Suspended above the streets below him, he stared out at the city. His face anonymous in a city of millions. As he watched the light reflect off the wet streets below, his thoughts drifted. He could feel the life breathing and thriving around him and somehow, it made him feel dead, lifeless. Threading his fingers through his hair he watched the moon, his companion.

He breathed a sigh. This had been his routine for the past three months— sleep filled days and longing nights, remembering, unable to forget. It was easier this way. The night was forgiving of his past. The night had seen too many terrors to think ill of him. The day shed light on the imperfections and choices he was trying desperately to forget. The day exposed his secrets, showing the world who he truly was. The night encased those weaknesses in shadow, forever hiding them in the darkness. He preferred it that way. No one needed to know his secrets. No one but him.

He walked back into the apartment through the glass sliding door. After stripping off his starched white button-up, he pulled out his wand. With a flick, the room was illuminated. Upon first glance, the room showed no evidence of the man's existence. There were no personal items strewn about the rooms. No pictures of loved ones left behind, no memorabilia from years of school, the dresser was void of clothes, the cupboards holding no food. If it wasn't for the waste paper basket full of parchment no one would have guessed the room had even been in use. He discarded the shirt onto his neatly made bed making his way to the bathroom.

After turning on the shower, he looked at his appearance in the mirror. Dark circles hung beneath his eyes, no doubt caused by his irregular sleeping schedule. His platinum blonde hair hovered just above his shoulders; there had been no sense in cutting it recently. He wasn't taking visitors. He had lost weight, but still kept his build. The nights were passed with countless push-ups and sit-ups. Little else took up much time. When the mirror became fogged, he slipped out of his trousers and briefs, leaving them in a puddle on the floor.

The water was scalding hot. Moments like this allowed him to revel in the fact that he was still alive. He had lost close to everything that was important to him, but he still had his life. These jarring realizations always brought about memories of her. The way her hair danced in the wind, how her dark brown eyes glittered at the sight of him. The way they hid themselves in the shadows hoping to never be discovered. He turned the knob on the shower to the left; he needed to feel her again. The water nearly burned his skin, the heat penetrating his pores. It seemed to him that this was the only way to have her close to him again. The warmth of the water replaced the warmth of her skin. His thoughts drifted to her sitting on the grass. A smiled danced onto her face at the sight of him. She sighed his name, "Draco." As he lathered his hair, he thought back to the first time he saw her, truly saw her. Her hair was a mess hanging in wisps framing her face. She was deep in concentration, her eyes scanning Common Magical Ailments and Afflictions. As the water trickled down his body, he couldn't help but respond to this memory. He couldn't recall ever seeing anything as beautiful as her in that moment. Nothing could ever compare to her beauty.

Draco turned off the water, snapping back to his reality. There was no sense in dreaming and longing for her any more. There was no use in living in the past. Too much had changed. Things would never go back to the way they were. He could never have her again. Draco opened the shower door and grabbed a towel, allowing steam to fill the bathroom. He wrapped the towel carelessly around his waist, and then dried his hair with another towel. Too often thoughts of her crept into his mind and he hated it. He left London to escape her, and yet, everything surrounding him brought his thoughts back to her. Even the sight of a chocolate truffle brought her face to his mind. A loud knock on the door woke Draco from his reverie. He never had visitors. For the past three months he had no human interaction, undoubtedly this was not a good sign. He walked from the bathroom through his bedroom and made his way to the entryway. With another loud knock, Draco quickened his pace and opened the door. She was propped against the doorframe with her arms crossed over her chest.

"How did you find me?" he sighed.

"Your mother," she pushed her way past him and into the living room of the apartment.

"Funny, I don't remember inviting you into my home."

"You didn't have to."

She was teasing him.

"You know Draco, I was expecting more of a warm welcoming. I mean it has been months since I've seen you."

"That's been the point, Pansy," Draco muttered. "Why are you here? No doubt my mother sent you."

Pansy crossed her arms, "No. That's where you're wrong. Your mother didn't send me. She simply told me where you were."

"So then why are you here?"

"I've come to make sure you're not wallowing in self-pity. I know that's why you left, and I know that's why you are still here. You have to stop feeling sorry for yourself. You can't change what happened."

Draco scoffed, "Pansy, I'm not feeling sorry for myself."

She smiled, "Really? Is that so?" She pulled out her wand and flicked it. A piece of parchment flew from the wastebasket and into her hand. "Let's just look and see what this has to say, shall we dear?"

He lunged forward to pluck the parchment from her hands, but she was already a step ahead of him.

"'My Dearest Ginny, I can't stop thinking about my actions and how deeply I've betrayed you. What I did is inexcusable. I know and understand your reasoning as to why you have deliberately avoided me'"—

"Give that back to me," Draco demanded as he cut her off.

Pansy slumped a little, and begrudgingly handed the parchment over to him. Nevertheless, with another flick of her wrist, another piece of parchment flew from the wastebasket into her well-manicured fingers.

