September 4; Owlery

Draco woke too early in the morning. He found himself aimlessly walking the halls of Hogwarts after getting dressed. Draco couldn't seem to put his finger on how he was feeling that particular moment. Tired? That was for sure. Anxious? Yes, although over what he wasn't sure. And then there was that feeling, nestled in the pit of his stomach, bubbling, jumping. It was a foreign feeling, and no matter how hard he thought, the answer remained elusive.

Perhaps, happy? A tiny voice said in the back of his head. He found that it sounded oddly like his mother.

No, it was too good to be true.

Draco Malfoy had never once in his life been happy. If the permanent smirk on his face that never turned into a smile wasn't enough evidence for him and the people that flitted in and out of his life, he wasn't sure what was. He had never truly allowed himself to feel happy; it was an unknown emotion to him, made mysterious and unattainable by his father.

Father.

The word cut him like a knife, reopening deep, freshly sealed wounds.

Draco walked more sullenly after the thought. He walked up the nearest set of stairs and continued up them until he reached a circular room with a tall ceiling. The Owlery. Soft hoots could be heard coming from every corner of the room, and feathers floated above Draco's head.

He spotted his eagle owl perched alone on a branch high into the alcove.

And then, Draco was thrown head first into a memory.

"Draco, come here."

Little Draco Malfoy raced up the stairs to his father's study, slowing down in front of the door so he could give himself a chance to straighten out his clothes. His father didn't tolerate sloppiness. From the time Draco learned how to walk, poise, perfection and pureblood had all been drilled into his head, permanently etched in his brain.

"Father?" he called tentatively.

"Enter."

Draco crossed the threshold into room and waited to be addressed.

"Draco, don't slouch. You sound like a scared little field mouse, boy," he scolded in a cold voice.

Draco gulped, "Yes, father. Sorry."

"Don't let it happen again."

Silence once more. This time, Lucius made no attempt to break it. Instead, he turned around, his back to Draco, and strode over to the back of the room. There, two tall objects stood tall under a green velvet cover. Lucius placed a manicures hand on each of the covers and pulled them off swiftly revealing what was beneath them.

Two tall owl cages were uncovered, and inside each, a baby owl sat perched on a fixture. Draco recognized the two breeds instantly. One looked exactly like his father's eagle owl; proud, dignified and haughty. The other was a barn owl, plain in color, but hooting happily whenever it was looked upon.

"Draco, consider this a present from your mother and I," Lucius told Draco, sweeping a hand towards the cages.

"May I have both of them?" asked Draco.

His father sneered, "No, stupid boy. Choose one, and choose wisely." Lucius accentuated the last part of the sentence, and Draco knew exactly what this meant; Pick the one I want you to pick, or there will be consequences. Dire, dire consequences.

Draco looked at the two owls and frowned. "I'll take the eagle owl, father."

"Excellent," Lucius drawled. Draco expected him to pull out the chosen bird, but instead her reached inside the barn owl's cage and pulled the cheery bird out. He held the baby bird in the palm of his hand, no more than four weeks old. He stared at it blankly before wrapping his hands around its neck and twisting sharply.

The barn owls neck snapped with a crack and its body went limp and lifeless. Lucius tossed the dead bird to the floor.

"That, Draco, is what happens to the weak. They deserve to die. They deserve to suffer," Lucius said with an air of eerie calmness. His eyes, all the while, were wild with delirious happiness. Draco did not speak, but instead stared at the broken bird on the floor. So still.

"That bird was a mudblood, Draco. A disgrace to owls, just as mudbloods are a disgrace to the wizard race. If not annihilated they will taint our blood, ruin everything that magic stands for. The Dark Lord will not let that happen. They. Will. Not. Win," he yelled, spitting out the last words, spraying Draco in the face.

Again Draco was silent.

"Where is that bloody house elf?" complained Lucius nonchalantly as Draco remained rooted to the spot. A moment later, a thin house elf came into view.

"Dispose of the bird. Have it burned," ordered Lucius maliciously, venom dripping from his words. Venom that he reveled in. The venom of a snake.

He turned to Draco once more as the house elf disapperated with a grimace. "Do you understand, Draco?"

