Vonne: This is a long chapter so I'm just going to get straight to it! Check to see if I've answered any of your questions below! Thanks everyone!

Anavell: Alright, I definitely heard what you asked for. Hopefully you'll like the bit at the end. I added that after reading your review. :) So, really, thank you for the suggestion.

Amandakai: Thank you so much for your review. I'm so glad you liked the last chapter as much to believe it. I have no children yet, but I can't even imagine what a horrible experience it would be to hear one of your children suggest that they would want to end their lives. Well, I hope you enjoy this chapter, too. (:

Shining Bright Eyes: Thank you so much! I am so glad you like the way I've planned everything out writing-wise because I am ALWAYS trying to better myself with my writing. You have no idea how happy I was to hear that you really liked it. Thank you, that made my day-- and, believe it or not, inspired me to write an extremely long chapter this time around. Thanks!

Imperial Dragon: Perhaps he will! :)

Jade2099: I am so sorry to hear that! I've never known anyone in my close family to be suicidal, though I've known many people that have battled depression and it truly is such a hard thing to go through- even as a witness. I sincerely hope your boyfriend gets better and learns to love life as he used to. All I can say to you is that you being by his side is truly admirable and I'm sure he loves you more than you know. Anyway, on a much lighter note, I'm so glad that you liked reading this! I appreciate your personal review more than you know!

Chapter Twelve:
Draco Enlightened

"I took your advice the other day," Draco said above the rushing wind that now filled the usually quiet depths of his room. He was lying on his back, flat on top of his toy radio, tossing a small ball up into the air. With his free arm, he gripped his fingers around the tiny width of it and then sent it hurdling back up into the air. Just before it hit the ceiling, the tiny ball fell rapidly back to his open palm with a rushed whoosh. Truth be told, Draco had only brought up the subject to further annoy Goyle; to continue to prove him wrong. It wasn't exactly the kinde tst thing to do, but Draco had currently lost all hope when it came to his future revelation of treating his friends better.

Goyle lifted his head and his brow in unison, a smile gracing his fat face. "You did?" he asked, hopeful with a lingering tone of interest, "and how did it go?"

Seizing the chance to knock down all the glee from his best friend's posture, Draco shook his head, rested the ball in the cradle of his fingers and said whole-heartedly, "awful." At once, Goyle's body slunk low. The smile completely gone from his face, he looked absolutely dumbstruck. His mouth, which had dropped ever so slightly, seemed to stammer with a loss for words. "Therapy," Draco admitted before Goyle could ask which of his advice Draco had bothered to take, "and it was probably the most non therapeutic experience of my entire life. Thanks."

A slight huff came from Goyle's throat and he flopped back down, defeated. However, he proceeded to ask in a haze, "and how was it that awful?"

"Hypnotism, Goyle," Draco said, perching up and pointing a boney finger in the direction of his deflated friend, "I don't even know what happened to me, but whatever the therapist told my parents sure freaked them out." Goyle's face crunched. Once again he sighed briefly, pressed his puffy hands over his massive skull. "Thanks to you." Turn, hoping off of his bed's mattress, Draco advanced on Goyle, looking only half angry, but more over just venting. "If you'd just kept your mouth shut, my parents would have never taken me to therapy in the first place."

Eyes still pressed shut, Goyle replied tiredly, "One: I never spoke to your parents about therapy or even your problem in general. Two: I highly doubt that my suggestion sparked any therapist's idea of hypnotism." At last there was a much needed silence between the two of them. The sprinkling rain that sounded out outside had been going on ever since the day before and there seemed to be no hope of sunshine anytime soon. In the absence of noise, Goyle found that he quite liked Draco's frustrated silence. Even the redness that overtook his face slightly amused him. And while he was still slightly agitated by his friend, he remained willing to say nothing else if he had to risk hearing Draco speak one more unreasonable word.

However, the slight stir from Draco's spot made Goyle's face fall even lower. "You're not even interested?" Draco asked meekly, as if regretting he'd told Goyle about being hypnotized in the first place. "I told the girl on the radio last night and she was pretty fascinated by the whole thing."

