~ seven years ~

"Malfoy, you want to come to the Leaky Couldron with us?"

Draco looked up to see Harry Potter standing in the doorway of his office, the famous auror's hair still disheveled and his spectacles still crooked like always. Behind him, Ron Weasley and Dean Thomas both stood there looking a little miffed, though they didn't say anything.

Draco smiled thinly. Though it'd been seven years since the war, people in the Ministry still skirted by him and his blackened name. They all knew the Malfoys had helped the Potters in the end - both Dawn and Harry had made sure their name was cleared - but no one could forget the cruelty of the Malfoys before that, and Draco knew that the very sight of him reminded many people of the horrors they'd had to face. The only person who'd ever went out of his way to be friendly to him was Harry - he had been the one to approach Draco and ask him if he wanted to join the Auror's office, and since Harry was a war hero, the rest of the Ministry had grudgingly allowed this to happen.

"Another time, maybe," Draco replied. "I'm having dinner with Astoria tonight. Thanks for the offer though."

Behind Harry, Ron and Dean didn't bother hiding their relief, but Potter looked disappointed. "Alright, I guess I'll see you tomorrow then."

"Yeah, see you," Draco said, this time with a real smile.

Harry turned to go, but then paused.

"Also, Malfoy, I just wanted to tell you… Dawn's back in London."

Draco looked up in surprise. "Since when?"

"She came back a week ago, but not that many people know because she's been avoiding public areas. I'm fairly certain the Prophet caught wind of it though, so it'll probably be in the paper somewhere soon."

"When's she going to leave?"

Harry looked at him strangely. "She's coming back permanently, I think."

Draco absorbed this in silence. The last time he'd seen Dawn was after the war, when she came to the Malfoy Manor uninvited. She had came to tell them she was moving to France to find a job in the Ministry there. She'd said something about wanting to travel the world, maybe work at the Foreign Embassy. And then she had left and never returned. No owls, no visits. Draco hadn't heard from Dawn Potter in almost seven years.

"Why is she coming back?"

Harry reached into his robes and pulled out a folded piece of parchment. "This was the explanation she gave me."

Draco unfolded the letter to see the familiar flowing script of Dawn's writing. He jaw clenched involuntarily.

L

Dear Harry,

Sorry for the late reply. I've just finished wrapping up all my affairs in France and Italy, so I think I'll be able to arrive in London in a couple days. I bought an apartment not far from the Leaky Cauldron, so I won't need to move into Godric Hallows - thanks for the offer though.

As for your question to why I'm coming back, well, I guess it's simply because I've decided to stop running. I left London because I couldn't stand being reminded of everything that happened at every turn of the street. I hated that people looked at me as if I was some kind of heroine because I was not. I hated that they were so quick to forgive me, but not the Malfoys, when what I did was much, much worse than them. I guess I wasn't ready to be forgiven when I hadn't even forgiven myself yet.

France was an amazing experience. The people there hadn't really heard of the war - only vague news of it. I could live a new life, be a new person. I met many amazing friends here. I got to travel to so many places - I even lived in Italy for a couple years. But it didn't feel real. London may hide a lot of ugly pasts and truths, but they still are my past and truths.

I'm coming home, brother. I'm sorry I never wrote to you until recently. I'm sorry I didn't have the courage to face the consequences of my actions the way you did - I guess the hat was right in that sense, I'm not a Gryffindor. But hey, better late than never, right?

Love,

Dawn

L

"She didn't sign it Shadow," Draco mused aloud. Then he looked up and realized his office was empty. Harry had left him alone in his thoughts.

Gingerly, he folded the parchment and pushed it away from him. He packed everything away, until only the letter lay at the center of his desk. He stared at it, half wanting to burn it.

Fifteen minutes later he was striding down Diagon Alley, his robes billowing behind him. People glanced at him and looked away. Malfoy, their glances seemed to hiss. He didn't pay them any attention, his focus fixed on the dark-haired woman waiting on the side of the road.

"Astoria," Draco came up behind her and wrapped his arms around her small frame. "Sorry to have kept you waiting."

She looked up at him, her gaze unblaming, yet her smile seemed a little strained. Gently, she extricated herself from his arms and turned to face him. "We need to talk."

Draco frowned at her words, then followed her into the restaurant. Astoria seemed tense, yet Draco couldn't think of why she would be. Had he unknowingly upset her again? He had always felt she was too good to him, that he didn't deserve her. She'd been there to pick up his broken pieces after the war had ended, after Dawn had left, and it had been Astoria who had slowly put the pieces back together.

Once they were seated and had ordered, Astoria pulled out a copy of the Daily Prophet and wordlessly slid it over the table to him. Puzzled, he picked it up. The front lines blared: DAWN POTTER SPOTTED BACK IN LONDON. Beneath it, a slim woman was crossing the street, her face largely obscured by dark sunglasses. Beside her was unmistakably Harry, his scar catching the sunlight as he turned slightly towards the cameraman in surprise.

He glanced up at Astoria, who nodded at the paper. "Read it."

He obeyed.

Dawn Potter is back in London, and this time it's for good. Reliable sources say that she's been back for around a week, though why she came back is still uncertain. She's already been in contact with her brother, the famous war hero Harry Potter, and the Weasley family, but besides that she's been keeping well out of the limelight. It's been seven years since Dawn has returned to London; ever since the war ended, she's been out of touch with everyone back at home. Our contacts in the foreign ministries do not know why she chose to come back to London after all this time, except that she wants to go home. It's been said that she bought an apartment in high-end London, not far from Malfoy Manor. Perhaps her next move will be to rekindle her friendship with Draco Malfoy? We've never been certain whether or not their relationship was one of lovers or just friends, but Astoria Greengrass better watch out!

