Disclaimer: I don't own anything to do with the Harry Potter universe, J. K Rowling might.

Warnings: Drug use, language, general badness...

Draco's Fun Fact: My favorite animal is the dragon, I include humans in the running.

Thursday

Draco's alarm was unnecessary that Thursday morning, having been woken up by Greengrass's incessant giggling, coming from Nott's bed, hidden by a curtain. Though the giggling was what had originally awoken Draco, the rest of his dorm mates yelling insults, and pleas for quiet, are what kept him awake. What motivated him to get up, however, was that now that he was awake, Harry Potter entered his mind. It started with the words: soul mate. Then lots of internal cussing as the word "fuck" seemed to shut down all other vocabulary in Draco's brain. The idea that Potter might, in the future, be in his bed when he wakes freaked him out, he really couldn't stay in bed with those thoughts.

There was over an hour until breakfast was even served, and Draco had already finished all his morning activities, and was dressed and ready for the day. He relaxed into a large chair in the common room, pulling out a piece of parchment, and a quill. He had no idea what to write to his father, so he first wrote to his grandmother. The letter ended up being overly formal, and rather pompous, considering the fact that it was in reference to a children's story. He got out more parchment for the next letter, the one to his father. He really needed to think of something to say about his life.

The last large school assignment he had received a mark on had only earned him a P, definitely not something he wanted to tell his father about, Transfiguration was not his subject. Quidditch hadn't started yet, and the first game was always against Gryffindor, so he didn't even want to bring it up.

Draco took out the last letter he had received from his father, Tuesday morning, long before that evenings dooming meeting. He fleetingly wished that he had written back that day, but writing to his father had been very hard since the address had changed to Azkaban. His father no longer sent him information, though still managed to find out about it, whenever Draco fucked up. And boy, right now he felt like a fuck up, but his father wasn't lecturing, or punishing, or even forgiving. So he started writing it, the full confession, something he would only ever be able to write to his father:

"Father, I would like to first make it clear that this is not a formal letter. I know that you do not approve of me using this format in general, however, the circumstances have changed,"

Draco stopped, rereading the first sentence and a half. He crossed out "the circumstances have changed," fuming as he realized he couldn't even set the premise up without second-guessing his word choices, fortunately he was already going to copy it onto a clean piece of paper before- but, was he sending it? He shook away that thought, and continued from where he had crossed out:

"…however, it must be made clear that this is in no way an official family letter, nor binding to my word. I have been made aware that I have been prophesized a soul mate, but it is to someone who you would not approve of: affiliated with the side of Light, a half-blood."

After a glorious laughter filled moment, he sat back, knowing he could write this letter, and send it, he just had to forget to mention a certain soul mates name.

"Though the obvious option would be to sway this persons allegiances to better fit mine, it can be assured that this will never happen, for I am positive there is no hope in this matter. Rare are the times when I have needed your advice more, if any such times have existed."

Draco questioned putting in something about how much animosity there was between him and said soul mate, but he did not want to look childish. There was a war, and bloodline, to think about.

"I must ask for your silence about this, I do not want to lose my opportunity to find a solution. I yearn for your council, Father I'm lost. Love, Your Son"

He read what he had written over a few times, he couldn't tell which was stronger, his hatred of the letter, or his desperation for a reply. He was not just desperate for a reply, he as anxious, excited, and he hadn't even sent the letter yet.

If he wanted to send it he would have to translate it into Runes. When Draco needs to write to his father, and not have it be read by Aurors before it even gets to Azkaban, he pretends it's an Ancient Runes homework assignment. He gives himself a fake grade, and the Aurors never bother to go through the tedious process of translating Runes when it is obviously a kid showing off a good mark.

Draco had: Transfiguration, Defense Against the Dark Arts, Charms, and Herbology during the day, with Astronomy that night, making him rather busy. It wasn't until after dinner, before Astronomy, that Draco finally found himself translating his letter into Runes. When he finished he meticulously got out different ink and quills for grading his work, and then writing a phony letter about how well he is doing in his Ancient Runes class.

