The drawing room in the Malfoy Manor seemed to have a draught sifting through it no matter the weather outside, and as Draco raised a glass with everyone else in the room, he felt a familiar shiver up his spine. Although, it was entirely likely that this had nothing to do with the cold. He felt Pansy peck him on the cheek with a small but obnoxious giggle and turned his attention to his father.

"To Draco and Pansy Malfoy – congratulations on your first year of marriage," Luscious said with grandiose, gesturing his glass of firewhiskey towards his son. "Son, we couldn't be happier with the wife you chose – here's to the next generation of bloodlines remaining pure."
There was a murmur of agreement before everyone took a sip of their drink; Draco downed his in one, inviting the firewhiskey to burn his throat.

"Now that your first year is out the way, can we start expecting a grandchild soon?" Mrs Parkinson said above the dull chatter. She was a tall, slender lady, and almost the spitting image of her daughter with a small, pug like nose and short, sleek black hair.

Draco busied himself with pouring another glass of firewhiskey.

"Our plan is for me to be pregnant by the new year," Pansy replied proudly, clearly adoring the attention she was receiving.

Draco excused himself, muttering that he was going to grab more champagne for their guests before quietly slipping out of the room, making his way towards the nearest bathroom.

He loosened his collar. Suddenly clammy and irritated, Draco steadied himself on the basin, turning the faucet on and splashing his face with cold water. He looked up at himself in the mirror; his hair hung limply around his face, just above his eyebrows. A light stubble glittered against a gaunt jaw and chin, and tired shadows hung under his bleary, grey eyes.

Draco squeezed his eyes shut, trying to block out the nearby sounds of people laughing merrily, of his wife telling some insufferably fabricated anecdote about their marriage.

An image sprang to the front of his mind.

It was an image that Draco never tried to fight. Instead he clung desperately to it, wanting to memorise every detail, to keep it as vivid as possible. It was a girl with long, wavy hazelnut hair, wide dark eyes and a kind, but inquisitive smile she had usually reserved for him. Sometimes if he concentrated hard enough on this image he could remember her scent, her laugh, what it was like to lie next to her…

Meanwhile, somewhere in Scotland:

Amelia Collins lay in the small, makeshift bed in her tent, staring at the ceiling. It had been a long week with the resistance; a member – Thomas Burrows – was found and murdered by the Death Eaters during one of their patrols of London.

Amelia had been with the resistance for four years. There were more resistance groups over Britain, but this one was the biggest, and had the most impact. It had been nearly six years since the Order of the Phoenix was all but defeated by Voldemort and he and his Death Eaters had taken complete control over the wizarding world. All muggle borns who did not manage to go into hiding were rounded up like cattle, and placed in prison. Those whose job was deemed a vital to the running of the wizarding world and therefore released or spared from prison were hit with a painful curse ensuring they could never procreate, and were demeaned and shamed, forced to wear a badge labelling them as a 'mudblood' at all times. Voldemort was on a mission to solidify the wizarding world with only purebloods, so a lot of the resistance was made up of these muggle borns, half-bloods, and those 'blood traitors' who were brave enough leave their lives behind to oppose the Death Eaters.

When Amelia had joined the resistance, which was then still known as the Order of the Phoenix, it had been small and comprised of mainly existing Order and Dumbledore's Army members, but it had since grown, so that where they hid in mountainous Scotland was now like a small town, made up of dozens of tents.

An image of a boy fought its way into her head and she quickly pressed her palms over her eyes, trying to expel it from her brain. She despised thinking of him, but she was reminded of him in everything she did and everywhere she went. She would often busy herself just to keep from lying in her room, fighting off the questions she had and the pain she felt.
The image was clear now though; that small, torturous part of her brain had succeeded as a boy with pale skin, bright blonde hair and silvery eyes cemented itself firmly in her mind. There was so much about him that she remembered so clearly that she wished she didn't. She would lie awake at night, tortured by endless dreams of him, of them lying next to each other, him holding her tightly in her arms if ever she was scared, or sad. Making promises to her that he could not keep…

Five years ago…

2nd May, 1998

Draco and Amelia ran from Hogwarts as it burned in the distance, racing through the Forbidden forest in a desperate attempt to flee the grounds. The battle had been lost and people were fleeing all over the place. Draco's hand squeezed hers tightly as they moved, the both of them refusing to let the other go as they sprinted through the thicket of trees, barely avoiding branches and leaves whipping them as they ran.

Finally, they reached the gates of the castle. "We'll have to climb," Draco panted, looking around and confirming they were alone.

Amelia nodded and allowed Draco to boost her up with his hands. Once they were both over Draco took Amelia's hand again, pulling her close to him.

"Ready?" He asked breathlessly.

Again, Amelia nodded, too full of emotion and fear to speak. She held onto him tightly as he apparated, closing her eyes and pressing her face against his chest, collecting fistfuls of his shirt in her hands.

"We're here," his voice said once their feet had landed onto solid ground again. The smell of fire had disappeared. The distant sounds of screaming and fighting were replaced by the crashing of waves and whistling of the wind. "There's a small cave just up here – should be okay for tonight. Then we'll make arrangements tomorrow."
Draco led Amelia up the dark beach, igniting his wand to create a pathway of light for them. Still their hands stayed clasped desperately together.

The cave was small, but gave decent protection from the howling wind. It was just tall enough to stand in, and had enough space for two to sleep comfortably.

They both peered silently around the small cave which was tucked in at the foot of a cliff overlooking the deserted beach. Draco came to stand in front of Amelia, cupping her face gently with both hands, turning her head to look at him.

Amelia took in his appearance; he had ash all through his hair so that his blonde colour was almost completely hidden; a large gash across his cheek where sticky blood congealed underneath, rolling down all the way to his neck, and a bruised and split lip. Amelia raised a shaking hand and moved his hair from his eyes, smiling sadly at him.

Draco bent his head down and kissed her gently, but with enormous desperation, wrapping his arms around her. Amelia put her arms around his neck, letting stray tears fall down her face, a lump swelling in her throat. This was it; they had just committed to a life on the run, a life where they had openly defied the Death Eaters by fleeing. She thought of everything that had happened in the last day, the horrible events they had witnessed and endured, the people she had lost…

"We're safe," Draco whispered into her ear, as if hearing the millions of thoughts whirling around her head. "I won't let anything happen to you, okay?"