"Oh," Goyle said, unamused, "you told the girl on the radio, huh? That's perfectly healthy. I think you should do shit like that more often, Draco. It's certainly the best way to fix you up right." Draco's blank stare melted into a solemn grimace. His shoulders fell slightly and he stuffed the radio back under his pillow with full force, as if angry at both Goyle and the toy in general. "I've told you once and I'll tell you again- Draco, you sound as crazy as everyone seems to think you are. Stop talking about Muggle electronics and get focused. That's how you progress."

Malfoy snorted breathlessly, "progress," he repeated in satire, "you know, the more you say that, the more I think our ideas of such a thing are completely different."

Then a clap came from behind him and Draco whirled around, fresh from behind cut off. Hands just separating from the palms of the other, Goyle looked just as ready to go as Draco had so recently known him to be. "Alright," he said, ignoring Draco's latest comment, "get up. Get up, put your damn coat on."

Draco's eyes shifted left and right, rather stumped. When he did speak up, however, his tone reeked of bitter suspicion. "Go where?" he said, more of a statement rather than a question.

"I have a dinner reservation planned." Goyle said, instantly growing a bit anxious. "At a nice place that I'm sure you'll like." And before Draco could ask, he added sleepily, "and yes, they serve alcohol." Draco's instantly brightened face caused Goyle's eyes to roll rather enthusiastically. He proceeded to lift Draco's coat off of the surface of his bed and thrust it harshly in Draco's direction. Upon catching it, Draco stumbled back slightly, an utterly confused expression plastered on his pale face. Malfoy looked over the jacket he'd been handed, noting that it was a completely different one than the normal pea coat he'd been so privy to wear as of recently, and wondered if Goyle had meant for him to take it as a hint.

"Right then, are you paying?" Draco asked, more of a joke rather than a serious statement. However, he waited for Goyle to answer as he strode to the mirror on his dresser and pulled the new coat over his shoulders. It was a lighter gray and it at a quarter length slightly above his knees, slightly a brighter choice than Draco was used to. Though, he was really focusing on the reflection of Goyle in the mirror, who seemed to smile once again, despite Draco's mooching request.

He shrugged anxiously, finding himself rather excited that Draco was, himself, willing. "Sure," he said toothily, "I'd be happy to let my money go towards a good cause."

Malfoy rummaged through his drawer, extracted his only scarf that wasn't marked with any Slytherin symbols, and wrapped it around his neck greedily. Then, for good measure, he retreated back to his bed and stuffed the radio back into his new coat pocket. "A good cause?" he asked once again, before admitting that he'd only been joking. Though his hands still searched through his top drawer, finally emerging from it a newsboy cap which he pulled down rather too low on his head. Finally, the silence seemed to linger relentlessly on him. He cocked an eyebrow up and let his eyes burn into the reflection of his newly speechless friend. "Goyle?"

Goyle coughed nervously, smoothing his own coat down and turning away from the mirror. Draco spun around at once, jaw squared and determined. He didn't hesitate; in fact, he brought himself forward, carried by his long and slender legs, and stood only feet away from Goyle's body. "Well, you did hear me tell you I'd like to fix things."

"What things?" Draco muttered, a new bit of anxiety taking over his half hidden face, "Goyle... what things?"

Hesitation seemed to follow Goyle as he took to approaching Draco from behind and pushing him forward eagerly. "Well," he said as he remained safe back there, "that's not important now." Malfoy huffed, struggling to spin around, but only managed to inch himself forward out the door in the process. "But, come on, Draco, let's not worry ourselves with that unimportant stuff now." He stammered, not even quite believing he was about to coax Malfoy with such a thing. However, he said it briskly, as if there was no other choice, "you know what we should focus on?"

Malfoy licked his lips, a dazzled haze taking over his globe-like pupils. With a smile, he looked eagerly over his slender shoulder, eyes just barely shining out from under the shadow of his hat. "Hard liquor?" he guessed.

And Goyle, satisfied with his deception, nodded, finding it more easy to lie than he'd ever suspected him to do as of recently. Furthermore, the old feeling of doing so felt more or less justified. "Exactly!" he beamed, practically shoving Draco out the front door of his large Manor. "Now let's order up."