Draco nodded dumbly, "Yes, father."

"Good. You are dismissed. The eagle owl will be sent to your room."

Draco walked with quiet composure out of the study. When he rounded the corner at the end of the hall, he sprinted wildly to his room throwing himself on his bed. He pulled the covers up over his head and breathed in short shallow breaths. He tried to fall asleep, to succumb to peaceful slumber, but hard as he may have tried, the image of a dead baby owl kept him awake.

And for the first and last time in his life, Draco Malfoy cried himself to sleep.

"Malfoy, what are you doing here?"

The sound of a disgusted voice pulled him out of his less than pleasant day dream. Draco turned to face the intruder.

"Ah, Potter, always a pleasure."

"You know what, Draco? I'm not in the mood to fight." Harry said, right to Draco's face. He turned his back on the Slytherin and proceeded to call a golden owl down from its perch. He rubbed the creatures head and tied a letter to its leg. The owl hooted happily and nuzzled the raven haired boy in front of him. Harry smiled what Draco thought was a pained smile. He had seen it before, every time he looked in a mirror.

"Funny, I always thought you were in the mood to fight," Draco said, hoping to egg the other boy on.

Harry shook his head, "Then you really don't know me that well, do you?" He watched the owl fly out the window, sighing once or twice. He turned towards the door and began the short walk to it.

Draco grabbed his arm, "Leaving so soon, Potter? Don't you want to slice me up a bit? For old time sakes?"

"Malfoy, let me go," said Harry. His jaw was clenched and his hands balled up into fists.

"Make me, Potter. I dare you." Draco knew this was a very dangerous thing to say.

Harry grabbed Draco by the front his robes and slammed him into the wall. "Stay away from me, Malfoy. I've dealt with you for too long." Harry was sneering in Draco's face.

"Is that a threat?" asked Draco, narrowing his eyes.

"That's something you're familiar with, right Malfoy? Threats? Words, that's all they are. Without your precious leader you're a coward. Just like your father."

Draco had had enough. He flung Harry off of him and threw the boy to the floor, he stood tall and menacing before him. "Don't make me break your nose again, Potter. The mudblood isn't here to fix it."

Harry leapt from the floor and planted himself in front of Draco, "You know what? I think I'm going to be the bigger person and walk away; if there is one thing this war taught me, it was humility. Your mother saved my life, and she deserves better then a son like you."

And then, Harry walked away, leaving Draco to nurse his bruised ego.

He thought back to his conversation with Potter and analyzed every word spoken.

Just like your father...

Was that true? Draco wasn't sure. At one time in his life, it would have been a compliment. His father embodied evil and ruthlessness, and for a while, that was what Draco strived to be. But now it was a slap in the face. He thought of his father rotting away in his study at Malfoy Manor, and cringed at the mental image. He didn't want to end up cold and heartless, he could see the appeal in it.

For now, Draco was content to sit with his damaged pride in front of the roaring fire. His peace was disrupted not five minutes later.

"I never thought you were one for self pain infliction," Theo said as he sauntered casually into the common room.

"I like a little emotional turmoil now and then," replied Draco drily. He rolled his eyes at his friend.

"Are you going to tell me what happened?"

"No, actually. I was rather set on sitting here and drowning in my misery."

"Charming," said Theo.

Draco grumbled incoherently and marched up to his room. He changed his dirty shirt and grabbed his book bag, then made his way back down stairs. He was none too pleased to see Theodore sitting by the fire still. He tried to make as little noise as possible as he tip toed out of the room. He wasn't really up for any interrogation today.

"So, now are you going to tell me what happened?" Theo asked without turning around. Draco cursed and kicked a nearby end table.

Theo chuckled from his seat, "No use taking out your anger on inanimate objects."

"Ha, it sure made me feel better," Draco shot back. "And no, I won't tell you what happened, what are you? My mother?"

"Well, if you won't tell me, you probably are ashamed of it, which means you probably deserved it," Theo reasoned. Draco scowled at the back of his friends head.

"Some friend you are," he accused him.

"Someone has to knock some sense into that head of yours," Theo replied as he walked past Draco, patting his shoulder in a comforting way.

