Timeline

TIMELINE

Pansy received the news in the late afternoon.

It might have been given to her sooner, but she had gotten back from Theodore's home early that morning, where she had been relentlessly deriding him for falling apart at the seams and he had been smiling when she left. And she was tired.

In a surprising bout of mercifulness, her mother had allowed her to remain in bed for however long she needed, and she had slept most of the day. But her much older sister, Rose, was appalled, and as Pansy had known all her life, did not know the meaning of the word mercy.

"Up! Up, right now, Pansy. Honestly, you call yourself a lady?"

Pansy had to call herself a lady; it was part of some family code she had never even seen in her life. So she did not moan, and did not grumble as she raised herself from the sheets, but she did give her sister a glare worthy of countering even Professor Snape's sneer through a tangle of dark hair, and was reminded of just why she and her sister did not get along, to put it in the friendliest terms, as Rose Parkinson Nott sent her a disdainful look from her poised and dainty perch atop her high heels.

"No, I don't. You're the one who calls me a 'lady'." Pansy rolled the word out sarcastically.

"I suppose I am, but sisters usually have to be the ones to keep hope, especially if everyone else has already lost it." With the airy comment, Rose swept over to Pansy's vanity table. "Really, five in the afternoon and you still haven't dragged your lazy arse out of bed, Pansy, I really don't know about you."

"And what else is new?" Pansy snapped, rubbing the sleep out of her eyes and the sting from her soul. "But please forgive me. I don't know what I could have been thinking, throwing etiquette to the side so I could stop your son from having a complete breakdown. I'll just hand him the knife next time, shall I?"

The disdain turned to venom, because Pansy hadn't quite been able to keep the note of disgust out of her voice. Rose whirled around, her blond hair flying, and Pansy had always hated and wanted that hair.

"Theodore will be fine," she said stonily. "We will all be fine." She paused. "I seriously hope you are not beginning to doubt that, Pansy."

Pansy waved a hand. "I'm not, don't have a fit," she said absently. "You might give yourself a wrinkle."

Rose sniffed, and throwing something down onto the vanity table, she stalked toward the door. "That came for you this afternoon, and it looks like you'll be playing the Good Samaritan again," she sneered as she exited.

Pansy crawled out of bed and made her own way over to the vanity table, marvelling that her sister could still seem proud after it was revealed that she certainly couldn't hold her family together if her husband was in jail.

But then, Pansy reminded herself and thought of her own mother, the apple never rocks far from the tree. And it was things like this which put her off marriage and motherhood and all other deceitful facades called family, and therefore she wasn't a lady.

She smirked at her reflection in the mirror and ran the fingers of one hand through the wildly tangled mane of dark hair, then shook her head and went for the brush. This would take a while, it always did. And so she ran the brush in determined strokes through the dark mass, and all the while her sister's voice rang in her ear: "Pansy, why don't you smile a bit wider and suck in your cheekbones a bit? It might do something for your appearance." "Why don't you cut your hair, it just makes you look like a sheepdog every morning." "Pansy, you are impossible, do you want to grow into your figure, or are you planning to just slouch like a hunchback your whole life?" "And that nose!" Yet this was somehow easier to remember than her mother's voice, this was "sisterly faith" and this was being a lady, and why couldn't Pansy just hurl her brush at Rose and make her break?

But maybe she was just being sour, and besides, she thought she had grown into her figure okay.

Pansy believed this because when she had called Draco a ponce earlier this year, he had leered and said he could be hers. But Draco always played and she refused to think about it any more. She dropped the brush to the side once she was finished with it, and went to scrub her face and pull on her favourite dark pink robes.

Though speaking of Draco...

Pansy rushed back into her room and snatched the parchment still lying upon the vanity table's glossy surface. It was covered in the loopy handwriting of Sally-Ann Perks, and Pansy scanned over her usual introduction babble to get to the most important part, which was stained with tears, but Sally-Ann never cried.

"...was at Lucius Malfoy's trial today, Father thought it would be beneficial to go to make things seem a bit less conspicuous. Pansy, you won't believe it, I can't believe it. Mr. Malfoy was convicted, and he was sent back to Azkaban. Draco wouldn't even talk to me after the trial, I don't think he even knew I was there. And you know whose fault it is? It was Professor Snape's fault, Pansy, he testified against Mr. Malfoy, he betrayed Draco (Merlin, you should've seen the look on his face) and I don't even know why, I've been trying to figure it out for a long time now..."

Pansy swore softly, but remained standing at the vanity and staring down at the parchment clenched in suddenly stiff fingers. Then something fell on the parchment, and Pansy wailed because she was weak and crying.

And how could this make sense? Pansy had never been as close to Professor Snape as some of the other Slytherins, Draco included, were, but he still belonged to Slytherin, he was still the adult Pansy trusted the most at Hogwarts, he was the one who had raised an eyebrow and almost looked affronted as he had asked whether Pansy would take Hermione Granger's word over his about not being worthy of Prefect due to her "concussed-troll intelligence", and had made her smile. These weren't the things traitors were made of.

But there were tears on her face and tears on the parchment which weren't hers, and something had to be wrong because Sally-Ann didn't worry and wear her heart on her sleeve like this, and Draco...

Draco.

Pansy sighed, and bit her index finger in indecision. It was Draco, and he needed help, but this was so irritating. First Vincent, then Teddy, now Draco, and Pansy found herself fervently reminded of exactly why it was that she didn't doubt what Rose said, that they would all be alright, because the Dark Lord would make things better, and Pansy hoped he hurried. She hated the entire Ministry of Magic.

Tossing the parchment to the side, she flung open her bedroom door and made her way through the ornately decorated hallways - still intact because there was no reason for Aurors to come and "search" and confiscate - and down to the bottom floor, where Mother and Rose, dressed in pastel robes, were on the terrace leading to the kitchen, sipping tea with crumpets off to the side and speaking in ladylike hushed voices, and Pansy rolled her eyes to the ceiling before poking her head through the glass sliding door.

"I'm Floo-ing to Draco's house."

Mother's head snapped around in dismay. "At this hour?" she demanded in scandalized tones. "Pansy Oleander Parkinson, I can't believe you would suggest such a thing!"

Pansy couldn't believe her mother had such a horrible taste in names.

"Well then, you should have told me about Mr. Malfoy's trial sometime earlier today," she reproached, forcing her voice to remain demure, because tea-time was sacred and even she didn't dare go against this.

"Or you could remain proper and mind your own business," said Mother harshly. "I'm sure the Malfoys have their own problems to deal with at the moment."

Pansy said nothing, but refused to break her mother's gaze, even though if it were for anyone else, she would have merrily skipped away by now and maybe send a sympathy card. Rose sat back in her seat and watched the stand-off, hiding her amusement with her teacup.