Even though only slightly buzzed, Goyle was certain he'd allowed Draco Malfoy enough liquor to keep him rooted, thus keeping his plan more alive than he'd expected. He had been doing quite a good job at monitoring his friend, too, every so often checking the door to see if his expected visitor had entered the place. Draco hadn't even bothered to notice Goyle's wandering eyes; he talked only of hypnotism, therapy, and that damned radio. And Malfoy was in an admittedly good mood, too; with the lighting so dim that it was almost too hard to make out faces, he seemed satisfied with his persisting anonymity.

The place wasn't too bad, either, with all things considered. Goyle had found the two of them a nice booth, seated away from the majority of the other diners. And Goyle had only just sipped at his beer, which tasted awful, though ever since Goyle had limited his alcohol intake he hadn't really liked the drink in the first place. However, such a thing was necessary; appeasing Draco was key and, now, he needed to do so more than ever.

"And while I was under," Draco started again, not exactly out of it, but surely well on his way of getting there, "I was cold and hot and happy and sad... all at once." Goyle nodded, feigning interest. There was really only so much of this that he could take. Though, for the time being, he brought the cold beer to his lips, pretended to down it, and nodded again, repeating the same motions only to keep Draco's interest alive. "And when my parents got out of that office, I can't even tell you what was going on, Goyle. My father, he was absolutely unreadable."

"Ah," Goyle mused, once again looking over his shoulder towards the doorway.

But Draco was talking nonstop. "But... I don't even remember what I told her. I just remember feeling... feeling--" he was instantly cut off mid-sentence. His eyes drifted upward, draining completely of all interest inside of him. He seemed to lock gazes with someone across the hall of the restaurant and his eyes narrowed as he paused, just about to lift the beer glass to his face again. "Goyle..." he stammered slowly once he was certain he was truly seeing what he thought he was seeing, "you didn't."

Goyle spun around and there she was. Walking towards them with one long leg over the other, Pansy practically sparkled in the ravishing dim light that filled the entire place. Her face was etched with a smile and her pretty teeth shined along with it. She was, in her own way, bundled up but certainly not out of shame; whisking her hood off from around her dazzling face, she let her short brunette hair flop lively around her face she gave each of the staring men a gracious smile before heading onward in the direction of both Goyle and Draco.

Through gritted teeth that only formed a false beam, "stand up," Goyle instructed, and, hovering, Draco did so managing only to knock into the side of the table upon his rising. "Say 'hello'," he suggested again, but Draco could only stare, sending a bitter kick into Goyle's shin underneath their dining table surface. Ruffled, Goyle kicked him back, equally frustrated, and Draco stumbled backward slightly, his hair falling rather sloppily out of place just as Pansy approached the table.

She settled beautifully, resting her palms down on the top of it eagerly. "Well, hello, boys," she said, though her eyes remained focused on Malfoy in particular. She had regained her seductive tone that Draco had so recently heard absent from her days before. Furthermore, she seemed to have forgotten that days events completely, and she flopped down next to Goyle, a fitting spot that suited her desires to get a complete view of Draco's face entirely. Next, both Goyle and Draco staggered into their opposite sides of the booth, locking eyes with one another with fierce intensity.

One thing ran through Draco Malfoy's head and that was how he could leap across the counter top and strangle Goyle to death. And Goyle seemed to get the picture; composing himself proudly, he smirked at Draco with a victorious expression of pride. Nonetheless, Pansy's own smooth voice forced his eyes to flicker away from Goyle, landing on her with a look of being slightly still surprised at her presence. "Draco," she grinned compassionately, "first and foremost, I wanted to thank you for inviting me here."

"Ah," was the only sound that Draco emitted as a response, once again hypothetically murdering Goyle over and over. However, Goyle only seemed to be enjoying Draco's torment and he leaned forward, resting his chin in the palms of his hands.

"Of course," he beamed, "Draco said he was sorry for how things went down the other night... that he wanted to work everything out." Then, leaning back, he folded his hands across his chest and gave his friend a look that said nothing but 'so there '. If Draco wasn't going to try and improve his life on his own, Goyle would force such an action out of him.

