It was cold, but he didn't mind it. Well, to be precise, he felt he deserved to be, at the very least, uncomfortable.
No matter how much the rest of the wizarding world thought he deserved to be punished, Draco Malfoy felt he deserved worse. The guilt for his part in the war, for the second uprising of Voldemort, was a real, live, tangible ache in his chest. He knew he deserved all the stares, the sneers, the items thrown at him, the hexes in the hallways, everything. Sometimes he felt he deserved Azkaban, other times he felt he deserved death.
The spoiled, proud Draco Malfoy had been shattered; he took the hexes flung at him and never retaliated. At first, the other students jeered more at him for being a wimp, but as time wore on, the lack of reaction from Draco made hexing him not as fun as before. They still talked badly about him, loudly so that he could hear, but he knew everything they said was true. It didn't affect him the way they wanted it to, and he didn't care. Being stuck in his own mind was more punishment than they could give him.
All Draco wanted to do was finish school, then go to a Muggle university where he would be unknown. It devastated his mother; not because Purebloods should never stoop so low as to commune with Muggles, but because this war, the Malfoy family involvement in it, had driven her one and only son to the decision to leave wizard society. With her husband in Azkaban, her sister Bellatrix dead, that left her with Draco and her disinherited sister, Andromeda, and exactly none of her former friends. The prospect of her son leaving cleaved her heart in two.
But he couldn't dwell on that, or he'd never leave, and if he didn't leave, his guilt would swallow him whole. He knew he didn't deserve happiness, but he couldn't live with the guilt forever.
Walking outside in the dead of winter, around the newly restored Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, wearing his winter cloak and requisite Slytherin house-colored gloves and scarf, Draco blew out a sigh that hung visibly in the air before dissipating. Only a few more months before he took his N.E.W.T.s, graduated, and disappeared from his former life. This was the one tiny glint of hope he clung to, to help him survive.
A slender girl with dark brown hair that bounced as she walked briskly through the snow, spotted the brooding Draco Malfoy before he saw her. She quickly hopped behind a large tree, spying on him as he walked by. He was always alone, she noted; she knew he had had friends before and during the war, her sister Daphne had said in some unrelated conversation at some point, but one had died in the war, and the other had been shipped off to another wizarding school somewhere in Siberia. Blaise Zabini still counted Draco among his friends, but it was said that he never could reach the platinum-haired young man. Draco avoided everyone, even Slytherins, even his one remaining friend at Hogwarts.
As she watched Draco, the girl felt that she'd never seen another soul alive so in need of a friend. Without putting too much thought into her next move, she stepped out from behind the tree and walked over to the blonde slowly so as not to startle him. When she got to his side, she fell in step with him, not saying anything, waiting for him to notice.
When he finally did, he looked down at her and furrowed his brow.
"Have you lost your way, little girl?" he asked, not quite snidely and without much energy. The girl smirked.
"No, not at all," she replied. "I'm quite familiar. I love taking walks around the grounds. Do you?" Draco cocked an eyebrow at her, but turned his face away, looking straight ahead as before.
"Yes, I do quite enjoy my walks… alone…" The girl noted the emphasis on the last word, but she would not be deterred. She got in front of Draco and turned to him, never missing a step as she began to walk backwards.
"Yes but they're so much more enjoyable when shared with others, don't you think? I'm Astoria." She held her hand out to him as she continued walking. Draco looked down at her hand, and reluctantly shook it with a sigh.
"Draco Malfoy." Astoria smiled at him.
"I know. It's nice to finally meet you. It's nice to finally hear you speak!" Draco frowned at her.
"Yes, well, I'm not much for speaking these days. Astoria what?"
"Greengrass! My sister Daphne is in your year! I'm a 5th year, but in Ravenclaw." She smiled at him, happy that she'd gotten him to carry on a conversation. A brief look of recognition crossed Draco's face, but was soon replaced with the permanent scowl he wore.
"Yes, I know Daphne."
"Do you like to fly, Draco Malfoy?" Draco tilted his head up to face the cloudy sky, briefly lost in memories.
"I used to."
"So… not anymore?" Draco's frowned deepened.
"I don't like much of anything anymore, I'm afraid." Astoria abruptly stopped walking, causing Draco to nearly run into her. He scowled down at the petite Fifth Year, who had a look of both amazement and disdain on her face.
"What?" he asked defensively. Astoria shook her head and stared at him.
"Draco Malfoy, you have got to be the saddest, most depressing person I know. Let's go fly!" With that, she grabbed his hand and pulled him in the direction of the Quidditch pitch.
"Excuse me a moment, Miss Greengrass," Draco protested, digging his heals into the ground to stop her, "But what if I do not WANT to fly?" Astoria, still pulling on his arm, rolled her eyes at him.
"Give me a break, 'Mister Malfoy'," she said mockingly but with a smile, "Any right-minded person wants to fly ALL the time! Now put some pep in your step!" Draco reluctantly allowed himself to be pulled along by this perky girl, too depressed to really put up much of a fight. He figured it would be easier just to placate her and hurry along this process, so that he could go back to his room and resume his self-loathing in peace and quiet.
Once they made their way to the pitch, Astoria retrieved her wand from inside her wool cloak and smiled at Draco.
"Accio Firebolts!" she declared. Draco rolled his eyes and crossed his arms as they waited for Astoria's brooms to come soaring through the sky to them.
"Ooh! Here they come, head's up!" Astoria jumped up and caught one in the air. Draco just stood there unamused and let the other broom fly directly into his hand, never looking at it. Astoria looked at him and smiled.