Draco brushed off the comment and began to plot his friend's demise.

September 4; Defence Against the Dark Arts Room

Draco made his way towards the Defence Against Dark Arts room. He found that he was not the only one left to wait in front of the closed door. Several other students, including Potter and his lackeys, wear leaning against the wall, waiting for the professor to allow them entry. A moment later the door swung open and a calm, cool voice spoke from within, "Enter." It chilled Draco to the bone.

The professor from the feast sat at her desk staring out at the expanse of now seated students. The room stayed completely silent and she had no intention of breaking it.

"Professor?" Draco turned to see who had spoken and was not surprised when he found that it was Granger. She stuck her hand up nervously. "Are we going to begin the lesson?"

Professor Scuro let her eyes glide to the muggle. She studied her with accusing eyes, and when she spoke, it was harsh without being too obvious. "Eager now, aren't we? I suppose we will, but for future reference Ms..." –She looked down at a seating chart- "Granger, this is my class room. My rules and I may start and stop as I please."

Draco was pleased to see that the bushy haired girl turned pink at the teachers command. He returned his attention to the front of the room, towards the teacher for whom his respect was growing.

"Now class, put away your wands," she requested. Students around Draco grumbled and began to pocket their wands amidst whisperings of the name 'Umbridge'. Draco hesitated, he never felt safe without his wand, the one thing he could depend on with his life. He clutched onto it tightly, his knuckles turning white.

"Is there a problem, Mr. Malfoy, Mr. Potter?" asked the Professor, noticing the wand in their hands. The sound of bodies and faces turning towards Draco and Harry was deafening.

"No, Professor. There isn't a problem," he answered breezily. Might as well give them a show.

"Right, not at all," replied Harry from his spot in the room.

"Then why haven't you put away your wands?"

To this, Draco didn't have an answer. It's not like he could say 'Sorry, I have this funny feeling someone might pop out from behind that cabinet, you see. I'd like to be prepared.' He settled for the next best thing; he raised his eyebrows and set his mouth in a thin line, bracing himself for the worst. Harry remained silent.

Professor Scuro looked on at Draco and Harry before her tiny face broke out into a grin. "Well done, Mr. Malfoy, Mr. Potter. Twenty points to Slytherin and Gryffindor for exhibiting common sense." She turned to the rest of the class, "Don't ever leave your wands out of sight or reach, do you understand? It is your most important asset, and if this were a real life situation, you would all be dead."

Student everywhere whipped out their wands.

"Now, let's get started, shall we?"

Draco smirked triumphantly.

The rest of Defence class rolled on uninterrupted. They reviewed most of the period, Granger having redeemed herself by answering every single bloody question. He sat relatively still all period, looking about the room, watching people. He watched as the Weasel and Granger sent each other lust filled glances. This made Draco vomit in his mouth. He watched as Potter and the Weaselette pointedly ignored each other. Now this was interesting. Draco made a mental note to ask someone about that later.

Draco supposed that he could behave a bit more around Potter. Be more civil, maybe. Surely it would kill him, but it was better than getting his nose broken on several future occasions. After all, Potter had saved his life. There was a mutual understanding between the two boys, however. Draco had decided to test Pothead's patience today, see how far he could push him before he snapped. The Saint wasn't in a particularly good mood today, obviously, so pushing him probably wasn't the brightest idea. But Draco was compelled, and when he was compelled, there was no stopping him.

He resumed his observations rather than dwell on the thought. Pansy sat down three seats down from him, and he could hear her giggling. Turning his head slightly towards her direction, he saw that she was talking to the raven haired Slytherin whom he had never spoken to. Pansy leaned towards the boy further and then threw Draco a glance as if to say 'See what you've lost?' Good riddance to her, thought Draco.

Theo, of course, was concentrating on the task at hand, scribbling furiously on a piece of parchment. Draco wondered what would happen if Theo imploded simply because he had over worked his own brain. One thing was for sure, Draco wasn't cleaning up the mess. No one else caught his attention and he realized that this class was hardly interesting anymore. Defence Against the Dark Arts? It's not like Voldemort would saunter into the class room brandishing his wand, and even if he did, they surely wouldn't kill him with their knowledge of the Werewolf Lunar Cycle, or the difference between an Inferni and a Corpse.

