Day 9-Draco:

Justice. The word felt wrong and unnatural on his tongue—and left a bitter aftertaste that he couldn't swallow. Justice did not exist in this world. Justice would be in a world where his parents had never been persecuted, where Voldemort had never risen to power, and where he, Draco, had not been faced with decisions and consequences that no man (no boy) should have to make.

His hands shook at the thought of revenge. Exacting everything that had gone wrong—perhaps making up for the lack of justice in his own course of life. Draco, the morning of his ninth day of imprisonment, focused on revenge as he woke up. He woke up earlier than Astoria, as they had both fallen asleep in a rather riled mood just hours before. He woke with a sudden determination in his heart that he hadn't felt in quite a while. Excited and anxious, Draco began to plan. He found a marbled rock under his cot and raised it to the wall, ready to carve the names of those who had betrayed him, those who would be the subjects of his wrath—

And then he lowered his hand. He let the rock drop to the floor. This was the problem, then. He didn't have any names. He didn't have anyone to exact revenge on, except perhaps the Ministry, but more specifically, he didn't know who in the Ministry had betrayed him. How could he work on a plan to avenge his own dignity when he didn't even know why he had been imprisoned in the first place?

Draco sat down on the floor and crossed his legs. He leaned his chin on the palm of his hand, musing. Perhaps he could trace it back to the end of the Wizarding War.

The fights had gone, Voldemort was dead, and things had begun to return back to normal. But after the fall of Voldemort, when the new Minister was instated, the trials began to take place. Trials of war criminals, crime lords, Death Eaters. Draco and his father were both publicized, they had been summoned to testify about their connections to Voldemort just days after the war—but they had not been arrested. Harry Potter had provided them a pardon, for the time being, thanks to Narcissa's actions the night of the Hogwarts battle.

But then, the day Draco and his father were supposed to show up for the hearings, a paper showed up on their doorstep. This was unusual, as the property was highly protected, and the Daily Prophet only arrived when Lucius's handsome owl, Alionus, soared through the window during breakfast. The paper that arrived on their doorstep featured the headline: The Malfoy Testimonies: Friends or Foe? Someone, whoever had brought the paper by, had crossed out the faces of Draco and his Father with red ink, so that the moving little people in the picture clutched their faces with agony, the scribbles hiding their features entirely. On the top of the paper, someone had written: Run.

"Father," Draco had asked, gripping the top corner of the paper. "What the hell is this rubbish?"

"I think," Lucius said, his brow furrowed. "Someone is trying to warn us of something."

"But what?" Draco scoffed.

"I don't know," Lucius said, looking off into the distance, his eyes suddenly alert. "Draco, get inside." Draco had filed inside, perturbed and annoyed by his father's attitude. It was only a stupid prank.

But then, just a half hour later, Draco saw that it was not. His mother had screamed. She was down the hall, in the parlor, and when she screamed, Draco ran to her. Narcissa was standing, frozen, at the window, staring down at the grounds. A troop of Ministry officials were marching down the driveway, wands at the ready. A pair of dementors glided in their wake, arms outstretched, as if waiting to embrace Draco. He shivered, and stood with his mother, transfixed, watching them approach the house.

"Narcissa, Draco," Lucius came running into the room, holding a leather bag in his hand. He grabbed his wife's elbow, and she put a hand over her mouth, her eyes wide and terrified.

"What's going on?" Draco asked, panic rising in his throat. He glanced back down outside.

"It's the dementors," Lucius said grimly. "When they are about to feed on a soul, you can see their breath. See, Draco?" Draco glanced out the window. Indeed, the dementors had soft clouds of black smoke emerging from under their hoods. "They're not here to get testimony. They're here to kill." One of the Ministry officials suddenly looked up directly at the window where Draco and his parent were huddled. He cast a sudden curse, blasting the glass apart. Narcissa let out a shrill scream, and Lucius had grabbed them both and apparated on the spot.

"Draco?" Astoria was calling his name. "Draco?"

"Yeah," Draco replied, jerking out of his thoughts. He clutched the back of his neck with a hand and then rolled it back and forth, cracking the joints. He glanced towards her, to see that she was laying in her cot still, tossing back and forth underneath the covers. "Astoria?"

"Draco," she moaned. He could see her body flailing, as if she were having seizure. Her head jerked wildly from side to side, her waterfall of shining hair flying through the air. "Help. Help me!"

"Astoria, wake up," Draco urged. He gripped the bars and kicked his foot at the metal, trying to wake her. "You're dreaming."

"Draco!" She screamed, sitting upright. She screamed and screamed, and her eyes flew open, the skin taut as her face morphed into a mask of horror. She screamed in short gasps, and then collapsed, breathing heavily and whimpering.

"Astoria?" Draco asked after a moment of silence, tentatively. "Are you alright?" He could see her hands squabbling at her own face, trying to wipe the sweat away, as she blinked rapidly.

"I know why," she murmured, just loudly enough that he could hear. "I know why you're here."

