Green grass sprinkled the granite cracks of the walkway, but no buds had yet blossomed in the cool, shady corridor.
Pillars arched like ribs all the way down the length of the hall, slicing the moonlight into beams across the stones. Like a windswept dryad, a young woman tilted and spun from one beam of light to the next. Under her twirling shadow, the quiet sprouts rippled and swayed. Her bare feet brushed the stones, but her light steps missed every sprout.
She looked too graceful for this world. Untouched by the reign of darkness You-Know-Who brought upon them. She looked free, peaceful, fragile, flower-like. Too delicate to even look at.
But Draco Malfoy could not look away. He stood with his back to a pillar, leaning into the granite, bending his neck to watch the dance. He had been here before, and every night he saw Astoria float and spin down the corridor, but he never dared to step out into the moonlight. He could not shatter the elegance and innocence he witnessed. He belonged in the dark.
The girl continued dancing to the gramophone melody, a scratchy symphony that did not deserve her beauty. With every twirl, she cast a sly grin toward the pillar. Draco stayed in the shadows, pretending their eyes did not meet.
He spent too many of his school days hiding in the shadows, waiting for the right moment to step out in ambush. He was either in the dark, alone and afraid, or in the light, a bully and braggart. He didn't know how to be seen without scorn. He didn't know how to enter the light and leave the dark behind.
Astoria stretched out her slender hand.
Draco held his breath.
She smiled. A look as pure as a dove's song.
You don't know me, Draco argued in his head. If you did, you would never reach for me.
As if in reply, she beckoned.
Draco sighed and reached out, and her hand slipped into his. With a tug, she led him—jerkingly, frightfully—into the moonlight.
"Do you know how to keep time?" asked Astoria.
Draco nodded, but he thought of all the time he'd lost. An entire childhood unkept and broken in the rubble.
Now he held Astoria's hand, and she looked up into his eyes. She didn't see him as the boy who tormented classmates and opened the door for death to invade their school. That boy was dead, and Astoria was one of the few people who saw that. She was not afraid to lead the new Draco Malfoy into the light of a second chance.