Pansy's smile only broadened and there was a twinkle behind her eye that Draco didn't quite admire. With Goyle utterly unaware of what had really happened several nights ago, there was no way in hell that Draco could make this work. So, useless, he sat at his side of the booth stiff, his hands fumbling in his lap. Pansy started up again, her smile still obvious as she spoke with relaxing breaths, "how have you been?" she asked, far more interested than she should have been.

But Draco shook his head, "I've... I've been..." his eyes found the barely full beer bottle at the table and the symbolic light bulb lit up in his head, "intoxicated," he said with false slur, "and... currently hypnotized. That's what they do to the hopeless nowadays, I guess." With a shrug, it was his turn to spin around to Goyle, leaning forward on his booth. He pressed his pointed chin into the palms of his hands and smiled so aggressively that Goyle's own grin falted away on impact. "Guess I'm just hopeless."

"Oh, Draco, don't be so silly," Pansy laughed, taking his jokes for what they were. Draco's smile once again vanished, thus returning Goyle's. "From what I hear you took therapy on your own. And that's a great thing, Draco. Therapy can be a very effective way towards bettering yourself. Sooner or later you'll lead a normal life, too." And there it was again-- that word. 'normal'. With every core of his being, Draco loathed it strongly. Despising Goyle more than ever at the moment, Malfoy leaned back, feeling victory quickly drain from his entire body. "Anyway, I'd like to talk to you about something, Draco."

Goyle's focus suddenly broke away from Malfoy. His entire torso dropped and he turned towards Pansy, as if she had entirely deviated from his plan completely. His puffy face drained of all color, though Pansy hadn't seemed to take any notice to his discomfort that was so bluntly obvious. Draco, however, felt a slight sting of guilt for his friend, and he only watched as a spectator, finding himself unable to interject. Goyle had, after all, called Pansy to the diner in the first place; it was, technically, his fault. "Goyle, if you don't mind..."

"Erm..." Goyle stammered, bringing himself up from his seat with newly unanticipated nerves, "sure, I suppose." And with that he was gone, looking even more morose than Draco thought he could take seeing him. He watched Goyle walk away slowly and take a seat in solitude at the bar, leaning his head in his hands grimly. Finally he leaned back to the side, moving back to the middle of the booth with a newfound awkward notion.

Pansy shifted, too, this time deflating as well. Her ability of captivating men seemed to vanish along with her confidence. Shiftily, her eyes swooped back and forth and then, she pushed her own body forward, seemingly the trend of the night. "Draco," she said, shaking her head, "what happened between us the other day?"

Malfoy's face reddened with heat. An overwhelming headache shot through him and he reached forward and grabbed the bottle of Goyle's left over beer. "I dunno," he mumbled, embarrassed, preferring to rather not talk about the night at all.

However, Pansy wouldn't have such ignorance. She fiddled with her emerald purse on her lap, her necklace pendant bobbing up slightly as her chest rose and fell with each nervous swallow. "Well, I have a theory," she suggested, her face slightly heating up herself. Draco felt the jitters creep up on him unwillingly. He truly did not want to have this conversation. He had never seen Pansy so upset before and the very notion of it made him shaky. This was his fault. He should have never agreed to Goyle's antics in the first place and, more importantly, he should have told Pansy 'no' when he really had the chance. But being lonely had warped his common sense; he'd only longed for such a feeling of being loved by someone else, even if the person was Pansy, who continued with shaky emotion, "want to hear my theory?"

Draco swallowed on his own. "Sure," he said supportively, though he looked only in the reflection of Goyle's beer bottle, the mirror image of his face morphing with the quivering vision of himself in the liquid.

"I think that you need me, Draco. You may not think you do, but I think that you do need me." As she said this, she pointed to her chest, longing taking over her entire physical stare. Her voice was broken and chilling, making Draco want to leave the table completely all at once. She was wrong, of course. Draco didn't need Pansy, didn't love Pansy. But the overwhelming view of her spilling herself out to him kept him rooted there, feeling guilty and sheepish and one hundred percent at fault.

Shaking his head back at her, Draco said with a hoarse croak, "no, Pansy, stop. Please... you don't like me. You only think you like me, remember. I--"

"I've always liked you, Draco." Pansy said, looking slightly frustrated. She slammed her hand down on the top of the table and then relaxed herself, once again regaining her picture perfect composure. "Why you can't come to terms with that is... is beyond me."

