A/N: Hey y'all! This was written for Hogwarts.

Demonology Task 4: Write about someone who lives a wealthy life, but is miserable.

Word Count: 2057

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter. Those rights go to JK Rowling.

For Grace, my incredible sister who loves DracoAstoria :)

Enjoy!

Draco Malfoy wandered through the streets of Muggle London, his hands deep in the pockets of his Muggle tuxedo. He was going to see a show—he couldn't remember the title. He'd become obsessed with Muggle entertainment for years now, ever since Astoria had walked out.

He told himself it wasn't because of her, but that was a lie. She'd loved going to see Muggle shows and watching the Muggle telly. She wasn't a traditional pureblood in the slightest. Perhaps that had been what attracted him to her in the first place. She'd been a nice change from the blood fanatics he'd associated with during the war, and she hadn't pushed him away because of his Death Eater status.

But he hadn't been able to let go of his views. The Muggle things in their flat had annoyed him, the source of most of their arguments. He remembered shouting at her, and the way she'd scream back… but the silence when she let was worse.

He shook his head and entered the theatre.

The show was a good one, he had to admit, but once he arrived back home the novelty of it wore off. He shrugged off his black jacket and sighed, tossing it over an armchair. He walked over to the bookshelf and pulled out a photo album.

Sitting in a nearby chair, Draco ran his fingers through his blond hair before he opened up the book. He gazed at the moving photographs, his grey eyes filling with tears. He angrily wiped them away and threw the album across the room. He stood up and paced around the room, trying not to look at the dazzling smile of the woman in the pictures.

He had everything he wanted, he told himself. He had a nice flat, enough money to go to the most expensive theatres in the country every night, and he never had to want for anything.

But without Astoria, it all seemed worthless.

Draco slammed his fist against the wall, furious with himself. There had to be a way to get that woman out of his head. He'd never be able to move on in life if all he could think about was how much he missed her.

But he couldn't.

The next week, he went to another show. He told himself that this time he wouldn't be thinking of Astoria—he'd think only of himself. He didn't need her in his life, he only needed himself—

He was pulled from his thoughts when, just as the lights were dimming, a woman in a long black dress whispered to him, "Is this seat taken?"

Draco shook his head and gestured for her to sit down, slightly annoyed at having been distracted right before the opening lines. It was only after a few minutes that he realized he recognized the voice.

His heart was pounding. He tried to push his suspicions aside—she couldn't really be here—but he was suddenly more concerned about whether his hair was lying flat than the plot of the play. When intermission rolled around, Draco turned to her to get a better look, but she was already disappearing into the crowd.

Draco had half-risen from his chair, and he paused in that position, trying to decide whether or not to follow her. He decided against it; he wasn't sure he could find her, and he had a better chance of meeting her if he waited for her to return.

But she once again slipped into her seat at the very last second, and Draco noticed that she was careful not to look at him.

He leaned forward, desperate to get a word in before he had to be silent once more.

"Astoria?" he whispered.

Dark eyes darted to his face and away again, but he caught a glimpse of cheeks flushed as pink as the lipstick she was wearing.

It was her, it had to be. He would know her anywhere.

The second the lights were back up, he grabbed her arm.

"Astoria," he whispered. "It's me, it's—"

She wrenched her arm away. "I know who you are," she said stiffly. "And I can't believe—I'm leaving."

She slipped into the crowded aisle, but Draco was ready this time. He kept a close eye on her and followed her out into the street, his heart threatening to burst out of his chest. Once he was free of the crowd, he ran to get to her before she could run away again.

"Astoria! Wait, please, I want to speak with you."

She turned around by a streetlamp, and he was wary when he saw the anger in her eyes. "What do you want?" she hissed. "I have places to be—people to meet—I don't need you showing up and—"

He cut her off. "I know. I… Astoria, I know that we didn't part on good terms—"

She snorted.

"—but I want you to know that I've changed. I'm not the man you walked out on anymore."

He fiddled a bit awkwardly with his tie, feeling some of his confidence drain out of him. He wasn't unaware that he was the cause of their broken relationship—he hadn't exactly been kind to her in those last few months—but now he realized that he had no idea how to prove it to her.

"That's why I'm at this theatre," he admitted. "I missed you, and you always spoke about how much you loved Muggle shows… so I came. I've been coming here every week since you left."

Astoria tucked a strand of dark hair behind her ear, looking caught between touched and annoyed. She crossed her arms and finally opened her mouth to speak.

"That's sweet, but it doesn't change the things you said. Even if you go to a Muggle theatre, I still don't know that you've left those prejudices behind you. Draco, I don't want you to just tolerate them. I want you to see that they're just the same as we are."

Draco nodded slowly. "I'm… not there yet," he admitted. "But I'm working on it. I've come a long way from… from the war."

Her eyes softened a fraction. "I know that." There was a small smile on her face, and Draco dared to hope that they could work back towards a relationship together. But after a moment, the smile was gone. She took a step back.

"I have to go," she said slowly. "Oh Merlin, why…"

Fear gripped him at the thought that he could be losing her again. "Don't leave me," he said, grabbing her wrist in an effort to keep her there. "Stay with me. Astoria—"

"Don't touch me!" She wrenched her arm away, and Draco reeled back in shock. He'd never seen her this angry. "I don't need you," she snapped. "I can take care of myself, I don't need your support or… or…" She stopped herself.