Draco's fingers ran over the wax seals of the two envelopes in his cloak pocket as he looked at the stars above. Few people had passed their Astronomy O.W.L.'s , and fewer opted to take the class. Draco was the only Slytherin, Granger the only Gryffindor, and three Ravenclaws, were all that attended the sixth year Astronomy class.

The Professor was lecturing about "feelings", and how each star had one, and how many wizards and witches in history had been able to feel these "feelings" from stars. Only about one in every ten thousand magical humanoid beings can see such "feelings", so it was highly unlikely any of them could. The problem was that Hogwarts got in trouble, some hundred and twenty years ago, for someone going through all the Astronomy classes offered, just to never find out they possessed the gift until over forty years later. The bigger problem was that it was pretty hard to figure out if you can see the "feelings", because getting emotions when you look at things isn't uncommon, and a lot of the stars, apparently, can "feel" indifferent, and therefore make someone who may have the gift feel like they aren't feeling. Draco seriously considered walking out of class as they discussed their "feelings", and the Professor told them that that days work was to look and try to "feel". He was thinking about what sort of illness he should invent for himself to have when Granger sat down next to him.

"You don't sit here." Felt like the nicest thing Draco could think to say. He said it snootily, biting back the word mudblood.

"I wanted to talk to you." But she looked apprehensive as she spoke.

"About?" Draco demanded.

"I thought we could try and start over. Maybe be friends?" And Granger actually smiled at him as she spoke. Draco was so shocked by the words he almost missed how:

"Who knew you had such big balls. Bravo on this perfect Gryffindor moment." Draco continued staring at the stars as he talked, biding his time. How was he going to say no to her, without saying no?

"Is that a yes?" She asked brightly.

"No, it's not a yes… no as friends, yes to start over." Draco sighed, trying to compromise. He would never be friends with a muggleborn, he could stand half bloods, but she was aiming far too high. It would be a strange day when he called Granger an acquaintance, much less a friend.

"Well I am glad we are starting over. We have both made mistakes, and it's best we move on from-" The bushy haired girl got interrupted.

"I didn't make any mistakes." Draco smirked, arrogance getting the better of him.

"Excuse me? You have called me and my friends some pretty awful names."

"Oh no, did I hurt your feelings?" He mocked.

"Mr. Malfoy, did you say you are "feeling"?" The Professor called from the other side of the tower.

"No, I am actually feeling very little, but I suppose I should keep aware that I could just be getting tricked." Draco spoke loudly back, placating the Professor, but glaring at Granger.

"We need to take this situation seriously." Granger's voice shook, as she obviously tried to keep herself under control.

"Granger, I'm positive I can't feel the fucking stars." Draco spat.

"I mean the situation with Harry!" She yell-whispered.

"The fact that you think you can talk to me is insane, but now you are lecturing me on how serious this is?" Draco scowled as he spoke.

"I simply want to say that you and Harry haven't had the best relationship up until this point, therefore during this… awkward time, this transition, we should try to make it as painless as possible, seeing as how we can logically have confidence in the ending." She tried to explain. Draco's problem was the end of the idea of soul mates made enough sense, but the end of the war didn't yet. Why he couldn't get just Potter? No, he had to get the whole boy-who-lived.

"Go away Granger, before I say something, and I will say something, to make this transition time that much more painful." Draco focused back on the stars, out of the corner of his eye he could see her hesitate, then move away from him.

Friday

By the time Friday had reached midday, Draco could hardly sit still. Potions had been absolute torture; he kept spacing out, and ended up ruining his potion entirely. He couldn't stand the idea of History of Magic, so when the Puff Maestro approached Draco in the hall, he was hardly put off.

"Sorry about the other day, it's too bad you weren't feeling it." Puff apologized.

"It's nothing, a lot is going on." Was the attempt Draco made at an answer.

"No worries, if you ever need to relax, we're still good." The Maestro confessed.

"Fine, but I'm apprehensive of your use of "good"…" Draco sneered.

"Haha, see you later asshole." As Puff said this Draco punched the Hufflepuff in the arm.

" Okay." Draco sighed in defeat, "I could really use a relaxing session."