"Like and love are two totally different things," Malfoy stated, still staring at nothing but his lap; he couldn't quite bring himself to look at Pansy directly, anyways.

Pansy huffed, laughing out of sheer frustration and nerves. "Love," she repeated, nodding, "is that what you want, Draco? Love? Okay," she continued nodding, clapping her hands together slightly as if she'd made the final conclusion for him already, "look no further." There was a simple sigh from Pansy's space at the other side of the dinner booth. She looked shaky and uneasy, but the undeniable determination throbbed restlessly through her. Her sparkling pupils watched Draco as he sat there stilly like an awkward child, unsure as of when to speak next. "We could have a really happy life, you know," she said, hurt but defensively at the same time, "I just came here to tell you that."

Despite everything, she was scolding him with her comments, watching him as her gaze almost forced him to answer her. Though when his silence persisted, she once again leaned forward, however with a thickening thrust, and gripped the edge of the table top with her delicate fingers. "What is it, Draco," she asked, agitated with a flushing face, "that you loathe so much about me?"

"Pansy," Draco started again, sighing strangely, "I don't hate you. You know I don't hate you."

"Ha!" Pansy snorted, flopping back. She crossed her hands across her chest, bitting her bottom lip as if to prevent herself from crying. "Don't make me laugh, Draco Malfoy. The bottom line is this: I love you. I've always loved you. Why can't you just accept that?"

"Pansy," Draco choked out, finally looking up from his lap, "I'm sorry."

Pansy's head bobbed up and down in what seemed like a never ending nod. Her eyes glazed over with tears, though only one of them fell down from her face. Her mascara beginning to smear, Draco could vaguely make out the tiny trace of oncoming wrinkles underneath her eyes. With that, she loosened her grip from around the table and pulled herself to her feet. Standing quivering at the end of the dinner table, she dug out a thin wad of dollar bills from her dazzling little clutch purse and flung it down on the surface. The green stack flung towards Draco, spinning rapidly, until it finally stopped right in front of him. "Don't worry about it," she spat bitterly, "I've got to bill. Buy yourself as much liquor as you want."

Then, briskly, she made her way away from Draco's table, swiftly past Goyle, who'd looked up shocked at her exit, and once again fled out the front door of Draco Malfoy's miserable life. Goyle scratched his head timidly, turned around with a swift confusion, and met glances with Malfoy, who had only just looked up from the wad of bills with a moping frown. Having been sitting at his barstool alone for the past several minutes, Goyle lifted his glass and made his way back over to the booth, a pitiful look in his eyes. "What is it that tells me that you've just made things one hundred times worse?"

Malfoy shrugged, a chill washing over his already aching body, "would seem to be a habit of mine now wouldn't it, Goyle?" he mused, thoughtlessly.

"Merlin, Draco," Goyle cried in a raspy and broken voice, "do you have no regard for your friend's feelings? I mean, at all?"

Looking back down at the cash in front of him, Malfoy sensed a feeling of disillusionment creeping over him. On a normal day, he would have grabbed the cash and bought himself the finest drink in the entire restaurant, but today wasn't one of those self-fueled days. His face was still heated with embarrassment and he looked up at Goyle, quite at a loss of things to say. He couldn't deny that he'd felt bad for allowing Pansy to kick him away from the table. Perhaps he really didn't regard his friend's feelings at all. And once again the morose feeling of detainment weighed heavily on top of his anxiety ridden shoulders. He lifted the palm of his hand, rubbed his entire face, and brought himself up as well.

Goyle blinked up, a slightly drunken haze of his own glistening behind his own eyes; maybe he'd had too much to drink while he'd been sitting by himself. Slightly pale, he stammered, "w-what... where are you going?" he asked, dumbstruck.

"Home," Draco muttered, and with that, he pulled down his newsboy hat as low as it could possibly go, wrapped his scarf higher around his neck, and plunged his white hands into his pockets. Through the dimly lit dining place, Draco stared only at his feet, which carried him out towards the front door rather quickly. He didn't notice, however, the three men that had looked up upon the event of him passing by. They had been in a rather tight cluster, though their meaningless conversation had been abruptly shattered as the blond Malfoy fumbled out of the place. They exchanged glances, lifted themselves from their seats, and followed in pursuit, just barely at Draco's polished heels.