Draco frowned. "That's not why—"

But she was walking away, and he panicked once more. "Astoria, please! Are you coming back here next week? Will you—"

She Disapparated, leaving him staring at the spot she had last been for several minutes.

He continued his routine of going to the theatre. He told himself that it was because those trips were some of the few things that brought him joy anymore, but a larger part of him knew that it was mostly because he hoped to run into Astoria again.

He did everything he could think of. He switched the days he went to the shows, he went at different times of the day, and everything else short of going to a different theatre. Eventually, after three months, he gave up. She just wasn't there.

Without his weekly theatre trips, Draco found himself more miserable than before. More often than not, he simply laid in bed, refusing to get up.

He was the only one in his flat. After the war, when his father had been sent to Azkaban and his mother was busy mourning him, all Draco had wanted to do was leave Malfoy Manor. Too many horrors had taken place there, and the guilt was impossible to escape when every room reminded him of the crimes he'd committed.

He was lonely, though he wouldn't admit it to himself. He sighed heavily and rolled over, scrubbing his hand over his face. His blond stubble scratched against his hand, making him wince slightly. He looked dully towards the window, where sunlight was struggling to break through the curtains. He should get up. He needed to do something, so he would stop feeling so useless.

He sat up, frowning. It wasn't easy for him to live in the magical world anymore, not when he was known as a Death Eater. If he was honest with himself, then he knew that his eyes had really been opened when he'd experienced hostility himself. During the war, he'd known what he'd done was wrong, but Muggles had still seemed secondary to him. Astoria had held him close, uncaring of his past as long as he could change… but it had frightened him, the idea of letting go the things he thought he knew. So he held on tighter.

And he had lost her.

Draco threw the duvet back, his mind made up. He had changed. He wasn't where he wanted to be yet, sure, but he was better than before. If he wanted to live a worthwhile life, then he needed Astoria. He wasn't going to sit around waiting for fate to fix things any longer—this was his life, and he was taking charge.

He threw on his Muggle clothes, then pulled on a coat. He rushed out of the building without a destination in mind, but determined to find Astoria.

As it so happened, he ran into her around noon.

"Sorry!" she gasped as her groceries spilled from her arms. "I'm so sorry, I—" She met his gaze. "Draco?"

"You've been avoiding me," he said, jumping straight into it. He was startled to see her, but he needed to say what he'd planned to before she could run away again.

She bent down and began gathering the scattered food. He crouched down to help her. "I don't know what you're talking about," she lied.

Draco caught her eye. "I haven't been able to stop thinking about you," he admitted softly. "I want you to know that. And I don't want you to stop doing something you love just because you think I'll be there."

He looked at her pointedly, and her face flushed.

"That's not why I… I can't afford to go to the theatre much." She turned away from him. "It's expensive, you know."

"Money has never been a problem for you," he protested.

She rolled her eyes angrily at him. "Not while I was with you," she shot back. "My parents cut me off. They still believe that old pureblood rubbish." She tightened her grip on her bags, knuckles white. "I've been working, Draco. And I don't need your help, so don't ask."

He stared at her for a long time. "Are you happy?"

The question caught her off guard. "What?"

"Are you happy?" he repeated. "If you are, then I'll leave you alone. But if you're not, then maybe we could help each other."

She hesitated. "Are you? Happy, I mean."

He thought about lying. Malfoys didn't show weakness. But he'd learned what despair their power plays left others in.

"No."

She stared at him for a long time. "Neither am I. But what could rekindling our relationship do?"

He took a deep breath. "It has to be better than being miserable alone."

"You're a good man," she said quietly, "but that doesn't mean we can find happiness." She took a step away from him, tears in her eyes. "We didn't last time."

"You told me once that everyone deserves a second chance," he reminded her. "Why don't we?"

She didn't respond. Draco couldn't read her expression, but he prayed that hope was hidden somewhere beneath that mask. He cleared his throat.

"I have two tickets to a show on Wednesday," he said casually. "Care to join me?"

A small smile graced Astoria's face. It was the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen. "I'd like that."

Draco smiled, and he thought that he might be able to keep his happiness this time.

A/N:

Writing Club:

Assorted Appreciation: 10. Write about someone going to see a show.

Disney Challenge: Characters 2. Esmeralda — Write about a strong female character

Book Club: Satoru — (genre) hurt/comfort, (object) photo album, (dialogue) "Don't leave me. Stay with me."

Showtime: 12. Lifeboat — (emotion) fear

Amber's Attic: 12. Flash — Write about running away from something (5 bonus points)

Emy's Emporium: 6. Mr Cheeky — Write about someone willingly staying in a bad situation

Liza's Loves: 1. Write about a Slytherin

Angel's Arcade: Characters 3. Wonder Woman — (genre) hurt/comfort

Lo's Lowdown: Characters 5. Princess Carolyn — (color) pink

Bex's Basement: 2. She Don't Know Me by Mullally — Where you gonna run to? I really wanna follow you

Film Festival: 12. (action) hiding from someone; 15. (dialogue) "You're a good man."