Her mother finally sighed and relented. "This is most unbecoming, young lady. Very well, go if you must, but don't you dare tell Narcissa that I played any part in this, and that includes the permission."

"Of course," Pansy agreed.

Mother grunted, and Pansy bit her tongue to keep from sarcastically gasping out reproach for such an unladylike sound. "Mind you conduct yourself in an appropriate manner, and do remember the subtle feminine tricks I have taught you - I assume this is because of the Malfoy boy?"

"Maybe."

Rose smirked. "Of course it is, and of course she won't, Mother, if she ever had the chance, even with the tricks. Don't worry on this, darling, I wouldn't either if I were your age. That Draco Malfoy's always been rather a self-important brat, and really not all that good-looking, but have you checked out his arse lately?" she grinned teasingly.

I love my sister, thought Pansy as she burst out laughing while leaving the terrace.

*

Malfoy Manor was dark and coldly beautiful, even with most of its more elegant items suddenly gone from the walls. Pansy had Floo-ed right into one of Lucius Malfoy's studies, and couldn't help feeling glad that he wasn't home at the moment, no matter how guilty the thought made her feel. He had been most displeased last time she had done so.

A house-elf appeared with a Crack! into the room, and jumped and squeaked when it saw her.

"Oi," she barked at it. "Where can I find your Master Draco?"

"He is in his room, miss," squealed the house-elf nervously. "He is being in there all day."

Pansy paused. "And Mrs. Malfoy?" she asked tentatively, knowing it was beyond rude to have simply barged into the house without owling or fire-calling or anything. And Pansy respected Narcissa Malfoy a lot, even if she personally felt that however much she loved him, Mrs. Malfoy didn't know her son from a stranger on the street and that wasn't right or fair. Mrs. Malfoy was one of those people who simply commanded respect, and got it.

"Lady Malfoy is out in the gardens, miss," answered the elf promptly.

"Right. If you happen to see her, tell her I'm here to see her son, I'm sorry to intrude without sending word first, and I'll be gone as soon as I can."

"Yes, miss!" And the elf was eagerly gone. Pansy snorted, then, marching across to the study door and letting herself out of the room, she made her way to the entrance hall of Malfoy Manor. It was easier to find Draco's room from there.

The manor was like a maze, but it was one Pansy had been in countless times before, and so she was at Draco's door minutes later, and not at all surprised to find that it was locked.

She knocked sharply at first. "Draco, it's me."

There was no answer, so now she was perfectly justified in what she was going to do next. Her knocking steadily increased, and then she began pounding on the door. "I know you're in there, your house-elf said you haven't moved all day! That really IS pathetic, Draco!" A kick, but to her credit she didn't even damage the door. Mr. Malfoy really knew how to build his houses.

Pansy had never been a patient person, and Draco was being plain stupid right now. Whipping out her wand, she pointed it firmly at the door. "Alohomora." And he hadn't even bothered to lock the door properly, honestly.

The heavy wooden door swung open to reveal a room in shadow. Pansy took a step inside, putting her wand back into her robes and scanning the room. A noticeable dent was in the left wall. Draco's desk had been toppled over and was now lying on its side amid what Pansy recognized to be his summer homework next to the closet. The mirror was shattered, and now Pansy was truly concerned, because Draco had always considered mirrors to be the ninth wonders of the world. His father was the eighth.

A patch of sunset's light streamed in through the window and rested on the figure lying facedown on the bed, his face buried in a pillow, and his hair still as bright as a beacon through the darkness, but all crushed and messed out of shape. All annoyance drained from her at the sight. This was not her Draco, this was not Slytherin's Draco, and right then Pansy hated anyone and everyone who might have caused this to happen.

She was at his side in a moment, resting her hand between his shoulder blades, and at least he wasn't suffocating.

"Evening, Draco. I came as soon as I heard," she told him, and this time she didn't have to force herself to keep her voice down.

Draco said nothing, but his head moved from the pillow to lean against her thigh just the smallest bit, and even then Pansy knew she wouldn't ever know everything that was running through his mind at the moment, because of course he would never tell her, but at least he would know she was there. Her hand slipped from between his shoulders to his neck, and then absently began to stroke his hair back into shape. And he let her, so now she knew things had to be horribly wrong, because nobody touched The Hair.

"You'd better not have massacred my door," he finally spoke in an awful croak, but he was at least speaking. "You've never had any appreciation for cultured works of art. That is early fifteenth century--"

"--solid oak wood, and the finest ancient décor," Pansy recited in a monotone, concealing her faint smile. "I know, Draco, and your precious door is fine; I wouldn't hurt it when you're in here for me to take all aggression out on."

He should have laughed, even remotely, he would have any other time, but now he only stiffened. Pansy just stroked his hair a bit quicker, very much at a loss, because Draco had been vibrant, and Draco had been power-hungry, but he'd always had some semblance of control and had never been like this and he was never supposed to be like this.

"Why would they condemn someone who was just trying to save them and help them?" he whispered. "Who was trying to save them from having to undergo witch-hunts and burning at the stake and prejudice, and all these stupid, Muggle-loving excuses for wizards..." he trailed off. Pansy quickly shifted so that she was lying on her stomach and could hug Draco a lot more easily.

"I'm so sorry, Draco."

But he wasn't crying; he was shuddering, but Draco cry? Never.

"Snape's been Dad's prodigy my whole life," he continued, and now Pansy herself stiffened, because she did not want to talk or think about Snape right now, not ever until she was sure she could deal with the betrayal and pain.

"Did I do something wrong, Pansy?" She hated how small his voice was. "Why else would Snape betray Dad, and the winning side? Because he's supposed to be smart."

She should have told him to snap out of it, scorned him for falling to pieces and doing exactly what they expected him to do. It had been so much easier to do so with Theodore, but this was very different. And Draco had never needed her help this way before. But she kept hugging him, and he never hugged her back, he just hugged his pillow instead, but he rested his head on her shoulder.

And silence reigned for quite a bit. Draco was the first to break it.

"He's going to pay."

Pansy was confused for a moment, before realization hit her with a crash, and she just barely suppressed her groan as her eyes rolled heavenward. And so on the cycle goes, she thought, but kept hugging Draco.

"Yes he will."

Draco might have ripped through the pillow, he was clenching it so hard. "I hate him."

Well obviously, but she just ran her fingers through his hair again. "Of course you do," she said cautiously, remembering rage and fever-bright grey eyes from the end of the last school term.

Draco had now stiffened completely in her arms. She ducked out of the way just as he shot up, energy somehow renewed, or else never really having run out. She really shouldn't have been anything but glad, and though she was she couldn't help noticing that the glittering, bright grey eyes were back, sparked and determined and she could have gasped at their life, even as wariness grew.

