the wedding but, with the uncertainty of life in these trying times, and the accident that had happened to Tracey, well waiting didn't seem to be as important any longer.

Jillian was quite a bit younger than he was. She was in her mid-thirties, while he was in his fifties, but their love was genuine. He had fallen in love with Jillian's gentle nature, and the fact that she loved Tracey as much as a natural mother would. The love that she had for Tracey, well that had placed her above any of the other women that vied for his attention. Despite being an older gentleman, Nigel had plenty women that would come to him at a snap of his fingers. He didn't delude himself into thinking that it was his handsome face, though he was handsome in a rugged sort of way. He knew that it was more to do with the fortune that he maintained, the constantly building revenue. Jillian, he knew without a doubt, loved him for himself.

She had known him before his business had grown into a global force to be reckoned with. He had capitalized on both the market within the wizarding community and the Muggle one. Davis Line was now a conglomerate, five hundred container ships strong. He also dabbled in air transportation maintaining a fleet of sleep carrier planes both for transportation of people and goods.

"It makes me happy that you approve. Jillian is very happy as well. We had a small, civil ceremony, but we've been thinking of renewing our vows now that you are well and can be a part of the ceremony. The plan is for something a bit more traditional, perhaps over the Christmas holiday. I'm sure that Jillian would appreciate any thoughts you have about it. She would have been here today, but we both thought it was best that you and I have some time together, just us. She is at her sister's house, but should be back tomorrow."

A house elf arrived then with their meals. Both applied themselves to cutting their steaks, before Nigel spoke again. "I have been approached by agents of the Dark Lord," Nigel said quietly, staring down at his meal. He was suddenly no longer hungry.

Taryn pushed her food away from her, her mind racing. It was bad enough not to be in her own body, and a Slytherin to boot. She would be damned if she lived with Death Eaters!

She clutched the edge of the table until her knuckles turned white. "And, what did you say to them?" she asked quietly, her voice carefully calm. She glanced into his stricken face.

"Tracey," Nigel said, forgetting to call her Taryn, "I can't refuse the Dark Lord outright. It is a precarious position in which I find myself. You and Jillian mean everything to me. I will do whatever I have to to keep you safe, including taking the Dark Mark if need be, but I hope that it will not come to that. War takes money, you know, and that is something that we have in abundance. I hope to keep my involvement to only that level," Nigel said on a whisper.

"You would really fund that monster?" Taryn asked, no longer able to feign calmness, her face screwed in disgust.

"If it means keeping my wife and daughter safe, then yes. Please don't judge me so harshly. I think that I may send you both to my friend, Desmond Phillips, in the States. He has a comfortable home there, and while I haven't seen him in years, I'm sure that he will make sure you and Jillian are protected," Nigel said.

Taryn backtracked quickly. "No! I have to go back to Hogwarts. I feel that I shouldn't let the Dark Lord rule all of my actions, and really Dad, Hogwarts is one of the safest places there are," she said hastily. Taryn wanted to be there for Harry and Ron, but she also needed to be there for her sanity. She couldn't lose the last speck of her former life.

"Perhaps you're right," Nigel said hesitantly, "But know that if I deem it necessary, I will remove you from school, and you will be sent straight to Wisconsin. Desmond has a farm there, and I doubt that anyone will remember our friendship. It is a safer place there now. Besides, wouldn't you like to learn to be a milkmaid?" Nigel asked smiling, trying in vain to lighten the mood.

"I enjoy cheese as much as the next person, but I don't love it enough to work with the source," Taryn said wryly.

Taryn got up the next morning just before dawn. She sleepily made her way to her private bathroom, showered, and donned a comfortable black boy short tank style unitard, under which were pink tights, and secured her slightly damp hair into a bun. She pulled on point shoes, then slid black thigh-high leg warmers up her legs. She both wanted to maintain Tracey's routine, but mostly she was curious to know if she could actually dance strictly by accessing the girls memories.