Though Draco wouldn't have even noticed their presence if someone had warned him. His mind was, so bluntly, elsewhere.

Going out with Pansy would be, after all, the right thing to do. And he should have done it when he'd had the chance. It wasn't that he desired her, or even felt that he was in love with her, though his feelings towards her didn't really matter. Pansy was, in truth, what everyone had been pressuring him to chase after. Surely, she was beautiful and rich and would probably be the supporting partner that everyone thought he should have. But Pansy didn't give him the weak in the knees feeling, she didn't even make him feel slightly relaxed. What she would make him, however, was comfortable. And wasn't that what really mattered? Appeasing everyone else? Ending all of their worries in the first place?

His father would love the idea. And so would his mother, who had wanted to see Draco paired up with a woman for the longest time. He was sure that she'd been planning his hypothetical wedding in her mind ever since he'd been born. Besides, being with Pansy would surely satisfy them.

And being comfortable was just as fabulous as being happy? Wasn't it?

He'd walked only several feet away from the bar when a loud voice called out, "Oy! Hey, oy!" A cluster of overwhelming dark shadows lingered up high on the sides of the red brick buildings. Malfoy stopped in his tracks, spun around anxiously, half expecting to see Gregory Goyle standing there timidly. However, these faces were undoubtedly fresh. The three men that had followed him from inside the pub stood newly eager in front of him, their hands in their pockets. They each wore an anxious grin of their own on their spoiled and ugly drunken faces. "Hey, boys, it is!" squealed one of them, "it's Draco Malfoy!"

"I knew it," snickered the other one, who was the tallest of the three. He was slightly out of shape, despite being seemingly thin, and his eyes darted back and forth between Draco Malfoy and the dark alleyway behind him.

Malfoy only remained slightly still, unsure as of what to really do next. He raised an eyebrow, as if to ask if the three were looking for something in particular, but they only stood there, glaring bitterly. Then, without warning, the tallest boy ran forward, jolting into Draco with such force that the two of them fell to the cement in unison. The collision caught him by surprise and, blinking up at the dark night's sky, Draco found that he'd been knocked on his back into the black alleyway behind him. For a moment, a striking sense of terror whirled around inside him, however he needed to fully regain his breath before acting next. What he only managed to do, however, was cough out, "what the hell?"

"Don't say anything," his attacker threatened and then a harsh tug swooped down at the back of his shirt collar, instantly yanking off his scarf. The shortest of the group, who was also the most fat, stood over him, reaching down harshly to remove the hat from on top of Malfoy's head. His blond hair fell messy around his face and the boys grinned. Malfoy then felt the tug on his collar tighten and he was dragged further down into the darkness, far out of sight from the middle of the street.

"Finally!" one of the men in the group laughed, "we've been dying to see your pathetic face out in public for... what's it been, hm?"

"Five years..." the other chimed in. His hand was still around Draco's collar, and he slightly raised his fist for an impressionable effect. Draco's arms flew upward to stop the choking sensation that cut off the air to his throat, but gave up trying to free himself once he'd thought of a better idea. His hands fell down to his trouser pockets, ignored the chorus of chuckling that the hostile men had taken up. Once he'd found what he was looking for, however, a rush of eager thrill overtook him. His veins pumped, wanting to get home as soon as possible, he knew that he would not hold back.

Holding his wand out in front of him, Draco spat furiously, "get your hands off of me. Now."

Certainly surprised, Draco's collar was loosened and he flopped to the ground on the sudden impact of being let go. However, he wasted no time to pick himself up. He held the wand out in front of himself threateningly and stepped only inches back. In the light he realized that he recognized not one of the three faces before him, but figured they had every reason to recognize him, of course. Their loathing, while completely understandable, was five years over done. Couldn't he walk the streets anymore without having to worry about such things happening? Goyle surely thought it to be possible. Oh, how wrong he was.