"He'll pay right now," said Draco decisively.

"How?" she asked quickly.

He smirked at her, and she had been careless, so now he sensed her wariness; when, and definitely when, not if, he bounced back again he would never let her live this down, remorseless brat that he was.

But right now he sprung up from the bed, and she came with him. "Easy. Just follow me." And he was out the door.

Pansy scowled in irritation and wanted to tell him she was going home now, but she trailed along after him anyway, because she told herself he needed this.

"So...well Draco, if the Aurors have already cleaned out your house, what exactly are you hoping to find?" she wanted to know.

Draco gave her a look somewhere between injured and haughty, and she fought the amusement and relief from showing on her face, because at least this was expression, something Draco did best, hands down. She wasn't sure how well it worked. "I shouldn't even respond to that," he told her indignantly. "Putting the ability of the Ministry's thugs in front of my father's, love, really."

Pansy quickly bit down on her lip and bowed her head in a show of being mockingly chastised, and refused to let anything show as she steeled herself inside from the endearment, because it was Draco toying again, no doubt, and he was awful, he had always been, and he knew how she felt.

The winding corridors of Malfoy Manor were barren and still somehow elegant, even after the Aurors had, in Pansy's opinion, plundered it. They did not need to take so much stuff. But it was as Pansy had always thought, the manor had some kind of untouchable class, which seemed embedded within its walls, and was fascinating and sinister.

Draco led her back into the study she had arrived from, and Pansy watched him uncertainly as he strolled in as if he owned it and began searching the books lining the shelf against the right wall. "Draco," she hissed, because she knew he was forbidden to be in here.

Draco chose to ignore her, and he stood on tiptoe to reach a book from the topmost shelf. Pansy couldn't quite catch the name of it, but Draco flipped through it as if he was fully familiar with it, finally landing on a page. He pressed three fingers onto the page, and waited for a minute, and Pansy watched, anxious that he had really actually lost the plot this time.

"Caespus," he whispered, so softly she barely heard him. She opened her mouth, intending to ask him what he had said, but then a chill swept by behind her, causing her to whirl and back away from the wall she was leaning against, eyeing it as if there were something about to come out of it, which, seeing where she was, there probably was.

"Draco, what did you do?"

Draco replaced the book, and turned back to give her a sharp look. "Are you coming?"

He'd already taken hold of her wrist; Pansy pulled back and eyed him shrewdly. "Are you supposed to be in here?"

Draco pouted, and she was absurdly glad to see that he could still do that. Then, dropping his gaze, he scowled at the floor. "Dad punished me the one time I came in here, with Greg."

"Ah." Pansy made a mental note to get the story out of at least one of the boys sometime.

Draco flung back the icy blond strands obscuring his eyes, which were now bright with challenge. "Are you coming?" he asked again, and now there was no way she could say no, because he was just that manipulative.

Pansy snorted. "You have ten minutes, but do I actually have a choice?" she wanted to know.

"No," agreed Draco, "and you watch your manners, young lady," he finished halfheartedly, sounding exactly like her mother and knowing it.

Pansy was the bigger person, and allowed him to grab her wrist to pull her straight through the wall behind her, and did not bite out that she was a month and a half older than him. This time.

She was distracted by what she assumed to be one of Lucius Malfoy's secret quarters, because surely he wouldn't have left that book lying open in plain sight if just anyone could open this place. It was filled wall-to-wall with books, which didn't much interest her, and some of the most intriguing artefacts she had ever seen, though she couldn't begin to guess where they might be from. Or what they might be of.

Draco was smirking at her reaction. "We have five minutes," he quoted her, sodding little prat.

She turned to him expectantly. "Well? If we're going to get into unimaginable trouble, Draco, do tell me this is at least going to be good."

"Oh, it will be," he drawled, tossing his hair and stalking over to the shelves and was off again about how stupid, four-eyed Potter thought he was Merlin's gift to the wizarding world, and it was about time he took a fall from grace. Pansy tried not to recite along, but really, how many times had she heard this before? Of course, Draco's erratic actions were speaking louder than words again. She watched him randomly yank books off of the shelves, and shook her head and tried not to smile, for the boy truly had no idea what he was doing. But if he wanted to make her believe he did, well, why not, just this one time, because he needed it? So she joined him.

It was her who found the text first. It was written entirely in Latin, and Pansy had very unpleasant experiences with Latin literature. She remembered how her parents would always tell her it was proper for a young girl to know a dead language only used in spells, and Pansy had refused to conform to this, and Rose had gone from contemptuous to displeasure and finally given her up as a lost cause.

Draco had already snatched the book from her and his eyes roamed over the page as if he could really understand this, which Pansy somehow doubted. At the most, he might be able to understand slightly more than she could, because if Lucius Malfoy had ever ordered Draco to learn the language, Draco would have done it.

She watched him and waited impatiently. "Well?"

"Well what?"

She sighed in frustration. "What have you found out?"

Draco's eyes rose from the book with a faint echo of his old mischievous smile. "That you are a nuisance." He caught her wrist as she made to slap him upside the head. "And also, the perfect spell to get back at Potter with. This one is supposed to reveal to the world what a person is really like. It's perfect!"

Pansy frowned; the last thing Draco needed was to get into trouble for a renegade spell he knew nothing about, especially with Mr. Malfoy already in Azkaban. It didn't help that the only thing on the page she could recognize were the Roman numerals of thirty. "And you're sure about this?" she asked him.

He raised his eyebrows. "You are questioning my intellect?" he demanded, put out.

Pansy smirked. "Draco, everyone questions your intellect," she told him. Now he was in a huff, and it was actually the best time to reach him. "Do you even know what the spell is, where it's derived from...anything? You really don't need Dumbledore to come down hard on you for ruining his Golden Boy--"

Draco set his lip stubbornly. "That's going to happen, anyway," he reasoned. "Potter isn't going to walk away from this one, he can't land my father in jail and get away with it. And whatever comes after will be totally worth it."

Pansy fumed as Draco re-read the spell and told her to make herself useful by helping him make a fire. Of course, Draco would see it as worth it if he went to Azkaban, or even got the Dementor's Kiss, or got transfigured into a rodent and risked massive bodily harm being bounced around a school corridor, or was knocked unconscious umpteen times by trigger-happy students who didn't know how to play fair, or...she could go on forever. It made her almost want to scream and throw something at her friend for how far he could go, just so Harry Potter would give him the time of day, which he rarely did, she might add.

But she stomped it down and reminded herself that this was irrelevant, since Draco didn't have a clue what he was doing anyway, and she helped him build the fire. Then, without him asking she got him a Latin dictionary from the shelves on the far side of the room, and he never said thank you, Draco never said thank you, but he did smile maybe a little softly.