"When are you free?" Puff asked, grinning.

"Now." Draco hated how hopeful he sounded.

"Perfect, I was just heading over. It's going to cost a little more than last time."

"Are you overcharging me?" Draco accused, but his voice remained light.

"Of course not, I would never do such a thing, especially not to an esteemed gentleman, such as yourself." Draco rolled his eyes in disbelief, not that he minded being overcharged. With that they left, walking out of the castle, down into the windy outside. When they got to the ditch it was empty of life, there were however, some blankets and chairs left out. Only one of the blankets was in the sun, so the boys lay down on that one, heads facing away from their planet. They passed the huffle back and forth.

"So, well… do you think you could, maybe, tell me about the war, and muggles, and stuff…" Draco mumbled, watching the clouds break apart in the sky above them. He found bravery on their isolation, in the fact that their minds were no longer present.

"What? Don't go there, man!" Puff groaned, shoving Draco's shoulder slightly.

"Come on, I won't say shit, I'm never allowed to listen." Draco said with a grin, shoving the other boy back.

"What do you want to know?" The Maestro asked as he started the huffle going again.

"Why do you care about muggles? Why do they deserve to rule the world?" Draco tried to speak quietly, tried to just ask.

"I care about them because they are human beings, and they don't rule the world." The Maestro grumbled, seeming somewhat at a loss.

"Muggles inhabit 96 percent of the inhabited planet." Draco deadpanned.

"And there is like a bazillion times more of them than us." Puff laughed.

"They are stupid." Draco laughed back, only after he spoke realizing how stupid he had sounded.

"Nope, just don't have magic is all." Puff was laughing pretty hard by now, but Draco was starting to feel like it was at him, not with him.

"They might be a little stupid." Draco tried.

"Humans are a lot stupid. I'm stupid, you?" The Maestro sighed, regaining control of his laughter.

"I'm brilliant, I fit nowhere into your point." Draco said, smirk and smugness back in full swing.

"Alright fine, you fucker." Puff conceded.

"You have no idea, you know that?" Draco mumbled.

"'bout what?" Puff grinned in curiosity.

"The dragons are going extinct." Draco whispered.

"Yeah, it's awful." Puff said, yawning and shrugging.

"It's cause they no longer hunt. They're predators, and are supposed to eat muggle." Draco spoke quietly.

"That's badass, but bad too, I guess..."

"Ministry shut it down. Thousands of years of dragon dominance, and then the wizarding community starts to defend muggles. It's not like I want to kill muggles, but I also don't think it's my responsibility to protect them from magic. We are fucking up natural selection."

"Yeah, we are doing that, not you lot with your inbreeding and murder." Puff went with sarcasm, Draco just groaned.

"Is the murder really all anyone can see?" Draco sighed grumpily.

"Who gives a crap about dragons when our world is being terrorized, and people are being killed?" Puff shrugged.

"I need to go do something." Draco was sitting up before he finished talking, suddenly knowing he needed to send that letter. He needed his father.

"No you don't, relax, do it later." Puff passed Draco the huffle, pushing him back down.

"Whatever." Draco mumbled, but stayed lying down. He was relaxed, positive sending the letter was the right choice.

That evening, after curfew so he would be alone, Draco found himself standing in the owlery. Draco looked up at the owls, wishing they could speak. To send the letter, or to not send the letter, that is the question. He had been positive he wanted to send it that afternoon, but now, still half buzzed, he wasn't sure. It had been awhile, over half an hour, when Draco's internal debate got interrupted.

"It's after curfew…" Potter said from the doorway, Draco turned in shock, not expecting company, much less Potter. Draco lost his footing slightly, catching it with only a step to his right.

"Are you stalking me?" Draco sighed, only with half his usual edge.

"I have a letter to send." Potter mumbled, walking into the room, out of the shadows, looking rather meek.

"How nice for you." Draco drawled, but didn't really know what to do with himself. He was holding both the letters, so when he turned away to send them, he just sent them both without pause. He watched as the owls flew away, wondering if he was half as stupid as he felt. When he turned back, Potter was petting his snowy owl, and feeding it treats.

