A/N: Okay, final chapter of my rewrite!! Very exciting (for me- have you ever tried to rewrite half of a novel length fic? No mean feat, I tell you.) Anyhow, with a little help from my pals The Clash, Lily Allen and the amazing Dizzee Rascal (two things, first did you know he was stabbed nine times and survived? and second, I get to see him next month at Rockness!!!) I have persevered. I'm hoping that as you've read this far you have enjoyed the story. Comments/subscriptions etc are always greatly appreciated, even if like some anonymous reviewers, you want to make a comment about Rabastan Lestrange wearing hotpants. To conclude this mini-essay I would like to be really cheesy and say thanks to my chum who has stuck with me from the very beginning (seriously, she was my first reviewer) and now deals with my ranting emails on a regular basis!

Now onto the actual story, lots going on today!

Dandylion05x

Chapter Twenty One

A thin layer of powdery snow coated the window sill and thick frost stuck to the glass panes, obscuring the outdoor view. The long, dark green drapes hung open and the cold white light shone sharply into the room, reflecting the colour of the late December morning into the large suite. The temperature was so low that the air felt strangely damp and as Breseis slipped back into consciousness she gave a little shiver and reached out to the other side of the king-size bed and clawed for the warm body of another. No one was there.

Breseis peeped out from under her thick fringe of dark lashes and her heart audibly sunk in her chest. A horrible, burning lump rose in her throat. She was alone- again. This was the third morning in a row she had awoken to discover the absence of anyone else in her bed. Well, the fourth if she counted that horrendous morning she awoke on the couch next to- She stopped that thought in its tracks and relocked the little memory box in the deepest, darkest corner of her mind, marked FORBIDDEN.

My God, she missed Draco. She could actually feel her bones ache for him. She hadn't thought it was possible for her to love him more than when she first told him that they couldn't be romantically involved- with good reason, she added. She had just assumed it was not possible. And then he had turned into her knight in shining armour, rescuing her from her nightmares and keeping her snuggly warm and comfortable at night. For a long time now she had felt a weight lift from her heavy heart, a warmth creep through her body, and an easiness when she thought of the things of the past: Paris and Anya and the times before everything became so utterly messed up.

She felt like summer again. Not in the sense of the actual season. The snow and the freezing air were testimony to that. She felt like the way she had in summer, like the air was heavy and the world was rotting slowly around her. Only now there was no light, no bright spot, no Draco. She was all alone and she could feel the weight again, pressing on her from all sides. And there was an ache now, more painful than the one Paris had left, which still throbbed from time to time. This new ache was constant and overwhelming. But it wasn't in her heart the way she thought it was supposed to be, it was in her stomach and her arms. A horrendous cramp unwilling to ease. That's what had made its source so untraceable at first. She had assumed that she was sick. It wasn't until now, when the disappointment caught her off guard for the third time in a row, that she realised the pain was caused by Draco. He hadn't broken her heart; he'd broken her body.

A large tear slid down her cheek and she turned her face into her pillow as more followed, muffling her sobs. She wasn't supposed to be this weak! But she loved him so much more than she could ever explain. And everything was such a mess. She sat up and growled in frustration at herself, wiping her hand across her wet, clammy face. That's enough, she told herself firmly, pull yourself together, woman, you did this and you're never going to fix it crying into your pillow like a baby. She pushed her thick quilt off of herself and shuddered as the cold hit her pale limbs- the consequence of wearing next to nothing in mid-winter. She slung her legs off the bed and headed for the en-suite bathroom with puffy eyes and soft sobs still catching in her throat.

