One

Nowhere

The holidays were gone for yet another year. He felt dragged down, drained and hollowed out because of the damn season. Most holidays made him feel like that, but the Christmas season was the worst of them. He had always felt empty, dead inside; and the feeling remained with him, always lurking deep within, reaching even his soul. Each year grew worse than the last one. For the last ten years, it was always the same. Everyone around him became increasingly jubilant, generous, kind, and insufferably sweet. He hated it all, but most of all he despised the act he put on every year. The pretense of making everyone around him believe that he was of the same frame of mind, sapped him of every ounce of strength he possessed. The act strained him to his breaking point, allowing another dent to penetrate the armor he had slowly built around his heart and soul over the years. He no longer felt alive, as if he was already buried deep within his grave.

Every year, for the last five years, he had escaped the pressures of home after the holidays. Only this year, he had not retreated to his country home, or the house he owned at Rome. This year, he had come to a small little town called Nowhere, Wyoming, USA. He had purchased, on the spot, a two-story cottage, far up one of the smaller mountains that surrounded the town far below. It was a place where no one who knew him would ever think to look for him, and that was why he had chosen this place. He had not wanted anyone to know where he was, least of all his mother. He had wanted to escape her badgering more then anything else, but his main goal had been to simply disappear.

The house was perfect not only for its location, but also because it was not his usual flamboyant style. It was small enough to appear humble, but big enough to give him the space he was used to. The lower level of the cottage contained a living room, a kitchen, a laundry/pantry room, a den and a small bedroom at the back with a small half a bath next to it. The top half had the master suite, a guest room and two bathrooms. The master suite had its own private bath. Inside the master suite was a set of double glass doors that led to a small balcony and below that was a slightly larger deck area.

The view from the balcony was magnificently beautiful. The clearing in which the house sat was not small but neither was it large, making it the perfect match for the cottage. On three sides the forest shielded the house from the road and any neighbors, the closest of which was over seven hundred feet away in the direction of the town. A narrow opening to the left of the house allowed road access but he had no need for it and hardly ever noticed the small interruption between the trees. The area cleared of trees offered a magnificent view. It also offered a large drop to the bottom of the mountain or he assumed it did, since he had never actually looked over the edge to see for him self.

From the cottage, if he took the time to notice, which he never did, the village could be seen. It appeared as small as a doll's house and just as picture perfect as a Christmas postcard. The roof tops were covered with snow and the lights twinkled as if they were stars in the growing dusk. Rising above the town were mountains, tipped in powder and spotted with trees of every shape and size, also covered in snow. As the sun began to sink behind those mountains, it colored the sky in various shades of pink, violet and azure. The colors were so sharp and clear, they would have taken any other mans breath away. He saw none of this.

Winter's breath caressed his face with icy bitterness as he stood on the balcony, gripping the railing with his hands. Frigidly cold air sucked air from his lungs in sharp, small bursts. The thin, silvery-blue robe he wore did nothing to shield him from the harsh weather creeping its way over the land. He hardly noticed that his skin was changing from healthy pink, to wind whipped red, or that his body was slowly becoming numb. He neither cared about the blizzard growing ever closer nor felt its effects on his body. His thoughts were locked deeply inward.

He had long ago given up happiness and for a long time he had convinced himself that he was fine with that. However, each year his mother badgered him more and more to find someone, to settle down, to start a family. He had forsaken that life ten years ago, when he had let the only one who had ever been able to see past his exterior, slip away. He had made a fatal mistake and this was his payment for it, to live - but to never feel, to see happiness - but to never experience it for himself, to envy those who had love - but to never know it for what it was. He was only thirty years old, yet he felt as if a lifetime was already behind him; all because he was too proud, too arrogant and too distrustful to believe in the truths he should have known. His mistakes were his only achievements and because of them he was never going to be the person she had believed he could be.

It had taken him all of five minutes, after her tearful departure, to realize that she had been the best thing to had ever happened to him. He had messed it up as thoroughly in this relationship, as he had messed up his life. He had a history of screwing up when it most counted. He was no longer afraid to admit this fact about himself. He was no longer afraid to face the fact that he was a screw up. His school years were marred with his many mistakes. He had acted like such a spoiled, cruel jackass; he had been a spoiled, cruel jackass.

He had completely screwed things up in his sixth year, and because of it, he had endured enough loss and pain to last him more than a lifetime. The only redeeming thing he had ever done was sneak off to join the Order at the end of his seventh year. That was the only 'good' thing he could apply to his name. He should have recognized the good things he had then, but he had not seen any of it until she was gone. Just another regret to add to the many he had built up over the years. He was a fool and it had taken him years to see it.

Draco sighed. Thoughts of the past only made him feel worse; worse than how the damn Holidays made him feel. He had needed to get away and yet; here he was, unable to distance himself from his own troubled thoughts. The desire to run, to escape everyone and everything around him had been so great that he had not packed, he had simply left. He had not told his mother, his step-father, his siblings or his friends - I friends…ha! /I That thought made him laugh, a dry hollow laugh with no mirth. He had no real friends. He might have switched sides, he might have joined Harry Potter and fought along his side to the bitter end for two long years, but that had not changed the fact that he had no real friends. Draco Malfoy was no one's friend. To the world, he had not changed; even if he had fought along the side of the light; against the Dark Lord, instead of along side him.