She watched with crossed arms as he deciphered enough of the text to determine exactly what words he was supposed to chant, and her fingernails bit through the cloth of her robes as she tightened her grip around her arms, as Draco pointed his wand at the flames, face shining in the firelight and oh so determined, and he said the spell.

"Aevitas Cantamen."*

Pansy realized then that she was holding her breath. She also noticed the fire blazed fiercely and nearly erupted, the flames nearly reaching the ceiling. 'Well, it'll serve Draco right if he burns down his father's secret study while he's away, and won't he be pleased when he gets back?' she couldn't help thinking in aggravation.

But those flames soon died down...and nothing else happened.

Pansy and Draco waited in silence for a minute. Two minutes. After three minutes had passed, Pansy raised a very unimpressed eyebrow, and couldn't help but release a snicker, and it may have been more of relief than anything else.

"Nice trick with the fire there, Draco," she mused. "Huh, wasn't something supposed to happen?"

Draco was furious, and threw the book toward the flames. "Shut up, Pansy."

Pansy watched as the book nearly went up in flames, and the pages started curling. "Draco, I really hope that's a book your father doesn't use often." He didn't respond, and Pansy chanced a glance back at him. All determination seemed to have fled from him, and he was glowering at the floor like a petulant child, but it was the faintest slump of the shoulders which tore her heart.

"Bloody hell," she whispered in defeat, because she was completely ready to give up trying to deny this boy anything. She just wasn't that strong. She just wasn't that unaffected.

She hurried over to snatch the book out of reach of the flames, and then using her mahagony-red cloak and knowing her mother would screech for hours once she got home, she put out the flames before they caused any more damage. She wished she could have used her wand, but as the fire had been made non-magically, basic magic law stated that it would not be put out easily with magic. And this was why she hated the summers.

"Come on," said Pansy briskly, marching over to Draco and giving him the book, because she didn't know the proper place it was supposed to go in. With a sigh, she reached out and touched Draco's shoulder. Absently, she registered that she should consider herself lucky that Draco didn't pull away. She had never been allowed to touch him physically so many times in one day before.

She shook him very slightly. "Potter will get his comeuppance," she told him firmly, and she truly believed this. "The Dark Lord, remember? How long do you really think Potter can keep running away?"

"He's done really well so far," Draco hissed venomously.

Pansy shook her head, and wanted to touch Draco's hair again, but she knew he wouldn't let her this time. "A cat only has so many lives, you know. And I can't believe you're crumbling like this over Boy Wonder, of all people. It's pathetic, Draco. How the hell is he worth it?" This was familiar, this was the way things had gone with Theodore the night before, and she could do it.

But she couldn't stand to see Draco's eyes move up to face her defiantly, always so defiantly, for the split second before she could have sworn she saw tears in his eyes, and she swore softly and thought she hated Potter about as much as Draco did right then.

"It's not him," Draco said quietly. "It's that I can never do ANYTHING about him, nothing is ever good enough, he's got this impenetrable shield and guard protecting him all the time, and I hate it, and..."

...and he just wants his father, Pansy finished silently and quickly cut in before he could suffer the humiliation of saying so and revealing this weakness.

"Then we'll get him together," she told him. Draco opened his mouth to interject something.

"I mean you'll get him and me and the others will cheer from the sidelines," she deadpanned with a smirk. "That'll make you happy, won't it?"

"Very," Draco replied, and suddenly all maybe-tears were gone, replaced with a sharply vivid smile. She had to wonder if they had ever been there, or if he had been manipulative again just to make her see it his way, but she didn't think Draco would do that. He hated weakness even more than he hated not getting his way. He had grown up like that.

Pansy checked the time, and knew it was after dark. She knew also that her mother would call her a scandalous witch once she got home, with no pun intended, and said as much to Draco, who laughed and wanted to know where the insult was.

"It's in the fact that it would be made because I was here with you," she retorted acidly, refusing to consider anything beyond face value. "But I do hope you'll be okay? I know your father isn't here...if you want, I can be."

Draco raised an amused eyebrow. "Is that an invitation? And you're supposed to be a lady, Pansy."

Pansy could not help it; she stuck out her tongue as she shot a scathing look at him. But he was actually laughing, and she hadn't seen him do that since before the end of last term, and she was only just realizing how unnerving that fact was, so she thought she could allow him to get in a couple of shots.

"Never mind." She whirled around and stalked toward the illusion wall and did not show her own amusement. "Sorry I didn't want you to be alone at a time like this."

Shooting a quick look over her shoulder, she found Draco grimacing. "I am not alone. Mother is here," he pointed out as if she was obviously missing something.

Pansy was about to reply when she froze, whipping her head back around to listen carefully. She had heard something on the other side of the wall, and as she put her ear as close to the wall as she possibly could without touching it, she knew she hadn't imagined it; people were talking in the main study.

She silenced Draco by pressing her lips tightly together and making a quick slashing movement across her throat. Draco's brow furrowed in confusion, and Pansy grabbed his arm and brought him near to the wall so he could hear the voices as well. A second later, she greatly wished she hadn't done this, because she definitely recognized at least one of the voices, and seeing the way the colour drained from Draco's already naturally pale features, she knew he obviously did as well.

It took all her effort to restrain Draco from racing straight through the barrier to the other side, and she pulled him further into the secret study.

"Yeah, you think he's going to be overjoyed to see you strolling out of his secret quarters, Draco?" she demanded in a whisper. She and Draco hadn't even put all of the books back onto the shelves.

"It's Dad!" Draco muttered in a steely undertone. "I have to--"

Pansy released him, but ran to the wall first and raised a hand to stop him doing anything. "Look, we'll just wait here for them to finish, and when they leave you can run out and...do whatever you have to," she finished with a smirk, still trying to piece things together in her whirling mind and wondering how in the world this made any sort of sense. How could Lucius Malfoy be here tonight if he'd just been convicted earlier that day? Pansy supposed it was possible that the Dark Lord had planned the raid for tonight, and had already broken everyone's parents out of jail. She wished she knew who and where he was so she could hug him, because she seriously thought she might. That meant no more early-morning fire-calls and shattered friends who had been strong all their lives.

But would Mr. Malfoy really be sitting in his manor and calmly talking while being on the run from the law? Wouldn't this be the very first place the Ministry would search, not only for Mr. Malfoy, but most likely for all the others, too?

Draco was watching the illusion wall with suspicion creeping over his features and reigned hope in his eyes. Pansy desperately hoped for him that this was real.

Lucius Malfoy's voice seemed to have left the conversation, but two other people remained in the room, and Pansy recognized the deep rumble of Gregory's father, Mr. Goyle as one of the voices.

