A/N: I found this in my folder, so I thought I'd post it, because I love my Draco. He's such a little bitch. I'm not writing any more of this story, but since it's already written, I'm posting this (incomplete) chapter. As is.

"Madam Pince?"

Alma rolled her eyes at the simpering voice, but composed herself as she rose gracefully from the floor, where she had been weeding books from the bottom shelf of a section on Divination. It was Madam Pince who greeted Dolores Umbridge, with only the slightest hint of asperity in her crisp, clipped voice.

"Yes, Professor Umbridge?"

"As you know, I have been observing the teachers at Hogwarts, this past term. Now," she peered through a pair of tiny pince-nez at an official looking scroll, "I have time to get to know the staff. Hmm, let's see…you don't actually do anything, is that right? I mean to say, you don't teach?"

"No Professor, I do not teach, but I manage a library of some 10,000 volumes for several hundred students, unaided, for twelve hours a day, seven days a week. I am hardly idle."

"Yes, well…. How long have you been…um…assisting students, at Hogwarts?"

"Fourteen years," Alma replied. She was struggling to remain in character, but Umbridge antagonized her to a high degree. To gain time for composure, she returned to the floor and her books.

Professor Umbridge jotted Irma's response on her clipboard. She peered down into the librarian's thin face and said, "And before that?"

"Your pardon?"

"What did you do before you came to Hogwarts, dear? I can find no record of an 'Irma Pince' having attended any of the accredited wizarding schools, or even in Ministry birth or marriage records. In fact, Madam, I can't seem to find a trace of you anywhere before you began your work in this library. Do you care to explain?"

"No, not really."

"Very well, then." Umbridge started scribbling very quickly on her clipboard. Alma thought she heard the word 'belligerent' interspersed with her mutterings, but couldn't be sure.

"Now. When did you last speak to Dumbledore?"

If Irma was surprised, Alma wouldn't let her show it. She pretended to think for a moment. "I don't recall. Perhaps a week before his…departure?"

"Do you care to explain where you were on the two occasions this past week when you left the castle?"

"Two occasions?"

"Yes, Dear. About a week ago you left the castle with Minerva McGonagall, and just last night you were seen – reappearing? – In this very room. I assume you left the castle then, although I am not sure how you managed it."

"I didn't realize that it was unlawful for a grown woman to come and go as she pleases. Apparently, I was mistaken," Irma replied, shoving Behind the Bite Marks: Deciphering Death Omens in Common Snack Foods onto the shelf with more force than was necessary.

"Oh, no, of course it isn't! I merely thought that if you had seen Professor Dumbledore, you would tell me," Umbridge patted Irma's arm in what she clearly thought was a confiding, conspiratorial manner.

If there was anything Alma Rosier could not stand, it was to be touched by a person she did not like. She jerked her arm away from Umbridge conspicuously, and closed the interview in an imperious manner Irma Pince had never possessed.

"If there is one thing I have learned in this lifetime, Professor Umbridge, it is that I never talk about that which does not concern me personally. Good day." With that she rose and walked away, leaving Umbridge scribbling furiously in her wake.

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"Lady Rosier, may I have a word?"

Although usually elegant in all her movements, the manner in which Alma's head snapped up at the address was anything but graceful. She was working on repairing the rather tricky binding on the library's copy of A Monster Book of Monsters and was caught off guard being addressed by a name no one here should be able to associate with her.

She closed her eyes for a moment to recover, and finally was able to speak coherently. She looked up and her eyes met a pair of steely grey ones that were carbon copies of those belonging to his father.

"You seem to have forgotten my name, Master Malfoy. Perhaps I should make you write 'Madam Pince' a few thousand times to aid your memory."

Draco seated himself in a small armchair near her desk, crossing his legs in a single fluid movement. His eyes glittered a moment before he replied, suavely, "I meant no disrespect, Madam. You will permit me?" At her nod, he placed a silencing charm around the two of them before continuing, "Thank you. As I was saying, my dear Aunt Bella asked me to contact you. Am I wrong in assuming you would like to hear her message?"

Alma laughed to herself. He was just as arrogant and self-assured as Lucius. So like his father.

Poor boy.

"You are Bella's liaison?" Alma's low drawl rose a bit in amusement. "Don't you think you're in over your head a bit?"

Draco's face stiffened, and his eyes lost the 'innocent student' look that he had perfected using on teachers. "That's really none of your concern, Madam. Here is the message." With that, he looked around, checked his silencing charm, and pointed his want at his throat.

"SE REDDERE."

Suddenly, Bellatrix's harsh, strong voice emanated from Draco Malfoy's pale, pointed face. It was a severely odd effect.

"…..