Her eyes twinkled with delight, "Oh. I wonder what this one says. 'Ginny— Before you tear this letter up please read what I have to say before you do. I need you to know why I did what I did. There's no excuse in the world'"—

Draco had snatched the letter out of her hand before she had finished reading it. He jerked his wand and spat, "Incendio."

Immediately, flames burst from the end of Draco's wand and landed on the parchment. He waved them about before tossing the small flame onto the slate table top next to him. The flames breathed to embers and eventually turned to ash. Just as he watched the last ember fall, Pansy had already pulled another piece of parchment from the wastebasket.

"My god, how many of these things did you write. I doubt you sent any of them though given the current circumstances, but let's see what this one said shall we?"

Draco ripped the paper from Pansy's hand, "That's enough! You've proved your point. Now what of it?"

"Don't be angry at me! Just because I know you"—

He cut her off, "You don't know me though, Pansy. You never have."

Pansy blinked, "I've known you since I was seven years old. You've been my best friend for the past six years. Do you really think I know you so little? At times I think I'm the only one who does know who you are."

Draco ran his hand through his hair, it was still damp from his shower, "I'm going to put some clothes on. Wait here."

Pansy sat down on the couch, "With pleasure."

Draco slammed his bedroom door close. His heart pounded. Why did Pansy always have to stir things up? He was perfectly content staying here, living his life out alone, punishing himself. This time spent away was helping him; couldn't she see that? Draco unwrapped the towel from his waist and flung it into the wall. He slid on a clean pair of briefs and pulled some trousers from the closet. Pulling his pants up, he continued to curse Pansy under his breath. There was no reason for her to be here. This didn't concern her. He sat on his bed and buried his face in his hands. Pansy couldn't be here, she brought much more than herself with her when she showed up. Her existence reminded Draco of his past, of the choices that he made and now had to live with. He was no longer just a man alone in the city. He was Draco Malfoy. He hated that.

There was a gentle knock on the door, and Pansy stuck her head in, "Can I come in?"

Looking up, Draco nodded, "Yeah sure."

Pansy slinked across the room and sat at the foot of Draco's bed. Casually, she crossed one leg over the other, resting her hands onto her lap. Her eyes were fixed on a spot on the floor. Draco scooted over to her and picked up her left hand.

"You're still wearing the ring." It was a statement.

Pansy huffed, "Yes. Well, your mother thought it would be best to not make any rash decisions with your disappearance."

"I'm not capable of giving you what you want, Pansy. You know that," his voice was a whisper.

"So I've heard."

He turned her hand and placed a lingering kiss to her palm. Her hands were cold, but soft. At the contact of her skin and sea of emotions flooded through him. Was it wrong to continue as if nothing had happened? He loved her, yes. At least he loved her as much as he knew how. She had been by his side through every misguided step he had made over the years. There wasn't anything that he could do that would shake her faith in him. There was no reason to her love. For that, he was grateful. If she needed reasons to love him, he doubted she would be sitting before him at this very moment.

He needed Pansy to leave. Her presence was ripping away at everything he had worked so hard to control. Pansy was right; she did know him better than anyone else did. He couldn't pretend to love her as she wanted, as she deserved. Not when his heart belonged to someone else. He couldn't keep letting Pansy live in a world of fantasy. It would be better for them both if she stayed away. Yet, the feel of her skin against his lips gave him a comfort he hadn't felt since he had left the country. His lips traveled along her fingers.

"Draco," Pansy sighed at the feel of his lips on her skin.

"I've hurt you too much. I've caused you too much grief," he pressed.

"You haven't done anything that I wasn't asking for. I knew what I had gotten myself into. You aren't to blame, not in my case."

"I can't keep treating you like this. You don't deserve it."

She smiled, "I don't mind it."

"You should. You should want more for yourself."

"But it wouldn't mean as much coming from anyone but you. I'll take whatever you have to give."

He nodded stiffly. There was no pushing her away; he had no escape from her. He would continually hurt her, repeatedly, until there was nothing left of her. He was going to be her end. They stayed in place for a long time, Draco's breath hot on Pansy's hand. Both were lost in their thoughts of what had passed, and what was to come.

"I know you're still in love with her," her voice was hoarse.

He scoffed, "How could you tell?"

Pansy wrenched her hand from his grasp, "You know it doesn't matter to me."

The words settled uneasily on his ears, igniting a frustration within himself.

Draco grabbed her wrist, "It matters to me."

His hands were like a brand on her skin. Searing through her flesh. Marking her in ways he hadn't intended. He was her vice, and as his fingers tightened around her wrist, he knew he was marking her, slowly possessing her.

"You can't hold onto her forever. Eventually your feelings for her are going away. And I'll be there, right by your side, waiting and ready for you. I'll keep waiting for you," she gritted through her teeth.

"I never asked you to wait for me."

