Prologue:

Everyone has fear, it's common and universal knowledge; deep down in everyone there is fear. Voldemort's fear was one little boy- Harry Potter. Harry's biggest fear was a life without love. But my fear? What could I be afraid of anymore? I have already lost everything in a time better left forgotten... so now, now what do I fear? It's an easy answer, really.

My biggest fear is her, and the too sweet memory of her lips on my own in that one glorious, stolen kiss.

The world has changed since the Battle At Hogwarts, men like me are outcasts in both circles. You see, I tried to be "good", and in doing so alienated myself from The Dark Lord's followers forever. However, I was never quite "good" enough, so the followers of Harry Potter could never befriend me either. I am forever stuck in a land in between, and my riches are all I have left now. I am lucky for that, as they could have stripped those from me as they stripped my family from me, but they were kind enough to leave me with something. Even now, I have Aurors in my home every several months to go through my things and relieve me of anything that might be construed as "dark".

So now, stuck in a limbo with a society that doesn't want me, what is left for Draco Malfoy? Where can one like myself turn, in times such as these?

Diagon Alley, of course.

Diagon Alley has always been one of my favorite places, even as a spoiled child- or perhaps especially as a spoiled child, the sight of the shops has always soothed me. So now, when I walk the streets and the eyes of wizards and witches cast down in my wake, or meet my own with fury, my favorite childhood place has become more than I can bear.

Yet still I come... every year at the end of August, I come to watch the crowds of Hogwarts students fill the cobblestone paths. Their chatter fills the air, and the swish of new robes can be seen at every turn, the smell of new books fills the air, and owls screech in their cages; it is all too familiar to me. A reminder, perhaps, of the life I left behind when the Dark Lord burned his mark into my arm forever. But when you have nothing, the taste of something familiar is sometimes all one has left to cling too.

Chapter One:

I leaned against the stone wall of yet another abandoned shop. Many things had changed since the battle three years ago, but the death of so many shop keepers had left most unwilling to purchase, even with one so noble and proud as Harry Potter standing guard over the world. So while Diagon Alley was still the place that most mothers brought their children to get their supplies, the actual supplies were difficult to be found. One shop that had remained open, much to my surprise, and possibly my dismay, was Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes. The death of Fred had not stopped George and Ronald from continuing the shop in his honor.

I kept my distance from that particular shop anyways, I could handle myself, but I didn't want a scuffle. Didn't want to hurt anyone, of course. But still, each year as I made my trip back to this place, I found myself watching that shop, waiting for the flash of red hair to make me smile again. I found myself watching more intently than I wanted to, but I couldn't force myself to look away, as kids of all ages filed in and out of the shop with joke candies and toys of all kinds.

I was entranced in the sight when I felt a sharp pain in my leg. I looked up in time to see three kids, second or third years by the looks of them, holding stones in their hands. They laughed at me- I laughed too, and with slow movements I pushed myself away from the wall. Then, when I knew I had them nervous, I lunged forward and barked out a laugh when they screamed and ran away.

"Draco!" came a voice behind me, and I turned in horror to find the blazing red hair of one Mrs. Weasley stomping towards me. I found myself gulping and shuffling my feet nervously.

"Yes, Mrs. Weasley?" I cast my eyes downward, not daring to meet hers.

"What on earth are you doing, scaring those poor children?" She scolded.

I felt color rise to my cheeks and neck, and I kicked at a stone nervously. "Er, sorry, Mrs. Weasley, they had rocks." It'd been a while since I had been scolded for anything, and the surprise and shock of it had rocked me to my core. I stood before her, hands in my pockets, unable to even look at her. I felt like a darn fool.

"Oh very well then, Draco. Just be nice to them, they're only children."

I glanced at her in surprise, and faltered when I realized she was smiling at me. It was a warm smile, eyes full of laughter- it was a mother's smile. I found myself wanting to smile back, but the shock of it clung to my expression.

She stayed in front of me, waiting for me to respond. When I didn't she sighed and gave a small chuckle. "Have a nice day, Draco." She said, she reached out and patted my head. Before I could find words to say, she was already gone, headed towards her son's shop.

I blinked a few times, looking around the crowd I noticed snickers from a few people closest to me, I glared at them and stalked off down the street.

It'd been a while since I had heard anyone say my name, much less in such a threatening and, dare I say it, motherly tone. But she had been nice to me, lord knows why, and she had patted my head. I grumbled and ran my hands through my hair, this was just not how it was supposed to be. Why couldn't she have just been rude and cold like everyone else?

I threw open the door to The Leaky Cauldron, and took a seat at the bar. Tom gave me a weary look and set a shot of fire whiskey in front of me. I downed it without realizing that I hadn't even asked for it.

"'nother one of those?" I paused, staring at the mans face, he tapped his foot expectantly. "Oh, bugger... please?" I grumbled, and he poured the drink. I knocked it back too, reveling in the feel of whiskey in the pit of my stomach.

I hadn't eaten much that day, so after two more shots I was feeling quite knockered. With a fuzzy head, I took a fifth (or was it sixth?) shot, and laid my head down on the bar, hoping it would make the room stop spinning.

"I gotta do something with my life, Tom, I gotta make something happen for myself." I listened to my own slurred voice and smiled, holding my shot glass up to him and wiggling it around. "How, 'bout another?"

The older man grinned at me, took the shot glass from my hand and shook his head. "I think you've had quite enough, Draco."

"She was nice to me!" I slammed my fist down on the table. "She's got a pretty daughter, you know?Pretty pretty girl. Younger girl, but very pretty. And hair! She has hair. It's pretty hair." I looked up at him, my vision blurred, and I felt myself sway in my seat. "Would you stop moving the table?" I hiccuped.

Tom shook his head and heaved one arm under me, lifting me where I stood.

"Where are we going?" I heard myself ask.

There was laughter in his voice as he lead me up some stairs. "You're going to take a nap."

"I don't wanna take a nap, I wanna go talk to her pretty daughter."

"I'm sure you do, lad, but a nap first. Gotta get you some beauty rest, right?"

I paused and nodded, my foot caught on a stair and I fell forward a little. Tom tightened his grip under my and pushed me forward. He unlocked the nearest door and persuaded me into it, before throwing me down on the bed. The mattress was lumpy, and smelled of things I didn't particularly wish to think about. Instead I closed my eyes, I heard a click at the door as my mind went blank. Just before I lost consciousness completely, her face entered my vision, and I felt myself smile.