Though the three men's horror only lasted a short while. They exchanged looks and allowed themselves to smile once again. "Oh!" they sang, mockingly before diving into their own pockets, producing wands of their own. In front of his other friends, the tallest shouted with considerably quick abomination, "Expelliarmus!" and Draco's wand was whisked out from his hands and sent hurdling in the direction of the others, who only kicked it hastily behind the cylindrical garbage bins that lined the back alley. "Now what," he merely stated.

Draco's heart skipped a beat. Now what was certainly the most fitting question to ask. He could feel the radio poke into his side and he stood, panting as if he'd just run a mile. Then, foolishly, he watched helpless as the leader of the three strode forward, his buzz shaved head almost blending in with the darkness. And Draco's stillness only seemed to frustrate him more. He didn't lift his wand, rather, but lifted his clenched fit and sent a fierce punch into Draco's stomach. For a moment Draco's vision consisted of nothing but the cliche scene of popping camera flashes. He arched forward, tolerating the radio at his side, and his knees went down first. With a little grunt, he hit the cement bitterly.

"Not so tough without your Death Eater mates around, are you, Malfoy?" But Draco only heard such a phrase uttered with muffled tones. He could feel his head follow fuzzy confusion, his attention only concentrating on his wand in general. However, a new hand dug feverishly into his pockets, freeing him from the protruding sensation that so annoyed his gut; the radio. The dirty blond man, who looked quite proper despite his drunken gaze, held the thing up in the air with a confused expression of his own. However, a smile instantly took over rather quickly.

"A Muggle toy, Malfoy?" he asked jokingly, tossing it up in the air with playful aggression. "Well, that's surprising." Though the item in question was no longer much of a fascination to him. He sent it skidding down the back of the alleyway, where it landed once again behind the garbage bins along with the lost hope that was Draco's wand. "Now, where were we?"

A sick sensation overtook him as the first large fist collided with his stomach. He doubled over once again, though took his own swing towards the closest of the three he could manage. He missed, and his fist just barely skimmed one of the boys as he dodged out of way at last minute. However, he made up for it rather quickly; stumbling up to regain himself, his second attempt proved much more successful. He knocked the tallest of the group at the left side of his skull and the boy tumbled to the side, gripping his head tightly with his fat fingers. A chorus of grunts echoed through the alleyway, and someone tripped over the tin garbage can, forced over by a second successful punch forced by Draco.

He felt a rush swell throughout him, and despite the noise his only focus was a way out. But a new grasp on his side prevented him from believing such an escape was possible. His third punch was held back and he felt five sharp nails dig aggressively into his forearm. Spinning around, he lunged towards his captor, but his plan was hurriedly prevented. Held by by yet another force, the two men at his side hoisted him off the ground by under his arms and pushed him thoughtlessly to the ground. Ahead of him, Draco could see the vision of the tallest of the men, still clutching his stomach, as he staggered in the distance. "Bastard," he was coughing, spitting out blood from a bit lip, "s-son of a bitch!"

"You alright, Sean?" called the figure at Draco's left.

But the man known as Sean only lifted the palm of his hand, silencing his mate. He scooted forward, looking sickly, and smoothed out the front of his wrinkled shirt. Dusting off the dirt from his trousers, he extended a long finger at Draco's heaving chest. "You are one piece of work," he accused, though he slipped his wand back into his jacket pocket, continuing to advance forward. His thin arm wiped the spit that traced his lips and chin, shakily adding, "you know that?"

Finally, the figure in front of Draco Malfoy lifted his fist, this time eyeing his target with determined intentions. And not even Malfoy could have prepared himself for the punch. Once again his knees went instantly weak and he felt them slap the floor with full intensity. He moaned, curling as much into himself as the two men at his side would allow, and coughed spastically. And the collision of Sean's foot into his gut only made the pain double. "Not so tough without your Death Eater friends, huh, mate?" he repeated.

Draco lifted his head, his eyes stining intolerably, and spit directly into Sean's ugly wrinkled face.