If anyone knew anything about the Dark Arts, it would be Draco. He was practically spoon fed it as a baby.

"Class dismissed."

This brought Draco out of his inner conversations and out into the real world again. He gathered his books slowly and methodically, shoving them into his Dragon Skin bag. He turned around lazily and walked purposefully towards the door, but he was stopped by a hand on his shoulder.

He faced the culprit and found himself staring at Professor Scuro. She was shorter then him, barely reaching his chin, but she had a stern look in her eyes, a superior air around her.

"Yes, Professor?" he asked her politely, albeit a bit annoyed.

"If you don't mind me asking, Mr. Malfoy, I was simply wondering how your family is fairing. I was an old colleague of your fathers', you see." She implored this as if Draco could brush of the question and exit the class room, but he knew better.

"Rather well, under the circumstances. My mother is fine," he told her, not straying too far from the truth.

"And your father?" Damn, this one was pushy.

Draco decided to throw her a bone, "He's wonderful, actually. Peachy keen, dandy, really."

He wasn't sure why he had said this. Maybe if he said it out loud enough times it would become true. Maybe if he kept the skeletons in the closet they would disintegrate into ashes. Maybe Draco was going insane.

"Ah, I see. Well, thank your time then, best be off," she dismissed him. He left the room faster than he intended and looked back only once. What he saw disturbed him deeply, and Draco was not one to be easily disturbed. The Professor was staring at a moving photograph and the person moving inside just happened to be none other than Lucius Malfoy.

September 4; Charms Room

In another part of the great castle, Astoria exited her first period class with a sigh. It had been dull, to say the least, but nothing seemed to excite her much these days. She walked down the corridor alone, just having left Mimi and Helia whom were both heading off to Ancient Runes, she wouldn't see them until Muggle Studies. She felt quite happy, which made her wonder if that was even possible due to the current state of her amusement levels. She supposed it could be because she was heading off to double Charms, which, coincidentally, just happened to be her best subject.

She still had a ways to go, she realized, so she busied herself by replaying the start of term gossip which was being updated hourly thanks to Mimi. Word around the castle was that Harry Potter, Boy Who Could Do No Wrong, had schooled Draco Malfoy, Asshole (Almost) Deatheater. Apparently his ego was shot, and that notion made Astoria laugh. He probably deserved it, she mused. Such a big mouth that Draco has, always yammering about something or other, always getting himself into deep shit.

What surprised Astoria the most was the cause and effect factor of this whole situation. She obviously knew the effect, but what about the cause? It was common knowledge to most Pure Blood families by now that Narcissa Malfoy had lied to protect Harry. It was also common knowledge to the students of Hogwarts that Harry had saved Draco's arse the day of the final battle. What bothered her, she couldn't put her finger on, but she found herself strangely upset that Draco could have been the one to instigate it. After all, he owed Harry his life, and if a broken pride is what it took to remind him, then so be it.

He musings carried her down towards the Charm room quicker than you could say 'Flitwick.' She stepped into the room and seated herself in the center of the room, directly behind Hermione Granger. The brown haired girl turned to give Astoria a warm smile, to which she returned in kind. She could wrap her brain around the stupid muggle born prejudice. Hermione was a nice girl; smart, pretty and a hero in Astoria's eyes, and she wondered why the rest of the wizarding population had to start a war before they realized this. It occurred to Astoria that the world had to be upon the brink of utter chaos in order to change for the better.

Class started on time and Astoria was completely drawn into the lesson. She had always loved the tiny, two foot teacher. He was so funny, and so very easy to fool. A disturbance at the front of the class room caused the students to turn away from the lesson a gawk at the door. Draco walked into the class room looking uncharacteristically sheepish as he mumbled an excuse for his tardiness.

"Very well, Mr. Malfoy, just take a seat beside Ms. Greengrass," ordered the Professor in a squeaky voice.

Astoria smiled, just my luck.

Draco rolled his eyes at her, but took the empty seat anyways. He dropped his bag onto the floor and turned his attention to the front of the room, a sour expression on his face. Astoria watched him unabashedly, blinking her wide eyes. She ripped a corner off her parchment and wrote: Who pissed in your cornflakes? She tossed the note expertly onto his desk and looked on as he unfolded the note.