She quietly shut her bedroom door behind her, making her way to the dance studio that Nigel had built for his daughter after it became apparent that she was serious about ballet.

The room had a bright airy feel. It was a large rectangular room, approximately the size of a typical stage. One wall had a complete wall of windows, about waist high, with a barre directly beneath it. In fact, all of the walls had a barre, even the one that was completely covered in mirrors. The floor was a nice rich wood with a little give in it, for better jumping.

Confused as to where to begin, Taryn moved to the small Muggle sound system off to one corner. Don Quixote by Minkus filled the room. The music seemed to ground her, and whether it was muscle memory, or a lingering gift from those above, Taryn knew exactly what to do.

She moved through a set of stretching exercises, before moving to the barre. She started with a few simple plié exercises, moving through the positions slowly. From there she moved to relevé movements, stretching her arms and legs and moving on her toes with her feet turned outwards.

The part of herself that was still firmly Hermione was amazed, but to the body the movements were simply old hat.

She moved away from the barre and down onto the floor into a split, increasing the strength of her legs and warming the muscles.

She went through what must have been a regular exercise for Tracey, ending with a the beautiful arabesque that she had seen in the photo.

Taryn spent the final week before she returned to school getting to know Tracey's father and stepmother.

It was apparent that the couple loved each other a great deal, and she couldn't help but think that Tracey had been a lucky girl. She wondered what had made the sorting hat place the girl in Slytherin, but she found that Tracey's feelings about things didn't register within her. It was all for the better. She didn't need the girl's feelings coloring how she felt about the people in her life. She simply wanted the memories so she could successfully impersonate Tracey Davis.

One drawback that she encountered was the fact that Tracey's wand simply didn't work for her. When she mentioned going to purchase another she was dismayed to learn that Ollivander had disappeared, and that his shop was boarded up and empty.

"Perhaps it is the trauma of your accident," Jillian said as they all sat down to dinner the night before she was to return to school, "Maybe it changed you on a fundamental level. I seem to recall hearing of cases like these, though it's extremely rare. Something traumatic happens to someone and it causes a shift in their magical core. You are different, not in a bad way mind you, just...I don't know...a bit more solemn, serious." Jillian looked on the girl in concern. She had known the child since she was the tender age of five, and was more like a mother than a teacher.

"Perhaps my core is a little different," Taryn lied, slightly alarmed at Jillian's observation. She had been doing her utmost to project how she thought Tracey had acted before finally giving up. She wasn't going to spend the rest of her life acting a part. Despite the ballet, which she found she rather liked, she was Hermione to the bone.

"Well, Ollivander's was the best," Nigel had said, thinking. "I wonder if...Wait here," he said jumping to his feet and walking briskly upstairs. He returned with a long, silver etched box. Inside, a silver lime wand rested on a blue velvet bottom.

"This was your mother's wand. It has a dragon heartstring core, which is different from the unicorn core that your wand has. I just thought that maybe, well, that it might work for you," Nigel said, extending the box toward Taryn.

Jillian and Nigel watched as she reached for the wand. Her hand warmed upon contact with the wand, and a breeze seemingly from nowhere blew the thick strands of her hair from her face. She felt an immediate connection with the wand.

"Well, I think that settles it," Jillian said breathlessly.

Taryn was relieved. The fact that she was unable to use her own wand had been a sore point, but she was glad to have a new one. There would have been no way that she could survive Hogwarts, both socially and academically without a wand. She'd been surprised when school owl arrived with Tracey's O.W.L scores the day before. She hadn't known what to expect, but was pleased to note that Tracey had been a rather bright girl. She had received mostly Exceeds Expectations, and two Outstandings. One in Potions and the other in Defense Against the Dark Arts. She would have rather had all Outstandings, but she knew that she should be happy with what she had received. At least she wouldn't have dumb herself down while taking remedial classes. She'd be taking almost all of the same classes that she would have taken herself.

