Disclaimer – I own nothing except the plot.

Summary -Hermione, do not bother sending this letter to Professor Dumbledore or anyone else, for that matter. I wrote this using Secretio potion, which means that only you can read this. – Draco Malfoy

The title was taken from the Labyrinth soundtrack, As the World Falls Down.

Chapter 3 – Strangers Till Now

I'll paint you mornings of gold
I'll spin you valentine evenings
Though we're strangers till now
We're choosing the path between the stars

Draco Malfoy dug a heel into the carpet grass beneath him. The Garden Room had become his unofficial secret chamber; a place where he could find solace and take comfort in the evernight sky. There was one thing that he didn't tell Hermione, though. He had found a journal, written in what he suspected was Salazar's handwriting. Millennia ago, wizards jotted their daily thoughts on scraps of paper, just as Muggles did. Pensives were only created two centuries ago.

Mudblood….filth!

The words leapt out at Draco, causing the Slytherin to suck his breath in with shock. He hadn't known that Slazar had felt so strongly about Muggles. He read on.

A woman with a long, thick, ruddy braid trailing down her back stood on what look like an endless desert of red sand. She had dark green eyes that spoke volumes of the intelligence she possessed. Each of her fingers wore intricately-designed rings—one of them had a cobra's head carved into it. Her face wasn't stunningly beautiful, but beneath the freckles and tangled lashes, one could see that she was no ordinary witch. She seemed to waiting for someone.

A gust of wind whipped stray tendrils of hair into a frenzy. The wind became stronger, that the woman reached for her wand to expel the sand from her eyes. Before she could mutter any incantation, however, a whirlwind of red sand in the shape of a snake raced towards her, stopping only when she held a hand up.

"Always the theatrics," she smiled.

The sand figure of a gargantuan snake crumbled, and in its place stood a wizard who was also smiling. Unlike the woman's smile, this wizard smiled the smile of someone who was proud, cunning and self-satisfied. But the both of them looked happy.

"Would you have expected otherwise?" the silver-haired wizard extended a hand gracefully to the witch, who was shaking her head and laughing. He was clothed entirely in black and green—only his white-blond hair and deep blue eyes added variety to the robes of black and amulets of green that he wore.

"From Salazar Slytherin, nay," replied the woman, thus confirming Draco's guess that the enigmatic newcomer was Salazar. She was looking at him with the look Hermione had when she was under Cupid's charm. Then again, the wizard possessed an unearthly beauty not commonly seen. "Why did you suggest for us to meet at the GoblinDesert?"

Salazar tilted his head towards the blood-red sun that was just setting. He didn't reply immediately, but instead, he lowered his head and drew the woman into a kiss. It seemed as though they had been separated for decades, judging from the way they both smiled into the kiss, and stretched the minutes on so that it seemed like the moment lasted for an eternity.

When the kiss ended, the sky had turned into a glittering curtain of green and black. Even the red sand at their feet became a fine crystalline carpet of jade dust. The setting sun was still red, but the sky around it was tinged with shades of green. Salazar found himself staring into the eyes of a surprised woman.

"This….." began the woman, but she couldn't continue. "How did you…."

"That's not important," answered Salazar. "What you should be wondering is, why."

The woman blinked in wonderment as her eyes took in the green backdrop. The desert was still a desert, but it was in the most gorgeous shades of green imaginable. Suddenly, her eyes landed on Salazar, who was now wearing robes of deep green with black trimmings. Realisation clouded her eyes, and she smiled.

"You have chosen the colour of your house," she said with a familiar matter-of-factness in her voice. "Green."

"Brilliant as always, Rowena my Rowena," whispered Salazar with the ghost of a smile teasing his lips. "But you left out one thing—of all colours, why green?"

The answer was reflected in her emerald eyes.

Draco put the book down and frowned. Why would Salazar write about himself in third person? More puzzlingly, he and Rowena weren't speaking in old antiquated English….was the journal a hoax? Unless….Draco's mind spun. Unless it was written by someone else, recently. By someone who knew what happened a thousand years ago, and lived to tell the tale.