"Have you been here long?" Potter's voice held a lot of expectance.

"No, I just arrived." Draco lied blatantly.

"Oh…Who are you writing to?" Potter looked disappointed, then wondered out loud to Draco.

"My Grandmother, for the Headmaster, and who are you writing to?" Draco smirked, and accused, the half-truth leaving his lips without a second thought.

"Professor Lupin." Potter said, shrugging, looking rather upset.

"Why are you writing to that werewolf?" Draco sneered. He knew that he wanted Potter to suffer, but werewolves are seriously dangerous, plus the Dark Lord recruited them, Potter shouldn't associate with that kind.

"He's a friend, and a lot more than just a werewolf." Potter glared, anger shaking his voice.

"Then when he attacks you, I won't hold back at all when saying: I told you so." Draco sounded triumphant already, but he didn't look it, as he let himself glance out the window again, as if he could see the owl with his father's letter and call it back. He was getting dizzy imagining the flapping of the owls wings, feeling less and less like he was acting sober by the second.

"Well you can keep waiting for that day. For now I will tell you how amazing of a person he is, so now I have "told you so", and can tell you so everyday while we wait for the day, that will never come, when you can say it once." Potter was red faced and glaring. Draco opened his mouth with insults on his tongue when the stupid muggleborn's words came back to him. If he knows how this soul mate thing ends, should he make this awkward transition time less painful? He growled, what the hell did Granger even mean? He may know how it ends, but also a little no to how it ends, and then there's the fact that he doesn't feel like it ends that way. He doesn't feel. He suddenly got the urge to look at the stars and he went to the window. Potter was soon standing next to Draco, arm out as the white owl flew off.

"Can you see feelings from the stars?" Draco asked quietly, glaring at stars as he wished he could "feel" them.

"What?" Potter looked confused.

"It's my astronomy homework." But it wasn't actually homework, just something they discussed in class.

"Yeah, Hermione told me about the how stars have feelings, and the school got sued. I didn't know you had homework about it, what do you have to do?"

"I don't actually have homework about it." Draco admitted.

"Then we're just looking at the stars." As Potter spoke he got redder and redder. Potter seemed to be determinedly looking at said stars, but Draco had turned away. Draco realized that Potter was thinking about him, whether it be sexually or romantically, Potter was ahead of him. Was Potter thinking of him as a soul mate? Draco couldn't figure out how this soul mate thing fit into his life, let alone think about Potter.

"Bye." Draco really didn't know what else to say, and he walked out of the tower quickly, going strait to the dungeons, without a glance behind him.

The Weekend, and on to Monday night!:

Draco Malfoy went to five, out of the six, meals that weekend, but did not leave the Slytherin dorms other then that. Every time he thought about going somewhere he would convince himself that he would bump into Potter. Draco blamed Potter fully for sending his father that letter, and hide all his guilt behind that blame. At breakfast that Monday Draco got a reply from his Grandmother. Potter didn't go to any of the classes they had together, and Draco didn't go to lunch, and Potter wasn't at dinner.

Draco realized, with horror that that the last time he had talked to Potter, his soul mate, they had stargazed. Those were the thoughts Draco Malfoy was having as he entered the Headmasters office, that night at exactly eight. Potter was already there, slouched in the right seat. Draco took the left chair, sitting, with the reply from his grandmother in his clock pocket.

Draco opened his mouth to greet his Headmaster when he saw what was in the old mans hands. It was a piece of parchment covered in Ancient Runes, with a big "Outstanding" written across the top, in different types of Draco's handwriting. Draco gave a silent beg to the universe that this was about him forging a grade.

"He never told you not to write to your father, he just asked you to tell him about it first." Potter yelled, before Draco actually said anything. And then Draco didn't want to say anything, and he was turning the door handle, trying to leave, before he even registered he was on his feet. The door would not open, leaving Draco in Dumbledore's office, and nowhere to go. He leaned his back against the door, sliding to the ground. Draco imagined his father swirling in from the fireplace to save him from this, but nothing was happening.

"Now what?" Draco muttered.