She spent the night before she was to return to Hogwarts packing up piles of Tracey's rather chic, expensive clothes. It seemed that the girl had been a full on fashionista, which was a change from the jeans and tee-shirts that had been the staple in Hermione Granger's closet.

Oh, Tracey had jeans, but they were designer. Looking at some of the items, she goggled at the price tags. Who in their right mind would spend so much on a bloody pair of jeans? In fact, she would have been hard pressed to accept them as even a gift, but she knew that if she wanted to keep up appearances she would have to wear the expensive items.

Draco was nearly too late for the train. He had had one more stop to make before he boarded. After saying goodbye to his mother, he stopped by Kramer's to pick up his special order item.

Kramer's was the wizarding world's equivalent to a retail home improvement store. He used a false name and glamour to preserve his identity, and went to pick up his order. Since he was paying for it with the money he had on his person, and was not charging is purchase to the family vaults, the pretense was needed to maintain his privacy. Glamours were a little used art in this day and age, with the creation of the polyjuice potion and similar charms. Despite the difficulty in brewing polyjuice, it was easier to simply drink to achieve the look of a different person. It took far more magic, working off the innate energy of a witch or wizard to change subtle aspects of their features. Draco had actually found out about the art while looking at a dusty tome in the Malfoy family library. It was a book about feminine enhancement dating back to the Renaissance, and he would die a painful, bloody death before he told anyone that he was more than proficient in the art.

He entered the warehouse like store, approaching a man in the signature green robes.

"Can you tell me where special orders are picked up?" he asked.

The man looked at him in annoyance, taking in his dark brown hair and shabby, patched robes. "The Special Items Department is located in the furthermost western corner of the store. Go down aisle five hundred, and take a left," he said in a false friendly voice, his look clearly indicating that he didn't think Draco could afford a special order.

Draco simply nodded, walking over to the moving walkway that would take him rapidly through the enormous store, pressing a button for his destination. He whizzed past aisles and aisles of crammed shelves, barely catching a glimpse of the air-dollies that raised customers to the items they wished to buy.

Finally he reached the Special Items Department. He walked up to the large wooden desk, waiting patiently for the witch behind the counter to acknowledge his presence. She was young, possibly only a few years older than he was, with a sleek black angled bob and big green eyes behind stylish blue glasses. The royal blue glasses matched her tailored robes. Her name tag said Charlene. She was pretty and she knew it.

Draco cleared his throat after he had been standing in silence, with no acknowledgment, for a full five minutes.

Rolling her eyes, she glanced at him. "Yes, can I help you?" Her voice was monotone and bored.

Draco smirked a bit. He knew that if he was in front of her without the glamour then she would be falling all over herself. He wasn't conceited, he just knew that he was handsome and what his face didn't do, the Malfoy name usually accomplished.

"I have an order to pick up. The name is Carter Pennywhistle."

Charlene pushed a metallic sleeve toward the end of the desk. "Please swipe your wand for verification."

Draco pulled out a wand. It was a disposable dummy wand imprinted with the alias Carter Pennywhistle. Swiping the wand, he watched as the name appeared on the parchment in front of the witch. Her eyes bugged a bit at the total that appeared, before she composed herself. She quickly glanced at Draco again, noting his worn robes and badly cut brown hair.

"Are you sure that this item is correct, sir?" she asked sliding the parchment across the desk for him to peruse.

Draco quickly scanned the order. It all seemed to be in order. He had ordered a portable Room of Requirement for the private room he had leased in Slytherin House. The construction of a Room of Requirement was dearly expensive and he had only been able to afford the portable variety. Even the ones that were category based were insanely expensive. His would only open to a sparring/exercise room, and was setting him back a good five thousand Galleons, a sum that he could readily afford because of his underground fighting prize money.

"It all seems to be in order," he said quietly, sliding the paper back across the counter.

She sighed, obviously not believing that he would have the complete amount. His robes looked at least two years out of fashion. "How do you intend to pay sir? Credit or coin?"

