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"Now do you want to talk or not?"

"Of course I do, it's just-"

"Then get your coat."

"Why?"

"Because we're going to hold palaver."

Outside it was chilly and there was no moon to be seen. It felt strange to be tugged along by the petite girl with dark green hair almost down to her waist. Where Roanoke's hand had felt so perfect in his own, Mace's now felt strange and wrong, utterly wrong. Yet the tall boy allowed himself to be pulled by the remarkably strong girl, hoping to gain some answers beneath the starlit sky.

Explain stopped abruptly by the lake. As Roanoke, Draco's mate, had done, not so long ago in time, but it had been eternities in terms of emotion, Mace plopped herself on the ground, disregarding all of the mud and such. Again, reminding him so much of his love, the teeny girl reached up toward him to invite him to sit. This time he did with no other cajoling, the hope of answers bringing him to sit in the mud.

Explain stared up at the sky and recited, "I looked at what he built, and to me it explained the stars."

It sounded akin to something his stormy-eyed mate would say. They were so alike, but so wholly diverse. He liked the girl, in a strange way; he wanted to protect her, like a brother, though he doubted the feisty girl would allow him, or anyone, to protect her. He turned toward her, to take in her features, as she gazed across the lake. Mace yanked off her glasses and rubbed her eyes fiercely before replacing them and she stared across the lake to the opposite bank. "She told me once, that all she wanted was to be like her parents used to be-"

"Used to be?"

"Let me finish," was the tired warning. "She wanted to have friends, meet someone. Love someone. Have someone, somebody, anybody. She doesn't care what people look like, what they've done. I mean, look at me, would you randomly befriend me?" When he shook his head, she continued, "Look at you, the son of dead Death-Eaters, the Ice Prince of Slytherin, she gave you a chance when no one else would. I don't even think that she believes the rumors that all of the Malfoys were Death-Eaters. Harry and I warned her to stay away from you, that you were no good. Then I found out that you were soul mates," the way Explain said that word made Draco shiver and feel multitudes of guilt. "You complete each other. That is what a soul mate is. You can't just desert her now, not when she trusted you. You can't. You just can't. It's not right. It's not fair."

"But she's a muggle."

"And you can't get past what she is for true love?"

"But-"

"Do you like me?"

"As what? A friend, I barely know you, but yes," this was getting so confusing. She kept changing the subject.

"How much?"

"What do you mean?"

"How much do you like me? Scale of one to ten, one you hate me, ten you love me like the sister you never had."

"Eight," he decided.

"I'm muggle-born."

The blonde blinked in surprise. "Now? How much do you like me now?"

"No less, but that's diff-"

"No, it isn't. It is no different. You should love her for who you know her to be, not who her parents were."

With that statement, Explain decided that the conversation was over and walked back to the castle without giving him time to respond. He watched as her tiny form melded slowly with the shadows.

It had taken him a moment to gather his thoughts and follow the petite girl. As soon as he caught up he made a decision.

"Where's her room?"

"I'll take you there."

Draco was now standing outside Roanoke's dorm. Written on his hand with Mace's pen was the phrase Day Blind Stars. He had no idea what it meant, only that it was his only way to get to her. Explain told Draco that his mate's door had an override code as well as the password that Roanoke could change at will. She had trusted the Slytherin, knowing who he was, with her best friend's heart.

The part Veela looked from his hand to the painting on the wall many times. The paining seemed to be empty, but he could sense someone watching him. Mace had said that he didn't need to deal with the nymph who apparently inhabited the painting. He only had to place his hand on the door and speak the phrase to be admitted. Draco followed his instructions and was surprised to find them working. Supposedly Roanoke had come up with the system so Mace and Dumbledore wouldn't have to remember her frequently changed password.

The sliver-eyed Slytherin entered with caution. No matter how much the girl had liked him before, she was sure to now hate him or at least be angry enough to get revenge. Walking farther into the small rooms, he came to a diminutive living room with noting more than a couch and a plushy chair before the fireplace. The room was cramped but not due to a serious lack of space, of which she had plenty for just the furniture, the bookcases were the problem. Along each wall were mismatched bookcases of every size and shape imaginable. The girl had volumes upon volumes of books, all muggle ones. Draco bit back a sneer at the thought, and tried to remember why he was here. He had to find his mate and make things right with the smoky-eyed being.

The boy continued on his way, stepping over piles of books as he went. Finally he made it to the other end of the smallish room, where a mahogany door resided. It was fancy and clashed with the random comfort of the rest of the room's clutter, but it was still lovely. Draco guessed that it was hand carved and had probably been in the doorframe where it was now since the beginning of Hogwarts. It had tiny figures carved upon it, participating in some activity. The Veela decided that later he would have to take a longer look; right now the only thing occupying his mind was Roanoke.

Draco turned the doorknob as quietly as he could manage, and opened the door without it producing a single squeak. Peering into the dimly lit room, Draco did not immediately see anyone. Looking closer, he saw Roanoke curled up on the window seat, with a pencil in one hand, and a sketchbook in the other. It seemed as though she hadn't noticed his breaking and entering until she muttered a soft, "Hi." Draco, who had been gazing about at the sketches and half-read book strewn across the floor, table and bed, nearly jumped five feet in the air. He looked back at her and noted that she was wearing an overly large bright green sweatshirt with some sort of turtle with ninja gear on it's front. He was so occupied with its bright, 'in-your-face'-ness that he almost didn't realize that beneath it she wore nothing but her underwear. Draco gulped audibly.

"Hi." Roanoke stood, completely unaware of her dress, or lack-there-of, and seemed entirely comfortable with the situation. Draco however, was another story totally. When she had stood, he had not missed the fact that her sweatshirt only came halfway down her milky thighs. Draco had turned, wanting to save her embarrassment as much as his own. At that sight a hot rush of passion had gone through him and concentrated in one place. He was blushing furiously, a thing a Malfoy never does, though he didn't much care for Malfoy tradition anymore.

"Turn around," the icy voice was so unfamiliar, he had heard a rendition of it the night he had talked badly about Albus Dumbledore, but it wasn't nearly as intense with its near hatred. This so surprised Draco that for a split second he had almost followed her command.

"You aren't decent. It would be improp-"

"To Hell with what is proper. I need to talk to you." Roanoke was directly behind him. She pressed up against him and hugged him from behind. It was exactly what he didn't expect her to do. He didn't move, wondering about ulterior motives. Then he heard her sniffle. Draco pulled out of her grasp, whipped around and hugged her back, no longer caring for any hidden intention Roanoke might have. She needed to be comforted. The part-Veela picked the sobbing girl up in his arms bridal-style, and brought her over to her own bed. Draco sat on her bed with his back against the wall that the bed shared with a table. Roanoke curled herself up in his lap and cried.