"Impressive reflexes! You ready to take to the sky?!" Draco rolled his eyes again, but boarded his broom.
"Let's get this over with. I have a very important appointment with my bad attitude that I musn't be late for." Astoria laughed as she boarded her broom and shot up into the air with surprising speed.
"That's the spirit, old man! Catch me if you can!" and with that, she was off. Draco shook his head and begrudgingly smiled, which he quickly recovered from, glad that she hadn't seen it. He sauntered up into the sky lazily, secretly reveling in the feeling of flying again. It had been… he couldn't remember exactly how long it had been, since he'd been on a broom; he didn't allow himself pleasure these days.
Draco climbed up and up, slow but steady, while Astoria zoomed around the pitch at breakneck speed. She noticed him taking his time, and she didn't mind. She'd gotten farther with him than she thought she would. They would go his pace, but she WOULD become his friend, she promised herself. He needed someone that he had no previous ties to, of that she was certain.
She slowed down and breezed over to where Draco had ended his ascent, high over the pitch and the surrounding trees. The wind whipped through his platinum hair, at his shoulders now, longer than it had ever been. The ends of his scarf danced behind him, and he sat on his broom, the closest to content that he had been in years. Up here, he felt, nothing could get to him; he could leave his guilt down on the ground, where it would remain until he came down off his broom, which he knew he would do, because he did not deserve too much of a reprieve. Draco looked around him, finally noticing that the girl had stopped at his side and was gazing at the great expanse of sky. She turned to face him and gave a small smile.
"This is the most peaceful place in the world," she said softly, gesturing to the air, "Don't you love it?" Draco snorted; he loved nothing any more save his mother. Astoria frowned at him, but he turned away from her and spoke.
"It truly is peaceful." Astoria knew that that statement would be the most she would get from him for the time being, and although she had hoped for more, she still deemed it progress. She smiled and nudged him lightly from her broom.
"C'mon, let's go do a few laps before we go back inside. I'm getting chilly!" She waited for him to reply, but he just smirked at her quickly and took off like a shot. Astoria giggled and raced after him. They flew around the grounds a few times, staying up high. When the cold became too much for Astoria, she signaled that she was going to head down. Draco nodded but remained in the sky, continuing to fly laps. Astoria waved to him, knowing that she needed to let him have this moment to himself. She dismounted her broom in the middle of the pitch and walked briskly towards the castle, smiling the whole way.
Draco dismounted his borrowed Firebolt, running his fingers through his windblown hair. He had enjoyed every second of his flight, though his mind battled itself. He didn't deserve pleasure, didn't deserve the brief reprieve from his self-imposed misery. But he couldn't help but feel a little different, like a small, infinitesimal chip of his depression had broken away, making him feel the tiniest bit lighter.
He walked away from the pitch, wondering what time it was, if he had missed dinner. No matter, he thought, I should starve in penance for performing an enjoyable act tonight. Effectively putting himself back into a foul mood, he trudged off to the castle, broom in hand. He thought he'd better find Astoria to return the Firebolt before he was tempted to use it again.
He found the brunette in the Great Hall, sitting at the far end of the Ravenclaw table, nibbling at a piece of bread while absorbed in one of her text books. The Hall was mostly empty as it was nearing the end of dinner time, with only a few stragglers from each house dining at their respective tables. Draco walked briskly over to Astoria, and stood at her side without saying anything. She did not seem to notice him, so engrossed in Ancient Runes, so he cleared his throat. She still did not look up, so he poked her lightly in the side with the broom handle. She squeaked, dropping her book on the table.
"Oh! Draco!" she exclaimed. "I didn't see you! How was your flight?" Draco just nodded in answer.
"I've brought back your broom." He placed the Firebolt on the table in front of her. She looked down at it and smiled back up at him.
"Thank you, although I didn't need it back right away. I'm glad you enjoyed yourself," Astoria said quietly. "Would you like to sit down and eat? Dinner ends in a few minutes." Draco looked as if he was contemplating the invitation, but shook his head.
"No. I'll eat in my room." He turned to leave, but stopped himself. Turning back around, he gave a stiff "thank you" before heading to the Slytherin table. Astoria watched as he grabbed a plate, selected a few items from the platters on the table, and tromped off to his room. She shook her head, but smiled quietly to herself.
On his way to the dungeons, Draco was, thankfully, encountering no other students. He hoped that the trek would go by with no assaults, but upon seeing Weasley, Grainger and Potter turn the corner up ahead, his hopes were dashed. He walked with his head down, trying not to make eye contact with any of the trio. Perhaps, he thought, if he didn't look them in the eye, they wouldn't notice him.
"Malfoy." Harry Potter had stopped to address Draco. The blonde stopped as well, sure that this would result in a hex or curse of some fashion. He turned around to face the group.
"…Potter." Harry walked closer to the Slytherin, looking reluctant to speak as well.
"How… how have you been?" Harry asked. Draco looked at Harry, then over to Hermione and Ron, with a questioning look, as if to say "Why is he talking to me?"
"Uhm… well, Potter. Well." Draco regarded him carefully, expecting a fist to the face or a hex or SOMETHING hateful. Potter just nodded curtly.
"Good to hear. Talk to you later." And with that Harry turned back to Hermione and Ron, who looked at him curiously. Draco watched the Golden Trio walk away, Weasley whispering fervently to Potter on one side, and Grainger regarding him quietly on the other. He shook his head and resumed his trek to the dungeons, contemplating the past few hours.
"This has been the oddest damned day," he said to himself quietly.