"In coin," Draco said, pulling out a heavy coin pouch. He didn't want a paper trail and had gone out of his way to make the purchase quietly. He counted out the proper amount and watched as she tapped her wand against the parchment to make a copy for his records, before sliding the duplicate back across the counter to him.

Draco carefully folded the document and placed it inside of his robes. He would dispose of the paper at a later time, when it would be safe to do so.

"I will be right back with your purchase sir," Charlene said, her voice far more polite than it had previously been.

She returned with a small cardboard box. Draco pulled up the lid, examining the Reduced doorway inside that rested on bubble wrap. The door, when sized correctly would attach itself to the wall in his room. Included was small golden key affixed to a matching chain. Slipping the chain around his neck, he tucked it down his collar and turned to leave.

Because he was still Draco Malfoy after all, he turned back to the witch, giving her a rakish smile, before striding away.

Charlene couldn't understand why her knees had just gone weak.

Draco watched as an attractive witch, at least from the back, dropped her tote, quills and papers sliding across the floor. She was wearing a green jumper and a short skirt that was cupping a very appealing bum.

She was a Hogwarts student of course, since she was past the barrier at platform 9 and ¾ . He watched her push her thick cinnamon colored hair over one shoulder, and begin to pick up the fallen items. Upon closer inspection he found that she was from his house. One of Pansy's roomates. The quiet one, Tracey.

His mouth quirked in amusement as he listened to her curse under her breath. Walking closer, he bent to help her gather the fallen items, his hand colliding with hers.

"Thank you so much! I don't know what happened..." her sentence trailed off as she looked into his face, big blue eyes widening.

Draco's brow drew together in confusion. She was looking at him like he was the bloody anti-Christ. "Is everything okay, Tracey? It is Tracey isn't it?" he asked quietly.

She nodded, lips pursed. "Just fine, Malfoy...er...Draco. I had it sorted."

His eyebrow rose. "Really? I don't usually call quills "bloody wankers" when I have a situation under control. You know, it's usually customary to thank someone when they've helped you," he said wryly.

He watched as her pretty face flushed, bright color appearing on her cheeks. "Well, thanks, I guess." She clutched her bag to her like she thought he was a purse snatcher, and walked briskly away mounting the train steps.

It seemed that he ruffled the little witch's feathers. Ordinarily he'd have let her go on her way without thinking of her again but, in a time when he didn't have many amusements, it would be nice to tease her a bit.

He followed her inside, ignoring her glare when he sat across from her.

"Don't you want your own compartment? What about your friends?" she asked, her tone sharp.

"Oh, they will find me," he said looking at her intently.

He didn't care if they joined him or not. He had noticed Tracey before, she was a pretty girl after all, but nothing had ever made his gaze want to linger. Now there was something different, more about her, but he couldn't quite put his finger on just what it was. It was like plain apple pie, while good on its own, when you added vanilla ice cream, well it became something altogether more scrumptious.

Tracey hadn't dated anyone at school, at least not any that he could recall. Definitely many had tried to get into her knickers, but she had always seemed disinterested. He didn't think she swung the other way either, Pansy would have told him that tidbit that long ago if she did. Pansy always seemed to know the dirt on other witches, and she made it one of her priorities to inform Draco of their many and varied faults. She hadn't said much about Tracey, only stating that it was a shame that a girl with so many stylish clothes was so boring. Of course, he could only trust about half of what Pansy said. The girl wanted so badly to be his girlfriend, and while they had been exclusive for only a short time, mostly for convenience, Draco did not want to be tied down. Oh, he might shag Pansy again once or twice this year, but she wasn't going to get a Malfoy jewel on her finger, like she most desperately wanted.

Tracey seemed anything but boring to him, and he couldn't understand why he had never noticed it before. She had a verve about herself that seemed almost tangible, like a bubble. Despite the frank "Don't bother me" vibes that she was sending, it was a bubble that he very much wanted to...prick. He wanted to watch the iridescent shards scatter at her feet as she succumbed to him. He literally had to stop himself from rubbing his hands together in anticipation of the venture.