His expression turned from sour to confused to angry to annoyed in three second flat. Astoria noted that he would have made a lovely exhibitor of PMS had he been born a girl. Draco pulled out a eagle feather quill and began to write a lenghty response. Astoria sat back and waited for whatever comeback he may have. Not a moment later, he folded up the note only to stuff it in his pocket.

Astoria thought that this was hardly fair, so she made the very misguided decision of throwing whatever object that was in arms reach. Her quill hit him right in the arm, almost becoming lodged there due to the pointed tip.

"Bloody hell, what was that for?" he yelled at her, much to her and the class's amusement. Professor Flitwick did not find the outburst as amusing as his students.

"Mr. Malfoy, please refrain from using such profanities in my classroom! Ten points from Slytherin and if you do not pipe down, I will be forced to move you!" scolded the pint sized Professor.

Draco huffed and pursed his lips. He waited until the Professor had turned his back before he reached into his pocket and pulled out the note. He scribbled out his previous response and instead wrote: Resorting to petty acts of annoyance, are we, Astoria? He sent it flying back to her desk. She read the note once over, taking in the neat block script with a slight curl. She crumpled the piece of parchment and faced the blond boy. She smiled innocently before ignoring him completely.

This girl will be the death of me, I swear, ranted Draco in the safety of his own head.

Draco raised his hand and spoke, "On second thought, Professor, can I move to another seat?"

At the very back of the Charms room sat an annoyed Draco. Professor Flitwick had accepted the change of seating with a nod of his too big head. The little professor prattled on at the front of the class room, making large wand movements at regular intervals in time. Draco leaned back in his chair and set his eyes upon a certain blond head.

He could see her fidget uncomfortably in her seat; her twitches and jumps amused him. When he had asked to move seats she looked at him with and incredulous expression. She seemed annoyed, maybe even a little mad, but the emotion Draco couldn't determine was the one swimming behind her blue eyes.

Draco assumed that it was hurt, which made no sense to him in the first place. It was a seat. A bloody seat and she had to get all worked up over it. It had been her fault in the first place, with that stupid note of hers. Always trying to entice him, to get him heated up and Draco was ashamed to admit that most of the time her silly tactics worked. He supposed that she got a rise out of seeing him flustered. That's when Draco realized they weren't so different after all.

He enjoyed the same things she did; pushing people over the edge, asking questions that shouldn't be asked, playing games, and twisting words around. She was cunning and coy, and he liked it. Astoria was extreme, to say the least, taking small things a bit too far, but this only added to her charm. A tiny part in the back of Draco's brain whispered Veela. He was still set on his theory.

"Alright class, partner up! And please, for the love of Merlin, be cautious!"

The professor broke his reverie and all around him students jumped out of their seats, calling to each other from across the room, before settling down in pairs of two. He looked around the class only to remember that he was the only Slytherin to have Charms this hour. He groaned inwardly and closed his eyes, putting his face into his hands. When he looked up, Astoria was standing over him.

They looked at each other without uttering a word. Then, as usual, the Ravenclaw broke the silence.

"So, do you want to be partners? Or are you just going to move to the other side of the room again?" she asked him, her brows rose questioningly.

Draco considered his options for a moment. He could be partners with her and suffer –he used this word loosely-the hour or he could simply dash out of the classroom. Although the latter sounded very, very tempting, he decided against it. He gestured to the seat beside him, "Sit."

"Great," she beamed at him, dropping her bag on the floor and pulling out her wand. It was about as long as his own wand, he observed, but it was a dark red in color. She looked at him expectantly.

"Are we going to get started?" she asked him

He blinked. Truth was, Draco had no idea what they were actually supposed to be doing.

Astoria took note of his expression and cut him some slack, "Freeze Flame charm. That's what we have to do."

"I knew that," he told her snidely. She then proceeded to set the desk top on fire.

Draco stood up abruptly, causing his chair to fly out from under him. "What the hell! Are you trying to set me on fire?"

"No, I'm not, but it was fun to watch all the same."