Day 133-Astoria:

At Hogwarts, Astoria had fallen in love three times. Once, with the Astronomy Tower, which always provided a glistening view of the grounds and a promising palate of the stars above. Second, with her own brilliance, which she had mastered at a young age, using it as a weapon against all who she deemed to be below her. And third, at a young age, Astoria had fallen madly, deeply, in love with Draco Malfoy. But he didn't know that, of course.

Astoria had fallen in love with Draco Malfoy when she was just eleven years old. At the time, he was a third year, two years older and very aware of it. He lorded his authority over the younger students with a surprising amount of force and authority for someone so young. And Astoria noticed him, but he never noticed her, or rather, never gave any sign he noticed her. And for Astoria's part, she didn't know much about him other than his frighteningly austere aura. This changed with during the Slytherin Quidditch Tryouts.

Astoria decided to sneak onto the team. She had a plan. She might have been just eleven, but Harry Potter had proved his skill when he was her age and had made the Gryffindor team. She planned on doing the same. After all, she had played her father many a time at their own estate, and he had almost played for Ireland. She arrived at the Tryouts clutching her new Nimbus, ready to ride, glancing up nervously at the fifth and sixth years she was up against.

The captain, Marcus Flint, stood by, the only one exempt during tryouts; he yelled at them to start speeding drills, flying around the pitch as fast as they could. Second, he commanded them to do passing drills, tossing the quaffle as they looped back and forth around each other. Astoria was relieved as she threw a great toss to Adrian Pucey. No one had noticed that she did not belong. And then, for the final drill, Flint commanded they try a scrimmage. Astoria was put on Draco's team, along with Pucey and Flint himself. On the other side were Draco's friends, Crabbe and Goyle, who appeared to be trying out for beaters.

The match started out all right. Astoria and Pucey threw some good passes, and once, Astoria managed to dart up between Crabbe and Goyle and throw the quaffle right through the middle hoop.

"Nice job," Draco muttered as he flew by, smirking when he suddenly spotted the snitch.

"Thank you," Astoria called back, but it was too late. He had already gone too far. She grinned stupidly at the recognition of her own talent, when suddenly; she saw something hurtling towards her out of the corner of her eye. A bludger, obviously rogue, was coming right towards her.

"Watch out!" A sixth year girl called to her. Astoria ducked, and wobbled on her broom. Her hands, slick with nervous sweat, couldn't grasp the thin handle. Astoria slipped off the side of her broom, just managing to hold on with a few of her fingers, which, of course, began to sweat more from her own nerves. The players shouted to stop the time, and began to fly towards her, hoping to help. Astoria shut her eyes and tried to grasp the broom handle, but found that her hands were too slick. The broom began to move a bit, flying towards the end of the pitch in an exponentially quickening pace. Astoria couldn't help it—she screeched.

"Hey!" Draco had flown up besides her, and was holding out a hand. "Come on, take my hand."

"I can't," Astoria whimpered, looking down to the ground. If she fell, surely, she would break her neck.

"You're going to hurt yourself if you don't take my hand," Draco had told her. It was as if he read her mind. "It's not as if it makes a difference to me, I was trying to do you a favor."

Astoria winced, glared, and then swung her free hand up, holding tightly onto Draco's. He managed, somehow, to hook an arm around her waist and pull her up in front of him, guiding his arms around her as he touched his broom down to the ground lightly. Astoria's eyes were closed the whole time, both out of fear and mortification. But when they landed, Draco lightly pushed her off the end of the broom, and then grasped her shoulder.

"Hey kid," he said, and Astoria's eyes flew open.

"I'm not a kid," she said instinctively.

"Right," Draco said. "Look, you're a first year. I can tell."

Astoria's face must have betrayed her fear, and Draco's face slid into a mask of confused frustration. He knit his brow and then sighed and glanced over his shoulder. The rest of the members had resumed playing without him.

"Look, I'm supposed to tell Snape if any first years try out, he would punish you. But you look scared shitless, so just leave before Flint notices you, okay?"

"But I wanted to try out," Astoria whispered, her plan shattered before her own eyes.

"Next year, kid. Now go!" Draco soared back into the sky, releasing her shoulder with a slight squeeze. Astoria watched him go. As she did, Draco darted a bludger and then sunk his elbow into a fourth years back, sending the boy's broom rocketing down to the ground, leaving the shaft of the broom to shatter upon impact. Astoria recoiled.

Why had he been kind to her? It was not once, but twice now. And yet, he had failed to look her in the eye, or even to ask her name. It was then that Astoria realized, for reasons she could not quite fathom, that she loved the side of Draco Malfoy that had been revealed to her. She had a feeling it was not a side many people saw of him. She appreciated this—it was like a secret the two of them shared. Someday, Astoria promised herself as she lay in bed at night, her nimbus safely locked in the trunk at the foot of her mattress, Draco Malfoy would see every side of her, and he would love her as she loved him.

A/N: Please remember to review, guys! I hate to be a nag, but constructive comments really help me improve. Thanks!