"What's with the attitude Tracey? I don't think you and I have ever had a disagreement so I don't understand the hostility," he asked finally after the compartment had been silent for for several minutes as the train picked up speed.

She seemed to pause for a moment. "I'm sorry. I guess I've just been having a bad day. I'm sorry that I've been taking it out on you. I don't go by Tracey any longer though. Please, call me Taryn."

"Taryn," he said out loud, testing the name on his lips. The name suited her. It had a bit more spice than Tracey, and it seemed to match her.

The door to the compartment slid open, and Pansy poked her head in. Her eyes narrowed as she looked from Draco to Taryn sitting alone together in the secluded compartment.

"Draco, are you going to come and sit with the rest of us?" she asked in a sugary sweet tone. As an afterthought she grudgingly added, "Tracey you are welcome as well if you want," she said her voice clearly showed that she would like nothing less.

"No, I think that I'll stay here," Taryn said quietly.

Draco stood, but hesitated. He didn't really want to leave, but he knew that it would look odd if he didn't. "Are you sure that you don't want to come?" he asked Taryn.

"No, I have some reading that I need to catch up on," the girl said, ignoring his widening eyes as she pulled an enormous book from her small bag. Flipping the book open, she began to read, ignoring him completely.

Draco cleared his throat and she glanced back at him. Gray eyes locked with blue intensely. "I guess I'll be seeing you later, Taryn," he said, promise in his voice.

His eyes locked on her lips as she drew the lower one in, biting it. She seemed to regroup, "Of course you will. We are in the same house after all."

Draco smiled at her, one corner of his mouth quirked, before turning to follow Pansy down the corridor. As soon as the compartment closed behind him, the bit of levity that he had gained seemed to drain away, and the bog of responsibility rose around him.

"Taryn? Now she wants to be called Taryn? What a pedestrian name! Half-bloods!" Pansy said sourly, before turning to Draco. The corridor was empty, and she took the opportunity to slide against him. "We could make a detour to an empty compartment before joining the others, if you want," she said, her hand sliding down to caress him through his pants.

In the past Draco would have let the witch pull him into a compartment. Pansy was good for a bj, when they didn't have time for a proper shag, but he found himself uninterested. Oh, body wise he could shag the hell out of her, but his mind didn't want the involvement.

He reached down to grab her wrist, kissing the top of her hand when she pouted. Draco was nothing if not opportunistic, and he didn't believe in pissing in his own pool. There might be a time when he fancied a shag, or some other use that Pansy might have.

"Not today, love. Raincheck?" he asked looking down at her. He allowed a bit of smolder to catch in his eyes, and watched as she visibly melted.

"Of course," she said breathlessly, placated.

"Most everyone is here already," she said as they reached the compartment, "but Blaise is at some silly gathering with Professor Slughorn."

Draco sat with his friends, and began to make idle conversation. Blaise Zabini entered a bit later. He tried to close the door, slamming it repeatedly against a blockage.

"What's wrong with this thing?" said Blaise angrily.

Draco watched as the door swung open forcefully, sending Blaise toppling into Goyle's lap. He thought that he saw a flash of white, but his attention was drawn elsewhere when Blaise and Goyle began snarling at each other.

"What what you are bloody doing, Zabini! You could have ruined the family jewels!" Goyle said crossly.

"Its not like you will have any use for them. Who would want to reproduce with you?" Zabini said, watching as the other wizard tried to process the insult.

"Hey!" Goyle finally said, frowning. By then Blaise had already sat down in his seat.

Draco annoyed at the situation and wanting to diffuse it said, "So, Zabini, What did Slughorn want?"

He leaned away as Pansy brushed a bit of his hair from his forehead, ignoring her slightly miffed look. She placed her hand on his arm instead.

