So it's been tooooo long! I'm so sorry to all of you who might have followed the prologue; I definitely thought I had given up on the story, but then suddenly got inspired again and decided to continue the story :) I haven't written chapter 2 yet so you'll have to wait for that...but I'm trying to be more thorough this time and am working on a masterplot list so it can be cohesive. So it should flow better after that. Enjoy!

Previously:

Behind him someone softly opened the door and made to step in, but hesitated, hearing Draco's mournful sadness. Then, the person quietly entered, watching and waiting to hear what Draco was going to say.

Draco pulled back from the casket and whispered gently, "I'll always love you, and I'll never forget you, Astoria." He crouched over the casket and bawled for the rest of the evening. Meanwhile the silent figure stepped into one of the aisles and sat down, weeping.

Chapter 1

§-D-§

Draco started, hearing the intrusion to his own sobbing. Without a second thought, he glanced back towards the sound; upon seeing a mass of curly brown hair hunched over a pew, he felt a surge of pity infusing in his sorrow.

Granger. What a way to return from vacation—to learn that her best friend had passed on.

And Astoria never got to see her best friend's face before closing her eyes forever. Her last night, when the healer had confided in Draco about the fast approaching death, Draco had insisted on calling for Granger to let Astoria die in peace. He was not above being selfish for Astoria. And yet, ever unselfish, Astoria insisted he not, "This is her first vacation since the kids and the divorce; let her have peace for a moment. She'll find out soon enough, and when she does, you'll have to help her get back up."

Oh Astoria. Always so righteous. Even enlisting him to help Granger, when he wasn't even sure he would be able to take care of himself, let alone Scorpius. Tears began to flow more freely as hopelessness set in.

For the evening the two continued to cry until no more tears would come; then they sat, replaying every lovely memory of Astoria they had ever had. Trying to relish the love Astoria had given them.

20 years earlier

§-D-§

The only word that could describe him at that moment was exhausted. He had just been given reprieve from his sentence in Azkaban thanks to the great Harry Potter and Co. He supposed he should feel grateful, but he couldn't. Not in the least. Not when his parents weren't given the same reprieve. His father and mother were sentenced to 15 and 5 years respectively.

Alright, his father he could understand, but his mother? What had she done wrong? She had saved Potter's fucking life-literally turned the war around-and what did he do to repay her? Put her in Azkaban, that's what. He couldn't believe Potter would shun someone who had done him such a great favor. Made him a fucking hypocrite.

Even if Potter could think to do so, what about the Mudblood? Wasn't she some self-righteous girl with forgiving heart? What a load of hogwash. And Weasley—just wasn't worth his time.

Therefore, no one could blame him for being agitated and rude while exiting the Wizengamot. Especially without his wand. He was released from his sentence but had to live one year without his wand in Muggle London. Because of their "kindness and generosity," they were giving him 24 hours to settle his affairs before being banished for a year. Well that was just great, wasn't it? He couldn't even access his own account nor the Malfoy account in Gringotts, since that was frozen for a year, too. So really, they were just letting him become homeless in the Wizarding world for 24 hours before experiencing the same in the Muggle world. His face scowled in disgust. The Malfoys reduced to this. Poor and alone.

At the exit, he tried to muster up his cold wall of self-importance, but his exhaustion escaped through the cracks as his proud squared shoulders drooped a fair bit while his previously slicked back hair hung in lackluster fringes around his face. Of course, the clouds outside did nothing to steel his resolve. They sneered at him just as the slowly bustling crowd in Diagon Alley began to notice his entrance and jeer.

As he began to walk with no real destination in mind, he sensed, and then felt, the egg pelt and crack on his shoulder, dripping yolk down his Dark Mark. He glared over his shoulder before brushing the egg off and continuing to walk past the Leaky Cauldron. Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed a woman grab a mopping pail and before he could flinch, flung it towards him.

"Dirty soap to clean you up!" she taunted.

Hair dripping, he swiped furiously at his face to clear the muck. However, the soap stung his eyes so much that his glare was ineffectual. Though indignant at the treatment, he grimaced back his scathing retort and walked on.

He continued to get unpleasant reactions from everyone until he finally turned into an alley to call it a night. Luckily it was no longer winter, so the weather was not entirely unpleasant—muggy if anything. At least he no longer had to live in fear for his life. His parents', yes, but no one could harm them there except their own fears. A cruel fate. He felt guilty towards his mother, an honest woman thrust into a terrible situation; meanwhile he was free. Thinking this, he fell asleep against the decrepit wall.

The next morning he was rudely awakened to a smelly set of drops on his face. Squinting in the sunlight, he saw a barn owl flying away and realized through his morning stupor that he had shit on his face. Lifting his arm to smear it off made his shoulder throb from the position he had slept in. Though he had slept, surprisingly without dreams or nightmares, the exhaustion from yesterday only seemed to have doubled. Judging by the faint bustle of sound, he gathered it to be early in the morning. He still had a few hours before meeting his warden at the border of the Muggle world. He decided to rest a little more, opting the calm alleyway over the negativity he was sure to get outside it.