Draco stared at the ceiling, the vast expanse of grey and the long sharp slit of light leaking through the space between his curtains; he hadn't closed them properly the night before. His pale skin was covered in goose pimples. He could feel the tiny little bumps all over his bare chest, where his hands rested. It felt odd to be alone in bed. It had felt odd the night before. And the night before that. The first night had been different of course; he had still been so incredibly seething with anger that he had relished in not having to touch Breseis's scheming, deceitful body. That relish had dissipated with the anger which went to sleep every night when he closed his heavy bedroom door and forlornly tugged at his curtains

During the day was a different story. The moment his sight touched her glorious form all the hurt he had felt on seeing her wrapped around Blaise came back, seeped in a fire that raged through his veins, his mind and destroyed all other thoughts of her. Her voice was no longer music, the sound it produced he likened to fingernails scraping down a blackboard. If he ever caught her eye, he was no longer entranced. He felt like he could see all the ugly within her. It was as if behind the enchanting blue windows, thick, poisonous tar was bubbling.

Now, lying in his large bed all alone, the longing was back. There was anger too, but at himself. On that train, he should have just told her that he didn't love Pansy, that he loved her, Breseis. But she had taken no time in grabbing Blaise at that party so surely her feelings for Draco could not be nearly as strong as his feelings for her? Or was it just that the concoction of alcohol and seeing him kiss Pansy had been too much, and she had gone to Blaise for comfort? Had she really thought that he was trying to tell her that he loved Pansy? It seemed too far fetched.

This was, he decided, essentially Pansy's fault. If she had not come over just as he was about to confess all to Breseis, then he could have ended things with her the next morning, Blaise would never have come into the picture, and Breseis would be sprawled over his goose bumped chest right now, her long curls covering her face and his side slightly heated by her Dark Mark. For a moment, he could feel her there, the weight of her body, the ticklish caress of her hair on his chin as she gently stirred, her soft, sweet breath on his naked skin. The sound of the shower next door, through the wall in Breseis's suite, instantly shattered his dream. All that was left was his anger at himself.

He stood up not quite knowing what he was doing, and began to head for the door. He stopped midway as his thoughts cried No! She was in the shower. Now would not be the best time to confess his love. To apologise. He should wait until she was fully clothed. A small part of his brain, which was not saturated in anger at himself, noted that maybe it would be a good thing if he went in there right now… To see what Blaise had already seen, be where Blaise had already been. He let out a loud growl and turned to the wall, punching it as hard as he could before letting his face fall against the hard coolness. He was only vaguely aware of the hot tears slipping from his eyes.

What a wonderful beginning to Christmas Day.

The parlour curtains were still drawn and the Christmas Tree twinkled by the window. A large, warm fire burned in the fireplace so the room was wonderfully warm and smelt like Christmas should smell. Rodolphos, Rabastan and Lucius were situated in various arm chairs around the room when Breseis entered, dressed in long silk robes of deepest navy and nervously twirling her onyx ring around and around her finger. She was filled simultaneously with relief and heart break when she saw that Draco was not yet in the room. She felt very alone in this massive house filled with people. Pouting her lips slightly she looked around the parlour, her eyes drifting automatically to her father. It was a split-second decision, but she was soon ghosting across the room to the armchair where he sat staring into the whispering flames. Delicately she brushed his shoulder with her hand and slunk into his lap. She felt his back turn rigid and she saw him look to his brother in fright. Rodolphos nodded at him with some reassurance and he awkwardly placed an arm around his daughter's tiny body. She pressed her face into his robes and smelt pipe smoke and ale, the smells that had always been missing from her childhood.

Rabastan awkwardly pressed his face into her hair and was almost choked by the overly familiar smell, the lingering scent of Marie.

"Merry Christmas, darling," he whispered to her, subconsciously mistaking her for someone very far away..

Breseis smiled to herself and nuzzled her face into his chest a little more.

"Merry Christmas, Daddy."

She didn't know how long she was curled up in her father's lap, drifting in between sleep and lucidness, before her senses were brought abruptly back to the real world by her favourite voice in the whole world.

"Merry Christmas, Father," she looked up at Draco, but he wasn't paying her the slightest bit of attention. He was resolutely focused on the book he had brought downstairs with him, as if he was scared of what would happen if he looked at her.