"You didn't have to! I knew you needed me. Someone needed to be there for you when everything came out in the open, so I waited. Do you think she would have done something like that? Do you think she would have sat in the courtrooms, being a good little thing and supporting you as you were tried for the attempted murder of her brother? Of Dumbledore? Maybe she would have stood by you for letting the Bellatrix and the others into Hogwarts!"

"Enough!"

"No! You don't realize what you're doing! She could never feel for you what I do. I know everything about you. Every dark secret you've kept hidden from everyone else, every bad thought you've ever had, I know them all. And here I am, begging you to let me stay by your side," her chest was heaving.

"Like I said earlier Pansy, you don't know me. Stop deluding yourself. I'm a Malfoy. Who the hell are you?"

She rose to her feet and closed the distance between them, she was angry now. There was no denying that. Her eyes were now wide with a fire Draco rarely saw from her. She was breathing hard and her hands were shaking.

"I'm your fucking fiancée, Draco darling," she sneered.

Her breath was hot on his neck, and she had come so close to him that her curves gently grazed his body. He searched her eyes, eager to trap the fire that burned within them. He needed that fire, the raw desire she had for him. He needed to feel it, so he took it the only way he knew how. He grabbed her arms roughly, tossing her to the side. He managed to take two steps before he felt her delicate hand on his forearm, pulling him to her. Turning around, Draco used the force of his body to push Pansy against the wall.

"They set a date. It's all over the front page of the Daily Prophet."

The words pierced through his skin like ice. Pansy didn't need to elaborate, didn't need to explain her words. He knew their meaning and felt their weight. His eyes bore into hers, turning to slits. She knew exactly how to press his buttons. She knew how to ignite his feelings, bringing him to life, forcing him to face his true nature. Pansy brought out his dark side, the dark side of himself that coursed through his veins. The dark side of being a Malfoy. He looked at the curve of her lower lip, how every word she said fell delicately off it. Tilting his head, he lowered his lips to hers, just hovering slightly above them.

"Is that so?" he breathed. His breath was hot, and his words stuck humidly to her lips.

She drew in a sharp breath, "Yes."

"And why would I care about that bint when I have you so seductively pinned beneath me?" His breath was ragged, "Why would I care that she's probably fucking Potter's brains out as we speak? I've got a delicious witch's breasts pressed up against me."

Pansy shoved his chest trying to break from his grasp, "Fuck you."

She had just managed to wriggle from his grasp when he spun her towards his chest and crashed his lips against hers. Pansy melted against Draco, threading her fingers through his hair for support. His arms possessively wrapped around her waist, pulling her closer to him. He poured his anger into every kiss; urging Pansy to feel what he felt, burn with hatred as she did. She clawed at his neck, her hands moving down to his chest, her nails marking him as her fingers grazed his skin. His hips instinctively rolled against hers, awakening a desire he hadn't felt in months. He nipped harshly at her plump bottom lip, demanding entrance. Her lips parted with a strangled sigh as her fingers scraped to his waistband. His tongue slid against hers in a forceful duel, each of them desperate for dominance. Draco tore his lips from hers as he kneeled down, his hands gliding up Pansy's legs. She let out a whimper of pleasure. Draco froze.

"Get out."

"Pardon?" She was breathless.

"You heard me Pansy. Get out of my apartment. Now." His tone was even.

"And what exactly do you want me to do then?"

"Whatever you've been doing the past three months. Now go," he spat.

He didn't look up from floor until he heard the front door slam. Instinctively, his hand went through his hair, attempting to straighten what Pansy had ruffled. He shouldn't have kissed her. There was nothing in those caresses and kisses other than pure hatred. It was the only emotion that spurred him into Pansy's arms. It was the only thing that convinced him being with Pansy was the correct choice. He stood and made his way to the closet, pulling out an Oxford blue button-up. When he had finished buttoning the shirt he pulled on socks and shoes, then made his way to the living room. Blood was still pulsing through his veins, the adrenalin spurring his thoughts. When he reached the living room, something on the coffee table had caught his eye. It wasn't there before he went to take a shower. Looking more closely at it, he saw the words:

POTTER AND WEASLEY FOR A FALL WEDDING

Smiling up at him from the paper were Harry Potter and Ginny Weasley. They alternated from waving at him to kissing each other deeply. The sight alone tightened his chest. This wasn't how it was supposed to turn out. Leaving home was supposed to bring about new chances for him, time to heal those he had hurt. However, Ginny was acting in a way that Draco hadn't seen coming. There was no telling Draco that his disappearance and betrayal would only strengthen her relationship with Harry.

Furious, Draco went to the hutch against the wall and dug through the doors until he found a small sack of Floo Powder. After tucking his wand into his pocket, he pulled out a handful of powder. He made his way to the fireplace, intently staring at the flames, his fury the fuel that was spurring him on. He was like a man who had just awoke from a deep sleep, intent to reclaim everything he had willingly sacrificed to set things right. No good would come form this, yet that did not stop him from throwing the powder into the flames.

"Shell Cottage!" he shouted, and stepped into the fire.