"Son of a b--" Sean growled, but in his anger he cut himself off in the midst of his sentence. He grabbed the square of Draco's jaw and held his head in place. Then, unfazed, he sent one final punch into the front of Malfoy's pale face. Draco heard his own nose crack, once again saw nothing but lights, and doubled over once Sean's shoe rammed bitterly into his stomach. He felt the release of his arms as they flopped down at his side and saw the fuzzy vision of the alleyway on his fall to the cement. "This isn't over," one of the men called back, though in his delusion he was unaware as to which of them had been addressing him directly. And then, as he pressed himself on to his back, Draco watched the shadows of the men drift off greedily before fading into the night altogether.

Newly accompanied by the silence, Draco blinked out the sweat from his eyes. The long trail of blood that oozed from his snapped nose leaked onto his nice white shirt. In the distance he could just barely make out the figures of his hat and scarf, discarded as far away from him as possible. He could hear nothing but the night blended in with the sound of his heavy breaths. He couldn't move. He couldn't even think of doing such a thing. With the nauseous churning in his stomach, Draco was feeling his consciousness fade in and out. Alone and lying flat on his back, Malfoy's only sight was the night sky, absent of any starts.

"Hey!" came a voice of the silence, "oy! You there?"

It took Malfoy a long moment to even realize where the sounds had been coming from. However, he located the noise from where it came from soon enough. Statically and slightly muffed, his wet eyes found the tiny radio, just meekly sticking out from the side of the overturned garbage can. Determination set in at once. With every, "hello?" Malfoy felt more and more embarrassed. And why was he moving towards the radio, anyway? He could hardly move at all, let alone crawl slowly towards it. "Oy!" the woman on the other end said again, a little agitated now, "I know you're there."

Malfoy's hands wrapped around the toy and his shaky finger pressed the speaker button unsteadily. His heavy breathing came through the other end as desperate and broken. "Now's not really the best time," he informed the voice, trying to mask his injuries.

However, the woman instantly let on. She stammered for a quick moment, and then said suspiciously, "where are you?"

"I dunno..." Draco drooled on, sounding a bit like he'd been sleep-talking, or at least, intoxicated. "Some alley someplace."

"Some..." she began, then decided against pressing the subject of his specifics, "what's going on right now?"

On the floor of the filthy alleyway, Draco scrunched up his pale face. His split lip throbbed with every time he opened his thin lips to form even the simplest of sentences. What had happened? How had he not noticed it? Surely, days ago, he would have expected such a thing. However, turning back to the radio, Draco said breathless, "nothing's going on. 'm fine."

"Don't lie to me. Remember. You were supposed to tell me the truth, alright? You promised. Now," Hermione proceeded to ask again, a bit of a quiver rising in her own voice, "what is going on?"

A slight grunt came from the speakers of Hermione's radio and she reeled back, staring down at the toy as if it had just caught fire. However, she'd assumed that the boy on the other end had brought himself to his feet and her suspicions were confirmed as the sound of feet dragging echoed through the speakers, as well. "Nothing's going on, I promise," Draco lied. And she was right. He'd pulled himself up from the ground in a haze and staggered towards his wand, swooping it up and ignoring the urge to be sick all over again. "I've actually got some good news?"

Hermione's tone of voice made Draco certain that she was doubtful. Uneasily, she asked, "...and what's that?"

"I've gained a whole lot of perspective. I think I know what I need to do." He replied, clutching the side of the brick wall. With the little strength he'd had left, he coughed into the radio, sniffling uselessly. He didn't bother to wipe away the blood that leaked from his face, probably couldn't have even lifted his arm in hopes of doing anything of the sort.

"You don't sound too well," Hermione stated, ignoring Draco Malfoy entirely, "you sound hurt."

"Nah," Malfoy retaliated, "merely enlightened. Now, listen to me: I've got to get going. But I know what I'm going to do now."

Further unshakable suspicion oozed from Draco's speakers; the woman on the other end was all but convinced. And, if Draco didn't know any better, he'd have figured her to be slightly worried about him. "Okay," she said, despite her concerns, "I guess I will uh... talk to you later?"

"Course," Draco responded, always the actor. He was, after all, the picture perfect stature of composure. Then, without waiting any longer, Draco released his finger from the speaker of the radio and stuffed the thing back into his coat pockets.

And staggering out of the alleyway, Draco set out to do exactly what he knew was inevitably necessary.

Vonne: Loonng chapter! Hope it was worth it! Thanks so much!