Narcissa and Bellatrix soon joined them in the parlour, and most of the day was spent there. It was like any other day at Malfoy Manor: peacefully quiet. Presents were exchanged- Breseis received several expensive treasures from both the Malfoy and Lestrange vaults at Gringotts. It was late afternoon before everyone decided it was a good time to eat and vacated the Parlour. Christmas Dinner was grand, but didn't differ that much from any other meal the Malfoys served.

"Will the Dark Lord not be joining us?" Breseis asked after a long period of silence.

"Ha!" Rodolphos laughed, "He isn't exactly the biggest fan of Christmas. It is technically a Muggle holiday, after all." There was a small amount of nervous, verging on hysteric, laughter around the table.

"What a shame you won't have a chance to show off for him, Breseis," Bellatrix sneered, "You could have shown him all your stolen jewellery, for example."

Breseis locked eyes with her least favourite aunt.

"Bellatrix," she said, her voice even and her face blank, she was strangely more menacing that way, "I would suggest that you drop this subject and leave it alone, because I am telling you now, I will take you down. I haven't just spent fourteen years in Azkaban having my powers completely and utterly weakened. You wouldn't stand a chance against me. Now stop being so petty and keep your mouth shut."

Bellatrix hissed, her eyes fixed on the onyx ring in a mad hawk like manner.

"Don't you ever speak to me like that you insolent little child," Bellatrix whispered hoarsely, reaching for her wand and Breseis mimicked her action. In seconds both were standing up, wands pointed at each other, the same ugly grimace painted on both their faces.

"Protego!" Lucius roared, launching an invisible shield between the two witches, "Enough!"

Neither took their eyes off the other.

"It's Christmas Day, this is not the time for stupid arguments," Lucius said, waiting for one of them to give up and sit down, "Put your wands away!"

Breseis grudgingly stored her wand back up her sleeve and sat herself back down with composure, aware that she now looked the more civilised. Bellatrix leaned into her.

"You don't deserve to wear that Mark on your arm," she hissed, "And one day the Dark Lord will see that. I'm only upset that it won't be me who finishes you off."

"Bella!" Lucius shouted and his sister-in-law flicked her untamed hair out of her face and sat down, her chin thrust out in defiance.

Breseis drained her goblet of mead before standing up again.

"Excuse me," she said, smiling meekly at Narcissa who was white faced from watching the encounter. At the door she turned back to see her father staring with indifference at Bellatrix, puffing on his pipe.

She left the room and ascended the stairs, entering her suite and shivering. She lit a fire and went to her bedside table to retrieve her mother's Christmas present to her: a book entitled Advanced Vanity Charms. She dropped the book on the arm chair by the fire before raking through her trunk for her sweatpants, snow boots and the Slytherin Quidditch hoody she had stolen from Draco a few weeks previously, when her silk dressing gown hadn't been thick enough to shield her from the cold corridors on her return journey to her dormitory. She discarded her elegant, satin robes on the floor and curled up in her comfortable clothes in the armchair by the fire, contently flicking through the pages of her new book. Bellatrix's threat was already forgotten and Christmas Day was in the back of her mind.

It was some time later when the knock at her door came. She looked up from her book in confusion, too far immersed in it to be truly sure she had heard something. There was a second knock.

"Breseis?" She recognised that voice. Her favourite. "Breseis, are you there?"

She quickly closed her book and smoothed her hands over her hair before making for the door. She opened it shakily and wasn't quite sure what the emotion she was feeling was when she saw Draco's face. Pointed, angular and pale, surrounded by that white blonde hair. And his eyes, his ice blue eyes.

"Can I help you?" she asked quietly, her voice barely more than a whisper, her eyes locked on his.

"Um… yes," he replied, dragging his own eyes away and looking into her warm, dark room, "Can I come in?"

She stepped aside, vaguely embarrassed by the robes littering the floor. He walked into the centre of the room and looked around. He was sure he had been in this room all of once in his entire life. He could remember, more than ten years ago, a game of hide and seek. He had rushed into the room and quickly looked around. Bed, chair, dressing table, wardrobe, door to en suite bathroom- wardrobe! Of course, he could hide in the wardrobe.