"...do you understand, Goyle? Macnair's already at the Department of Mysteries, he's setting up the verification orb. Your job is to secure the Department; our Lord is especially keen that this should be carried out flawlessly, and he'll accept absolutely no slip-ups."

"All of this over a new teacher up at the school?"

"The Dark Lord is insistent upon knowing exactly what Dumbledore is up to, he has become increasingly unsettled about the old man lately. With good reason, I might remind you."

"But with--"

"Yes, he is here as well tonight, in the west wing if you wish to have some fun. Though his information is providing useful so far, therefore his presence must be tolerated."

A grunt could be heard. "And our Lord actually trusts him? After what he's done, is that wise?"

"Seeing the position he is in right now, Goyle, he would be extremely stupid to back out any time soon. His side certainly won't be taking him back."

"I still don't like it; especially with his friends--" the word was said with such disdain, "--right outside this room with their maddening Aurors."

Pansy heard Draco's teeth clench at the mention of the Ministry's Aurors, and guessed that he certainly didn't feel very warm toward them after they had invaded his house. And were apparently still here, even at this hour, but of course, how could the Ministry hold anything sacred, with their mockeries of wizarding "trials"?

"Lucius is taking care of them right now," the other voice said smoothly, and Pansy smacked herself in the forehead quietly as she finally recognized the level tones of her brother-in-law. Was this smart, for all of these Azkaban escapees to be right in Malfoy Manor with Aurors apparently just outside the door?

A grip tightened on Pansy's shoulder; Pansy at first thought it was her own, but glancing down she found Draco's hand clamped around her shoulder, and him completely unaware of it as he stared through the wall as though trying to see through to the other side.

"And you're clear with what you have to do? Afterward, you'll Apparate directly to the Riddle House in Little Hangleton. That's where our meeting tonight is."

"Right." A pause. "Lucius has disabled the wards around the premises?"

"Yes, just for the next hour or so."

"Very well, I'll see you later, Nott. Give my regards to your wife."

There was a pop, then another pop, and then Draco was through the wall without even bothering to check first. Pansy sighed in agitation and dove through after him; they were just lucky no one was in the room, and Pansy glared to let Draco know she did not appreciate taking the risk.

"Draco, do you have any idea what that was about?" she wondered. Draco either did not hear her or chose to ignore her, as he darted out the door to the main study. Pansy chased after him, hating that she always seemed to be doing this.

They got to a main landing overlooking Malfoy Manor's entrance hall. From somewhere near the front door, Pansy could very dimly hear Lucius Malfoy's voice. She strained to listen.

"...so I would be grateful if you two gentlemen could remove yourselves from my property, I don't wish to catch anything." The attitude was pure scorn thinly veiled in politeness.

Pansy heard the sounds of a small scuffle.

"Forget it, Sirius, he isn't worth it," came a voice which sounded very familiar indeed. Draco stood on tiptoe to lean as far over the landing's railing as he could, also making an effort to place the voice, which became laced with threat.

"Malfoy, you'd just better watch yourself. Sooner or later, something is going to come up on you, even if it wasn't this time."

"Charmed," Mr. Malfoy sneered from downstairs, and Pansy couldn't help feeling quite proud of him. "Until next time, gentlemen."

The front door closed. Pansy watched Mr. Malfoy's shadow stand in front of it for just a moment, before his swishing cloak and robes could be heard departing toward the west wing of the manor.

"That was enlightening," remarked Pansy in hushed tones, dusting off her robes and not sure whether she meant it as sarcasm or not. Certainly she hadn't understood what was going on, exactly, but...Ministry wizards had just walked away from the house without taking Mr. Malfoy into custody again, without even mentioning his time in Azkaban. That couldn't be right.

"Draco, what's wrong?" She noticed with faint alarm that he was pale, and raised an eyebrow as she realized this was Draco's angry shade of pale.

"Come with me," he whispered quickly, and then headed down the twisting grand staircase to the front door.

Pansy scowled, knowing that Mr. Malfoy could come back at any time and demand to know what they were doing; the thought hadn't occurred to Draco, obviously, as he had just run out the door. Draco could be impetuous very often, but he was rarely like this, and now she herself had the need to figure out just what had happened to the world and Draco in the half an hour they had been in Mr. Malfoy's study.

She was making her way down the stairs when she could have sworn she heard a baby cry. Who in this house would have a baby?

But the decision to investigate would come along with abandoning Draco to whatever was outside Malfoy Manor, and Draco's house or not, she definitely did not trust it enough to feel comfortable with this, especially now.

Draco yanked her into the hedges the moment she set foot outside of the door, which she barely had time to close.

"Explanation?" she asked archly. Draco was already crawling through the bushes toward even more voices that were further down the front path, getting his robes dirty and now Pansy raised an eyebrow, because Draco just didn't do things like that.

She followed him of course, but now he was practically running toward the voices, which were getting closer than ever.

"...James, I...I just don't want anything to happen to you." A small pause. "And shut up, I'm not crying."

"Sirius--"

"You're in danger, and there's a spy on our side, and everyone knows you and I are best friends, James, and I want to protect your family but I'll just lead him right to you--"

The voice could have been on the verge of tears, much to Pansy's disgust, but whoever James was, he never got the chance to reply.

She saw the messy dark hair and the eyeglasses, just before she saw Draco pounce.

Pansy shot up from the bushes without a thought for concealment. "Draco!" The name tore involuntarily from her mouth, and inside she shrivelled at its desperate volume.

She wondered if he could even hear her; he was straddling the other person and even Pansy had to wince in something resembling sympathy as she heard his fists connect with the body every few seconds. "Potter - you utter, unimaginable bastard, how DARE you show yourself here--"

The other man Potter was with was just getting over his shock, and Pansy could see his features contorting furiously in the shadows as he raised his wand.

Pansy's own wand was out in a flash and her body was covering Draco's before she was aware she had even moved. "Expelliarmus," she said firmly and clearly, and snatched up the other wand as it flew through the air toward her.

"Oi!" came the indignant cry.

Then she was nearly knocked off her feet as Draco went flying into her legs, thrown back by the man he'd been attacking. And as Pansy whirled on that man, too, carefully keeping the other one covered, her eyes narrowed as a suspicion formed in her mind.

Whatever Potter Draco had been attacking, it couldn't be the one they knew. Not unless he had grown about four inches in the short month since they'd last seen him, and ("Lumos") had somehow changed his eye colour.

And who did Potter hang around with who looked like this? She turned back to the other man, who had tried to attack Draco and was scowling now, but he still managed to deserve an unconscious and very quick once-over.

"Okay...who the hell are you, and what the hell was that about?" demanded...well, it had to be a Potter, no other human creature could have hair like that. He got to his feet, his wand in his hand, and it had already begun to glow when he pulled it back, staring at them in alarm.

