Prelude

Darkness had already claimed the city, and the only person left on the platform was a thin pale boy. The longer strands of his pale hair swayed in a gust of wind, and he pulled the collar of the coat higher up to his already frozen ears. His crystallized breath caught the moonlight and mingled with the blue and grey smoke from a cigarette. The only speck of warmth in a landscape of ice, shadow and silvery mist, was the tip of embers on the white stick in between his slender fingers, and the reflections I his eyes. But soon that too vanished as he threw it away in to the shadows of the track.

Giving the moon a last look, he found himself picking up his luggage and wandering in to the shadows and through the gate of platform 9 ¾.

Entering the Muggle section of Kings cross, he found himself warming up a bit, but not much. Half of the cold fluorescent lights were off, and barely enough heat to keep the winter night away. Tugging on the burden towards the safekeeping cabinets, he found some muggle coins and opened one. Slipping the key in to his pocket, he found his steps leading himself to the muggle waiting-hall. Breathing in the considerably warmer air, he relaxed a bit as he walked over to one of the heating elements and got his almost blue hands to unfreeze.

The gentle sounds of an acoustic guitar filled the air softly, and reached his ears like a summer breeze, washing over his soul. Turning around slowly he saw the hunching figure by the far end of the hall. Without thinking he walked over to her in a careful way. If it was not to scare her away, or to make sure she was real, was uncertain, but he looked at her as in a trance. The song ended the moment he reached her, and he found himself momentarily to wonder what he was doing.

"Excuse me, but can I sit here?"

His voice seemed to have broken what ever thought she had been in, and with a slightly unfocused stare looked at him for a moment before muttering something like "'course it is" and taking a sip of a paper mug she was holding between her hands.

Sitting down he felt yet another heater behind his back, and relished the warmth.

They sat there in silence with only three songs playing on repeat on a portable cd player. The occasional sips broke the single-minded-ness of it all, and the smell of coffee overpowered the stale scents common for waiting areas in general.

"Care for a coffee?"

The sudden question startled him. Her voice was soft, and had a warm, friendly tone that made him long for someone like her in his life. Failing to find his vocal cords he nodded in reply, and she stood up. Watching her walk over to the snack machines by the wall, he noticed her appearance fully now. She was wearing a floor length dress in an eighteenth century design, only this one was all in black lace and velvet. Hanging on her chair laid a rather thick coat, and by the look of the corset, he figured it was figure hugging. But it didn't look like it was lined in any type of fur. It was plain enough with embroided motives in silky black on the cuffs and front of a black chamois leather type of fabric.

As she returned he saw the porcelain paleness of her skin with a pale pink tint to her cheeks. The dark blood red lips and raven black hair made her in one way look like a gothic painting, and in an other way to look like a vampire. Sitting down she gave him a smile that shone out of dark blue eyes lined in black.

"Here you are. Something to warm you up…."

Accepting the cup, he reached for his pocket to pay her back, but the hand came up with nothing but a old piece of paper. Feeling the embarrassment spread on his cheeks, he offered back the hot beverage.

"Sorry. I can't seem to repay you for the coffee…"

His hand pulled back at the offended expression she had.

"If you can't pay me back now, you'll do so sooner or later, in one way or another." She shrugged "It's in a way like an universal law. Help someone, and get help when you need it yourself. Cream or sugar?"

That last sentence had been out of place in his mind.

"What?"

"Cream or sugar?" she repeated, holding a bunch of small paper bags in her hand. Some of them had the word cream in big bold letters, and the others had brown sugar. "I'm afraid the cream is in a powder form, but it is really good as long as one uses hefty amounts of it,"

The bags, along with a couple of wooden sticks and paper napkins, lay on a small table between them. Watching her grab a couple of both, give them a shake before tearing the end off and pouring it in to the black liquid.

Following her lead, he did the same, took a stick and stirred it.

"I'm sorry, but who sings this song?"

The question had been building for some time before the song began over again for the fifth time.