He hurried across to it, flinging the doors open to find a load of dusty old dress robes. The dust made him cough a bit as he clambered in. It rained on him, sticking to his clothes and his hair and getting in his throat and up his nose. He was unaware that he had left the bedroom door wide open behind him until he heard running footsteps entering the room and short, childish pants.

"Draco!" she called, "Draco I know you're in here!"

He stayed very still, barely allowing himself to breath. There was a tickle in his nose. NO! No, no, no! He was going to sneeze. Oh Merlin's pants! If he sneezed now he would give away his hiding place for sure. He heard her stamp her foot.

"Draco, come out now!" she cried, "This counts as me finding you."

He heard her stamp her foot again and give a frustrated little growl. She really hated when she was losing, and had a right nasty little temper on her. He had to suppress a giggle, and the process made him lose his focus vis-à-vis the sneeze. It was loud and he could practically hear her head turn around to face the wardrobe as it happened. Damn.

The cupboard doors opened and her face popped in with the light.

"Haha, found you! I win!" she smiled widely, "Bet you can't find me this time, Draco, start counting now, and don't peek!"

She had run out of the room as fast as her little legs could carry her, giggling all the way.

No longer wanting to play, he cried after her, "Breseis!"

He had long forgotten the times before Breseis had moved to Russia with her mother and her mother's new husband. After all he'd only been about 7 when they left. It was odd the way being back in this room made him remember something so insignificant as a childhood game of hide and seek. He looked into the grown up Breseis's eyes and smiled slightly.

"I never got a chance to give you your Christmas present," he said, holding out a small parcel wrapped in thick, dark green paper. She smiled and took it from him. "I know that green's your favourite," he added.

She delicately unwrapped the parcel, taking a small black velvet box from the paper. She looked up at him and he nodded in encouragement. A little gingerly, she lifted the lid of the box. Inside was a delicate white-gold chain with a large opal pendant hanging from it. It was beautiful. Simple, but beautiful. She carefully lifted it out of the box and held it up to see it better. She was sure she had never loved a gift so much in her entire life.

Draco opened his mouth to say something but he never got the chance. In an instant Breseis dropped the necklace's box and the wrapping paper on the floor, while keeping a tight hold on her chain, she closed the space in between her and Draco in two long strides. She did it without really thinking, a reflex. She threw her arms around his neck and without so much as a millisecond of hesitation she pressed her lips onto his. Her body fitted seamlessly into his arms, and his hands clasped her back as she wound her fingers into his hair. And the kiss, the kiss was wonderful. Neither soft nor hard, but perfect. Their lips moved in synchrony, as if this was what they were meant for. The rest of the world melted away. There was only Draco and Breseis.

Down stairs the three other Lestranges sat in the parlour. Rodolphos sat smoking his pipe and swaying absentmindedly to the background music of the wireless. He was completely ignoring the dispute going on in front of the fire. His wife leaning menacingly into his brother, whose face was on fire with anger.

"How dare you threaten her, Bella! She has done nothing to you!" he barked at her, "It is not your place to discipline her."

"She is the daughter of a whore, and she has no right to the name of Lestrange," Bellatrix spat back, "I spoke not threats, but the truth. The Dark Lord will find out that she is nothing more than the untalented daughter that mad slut and you will fall right out of favour once more, Rabastan."

"Breseis is worth ten of you!"

"You don't really believe that," Bellatrix scoffed, "You don't really love the girl. She is nothing but a possession to you, a little trinket for you to parade around, show off. A little trophy of your ridiculous marriage to a women who never really loved you."

"That is a lie!"

"It is not, and what's more you know it. It'll surface soon enough, Rabastan. You're time to prove that you don't really love your daughter will come," she rolled her eyes before a malicious glint surfaced in them, "And then you will lose her, just like I said at dinner. Neither of you can go on pretending forever."

As usual, reviews are received with lots of love!
Next time: no more rewrites, this is the real deal, a PROPER update : )