He must have dozed off, because suddenly the sun and loud flurry of sounds pierced at him. As well a Ministry Howler. Before he could grab at it and open it, it exploded into shreds, shrilly booming, "YOU'RE LATE!" Dazed for a second, he tried to remember what appointment he was supposed to keep after being released yesterday. Right. He was to meet the warden at noon. He scrambled up and collected himself.

Brushing off soot and straightening his robes, he stepped out towards Diagon Alley. Ignoring the stares that were again soon becoming nasty, he strode leisurely in the direction of the brick border. Spotting a mass of curls he groaned to himself. Of course it would be his luck to have Granger for a warden.

§-D-H-§

Just as he spotted her, she turned to see him and gave a small wave. He looked away just as her brows furrowed. He increased his pace infinitesimally. Upon reaching the fairly vacant area in front of the border, he found her stiff smile.

"Good afternoon, Malfoy."

"Likewise," he rasped back from his unused voice.

With a start, she took in his appearance and there was a shift in her face—almost a softening if you will. She quickly looked around, her eyes stopping on a spot for a fraction of a second before she went to dig in her purse. She rummaged until she pulled a wallet out with a "Hmph." She hastily and anxiously gave another surreptitious glance around and then opened it to grab something and immediately pressed a wad of paper in his hands, closing his fingers over it.

Upon sudden contact, he flinched back, though her hold kept him from dropping whatever she had given him.

In a frantic whisper she explained, "Look, take it as sudden concern or pity or whatever. I don't know why, and I shouldn't be doing this, but—this is Muggle money. They're called pounds. There's numbers on each bill according to price, so you can pay with these for the time being to get something temporarily. There's about 500 pounds in here, which is a fair bit, so I'd keep it in separate amounts on your person so that a thief might not steal all of it. I don't know why—take care of yourself Malfoy, okay?"

She immediately let go of his hands as if he'd burned her. Swiftly taking out her wand, she tapped a brick on the border and slowly an entrance opened up. As it became large enough to allow him to pass, she gestured, only then noticing him staring at the bills she'd given him. His face started sneering and his hand went to throw it on the ground, but her voice stopped him.

"Don't. I really didn't need to nor should I have given you anything, but I did. Put down your damn pride for a moment and just accept it. Face it, you need it to survive. And there are people who want you to survive-" With that last sentence, her eyes became wide and her mouth clamped shut as if she hadn't meant to say it.

He gave a sharp nod, clearing his throat to say, "I won't say thanks." And with that he stepped through into a London so windy, that, had he been wearing a cloak, would have billowed out into her face. Before the bricks closed up again, he faintly heard a muttered, "Don't worry Astoria, he'll-"

§-H-§

Unbeknownst to him, a shorter, more petite brunette had stepped up and removed her disillusion charm to more fully watch him leave. At that moment, Hermione felt compelled to reassure her new acquaintance of a week. "Don't worry Astoria, he'll make it out alive. His pride will be trampled is all."

Astoria nodded absently, the worry on her face not suiting her young fresh looks. "It's a pity his pride will receive a lesson the hard way. He really can be a good person when comfortable with his company."

Hermione raised her eyebrows in doubt, "Sure that's possible. But he would never find Muggles to be 'company'. Come now, Astoria. Think reasonably."

"Hermione, we have to think optimistically and trust that your immersion sentence will work. Once it works with Draco, we can have even more hope for it to work with others."

Astoria's eyes shone in innocent hope that struck Hermione as naive. After having gone through the war, fighting as much as she had, Hermione felt she could never regain such innocence. "Right. Well, I can't say I'm all that hopeful, just curious to see if Malfoy will change, and if so, how much."

Astoria, realizing Hermione doubted her own brilliant plan, nodded and gave a sad smile."I feel bad we couldn't do anything about his mother, Hermione. She was always nice to me when we made family calls at the Malfoy Manor."

Hermione softened, weary in response. "Not for lack of effort. Harry, Ron and I tried our hardest, especially given how she saved his life. You know how the Wizengamot is, with the likes of Umbridge and such." Her heart went to the younger witch. Having held a torch for the Malfoy heir years before Pansy Parkinson began to drape herself around him like a fur coat, her sincerity had shown through in her earnest plea to help clear both Draco Malfoy and his mother to live a peaceful life. Though he was arrogant and unpleasant most of the time, Astoria had apparently managed to glimpse another part of Malfoy. So she used her resources at the right times, dipping into her Slytherin heritage and Ravenclaw background, to help him and his next of kin.

Hermione held her in high regard even though she barely knew the girl. Perhaps it was her youth and confidence, perhaps it was the refreshing heart of willingness to do whatever she needed to do, that could rival Narcissa Malfoy's (though the former seemed much warmer than the ice queen Malfoy Mistress). She did not know, but she felt she could be fast friends with this young witch as Astoria looked up at her and gave her a small smile of gratitude.

§-D-§

Curious at the words he had caught, Draco's mind immediately flitted to the pretty witch who often accompanied her mother and sister to visits at the manor. And it was her face he held in his curious mind as rain started to pour and drench his soul.