"Oh good grief," said the man in front of Pansy, his eyes on Draco with rather a loathing look. "He looks just like Malfoy."

Draco gave him a volcanic glare, and Pansy instantly grabbed onto his arm, pulling him back to prevent him from lashing out again, and feeling deeply annoyed; she had come to make him feel better, not to babysit a bloody Gryffindor.

Draco's arm was in front of her in what might have been a protective gesture. She yanked it back against her, levelling her wand directly on the two men, their faces pale and features undeterminable in the white light of the wand.

"We'll be leaving," she told them quietly. "We want nothing to do with you at all. You are going to let us leave."

"The hell we are," snapped the one who wasn't Potter, the one with long hair tied back in a ponytail. "You can't just attack--"

"Sirius, wait," Potter interjected, and Pansy wanted to cringe at the unpleasantly familiar voice. Potter turned to look at them. "Who exactly are you?"

"Cousins of the Malfoy family," Draco replied evenly.

"You are not," retorted the one called...Pansy's eyes widened faintly. Sirius? Black?

"I'm a cousin of Narcissa Black Malfoy, and I've never seen you anywhere on the family tree."

"Because you're such an asset to the family and its tree, are you not?" Draco drawled coldly in response, and Pansy frowned in confusion when disgusted fury flashed across Black's face.

"Anyway," she cut in, looking down her nose at Sirius Black even though he was taller than her. "We said the 'Malfoy' family, Black, not the Blacks."

Black looked ready to throw out something else, but Potter silenced him with a fairly incredulous glare. "Padfoot, you're really going squabble in front of Malfoy Manor with two children?"

"Oh no, by all means let him have a go," said Draco sweetly. "It's about time he conversed with people around his ...well, no, I guess you'll just have to keep waiting, Black."

Potter shot them a withering glance. "They're definitely Malfoys," he said, and Pansy sniffed and decided that all Potters were one and the same.

"And yet you don't find it the least bit suspicious that they are scurrying around Malfoy's grounds in the middle of the night," Black observed, raising an eyebrow at Potter. "We still don't know that they really are Malfoys."

"I'd be more worried about things scurrying around closer to home, Black," Draco shot back caustically, and he would have a lot to explain to her once things got back to normal. Black gave him the strangest look.

"It's been gripping," Pansy reassured the two men, dragging Draco back towards the trees and hedges. "But time flies, so we've really got to go."

"Hey!" came a second indignant shout, and Pansy stiffened before whirling to face Black once more and not bothering to hide her aggravation. Potter, to his credit, looked fairly cross as well, and Black looked mutinously back at him. "She has my wand."

Pansy smirked superiorly and she put it behind her back. "And these are the Aurors of yesteryear," she sighed. "No wonder the Ministry's toppled." Both Potter and Black were looking extremely wary by now.

Draco took the small wave of her hand as a cue to move further toward the trees, and Pansy eyed the two men guardedly. "I'm leaving this right here on the ground. You come to get it once we're gone."

They did not go, they hid behind the statuette of one of Apollo's nymphs not far from the main front path. Draco ducked behind it fast, shook the leaves out of his hair, and blinked at her as she reached him, his features already schooled in that 'You'd be so mean to stay mad at me' look. "That was a most interesting experience," was all he said.

"Thrilling," she agreed. "Next time I want a night like tonight, I'll just join up with Potter's band of merry men. The other Potter, I mean. I do hope you've realized what you've done."

"No," he told her, too innocently, and she rolled her eyes at him. They both fell silent as Potter and Black started talking back on the front path.

"That was...weird."

"And yet you just let them go," Black reproached him. "I'm telling you James, we should have at least brought them back to Dumbledore, or something."

"Sirius, they were kids. Even if they were Malfoys."

Black glared. "I've just got this feeling."

"You really need to do something about those," remarked Potter, adjusting his glasses in a manner oddly like his son's.

"James, can't you just be serious for once?" A pause. "Oh, you wouldn't dare."

Potter chuckled. "No, I think you've definitely overused that one. But I still think you're making a big deal over nothing, really. Look, if it'll make you happy, we'll tell Dumbledore about it once we get back. We have to tell him what went on here, anyway."

"Damn Malfoy," Black grunted, pulling a glass pyramid of some sort out of his pocket. "We've got to figure out how he's managing to slip through the cracks of the law. Then again, Merlin knows they're large enough, thanks to the sodding Ministry. That girl was onto something."

"Hey, Lily works there, you know," Potter replied in an almost-offended note.

"Still...there was something that Mini-Malfoy said that was a little off." Black's mood was contemplative as he waved his wand in a circle around the pyramid, and then paused. "James, I don't think you should go on the raid tonight."

"Well that's a sound idea," Potter said sarcastically. "And just how are you planning to explain my absence to the Order?"

"I'm sure Kingsley and Moody can take over for you, and they along with Frank and Alice will handle it with no problem. But I've got this awful feeling, like something is definitely going to happen if you go tonight."

There was a sigh of exasperation. "Sirius, what is with you tonight? Look, if it's about that...that thing," Potter gave a furtive scan of his surroundings. "Even though I do trust you more than anyone else...you don't have to do it."

"No, that's not it! Why can't you be more responsible, have you thought about Lily and Harry through all this--"

"I can't believe you just insinuated something like that!" cried Potter in a fuming tone. "Only every bloody day of the week, you know. I won't let them get hurt - but argh! I can't believe I'm getting a responsibility lecture from you of all people!" Someone had kicked something, and there was a long pause. Pansy ever so slowly pushed some of the brambles in the shrubs away from the nymph statuette, just to see what was going on.

"Look, Sirius..." Potter began again. "I know these are stressful times. I know the risks and everything."

There was a snicker, and Potter sounded frustrated again. "Now what?"

"'I can't believe I'm getting a responsibility talk from you of all people'," Black quoted tauntingly.

"Oi," muttered Potter as Black started laughing.

"I'm sorry, it's just...I'm the one who won't let anything happen to you, or your family, okay?"

Potter sighed tiredly. "Whatever. If it bothers you that much, then I won't go. But you're making my excuses to Dumbledore."

"Already done," said Black in a nauseatingly cheerful tone. "Just head back home, give my regards to the Pronglet, and don't you worry about a thing."

"You pinch my cheek again and I'm hexing you," Potter snapped.

Black sniggered again. "I'll drop by later tonight to tell you how everything went, and this time I promise I won't be roaring drunk and drop Harry."

Right next to her, so close she could feel his body heat radiating from him, Draco snorted. "So that's what's wrong with him," he whispered. Pansy bit the inside of her cheek and still only just managed to hold in her own giggles.

"Ha ha, that wasn't funny, Sirius. You're lucky Lily didn't take off your head. But anyway, if I'm not going to be doing anything but sitting on my hands all night, then I'll get right to it."

