Chapter 2:

Draco sat up in bed, a scream escaping his lips, the cool sheen of sweat beading on his forehead. Scenes of death still ran rampant in his head. He rubbed his eyes, and pulled his hands away wet. Tears.

He hated how weak he was.

Shaking his head to rid himself of the last remnants of the nightmare, he stood. Before dressing, he looked at himself in the mirror. His pale skin was covered in small yellow splotches. The bruises were healing. His cut had healed considerably too, but those were minor things. He was more concerned with the way his bones poked out of his skin, the way he looked starved and oh so tired. He nearly looked dead.

Pulling on clothes, not bothering to impress anyone today, he thought of how drastically his life had changed since his last years at Hogwarts. He had done so much thinking in one year compared to his entire life. As a child, he would just follow what his father told him, and he believed it was right. But he couldn't have been more wrong. Voldemort was a cruel and conceited man, as was his father. Many people were hurt at the hands of the Malfoy family, and Draco didn't want to continue that tradition.

And the gay part? Draco never really felt quite right with Pansy, nor was he attracted to any of the other girls he had seen, unlike Blaise Zabini who was perfectly content with staring at Granger. Draco gave a little smirk at the thought of Zabini's late night rants about her and pulled a box of Muggle cereal from a cabinet in his cramped kitchen. When he reached up, the sleeve of his shirt fell, revealing his extremely faded Dark Mark. He had tried everything to make it go away, but the stubborn mark stayed.

Rubbing it slightly, he poured himself the cereal and milk and sat down to eat. He could barely stomach the food, but he knew he had to eat it. He hadn't eaten a full meal in days. He pushed the bowl away and stood gracefully, one thing he had retained from his past, and looked at the clock. It was 6 in the evening, Draco not having gone to bed until 5 a.m. and not falling asleep till 7. He pulled on a jacket and walked out of the door to his apartment, careful to avoid his overprotective landlady, who knew how little he was even in the apartment. She was sweet, but Draco wasn't in the mood to answer questions.

He walked swiftly and smoothly down the street, avoiding the prostitutes that seemed to be everywhere. He tossed a homeless man a small bagful of change and gave a sad looking girl a soft smile. The Muggle world was so very different from the Wizarding world. It was sadder, bleaker, and less colorful. But Draco fit in perfectly with his pale blonde hair, his silver eyes, his dark clothes. Seemingly devoid of color.

Having walked only 15 minutes, he reached his destination, a small bar which he frequently visited, searching for someone like him. Pulling open the doors, he stepped in and sat at a stool at the bar, a seat that he had worn a dent into. The seat next to him was taken up by a toned redhead who was sipping a concoction Muggles like to call a 'Long Island Ice Tea'. Draco ordered a brew, and, upon taking a drink, muttered "Not nearly as good as butterbeer."

Apperantly he hadn't spoken quietly enough, because the man leaned a bit closer. "Excuse me, mate, but did you just say something 'bout butterbeer?"Draco looked up in a panic. Would one silly comment force him to reveal wizarding secrets and get his wand stripped from him.

"I-I…" Draco just stuttered, looking into the man's soft, and handsome face. Then his eyes widened in recognition, as did the other man's. Red hair, freckles, must be a Weasley! Draco thought to himself. Thin, pale, blonde, it's Draco bloody Malfoy! Ron thought, ready to fight with him.

"Ron…" Draco looked at him, sensing his anger. The bigger man relaxed a little.

"On a first name basis now, are we, Draco?"

Draco nodded ad sipped the amber liquid, making a face. "This tastes like goblin's piss."

Ron, still slightly tense, just eyed the blonde.

Draco frowned. "I've changed, Ron, a lot. I'm not evil, I hate my father and the things he taught me, I'm not a Death Eater, and I don't hate you. I never did. I know you probably still have your anger at me and I accept that."

Ron looked into Draco's clear silvery eyes and he could tell that the boy he once hated had grown into an honest young man. Ron scratched his nose in thought. Can I trust him?

Draco looked at the ground, corn silk-like hair falling into his face. "I understand if you don't trust me."

"Draco, don't send me on a bloody guilt trip." Ron smiled slightly. Draco looked up and smiled back, a fresh, kind smile unlike his haughty smirks of the past. Ron was slightly taken aback by Draco's attractive features. High cheekbones, smooth flawless skin, very kissable lips. Ron blinked for a moment and looked at Draco again. He found two things he would change. The purple circles under his eyes, and a pink scar on his right cheek.

"What happened to your cheek, Draco?" Draco bit his lip.

"It's nothing important Ron, don't worry about it." Draco stared into his now-empty glass, just trying to avoid Ron's quizzical look. Ron touched Draco's chin with a large and pleasantly warm hand, turning his face to him.

"Don't lie to me, Malfoy." Ron frowned, looking into Draco's eyes. "What happened?"

"My father hit me. But it's fine, really…" Draco's eyes went kind of misty, thinking about all of the times his father had hit him. Suddenly, he couldn't think. Ron had pulled him into a warm and shocking embrace. When he pulled away, Draco just stared at him, wide-eyed.

"Sorry," Ron mumbled, "just thought it would help." He looked at Draco with kind sapphire eyes, a worried expression on his face.

Draco smiled at him. "It did, Ron." Draco looked slightly confused for a moment. "Wait, why are you at a gay bar in the Muggle world? Just curious."

Ron let out a large and infectious laugh. "Well, Draco, you aren't the only one who's changed."

"But… Granger?..." Ron shook his head.

"Hermione wasn't my cup of tea. Or Lavender, or anyone of the female persuasion." Ron finished his drink and was about to order another when he turned to Draco. "Or we could go back to my flat and have some butterbeer?"

Draco needed help, he needed a fresh start. Could Ron Weasley be his new hope?