CHAPTER ONE

He was still plagued by the nightmares. For years, his usually dreamless sleep was marred by the dark images: black cloaks, so dark they blended into the shadows of the night, the sinister whisper of a hiss, and the unmistakable flash of green light.

If he knew that these dreams, these visions that he had been having were even remotely close to what the infamous Harry Potter was used to experiencing, his eyebrow would ever so slightly raise, as if the mere thought was ludicrous, and his lip would curl in disgust, because being linked in any way to Harry Potter was naturally seen as vile and degrading. That is, of course, if you were a Malfoy.

And he was a Malfoy – filthy rich, arrogant, charming... He was also a manipulative and self-centred bastard. Yes, he was definitely a Malfoy.

For eight years now he had been fighting the dreams. For eight years he had tried to forget. He had exhausted every option available to him and was resigned to the fact that he would never be able to run away from his past.

He hadn't even told Blaise. It wasn't that he didn't trust Blaise, for Blaise was probably the only person that he would trust with his life. It was mostly pride that had gotten in the way. After all, a Malfoy couldn't be seen showing any sign of weakness, and for Blaise to see him so affected by his dreams... No. Blaise was good when it came to having fun, not when it came to heart-to-heart talks about the past.

That was a day he shared with no one.

. . . . . . . . . .

Draco Malfoy found himself standing at the top of his flat, staring out at the mass of twinkling lights. It was all a bit surreal, now that he thought about it. After "The Final Battle", as most liked to call it, he found going back to the Malfoy Manor too painful. Too many haunting memories lingered there. His mother's death and... Lucius.

Draco sucked in a breath. Memories of his father, if you could even call him that, deserved to be locked away in the deep recesses of the mind, never to be let out. He let the air escape his mouth slowly, thinking back on the past eight years as he watched white clouds form in front of his face.

Lucius had been adamant that Draco follow in his footsteps to serve the Dark Lord, and Draco had complied, a small part of him wanting to believe that his father would never intentionally put him in a position of danger. He only realised how wrong he was the day that he came face to face with Dumbledore himself at the top of a tower in his sixth year.

In the few minutes he had spent pointing his wand at Dumbledore, he felt that Dumbledore cared for him the way his father never did, and never would. In those few minutes, he realised that all he had been brought up to believe, all that he had been taught... everything had been meaningless. A lie. His hand had faltered, and he had hesitated.

His memories became blurred at this point, with random images flashing out at him, as if his mind sub-consciously did not want to delve deeper into whatever it was that had changed him. He saw himself being rushed away by Snape after he, Snape, had killed Dumbledore. He saw the Dark Lord – Lord Voldemort – sneering at Lucius for bringing up a son so useless, so... unworthy. He heard the word Crucio repeated over and over in his head and remembered being racked with pain so white and hot that he could scarcely breathe. Most of all, he remembered his mother dying.

Another deep breath. No, going back to the manor anytime soon would definitely be a bad idea. He was better off with Blaise Zabini as a flatmate, despite all his infuriating antics and knack for attracting trouble...

. . . . . . . . . .

About a month ago...

"Ooompf!"

"Well well well... Look what we have here." Blaise Zabini smirked as he surveyed the sight lying at his feet. The floor was strewn with what seemed like the entire contents of Flourish And Blotts, with rolls of parchment escaping under every desk and there, smack in the middle of it all, was a fuming redhead.

"Who in the worl-... Zabini!" the redhead growled. "Too busy with your nose up in the air to watch where you're going?"

"Manners, Weasley..." Blaise said with a pleasant grin on his face. "I do believe you bumped into me, thus owing me an apology, instead of sitting there with a mouth open so wide that you could pass off as a bullfrog waiting for a fly."

Ginny, who had been preparing for a retort, closed her mouth and looked at the mess surrounding her. To Blaise's amusement, she dissolved in giggles and then promptly clapped her hands over her mouth as she drew irritated looks from the Ministry workers bustling all around, every now and then allowing a snort of laughter to escape.

"I suppose you'd be wanting help then?" Blaise winked, as he knelt down beside her.

Not waiting for a reply, he moved quickly around the room, Summoning stray rolls of parchment that had become lodged in any hard-to-reach places. Transfiguring a quill into a bag, he tipped everything inside and held out a hand to Ginny, who was still sitting on the ground, her mouth now open again, this time in disbelief.

Blaise raised an eyebrow. "Are you... all right?" he asked, suddenly wondering if the collision had somehow affected her mental state. After all, she had been laughing hysterically just a moment before and now she was staring at him, wide-eyed and speechless.

"I... Err. Yes. Yes, I'm all right." Ginny cautiously accepted his hand and brushed herself off as she took the bag off Blaise's other hand. "Erm... You... Helped... Bag..." she started, vaguely waving her hand around, but trailed off as she realised she didn't know what she was about to say.