"You do that," Black responded easily. "I'm going to catch up with Wormtail. He came in with us, didn't he? He should still around the back."

There was a faint pop and another pause. Pansy scooted back to the statue and pressed herself against it, because Black hadn't gone yet.

He gave a scan of the front grounds with a furrowed brow and eyes dark, before shaking his head and Disapparating.

Pansy released a breath she only just realized she'd been holding for a long time, and laughed at Draco's grotesque expression as he pretended to gag and die in the aftermath of the overheard conversation. Such were the snapshot moments of Gryffindor.

"Okay, so we've had our share of nauseating fun for the evening," he remarked and smiled up at her charmingly, and no one could have stayed mad for very long and she was no different.

She'd die before letting him know that, though.

"Now we figure out who dropped you on your head when you were a child," she replied sarcastically, remembering the baby cry she had heard back inside Malfoy Manor. "You either said the wrong spell or had no idea what the right one was really supposed to do."

So something like this had happened, because even when messing up, Draco could never do things halfway.

"You saw the number thirty on the page, right?" Draco asked, shifting so that he was leaning up against the nymph's barren leg and ignoring Pansy's appalled frown. He still had leaves and twigs in his mussed hair, and would be enraged if he ever knew. Pansy smirked to hold in her smile.

"I'm guessing that was supposed to tell us how long we'd be stuck here. Maybe it's just half an hour."

"Or thirty hours," Pansy added, tilting her head to the side. "Or a month. Or thirty yea--"

The entire front grounds seemed to shift and flicker a bit, as did Malfoy Manor. The statue Draco was leaning against suddenly vanished, and he toppled to the ground. He quickly sat up to the sound of Pansy's laughter.

"Thirty minutes it is, then," he said composedly, brushing himself off.

They stood up and made their way to the front door. "We didn't really talk to anyone," Pansy was telling Draco. "So nothing should have changed, right? Unless you count your little hissy fit with Black, and you are definitely going to tell me later what went on there--"

"What is the meaning of this?" asked a cold voice from the grand staircase in the entrance hall, the very moment they set foot in the house.

Pansy's jaw might have dropped. Draco's definitely did, and he went white again.

"Dad?"

"That would be the logical conclusion, Draco," said Lucius Malfoy coolly, stepping into the blue light coming from the moonlight streaming in through the wide glass windows.

Draco seemed to have lost the ability to speak, but Mr. Malfoy didn't seem to notice. "Would you be kind enough to explain just what you were doing on the grounds at this hour of the night?"

Draco lost all control, and had obviously forgotten where he was and whom he was with. He flung himself at his father in a tight hug, which made Lucius jolt in shock, and Pansy's jaw had definitely dropped.

"Dad!"

"Draco!" Mr. Malfoy snapped back in a very sharp tone, after the shortest pause. Draco quickly stiffened and backed off, a pink tinge staining his cheeks, and confusion all over his face.

"Da - Father, what are you doing here? And how did you get out of Azkaban?"

Mr. Malfoy looked slightly irritated now. "What is this nonsense?" he demanded, and then appeared to remember they had company. "Conduct yourself, boy," he said coldly. "I suppose I'll have to have a talk with you about that later." His eyes shifted to Pansy, and he nodded cordially. "Miss Parkinson."

"Sir," Pansy whispered back, nodding her own head demurely. While she had always respected and even admired Mrs. Malfoy...the only thing she could remember feeling with Lucius Malfoy was intimidation, and naturally that came with respect, too.

"I am taking a wild guess and assuming your mother isn't aware of your being here?" asked Mr. Malfoy with the faintest trace of sarcasm. "I doubt she would be very pleased with your staying so late without sending word."

"No, she knows I'm here," Pansy assured him quickly, ignoring the edge of disapproval in his manner that no one else would have picked up on except her.

"Indeed. All the same, Miss Parkinson, it is late, and I think it would be in your best interest to send you home." He swept off up the stairs, and there was a silent command to follow him.

"I guess I'll see you on the Express, then," she muttered to Draco when they had reached the second landing, and he turned to head off to his room. He nodded, and she quickly followed Lucius Malfoy to his study.

*

Mother hadn't known that she was at Malfoy Manor after all, and Pansy got such a telling-off that she didn't deserve. Her mother and father had scolded, while Pansy shouted back that Mother had given her permission and it wasn't her fault if she couldn't remember, and Rose had dropped in by Floo to roll her eyes and condescendingly remark on Pansy supposed "mature" behaviour before disappearing off again...back to Armand, she said, which made so little sense.

And Pansy couldn't figure it out at first, but as time passed she thought she began understanding.

No matter what she did, she couldn't make her mother remember that she'd given her permission to go to Malfoy Manor. Pansy had told her it had been because Draco's father was in Azkaban, and she had been sent to her room for speaking utter rubbish.

Pansy's father was out of the house a lot more than she had ever remembered him being, although it wasn't as much as Armand Nott was. One summer night about two weeks before the school term was set to begin, Rose had invited her family along with many other friends who Pansy had somehow never heard about, over to the Nott house, and Pansy decided she might as well tag along with her parents, if only to check on Theodore again.

Teddy had given her the oddest look when she had casually asked him if he was okay, and even when she had finally gotten irritated and asked flat-out if he was going to pathetically crumple again any time soon, he had looked almost terrified and claimed he had no idea what she was talking about.

Her brother-in-law, Armand Nott, had left halfway through supper, clutching his arm, though Pansy didn't realize this until later, as she had been far too busy smirking at Rose, who had reproached her about terrible manners just moments before.

She registered that she hadn't received any news of any more Death Eater trials since Sally-Ann's owl about Draco, although she had received her very first warning letter from the Minstry of Magic's Misuse of Magic Department, for breaking the school's "magic-during-the-summer" policy, but no owl condemning her for messing with time. It didn't seem fair that Draco hadn't gotten one of either kind.

It clicked when Draco finally sent an owl about two days after her sister's dinner party, which explained that yes, Narcissa Malfoy had been first cousins with Sirius Black, who had been thrown out of the family for misconduct, and that was how he knew them. Draco apparently hadn't meant anything big about what he'd said to Black, and something very strange was going on, and the Dark Lord had been around for the last fifteen years.

Pansy owled him back, to let him know that with a five-minute encounter with Potter and Black, they must have somehow managed to alter the Earth's timeline.

But on the last night before the school year began, Pansy reflected that there was really nothing they could do, because she knew that changing time was difficult enough, and changing time back was nearly impossible. Nothing seemed significantly different, because the Dark Lord had been back for a year before anyway, and they couldn't have changed all that much.

*

She caught the Hogwarts Express later than usual the next morning..

