Disclaimer: I do not own any Harry Potter stuff so don't sue me! I'm all sweet and innocent! It was him! points at nerd I SWEAR IT WASN'T ME! looks around oh, uh… hi everyone… I'm fine…

A/N: Hopefully you will recover from my fit of randomness… eventually… sorry bout that. Anyway, hope you all like this, please give me any constructive pointers you can think of rather than just "Yeah good chapter keep it coming". Much appreciation. Also I dedicate this chapter to Brianna! No particular reason, but yeah. I don't think she even goes on here. Oh well. (Sorry there's no tambourine's or sparkly stuff Bri, I'm working on it!)

Also, I would like to make a huge apology to RQ (currently known as either IC Dead Ppl or theduncmeister, he keeps changing). We sorted out our differences and I'm sorry for all the crap I said about you. K, now to the story.

To Feel You Breathe – Chapter One

Draco ordered another whiskey and downed it as he watched the Muggle concentrate on his shot. Billy, his name was. Something like that. Draco didn't care. To him it was just another bundle of money to transfer into Galleons. Muggles were all the same. They thought they were all high and mighty, but not one was a match for magic. Billy glided the white ball towards the striped number 14, and Draco guided it sideways with ease. The ball struck too far to the right, and to anyone watching the game, it would appear like a simple mistake. Draco smirked into his whiskey. This was all too easy.

He stepped up to the pool table and prepared to take his final shot, to sink the black number 8 and win the game. Again. Then he decided to show off, to rub it in the face of his opponent. He swung around so that he was aiming towards the other end of the table. He struck the ball hard, and it bounced off the side of the table, flying into the air, and it landed back in the middle of the table. It then rolled down towards the black ball, and pushed it into the pocket.

Of course, Draco had moved the ball to where he wanted it to go. If he weren't using magic, he would have lost this game long ago. Billy was one of the better challengers so far. But money was money, Draco thought, as he relieved another amazed Muggle of his, and headed towards the bar for another drink.

As he sat there, gulping down vodka, he thought about what had happened since he left Hogwarts. He had turned on Snape, torturing him and finally, killing him. Horrified at what he had done, he had fled to the country, and for 2 years he had lay low, hiding from everything, yet still practicing his magic. When he had finally emerged, he discovered that Voldemort and his Death Eaters had been destroyed. When he had heard this, he expected to feel lost and helpless, but instead he felt overjoyed, as though he had been given another chance. After much persistence, he had convinced the Order of the Phoenix that he was not a supporter of the dark side, and much to his surprise, it was none other than Harry Potter who vouched for him and had the final say in him staying alive and out of Azkaban. He never questioned this, but since then he and Harry had begun to be good friends. Ron had died in the fight against the Dark Lord, and Hermione was missing. This shocked him, because if all the Death Eaters were gone, she would have nothing to hold her back. She was presumed dead, Harry had told him quietly.

Draco sighed, modified the barman's memory to think he had paid, and walked out of the bar.

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Draco walked slowly down the street, not really looking at where he was going, feeling the crisp night breeze on his face. He glanced down a side alley as he passed it, and stopped at the entrance to it. He sighed heavily and walked down to the homeless person lying asleep in the gutter. For such a nice city, London had too many people who had nothing.

He looked around to make sure nobody was watching and then pulled out his wand. He flicked it sharply, and an entire roast chicken, with vegetables, appeared on a plate in front of the homeless person.

Draco studied the pour soul in front of him. It was a young woman, possibly the same age as he was, although it was hard to tell thanks to the state she was in. She had brown hair with a reddish tinge that had been dulled by dirt and mud, and despite the fact that she was obviously very under-fed, she had quite a nice body, Draco thought. She seems so much like…

He sighed again and stood up. After one last glance, he turned and strode back to the end of the lane way. He turned once more, and with a single muttered spell, woke up the sleeping woman.

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The woman at the end of the lane woke refreshed, as though she had slept for a long time. In truth, she had only slept for three hours. A beautiful smell wandered under her nose, and she looked around in wonder. Her breath caught in her throat as she beheld the wonderful meal in front of her, and she pinched herself to be sure she was not dreaming. Delighted, she looked around and saw a man watching her from the street. They locked eyes for a moment, before he turned and strode away down the street. Her growling stomach reminded her that it needed attention, and she obeyed willingly. She began to shovel down food as fast as she could.

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Draco walked back into number 12, Grimmauld place, where he now lived with Harry. They had decided to add a lot of Muggle technology to it, just for the fun of it. His mind was still back in the side alley, and he therefore tripped over Kreacher and fell flat on his face.

"OW!"

Kreacher glared at him evilly. "Stupid friend of horrible master, his own ugliness is blinding him, yes, what mistress would say if she had seen this…"

"Oh shut up, you little filthball." Draco got back to his feet and brushed himself off. Then he proceeded into the kitchen, where he found Harry reading the Daily Prophet. Harry looked up as he entered.

"Good night Draco?"

"Yeah," replied Draco as he walked towards the fridge. "Won about a grand in muggle money tonight."

"Nice work," replied Harry, going back to his paper. "Did you know that Oliver Wood got named as captain of Puddlemere United today?"

"Really?" came Draco's voice out of the cupboard he was now rummaging through. "'Bout fucking time too, he's been there how many years now?"

"Five, I think. Maybe six."

Draco came and sat down in the chair across from Harry, and started eating the pasta he had instantly cooked with a flick of his wand. Harry put down his paper and studied his friend.

"Are you okay? You look worried."

Draco snapped out of deep thought and replied, "Yeah it's just… I saw this chick today…"

Harry smiled. "Oh another one night stand?"

Draco shook his head. "No. This chick was in the alley near the pub. She was a homeless girl, and she looked…" He shook his head. "She looked so much like… like Hermione…"

Harry drew a breath sharply. The loss of his friends was still a sore topic. "But Draco… she's dead."

"Presumed dead, Harry. There's no proof. I thought you hadn't given up."

"And I haven't Draco," he replied quietly. "But surely it wasn't her?"

"I dunno. I'm just saying she looked like her, that's all."

Harry sighed and heaved himself out of his seat. "Well I'm going to bed. See ya tomorrow."

Harry walked off, yawning, leaving Draco alone in a sea of his own thoughts.

A/N: Hey everyone, how did ya like it? Please review and let me know.