Blaise, on the other hand, knew exactly what she was implying.

"Being evil isn't a prerequisite for a Slytherin you know." He laughed as she blushed, knowing that he had answered her unspoken thoughts. "Sure, we can be manipulative. We can be devilishly attractive." Another wink. "I'll even say that we can be self-preserving, or cowardly as you Gryffindors like to say. But. We are not, and I'll only say this once Weasley, we are not all evil. Now enough of that, where are you heading?"

Ginny, caught off-guard with that swift change of topic, answered without thinking. "Oh! I was on my way to bring these," she indicated the rolls of parchment in the bag, "to my father. Something about how they were important and he had left them at home... If they were that important he should've remembered to bring the bloody things himself! Instead I have to leave work to bring them over! Men!"

Blaise chuckled, shaking his head. "We're not all that bad, honest. C'mon, I'll walk you." He lifted the bag off her shoulder and walked towards the lift without waiting for her.

Realising she was left standing in the middle of the hall by herself, Ginny scrambled to catch up with Blaise who was waiting patiently by the lift. She found it easy to talk to Blaise, something she would have never imagined was possible.

"Oh, we're here..." she said, finding herself almost sorry to say goodbye when they reached her father's office.

Blaise smirked at her crestfallen tone. "Don't worry, you'll be seeing a lot more of me I'm sure. Oh, and by the way..." At his words, Ginny glanced back to see Blaise wink before he sauntered away.

"You're welcome, Red."

. . . . . . . . . .

Draco frowned slightly at the thought of Blaise and that Weasley girl becoming fast friends within a week of them crashing into each other. What does he see in her anyway, he mused. If she hadn't been in a relationship with Harry then, I would have thought he just wanted to get into her pants. A scowl came over Draco's face. Harry. If not for him, that Weasley girl would not be downstairs in my flat at this very moment.

. . . . . . . . . .

A couple days ago...

"Draco! Oi! Draco!" Draco had been staring out the window for the past fifteen minutes, oblivious to his flatmate's attempts to get his attention.

Blaise huffed and slumped in his chair. Then he straightened up immediately, as if an ice cube had somehow found its way down his back, with a wicked grin on his face.

"Oh Drakie-poo!" Blaise whined and pouted, mimicking the ever-annoying Pansy Parkinson.

Draco suddenly sat up in alarm, looking wildly around for Pansy and attempted to hide behind his coffee cup. He stopped when he caught sight of Blaise doubled over the table in laughter, and delicately raised an eyebrow when his friend fell off his chair snorting.

"That. Was not funny."

"Oh au contraire my friend, that was funny," Blaise sniggered, unable to keep a straight face.

Draco snorted and made to reach for the Daily Prophet, but Blaise slammed a hand down on the newspaper before Draco could take it.

"Okay, what now?" Draco asked, exasperated with his friend's maddening behaviour. Draco Malfoy was definitely not a morning person, and he now regretted sharing a flat with Blaise, who could have played Quidditch for thirty days straight and would still have been bouncing around claiming he was feeling 'restless'. That guy definitely needed some help. Or a good pounding.

"I was trying to get your attention. What's got you so dead to the world anyway?"

Draco groaned. "Sleep. Or lack thereof anyway. But never mind that. What did you so desperately need to tell me that you had to resort to sounding like that deranged excuse for a woman?"

"Okay, so remember how I met Ginny the other day at the Ministry? Well... Something's come up so ."

"Sorry, didn't catch that. Could you repeat what you just said?" A flicker of annoyance in Draco's grey eyes betrayed his nonchalant tone of voice.

Blaise grinned sheepishly. "Err… Ginny needs a place to stay and I told her she could stay with us?" he repeated weakly.

"Yeah, I think I heard you say our flat. Which makes me wonder why I wasn't consulted on this matter before. It's not bad enough I have to wake up to an obnoxious flatmate, but now you're inviting strangers into the flat? And a Weasley at that? My my Zabini, this newly acquired taste of yours leads me to question your insanity." Draco drawled lazily – it was much too early to get too riled up.

A smirk graced Blaise's face. He knew Draco well enough to know that it was easier to get away with things like this in the morning. He also knew that while Draco seemed irritated with the introduction of a new flatmate, he wouldn't really put up too much of a fuss about it. Draco was tolerant like that. Well, in the mornings anyway.

"So… I take you're fine with it? Good. She moves in tonight. Got to get to work now. Catch you later!" Blaise gulped down the rest of his coffee and Apparated into the Ministry before Draco could reply.

Draco narrowed his stormy grey eyes. Tonight!

. . . . . . . . . .

A sudden clatter shook Draco from his thoughts. He glared as he turned to see none other than Ginny Weasley standing not five feet away from him, the wind tossing her red hair across her face as she held a door handle in one hand, and a look of pure surprise on her face.