The corridors were filled with first years who didn't know what they were doing, and Mudbloods who barely knew where they were going, and Pansy was already in a cross mood, so she shouted at them all to find compartments and SIT within the next five minutes, or else they'd lose points before even arriving to the school.

How she had missed being a prefect over the summer.

Finally spotting her friends through the window of one of the compartment windows farther down the train, she had to smile because at least they were all right, and this was normal, and she knew that she was finally home. Even though the girls were completely immersed in their own world. As usual. And Blaise Zabini was telling Theodore something that was shocking the usually quiet and detached boy. As usual.

She slid open the compartment door, and Blaise shifted his eyes to her with a smirk. "Oppressor," he accused. "Giving it to the first years before even getting to Hogwarts, Pansy?"

She sneered at him, aware that amusement was showing on her face, but for the first meeting after a long and uncertain summer, she was sure that was okay. "You only wish you could."

"Guilty." Blaise hung his head in a mock-told-off fashion. "More power to you."

"Actually, no," Theodore broke in with a smile, looking much better than he had since last June. "Draco might go on strike; you ARE late for the prefect meeting, you know. And 'you're bringing dishonour to the name of Slytherin.'"

"Right." She wove her fingers through Blaise's hair with familiar ease and tugged sharply, then practically threw her trunk at the two boys, making it clear she expected it to be put away once she came back. "And tell my ladies I expect a full account of whatever it is they're discussing later, too. Oh, and when Greg and Vince show up, tell them I need to talk." She still hadn't found out about the first time Draco had ever snuck into his father's secret study.

"Done and done," said Blaise. "They're either at the food cart or after Potter again. He's somewhere around here."

As she left the compartment, Pansy wondered why Blaise had felt she really needed to know that.

She was predictably late to reach the prefect compartment, where the Head Boy and Girl were already passing along Dumbledore's decree for the new year, and Draco sent her a reproving look as she slid into the seat next to him. He then spent the rest of the meeting sneering coldly at the other prefects and making faces at Weasley and Granger, who looked ready to gut him, but the Head Girl being a Gryffindor, Katie Bell, he was caught almost instantly, and maybe not everyone could fall to his charm. Pansy couldn't help but be a little bit pleased; it just wasn't good for him.

The meeting ended, but she stayed to catch up a bit with Padma Patil, who was probably the only Ravenclaw she could stand, and whom she got along with very well and had known all her life, even if they had drifted apart once they had gotten to Hogwarts.

So she was able to witness at least part of Draco's annual "infuriate the Gryffindors" rite that he somehow could not start off the year without.

"...Dear Merlin, that's disgusting," he was saying, and his voice was derision to the core, and Vince and Greg were already laughing; Pansy stood on tiptoe and sneaked a peek over their shoulders just in time to see Weasley's and Granger's intertwined hands untangle from each other's, and her nose wrinkled. He's not kidding, she agreed silently. The mental images were horrendous.

Granger retorted coldly. "If we ever want your opinion, Malfoy, we'll--"

"Kill ourselves?" Weasley suggested.

The compartment burst into laughter, and Pansy rolled her eyes, briefly taking note that there were a few more Gryffindors than usual sitting with the Golden Trinity. Normally it was just the three of them together on the train, because no one else, even members of their own House, was good enough to join the exclusive club.

It wasn't a fact that had escaped Draco, either, and his gaze coolly and scornfully swept over the compartment. Both Greg and Vincent were cracking their knuckles now. "Aw, too bad Weasel, your master isn't here to toss you a bone for that one."

Pansy felt rather than saw the blood inflame Weasley's face so that it clashed horribly with his hair, and snickered quietly, leaning back against the wall opposite of the compartment.

"What in the world are you talking about now, Malfoy?" Weasley demanded loudly.

"Or maybe it's him who's the lapdog now?" Draco asked, delighted.

"Oi!" came an Irish-accented voice in a whisper that concealed nothing. "I really think Malfoy's cracked this time."

Draco rolled his eyes to the ceiling, as if it might know the answer as to why Gryffindors hadn't been put out of their misery long ago, they were so bloody slow. Pansy admitted that she might want the answer to that, too.

"Where. Is. Potter?" Draco asked slowly and deliberately, and with another swift glance over Gregory's shoulder, Pansy confirmed in surprise that Potter really wasn't in the midst of the throng of Gryffindors.

"And how the hell should I know that?" Weasley shot back belligerently, over Granger's incessant chant of "Just ignore them, ignore them, ignore them..." Pansy figured that the three had probably had another fight, the same as back in fourth year. Just more ammo for Draco, she thought in amusement, and then her brow furrowed in confusion as she watched the scene even more closely.

Draco was obviously drawing a similar conclusion to hers, and the smirk all over his face widened with glee. "Oh...I see what's going on, then," he drawled out leisurely, but Pansy didn't miss the way even Vince and Greg were looking at Draco strangely.

"Well, I'm glad someone does," Granger sniped in return, getting up from her seat. "Don't come crying to us just because you can't keep track of your own Housemates."

Draco gave her a look that drifted somewhere between shock and fury, and he absently gestured Greg and Vince away from the door, which slid shut with a bang behind them.

"Huh," muttered Draco. "That was odd."

"Well Draco," Greg spoke up. "We know where Potter is right now, why would you ask them if you wanted to find him?"

"They're always with him," Draco pointed out, with the deepest exasperation. Greg and Vince exchanged looks, and Draco's countenance shifted from irritated to perplexed. "Aren't they?" he asked slowly.

Vince shrugged. "We can take you to his compartment, if you really want to find him so badly."

Greg sniggered. "Can't imagine why, but it might be fun."

"Let's go, then!" Draco urged impatiently, and the three boys were off down the corridor before Pansy could even get a word in. She ran after them, incensed. Draco had some nerve, chiding her about being irresponsible.

They had stopped at a compartment not far from the very back of the train, and Greg slid open the door.

Pansy caught sight of the solitary green Slytherin necktie hanging next to the Hogwarts robes with a serpent crest embroidered on the upper-right section, and was about to poke her head into the compartment to see which Slytherin was craving solitude this time, when she then became aware of Draco staring blankly into the compartment, his fingers clenched tightly around the doorframe. She poked her head in anyway.

A book laid spread on the seat opposite to where the single boy in the compartment was on his knees on the chair, his back to them, rummaging through the overhead trunk cubicle.

He sighed without turning around. "If you're Weasley, get lost. If you're Malfoy, get lost too," he said in a voice which was just a shade less than complete calm.

Vincent and Gregory began cracking their knuckles at the sound, but Pansy didn't say a word. The boy stiffened and turned around, getting down from the seat.

And there was no scar, but black mussed hair was all over the place and from behind round glass lenses peered an unnaturally green pair of eyes.

Pansy blinked, gaped, and nothing would ever surprise her again. Harry Potter.