Thank you to all my reviewers! I loves you! AGGGGHHHH LOVES! Hokay, now that I've got that out, few notes and we'll get started.

Well first, got to apologies for my little rant last chapter, just I dunno, I'm trying to stay in character and sometimes I find fics where Snape is all like "ooooh Haaaarrryyy, kiss me again, Harry! Ooh I love you so much! I don't know how I can hide it anymore!" Nothing against all you Snarry shippers out there, its just, out of character Snape pisses me off. He can be cruel, he is a bit petty and I'm ranting again . . . sorry everyone. Anyway, sorry if I took up too much space with my little explanation rant thingie, everything's open to interpretation right? It'd be cool if spelling were up to interpretation, but that nobody would be able to read anything, huh?

Anyway, since everyone loves Draco sooo much he's coming back; he is pretty instrumental to the plot/story/ whatever this is. And I'm basically gonna rotate POV's, and it'll follow the same pattern; Draco, Snape, Harry, Draco, Snape, Harry, etc, etc. . . unless I kill someone off . . . hehehe.

So, now that I've taken up some space, here we go, drum roll, proudly presenting, the long awaited, the lovely, the fabulous: Chapter 4.

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Chapter 4 Truth Is Only Relatively Red

Blue smoke on black sky.

Thin lace over heavy velvet.

Single life before ageless universe.

I reached my hand out to play with it. Tangled my fingers in it. Weaved the smoke into translucent figures. They bowed and caressed; fought and danced.

Fragrance tickled my nose, and the sharply sweet smell fled up, up, up to my brain. Then down, down, down and around, around, around until my whole body tingled and thudded to match my heart beat.

The smoothness slid over my palm easily. Lurked around the pale columns of fingers. Slipped over the steps of my knuckles. Floated in and out of nails.

Views from the open Astronomy Tower are always magnificent and I could not help but smirk back at the silver moon's malicious grin.

"Draco?" Came Harry's insistent voice. She finished her fag and rubbed it out on the stone floor. The butt flared once, then died. Our breath pushed and ripped at the smoke until it was gone.

"Yes, Harry?" Ours was an easy camaraderie.

"Do you believe he will come?"

I looked down at her. I shouldn't have been surprised. I wasn't. Not really.

"Yes, I do believe he will."

"How can you be sure?" Her voice was rough with worry, exhaustion, and need; a whole plethora of emotions she would never, could never, give in to for fear she would sink in and be swept away; drowned by the ocean of her emotions and she would never come back up.

She looked down at the half-empty carton of fags.

"How can you be so damn confidant he won't be a bastard and tell, and everything won't be lost because of my bloody compassion? That he won't ignore me and simply mark me worthless, like a stack of term papers. Worthless and failed, all disfigured in red. Red. Red. Red. Red like blood. Red like Gryffindor. Red like me." Her breath caught.

I wrapped an arm around her shoulders. She is quite tiny.

"Harry, don't be an idiot. Stop worrying about your thrice-damned compassion. Treasure your bloody compassion. I don't know how you managed to hold on to it after living with those fecking animals for so long. Besides, caution is all very well, but too much and you'll become paranoid. Now, paranoia is all very well, but too much and you'll spit out all your secrets along with your breakfast, just like the proper Gryffindor you are."

She gave a watery chuckle. "I did this for a number of years before you came along Mr. Draconis Janus Lucius—"

I placed my hand over her mouth, "Shh. Yes, you did. But," I paused dramatically, "you'll survive better with me."

She bit my hand.

"Anyway, Snape's too curious not to come. And I'll be there; I won't leave you alone with him; I won't submit you to his questionable mercies."

She nodded, although I doubt she heard me. "Draco?"

"Yes love?"

"Tell me a story."

"Sure. Um . . . in a forest lived three mudbloods."

"Draco," she whined.

"Right, right. Once upon a time there lived three muggleborns; a father, a mother, and a daughter. They were sitting down to a lovely meal when a shadow fell across the room. The family grew very scared; they shrank close together and shivered from the chill running down their spines. The shadow became smaller and went away. The family relaxed and chatted happily again. And then the shadow came again and they shrank back, further; farther than last time. And to the muggleborns' terror, the shadow revealed itself to be a lethifold and gobbled them all up."

"Draco, don't be so stupid; tell me a different story."

"As the Princess Harry commands." I sneered, somewhat rebuking. She could be quite a prat at times. "Which one would the Princess like?"

"I dunno. One about a flower."

"As you command, Your Highness."

"Please don't call me that."

"All right, I won't." I pulled her closer. "Right, a flower. I know one, it's a fairytale my mother used to tell me when I was younger." I paused, unsure how to start.

"Once upon a time there was a flower. Now, this was not just any flower, this was a special flower; one that everyone knew about, but also one that no one had ever seen. However everyone knew what it looked like, for there was a tale; a myth; a fable; a story with just a whisper of truth in it. It was a bitter story, pretty and shiny to look at and hear, but prickly and sharp when anyone tried to look deeper.

"This story spoke of a rose, a rose the blue of all clear, cloudless skies and the scent as clean and clear as fresh honey stolen from bees and the morning after heavy rain. But this rose had something more; something to make it worth lusting for: its nectar would make any drinker, who dared to find it, immortal.

"Of course, many had searched for this rose, but none found it. The only shred of a clue that hung about was that of a mountain: a mountain of men's corpses. And from the corpses grew the rose.

"No one found the rose and the rumor of such a wondrous thing faded. Disinterest bleached out the color of the story until it became nothing more than a fairytale, not to be believed, not to be listened to: good for nothing but entertainment. Over time, even the fairytale became dust and the rose was forgotten to all and any. The worst part of it all is the rose still sits there, wishing and waiting for some one to come for it and yet, even with all of eternity, no one will."

I stopped, my story finished. The air was silent and a soft mumble drew my attention to the sleeping girl leaning against me. I hoped she didn't drool.

"C'mon, let's get you to bed." I lifted her up and carried her, bridal style, off the tower. It's funny really, those little moments of nostalgia that hit you when you least expect it. They really give a sucker punch and leave you gasping for air. Sometimes, I missed my mother even when she was alive. It seemed like a waste of time, wanting something when I already had it, but then she died, probably from nostalgia. She never could let go of her dreams from a better time.

And that's why I couldn't dwell too long on anything. I had someone to stay alive for, and damn it to hell if I died and let her down.

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so yah, end of chappie 4, hope ya'll liked it, if you review I'll love you forever. Mm, also, sorry if I kinda stole a little from Pan's Labyrinth, or El laberinto de faun, but the rose is just super awesome so . . . I don't own Pan's Labyrinth and I hope I don't get killed.

Now that that's been cleared up, I apologize for taking so long to update. Three parts to the reason behind me taking so long: two parts laziness and one part school shite. Anyway, please review! Puh-leeeaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaze!