Disclaimer: If I owned these people, you would've been seeing stuff like this on all cartoon channels that pass Teen Titans. :P So I guess I don't own then. Oh well.

A/N: Well, shorter than I intended it, but I put in a lot of thought into it. Still though, not completely satisfied . . . well, as long as you guys like it, it's okay with me :) Uh, notes . . . well, nothing really. I have a lot of basic plans for future chapters, heh heh. . . yeah. Hope to hear more feedback from all of you reading this!

Enjoy!

Ch.4: A Snowball's Chance

It was cold beyond anything back in Hogwarts.

That was the first thought that ran through Draco's mind as he stepped out into the newly fallen snow, his borrowed jacket barely helping. The cold nipped at his exposed face and hands without mercy.

Nearby, Beast Boy happily romped through the snow as a green husky, his jaws wide open and his tongue sticking out. His breaths were visible in the afternoon sun as he panted wildly, chasing a Frisbee Cyborg and Robin were throwing back and forth.

Starfire watched from her perch on a tree branch nearby, cheering Beast Boy on as he leapt up and attempted to catch the Frisbee. As for Raven, she was levitating with her feet crossed, watching the game with her usual monotone expression.

Draco himself was leaning on the tree Starfire was sitting on, also watching with mild to no interest. His mind was idle, toying with an unexpected item in the pocket of the borrowed jacket.

"Here. . . I'm sure you'd want this back." For the first time since the scissor incident, Raven had come up to him and willingly spoken. The other titans were currently distracted by other activities, thus saving her the embarrassment of having their surprised gazes upon her.

Draco's blue eyes went from her poker face to the item being held out by her ashen hand. He reached out for it almost instinctively, suddenly recoiling from it as he turned his gaze away. The wound on his back began to burn, as if feeling his hatred boil within it. "It's not mine." He lied.

Raven looked from the smooth stick in her hand to the boy in front of her.

"He used it, didn't he?" His eyes widened as he turned to her.

Her eyes were soft, suddenly reminding him of how young they both really were. She knew, he suddenly realized, she knew.

And though the wand now in his grasp seemed to burn him, he grasped it tightly. She gave it up with barely a struggle, already beginning to turn on her heel as her eyes returned to their usual emptiness.

"He did." Draco suddenly whispered. "And he'll keep using it to; once he finds me alive."

Raven stopped suddenly, silence between the two lone teens in the room. She turned so that he could see the thinned out lips that were revealed beneath the shadow of the hood when she tilted it just enough to send her gaze upon him. He looked deep within her eyes, Neville Longbottom's determined gaze suddenly appearing within her violet orbs.

"No, he won't. Not if you choose to fight him. Not if you choose to live." She turned fully, if not a bit hesitantly, bringing her hood down as their gazes locked.

"Not if you let us help you." Draco looked up at her, almost feeling the gap between them close little by little.

She was offering him what he needed, he realized. She was offering him a friend.

The abyss was deep within each of them, but Draco Malfoy was beginning to understand what he had failed to see before. Nothing was forever, as was proven by the sudden collapse of his life. And sometimes, the smallest of mistakes could cause an effect of devastation beyond measure.

Nothing was ever certain.

He suddenly smiled, getting up from his perch on the couch and walking towards the large den window. His blue orbs reflected palely in the bulletproof glass as he stood looking out to the snowy skies. Crossing his arms, he cocked his head slightly to the side, feeling awkwardly childish as his emotions began to suddenly not feel as tangled and knotted as before. There was a small voice in the back of his mind that suddenly chimed into his new thoughts.

"The snow melts so quickly when you touch it these days. . . doesn't it?" He turned to see the puzzled expression on Raven's face, his eyes boring into her as a shiver went down her spine. "It's so fragile."

Her reaction was of utter bewilderment as she joined him at the window. She scrutinized him with a raised eyebrow.

"When you think you can touch it, it melts in the warmth of your hands. You can't become like it in order to become one with it because it's not possible, obviously. So you keep letting it melt away helplessly."

Realization hit the titan as she suddenly looked out the window with a distant gaze.

"Yeah, it does . . . You can watch it swirl beautifully, yet when you touch it, it melts away into nothingness on you." Draco nodded. "It always leaves you with nothing but the cold feeling in your hands."

A comfortable silence once again settled between them, each left to their own memories of a bitter cold left behind by those that had once been alive.

"There is hope though." Draco whispered into the silence. His breath formed a small haze on the window before him, lacing a bit of his mother's own hopes into his voice. He turned to her. "See, when the conditions are just right, you can roll it together and form something really neat from it. Igloos take a lot of work. A snowman is better because it's easier, but it takes just as long sometimes." Raven turned to look out the window, smiling as openly as if it were a sunny summer day. Her voice was laced with content as she answered his vague metaphor.

"But sometimes, even a small snowball can be more than enough."

Draco fingered the wand in his pocket, his gaze lifting to inadvertently land on the young woman with the blue cloak that said individual vehemently refused to change out of in the cold.

And in the silence of that moment their eyes met, she smiled just for him. And with it, the warmth from the sun suddenly seemed to seep into the deepest of crevices in his heart.

Maybe, just maybe, they had a snowball's chance of building themselves from the rubble into something a little better. Maybe that small snowball would one day make him strong enough.

………..

Next time, on A Breath of Life! . . .

Rumors of the Malfoy's survival reach certain British ears: Draco Malfoy, meet fellow Britishman Mad Mod.

See ya next time!