"It's Placebo singing the Crawl."

Nodding, he took a sip of the coffee, and nearly choked on the sweetness.

"The one you're waiting for is really late,"

It wasn't a question. He only nodded and drank some more. As sticky as it was, it still was something warm within. Sod it if the sugar rush would leave him in an extremely tired state later on.

"Your girlfriend coming on a night train?"

He shook his head.

"Nah. I'm waiting for my mother to come and get me," he looked over at the doorway. "Don't have a girlfriend anyway. Only someone who thinks she is, and constantly clings on to me."

"But isn't there someone you like then?"

He felt a smile creeping up as he stared off in to the air through half closed eyes. A brief image of a dark, dusty room filled with pale moonlight and soft lips passed his mind.

"Yeah…. There is…"

"Why don't you get on things with her then?"

The smile faded, and he sighed.

"Because I have never known who she really is. I met her once, but never saw her face. When she left, she tossed a black velvet mask to me," he glanced over at her. "You know. One of those that only covers the upper half of the face."

She looked at him. The song had begun once again.

"Did she see the person you are showing me now? Your true self?"

He pondered on that bit a little before nodding as a reply. Up until this moment it had only been two people (not counting himself) who had seen his so called true self.

"Then I have a suggestion to you. Throw away that disguise, or act or what ever it is as soon as possible before it's too late. If I'm not mistaken, she's looking for that man she met then too," There was a short pause. "Am I wrong if I say that you don't have many close friends?"

He shook his head.

"Then throw that act away and be honest with your self for a start. You'd be surprised to know how much better and truer friends one can find by just shedding the old role everyone expects and do what you self wish. Within some boundaries of course.." she added with a smile and a wink.

"And you have first hand experience I believe?"

The voice wasn't meant to be sarcastic, but it was non-the less.

"As a matter of fact I do."

He looked at her, startled by the seriousness in her voice.

"I don't have many friends. But they are the best type of friends one can find. But we wouldn't have spotted each other in the crowd if we had continued to hide behind the roles we had and looks we didn't feel comfortable in… I can count my true friends on one hand. The rest are just acquaintances in one or another degree," she looked in to his eyes. "Sounds like your mum is here, Blondie."

As she drank the last of her coffee, he could hear his mother calling for him. Standing up he walked over to the revolving doors and was just about to push it open as she called after him.

"Hey Blondie! Have a merry Christmas!" and as he walked through he thought he heard her whispering: "You'll find her. Soon enough…."

He walked over to the cabinets, fished out the key and got the bag. Before he walked on, he had produced a comb, some hair gel and began slicking his hair back. When a shiny surface showed he was all set, he began walking towards his mother.

"Mother! I'm over here!"

Spotting him she rushed over to him in an elegant semi-run.

"Draco, darling," she kissed his cheeks. "I'm terribly sorry for being so late. I honestly thought your father was the one to get you. But he forgot. Again.…" at the last word her voice had an icy razor edge, dripping with venom.

"It's ok mother. I had some company in the waiting hall. I sat there not to freeze to death."

They began walking, but after a few steps he remembered something.

"Can I borrow some change?" she got a puzzled expression. "It's to repay for a coffee she bought for me," Narcissa nodded and got some muggle change from her purse and gave them to her son. Thanking her with a kiss on the cheek, he ran off to the waiting-hall and pushed the door open.

But the room was empty. The only signs of their brief conversation were the used paper cups and the echo of a sad acoustic guitar…

AN:

Ok. That's the first one of the newer version. So wha'dya think? Personally, I think it's much better than the old one.

Read and review, as I do the same to you….

And what's funny is I've reposted this one yet another time. Finally figured how to make it look better… Took some time though. Just think about it… I could have saved myself for a LOT of trouble if I only had used my eyes to read…

Enjoy the story anyway!

Tiani Lunaris

)O(

OH. And I will be posting any questions you have about any chapter on the last page. Which will be divided in to the different chappies. The new reviews come up first. Sort of….