He looked up and found himself staring at Cupid. The guardian of the Garden Room. The one who gave Hermione the golden arrow.

The one whom Salazar appointed to make Rowena fall in love with him…..again.

"You wrote this," said Draco quietly. It wasn't a question. Cupid stared back with eyes that beamed of innocence. "And you gave her your arrow."

Cupid smiled brilliantly, and lifted his palms to indicate that they were empty. No bows, no quivers of arrows. Nothing.

"Why did you do that?" whispered Draco. Sparks of anguish sparkled beneath his eyelids. He was a Slytherin, and Slytherins, though ambitious and driven by determination, could be dangerous creatures when pushed. "It was your last arrow, wasn't it? The legendary golden arrow that Cupids use only once in their lifetime… I know it was a golden arrow that pricked her finger."

"It's useless, you know," Draco said more to himself. "Even if she did love me…which I know wouldn't happen in this lifetime, it'd still be a waste of a good arrow. She didn't have options….even if she did, I don't," he chuckled bitterly. "Have you ever heard of the Condamnus Sword?" He cradled his head in his arm.

Cupid nodded, and at the precise moment, Draco thought he heard the clink of metal hitting marble. He looked down, and the next sound he heard was that of his jaw crashing to the ground.

With trembling fingers, Draco retrieved the broken necklace that bore the abominable sword of torture. His other hand felt the hollow of his throat—for the first time since he was thirteen, Draco felt liberated. No more pledges to kiss the robes of a resurrected wizard. No more sealed fates of predetermined destinies. No more sessions of perfecting his Crutiatus Curse….

Nothing. Just a window of opportunities, and an unopened door of dreams. Now, all he had to do was turn the doorknob.

Cupid watched as the fair-headed boy transformed from a wearied teenager with the years of one who was ten thousand days old, into a sixteen-year-old who held his head just as Salazar used to, when he was in his youth. The winged cherub studied Draco intently. He was the second person to walk through the doors of the Garden Room, since Salazar's demise. And when he did, Cupid almost fell off his cloud, for he thought that Salazar was somehow reincarnated in the body of a teenager. How both Slytherins resembled each other! And when Draco started to work on reconstructing the room and the crystal fountain, Cupid was reminded of how Salazar used to slave over his secret garden room, which he created for Rowena.

And the girl whom Draco kissed…..

Cupid didn't know why, but he wanted them to be together. He sensed that nothing could be more beautiful than the union of the boy and the Gryffindor girl—and Cupid had seen beauty inconceivable to mortals' minds. He might be a cherub, but then again, time stands still for the Guardian of the Garden Room.

"I don't know how you did that," breathed Draco. "Or why." He didn't finish his sentence. There was much to do. He smiled to himself. First, he thought craftily, a traditional love letter. The Malfoy way.

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Owl Post 1

Sender – Draco Malfoy

Recipient – Hermione Granger

Status – SENT

Hermione Granger,

Hermione, do not bother sending this letter to Professor Dumbledore or anyone else, for that matter. I wrote this using Secretio potion, which means that only you can read this.

First, I must congratulate you. You have proven to be capable of stupidity and intelligence at once. You may be able to rattle off names and dates regarding the soporific Goblin Rebellion, but you've forgotten the one thing that I've given you, that isn't fake or contrived.

Ah, yes. You're wondering what it is, yes? You're frowning at this moment, trying to figure out who I am, and why have I decided to make your rosy life miserable. I can tell you something, Hermione: someone out there is watching you. Someone who probably knows more about you that you think.

In other words, someone out there has fallen in love with you. He might not show it in his actions….or his speech, but that doesn't mean that he loves you any less. Sometimes he hates himself for feeling that way. Other times, he hates you for it. But most of the time, he's happy to know that you once loved him back, even if you don't remember it now.

He is

Your Peregrinus

Peregrinus means 'stranger' in Latin.

At any rate, thanks for reading, and don't forget to review!

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