Draco glared at the girl in front of him and crossed his arms defiantly over his chest. She took in his stand offish pose and shook her head bemusedly. He fought the childish urge to stick his tongue out at her and settled for scowling at the back of her pretty blond head.

"Get on with it then," he goaded her, pointing to the flaming desk.

"Patience, Draco. You can't rush a genius," she informed him. She brandished her wand at the fire and waved it with a flourish. Nothing happened.

"Try again, I don't think the genius did it properly," Draco said coolly.

"It worked," she insisted. "Go on and stick your hand in."

"I am not sticking my hand in that; you must have missed that very important life lesson as a child."

"Don't you trust me?" she asked him, eyes wide.

And that's when Draco knew that he was a goner.

She reached for his hand and entwined her fingers around his. Draco didn't want to admit to the fact that her perfect, tiny hand seemed to fit so well into his. She guided them both into the flames and let them rest there. All that could be felt was a warm, tingling sensation.

"See? I told you I did it right," Astoria said with a light laugh. Draco couldn't help but laugh along as the sound coming from her mouth was infectious.

The odd occurrence of Draco's laugh caused the whole class to forget what they were doing and turn in their direction. Many eyes bulged at the sight of two hands immersed in flames, and many mouths smirked at the sight of those two hands joined. Draco wrenched his hand from Astoria's grasp and balled them up into fists at his sides. She extracted her hand from the fire and rubbed it gently because of the sensation of the frozen fire or that loss of contact Draco would never know.

Professor Flitwick marched over to appraise their handy work. "Well done, Ms. Greengrass. Five points to Ravenclaw!" He scuttled away immediately after.

The pair stood in awkward silence for a moment, not exactly sure of what had just transpired.

"Well, you should give it a go, too," said Astoria, once again breaking the growing silence.

Draco held his wand and swished it round without much enthusiasm. Again, nothing happened. He stuck his hand out only to draw it in at the last moment. Touching the fire alone unnerved Draco, but he didn't want to ask Astoria for her hand after he had pulled it away not moments earlier. She seemed irked by his behaviour.

"Here, let me do it," she mumbled. Her hand seemed to dive right into the flames, and she was wrist deep before a scream escaped her lips. She pulled back her now raw hand and cradled it against her stomach. Draco watched helplessly as tears began to pool in her eyes; tears that she didn't let herself cry.

Draco reached for her silently and hugged her gently against his body. He wondered for an instant if this was too personal, but he didn't hear her complaining. The sight of her bloody hand caused his stomach to lurch and a voice at the back of his head whisper 'you did that'. He couldn't stand seeing her hurting, he realized. Astoria whimpered against his shoulder and something in his chest broke for the usually vivacious girl.

"Professor," he cried, trying not to jostle Astoria. "She burned her hand pretty badly. I'm taking her to Madame Pomfrey." It was more of a demand than a question.

He hooked one hand under Astoria's knees and secured one around her shoulder, then swept her off the floor. He weaved through the chaotic classroom, ignoring the accusing stares of his classmates. Draco walked purposefully towards the hospital, trying to be as careful as possible with the girl in his arms. She opened her mouth as if to say something, but then her head rolled back and she closed her eyes. Draco panicked at this point and – hand be damned – all but ran the rest of the distance.

Madame Pomfrey seemed alarmed at the sight of Draco Malfoy holding an unconscious girl in his arms. "She burned her whole hand in Charms class. Freeze Fire charm, it was my fault," he admitted to the old nurse.

"Well, don't just stand there! Set her down on that bed," said Madame Pomfrey, gesturing to an empty bed. Draco set her down slowly, laying her head on a pillow.

Pomfrey scurried over and pressed a hand to Astoria's forehead, and the examined her hand gently. "Nothing too bad, really, but magically enhanced fire is quite a bit worse than its natural counterpart. She's just in shock; that must have caused the fainting. Wait here, Mr. Malfoy."

He watched as the witch disappeared into a back room then turned his attention back to Astoria. Her eyes moved behind her lids, and her hand was beginning to blister. Draco felt compelled to say something, and what finally escaped his lips shocked him to the core.

"I'm sorry," he whispered.

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