"Give me a bottle of firewhiskey!" Draco demands, slamming his fist on the counter. It is late at night, but Malfoy doesn't care. He grabs the glass from the bartender and pours himself a generous amount of the wine. He raises the glass to his mouth, arching his back as the burning liquid scalds his throat. When the glass is empty, he gasps and wipes his mouth, his hand shaking as he pours himself another glass. Glass after glass is emptied before the bartender's eyes, and before long the whole bottle is depleted of its contents. Draco scowls at the bartender, his eyes wanting more.

"Young master, you shouldn't do this to yourself."

"This is my house, damn it! Now do as I say."

"I'm afraid I can't do that, under your mother's strict instructions."

"Bloody hell." Draco pounds his fists again. "If you don't give me another bottle my father will hear about this."

The bartender says nothing and reluctantly slips another bottle over to the young adult. Draco lunges for it and begins to pour. Images of the Battle of Hogwarts emerge from deep in his mind, and the alcohol is not helping. Gory images of Death Eaters, students, and teachers dropping dead appear before his eyes, innocent people that have died because of his carelessness. He can see his beautiful home being destroyed into pieces, smell the smoke that fills the air, and the putrid smell of decay that wrinkles his nostrils in disgust. Draco swallows another glass of firewhiskey, and the flashbacks fade to nothing, leaving tears streaming down his cheeks. A wall of guilt forms in his throat and heart, making the tears flow even stronger.

It was all his fault, and Draco will never deny it. It was his fault that he let the Death Eaters invade, that he let Voldemort kill innocent children and teachers. He should have resisted, even if it means death. Forced to carry down his father's legacy as one of the best Death Eaters, Draco was put in a powerful position. And look at him now, miserable and drowning in his own tears. Even now, he still wakes up screaming for people to get out.

The door to the basement opens, and the sudden ray of light temporarily blinds him. Draco rubs his eyes, trying to see clearly, but the alcohol is doing something funny to his vision. He squints and can just make out the figure of his fiance, Astoria Greengrass. "Hey love, come and join me over here."

"Draco, it's Christmas, what are you doing here all alone?" Greengrass asks, but stops the strong smell of alcohol reachers her nose. "You have been drinking again, haven't you?"

"So what if I did?"

"Draco, you're killing yourself!"

"So what? I want to die anyway!"

"Don't say that, please."

"I can't live here anymore, Astoria, not after what I did." Tears begin to stream his face again. "Everyday on the streets I face discrimination and humiliation for what I did. I cannot find a job, my dad is in prison, and I have no friends to talk to!"

"You still have me," Astoria replies and runs her fingers through Draco's hair. She sits down next to him, rubbing her hands up and down her back.

"Bloody hell, Astoria, don't you understand? My life is ruined! There is no future for me now!" Draco yells and slams his fists on the counter, making Astoria flinch. "Not after what I did."

Draco buries his head in Astoria's shoulder, loud sobs escaping his mouth. She wraps her arms around her lover, trying to soothe him. "Come child, sing to me. Sing to me your woes, and let me take the sadness away from you," she coaxes, rubbing his head.

"If only you were the goddess of the night, Astoria, then maybe you can take the nightmares away." Draco pulls away from Astoria's embrace and stares deeply into her eyes. "I still suffer from them, even now."

Astoria stares into the eyes of the man that she loves so much, in and out of Hogwarts. She can see the misery in his eyes, the pain in his chest. There must be a way to help him because the alcohol will no doubt destroy his body. Unable to think about any alternatives, she cups Draco's face in her hands and bring her lips to his. He is tentative at first, but Astoria persists. He begins to kiss her back, slowly and gently pressuring her lips. Through the kiss, Astoria can sense how deep the psycholigical scars are. "Give me all of your pain."

"Never."

And they kiss again, this time more passionately than before. Their arms wrap around each other, locked in a tight embrace. Draco holds Astoria close to his body. He needed her, and in another way she needed him. Their souls are connected, even through hard times, and Draco is grateful for it. He can never imagine life without his fiance.

"Come upstairs, Draco, spend Christmas with me instead of locking yourself in this dark basement the whole day," requests Astoria. She looks deeply in her lover's eyes. "Please? For me?"

His body become rigid at the request, and his eyes dart towards the door. Light rays illuminate the stairs, giving it a warm feeling. But it is also alien, Draco is down here most of the time that he is now a pale ghost. The light is menacing, from a distance, and Draco finds it hard to admit to his fiance.

Without a single word, Astoria grabs Draco's hand and begins to lead him up the stairs. He staggers from the alcohol, but she is patient. Draco puts an arm on her shoulders, using her as support. She guides him to the dining room, where a succulent dinner awaits. The fireplace is already spreading its warmth around the room, and the whole scene looks inviting and warm. For once in many months as smile forms onto Draco's lips. "This looks wonder, my love."

"Made it especially for you, Draco Malfoy."

They sit and begin to pile their plates with food. They talk, they laugh, and they share jokes back and forth the dinner table. This is the first real conversation they had in many months. Draco's face begins to gain back its original color, his lips now forming smiles and sounding out laughs instead of the frowns and screams. That evening, no nightmares appear in Draco's slumber. Instead, a replay of the wonderful night appears, and it rocks Draco into a deep peaceful sleep.