Zabini sat back in his seat, his arms crossed. "Just trying to make up to some well-connected people. Not that there were many there."

"Who else was there?" Draco asked.

"McLaggen from Gryffindor."

"Yeah, his uncle is big at the ministry," Draco said.

"Belby from Ravenclaw and Potter, the Weasley girl, and Longbottom," Zabini finished.

Draco sat up, knocking Pansy's hand aside. "Longbottom? What's he got that would interest Slughorn?"

Zabini shrugged.

"Oh, we all know why he wanted Potter there. Wanted a look at the Chosen One," Draco said sarcastically, "And what about the Weasley girl? She can't offer much more than Longbottom."

"A lot of boys fancy her," Pansy said, watching Draco from the corner of her eye to gauge his reaction. "Even you think that she is good-looking, don't you Blaise, and we know how hard you are to please."

"I wouldn't touch a filthy blood traitor like her if she was naked on a silver platter," Zabini said, his mouth curled in disgust. Pansy looked pleased by this.

"So, you haven't owled me all summer," Pansy said just slightly over a whisper in Draco's ear. Of course everyone in the compartment leaned in to listen.

"I've had a lot of things on my plate lately," Draco said, shrugging away from her. "I'll have all the time I need to owl you soon," he said, lying. He had no intention of keeping contact with her outside of school. "I probably won't be back next year."

"What do you mean you won't be back next year? Is it something to do with Him?" Pansy said, positively salivating over the answer.

Draco was uncomfortable. He wished that he hadn't brought it up at all, because now he would be expected to gloat, when he felt anything but proud. "I might be moving on to bigger things," he said forcing a smirk to his face. "Mother wants me to finish my education of course, but what will O.W.L.s or N.E.W.T.s matter when the Dark Lord is in power? It will be all about who served the best."

"And you think that you can do something for him," Zabini asked, scoffing, "Sixteen and unqualified?"

"Maybe what he needs from me doesn't require qualification," Draco said quietly. He wasn't stupid. He knew that he would probably die in the attempt to complete his task, but he hoped it would not be so. Still, he knew that he had to try. He would do everything in his power to keep his mother safe.

"I can see Hogwarts," Draco said, changing the conversation. "We should get our robes on."

Everyone moved to pull out their robes, and he heard a strange sound as Goyle pulled down his trunk. Draco knew what a hiss of pain sounded like, and he had just heard one. Rage immediately filled him. He couldn't believe how careless he had been. Someone had been listening to the conversation the entire time, and if it caused his mother her life, he would never forgive himself.

He forced himself to behave like he hadn't heard a thing, removing his robes from his trunk, pulling them on and relocking the trunk, as the train slowed to a crawl before finally stopping.

Goyle threw open the door, pushing everyone aside, Crabble and Zabini following.

Pansy waited for him impatiently, finally moving to go when he said, " You go ahead, I need to check for something."

After she had gone, he quietly shut the compartment door, pulling down the shade. He moved to his trunk, covertly sliding his wand from his robes. With a swift turn to the luggage loft, he shouted, "Petrificus Totalus!"

Harry Potter hit the floor with a thud, his cloak falling away.

Draco smiled nastily. "I thought so. I heard Goyle's trunk hit you, and earlier I thought I saw a flash of white. Chosen one, eh? Can't even spy properly. One wonders why they think you can kill the Dark Lord."

He walked closer until his shoe was directly by Harry's face. "You didn't hear anything that I care about Potter, but while I have you here," his shoe stamped down on Harry's face with unerring accuracy. He watched as the boys nose broke, blood streaming down his face. Potter was lucky. He had actually gotten off easy. Draco could have done much more damage is he had wanted to.

He crouched down next to the boy. "Stay the fuck out of my business, Potter, " he said in a deadly whisper.

Draco dragged the invisibility cloak over the boy.

"I don't reckon that they will find you until the train's back in London. See you later, Potter...or not."

He walked from the compartment, making sure to tread on the boys fingers as he left.