It was not as if those he had fought along side with had not changed their view of him; some had, Harry and Ginny often had him over for dinner or asked him to join them in a BBQ, but they were not his friends. Or at least, Draco did not think that was how they saw him. How could they? After all the things he had done; because of all that he had done, he did not blame them. He was grateful to them for trying to include him, but he knew they did not do so because they truly liked him, but because they felt sorry for him. I Damn, when had he gone from being feared to being pitied? /I He hated it, yet whenever they asked him over he went because he had truly come to respect Harry Potter, though he would never admit it.

Draco came back to the present when a particularly nasty wind cut through him. He realized that he was wearing nothing, but a robe. His skin felt frozen to the core and his legs and arms were practically numb. He had been so lost in his own tortured thoughts, he had forgotten the simple fact that he was outside, exposed to the weather in the thin robe. Shaking his head over his own stupidity, he turned to go back inside. A movement in the left part of the woods made him pause. He narrowed his eyes in that direction and watched. Nothing moved. He shrugged and once more turned to go back inside. Now that he was aware of the freezing temperatures, he felt like he was nothing more then an ice pop.

Again he spotted movement in the woods. This time when he looked, he was not disappointed. A small, purple clad figure emerged from the trees. Not understanding why, Draco stepped closer to the railing to get a better look. The figure, a child, looked around, as if lost. As he watched the child, Draco noticed what she was wearing. The coat was purple, the pants lime green, and the boots mustard yellow. The head was covered in some weird floppy hat the color of teal and pink. On the hands were gloves of some kind, in shades of brown and orange. The figure looked as if he or she had not been able to decide on what color matched which color.

Draco did not exactly know what to make of the child. The truth was, children made him nervous. He might have been a child at some point in his life, but this in no way, made him feel closer to the younger generation. Children, at least the limited few he knew, tend to question everything and no matter what the answer they questioned that too. Children, simply put, made him uncomfortable.

As he stood there watching the figure, the child slipped and fell. Draco automatically winced, he had expected to hear wails of despair. Instead he heard a tinkling of laughter. The sound was soft, sweet sounding and filled with true joy. Unaware of it, his lips turned upwards in response. The fallen figure stood up and began to brush off the snow. As clearly as if the child stood next to him, he heard, "Well, that will teach you to go wandering off."

Another small jingle of chuckles wafted up towards him. "I can just hear Kim saying that too."

A low growl issued from somewhere in the woods. Draco felt a bolt of fear wash over him. The child stopped the attempts to brush off the snow. The head slowly came up and turned to look directly into the trees. Draco noticed then the long trail of hair streaming from underneath the floppy hat and realized the child was female. Even as he noticed this, another low growl emerged, followed this time by the animal from which was making the noise. Little by little, a large, black and gray animal materialized from the woods. The animal was so large, that even at this distance Draco could tell it was much larger then the girl.

The animal crept closer and closer to the apparently frightened girl. Fear made his throat feel tight, raw, and he was unable to move. He wanted to race inside for his wand, but his eyes were glued to the scene unfolding in front of him. He also, though he did not truly know the reason, did not want to leave the girl alone, as if his mere presence could save her. It was a silly notion, and he knew that just by standing there, he was not going to save her, but he could not get rid of that thought.

The growls stopped as the creature swiftly raced forward. Draco did not have time to think. One second the animal was just inching closer, the next it was upon the girl as if it had Apparated from one spot to the next. His legs came unglued and with no thought of his wand, he bolted over the railing, uncaring (at the moment) that the drop might break a few bones. Luckily, stupid, but still lucky, he landed easily on his feet. He was running almost before his feet hit the ground. He was almost upon the girl and beast when that sweet laughter penetrated his brain. He stopped, confused.

Why was she laughing?

He refocused on the scene. The animal had indeed jumped on the girl, but it was not ripping her to shreds as Draco had earlier suspected. In fact, the monster of an animal did nothing more than gleefully lick the girl's face. The girl was haphazardly trying to push the animal off, all the while, giggling. Draco, his bare feet buried deep in snow, watched in amazement as the girl and beast happily rolled around the cold ground.

At long last the girl cried out, "Enough Wicker. You win."

The animal, with what appeared to be a large grin, jumped back, sat down on its hunches, and stared happily at the girl. Draco, his mind clear now, could tell that the animal was some sort of dog, though first impressions had made him believe the animal to be an overly large wolf. The girl slowly sat up and looked at the dog. "You know Wicker, you shouldn't have done that. Mum is going to have a fit when she gets a look at us. We both look as if we took a dive in the river."

The dog chuffed lightly, almost as if he understood. The girl, her floppy hat bobbing, shook her head, "Don't give me that look, Wicker. You're just as much to blame as I am. Don't think Mum won't know that. Besides, Kim will go into a tangent because she'll have to clean up another mess made by us."

Once again the animal merely woofed softly and watched the girl. The girl sighed, but just as quickly, let out a stream of chuckles. "It was fun thought, wasn't it? Of course it was."

Draco, his feet starting to burn from the icy snow, suddenly realized that he was just standing there. Shaking his head, not understating why he was still there, he began to back away from the duo. He made sure to move slowly, so he would not alert the girl, or her pet of his presence. Once he was safely out of sight, he rushed to the back door and re-entered the house.

Hours later, as he slept he dreamed not of the little girl, but of the one that had gotten away; he always dreamed of her