AN: *crawls out of deep, dark abyss* I'M ALIVE! Well, not really. I wrote this over the summer (and left it unedited) and now catching up on the past two seasons (like, 48 episodes of!) The Vampire Diaries and kicking butt at MW3 is kinda/sorta taking up my life. Oh, and don't forget school and homework and a bajillion other things too. But I've been trying to write. I still have a MW2 one-shot I started in, like, May and haven't finished yet. And then there are plot bunnies destroying my mind that probs won't ever get to be written out. At least Michigan beat Ohio State today.

Disclaimer: The chances of me owning Harry Potter are the chances of me actually being able to come up with a witty disclaimer. So, one-in-nevergonnahappen. (This one doesn't count.)

The day started as ordinary as any summer day in England: the sky was painted a watery grey, clouds becoming heavier with rain, a mild breeze ruffled the grass, and Harry Potter was milling about Stonehenge, which, in actuality, wasn't something he typically did. In fact, it was first time he'd ever been there.

Now, you may be wondering why our Saviour, looking dashing and debonair at the wonderful age of 23, was spending his vacation days - and it's not like he had a lot of them. Even though the Dark Wizard population has been massively shrinking, there was still a ton of work left for the Auror Department - at a silly circle of stacked rocks?

To be honest, he wasn't quite sure either.

If he gave you the truthful answer, he'd say that something was calling him there, something so deep-rooted, so intimate, so - and that's where his answer ended since he has yet to make up the rest of it. He really doesn't have a clue as to why he's here.

Vaguely, Harry noted a too-loud Muggle American woman reading off of a pamphlet of facts about Stonehenge to her family. She speaks about the stones in which it's made of, the age of the famed structures, possible uses, the location, and how (Muggles think) it was built.

What he found strange was that Muggle scientists and historians hadn't yet figured out how it had gotten there in the first place, considering all the amazing things they've done with the help of technology. It's not like Harry knew either, it's just that he kind of figured that, you know, they just would've /known/ by now.

Or maybe you're simply holding them in much too high standards, an evil little prejudiced pureblood voice sneered in the back of his mind.

It was silenced by a prompt order to "shut the fuck up."

Then suddenly, as if they had read his mind, Harry sensed someone standing behind him. "You do know that wizards built Stonehenge." And then, as if they had read his mind /again/, they said, "Apparently, they made it out of sheer boredom. Sounds like a bloody waste of time to me. But watching the Muggles struggle over its origin is entertaining; if not slightly dull at the same time. You'd think they'd have something better to do, wouldn't you?" The disgust tainting the end of the statement struck a familiar cord in him. If he could just place a name and a face to it...

Harry turned around.

Draco Malfoy sauntered away.