Draco stopped reading. "Astoria, don't listen to them. You know it's not true. Dawn and I haven't been in touch ever since she left London."

Astoria spread a napkin over her lap calmly, her expression unreadable. "Do you remember how we first met, Draco?"

He blinked, thrown by the change in topic. "The Christmas break before the war ended."

"Not when, Draco, how." She looked at him, her brown eyes soft. "You and Dawn came to the Greengrass Manor to escape the Dark Lord's wrath. That was the first time I talked to you. I had known about you before, of course. All the Slytherin girls had known about you. We had known about how you and Dawn Potter were an inseparable pair. First, a pair as the best of friends. Then, a pair as the most enviable of lovers. After that, a pair of the most bitter, cold enemies, after what happened between you and Pansy Parkinson that everyone would talk nonstop about. And finally, during the war, a pair of the most steadfast, loyal partner-in-arms. That day when I saw how you cared for Dawn, how you made sure she ate all her food, how you stayed up in the guest room with her for countless hours, talking and comforting her, I knew that you would forever be a pair, in one way or another."

She took a deep breath, her eyes still on her lap. "The world knew it too. My sister even warned me when she realized I was falling for you, she said, 'Be careful, Daphne. Draco's always been in love with Dawn, and whether or not he'll actually admit it, he'll never stop loving her.' So when I started visiting you after the war, I hadn't hoped for anything. I had just been doing your mother a favor and keeping you company. But you had been so lost, and Dawn had left without a word with seeming no intention of coming back… so I had stayed.

"But Dawn's back now… and it's time I left. I know I can't hope to compete with her, and I don't want to. I know that right now, as of this moment, you love me. And I trust you - I really do. I just don't trust myself. I know that if Dawn's back, I will constantly doubt myself, and constantly feel like I'm being held to a standard I cannot compare with. I don't want to live like that, Draco."

Draco felt as if the breath had been punched out of him. He stared across the table at the woman he loved, searching desperately for a hint of uncertainty in her brown eyes. There was none. Astoria looked back resolutely, her face set in grim determination.

"Astoria…" he managed to say, feeling winded. "Astoria, you can't do this."

"Draco," she said gently, her eyes sad, "I have to."

"No you don't! You're just overthinking things! Dawn's return won't change anything, Astoria. Perhaps we were close before she left, but she's been gone seven years. I've been with you for almost five. Do all those years not mean anything to you? Have more faith in me, Astoria. I love you more than that."

Her composure crumpled slightly under his words. "Draco, please don't make this harder for me. I've thought about it for a long time - even before I got word that Dawn came back to London. It's something Daphne and I've discussed very carefully. Please, understand that I do not doubt you will be faithful. I just know that my own insecurities will cause greater problems in the future down the line, and I don't want to put either of us through that."

"So you're not even going to give us a chance to work out those problems, Astoria?" Draco asked in disbelief. "Please, Astoria, you cannot do this. Please don't leave me."

Pain flashed through her eyes, but instead of weakening her, it only seemed to strengthened her resolve. He felt his fear rise. Astoria's determination and wisdom were one of the many things he admired about her, but he did not want them to win out now.

"Draco, I love you very much, but… to put it bluntly, I love myself more. I want to be able to look Dawn Potter in the eye and feel confident in myself, as well as admiration untainted by jealousy. Perhaps a future between us would be worth the pain and uncertainties in between… but truth be told, Draco, I think a future between you and Dawn would be worth this current pain more."

"Leave my future's worth up to me, Astoria!" Draco said furiously. "I believe you are worth it!"

Astoria stood up, making his heart leap in panic. Her eyes held an infinite amount of sadness. "But I don't," she said, so softly that Draco heard his own heart break. She folded the napkin carefully and set it on the table. "I'm leaving on a business trip tomorrow, so don't try to look for me. And please, Draco,' she looked at him, eyes serious, "don't grieve too long."

She walked away.

Draco snapped out of his shock and ran after her. "Astoria, wait!"

He caught her just outside the restaurant door. "Astoria, stop -"

"Let me go, Draco," she said, pulling her arm from his grasp.

"Astoria, listen to me -"

She whirled around and planted a hand on his chest, stopping him dead on his feet. "Draco Malfoy," she said in a low voice. "Let me go."

He stared at her, speechless.

"Let me go," she repeated softer. Then she stepped back, and with one final look at him, Disapparated.

"No!" Draco lunged forward, but it was too late. His hands closed around thin air.

A bright flash blinded him before he could curse the world into oblivion. He whipped around just as the photographer lowered his camera. Rage overcame him.

"What the fuck do you think you're doing?" he yelled, raising his hand, before he realized he wasn't holding his wand, just a newspaper. The newspaper on Dawn. The thought froze him, long enough for his senses to catch up to him. Crumpling the paper in disgust, he gave another deathly glare at the cowering photographer before turning with every bloody scrap of determination and deliberation to take him to a destination as far as he could bloody think of.

When Draco reappeared, the ground slammed into his feet so hard he lost balance and toppled over. When he picked himself back up, he almost blanched. His mind had taken him to the Greengrass Manor. But Astoria wouldn't be here, he knew. She would be gone, gone permanently until she knew he'd given up.

Fuck this shit. He was about to Disapparate out of there again when another thought hit him. Astoria wouldn't be home, but Daphne would.

Daphne. Daphne, who had told Astoria to leave Draco. Daphne, who must've also been the one who told Astoria of Dawn's return.

Not here, of course, she'd moved out last year, when she and Blaise had gotten married. But she would be home.

Draco was disapparating before his mind even finished the thought.

He appeared directly into Zabini household without even knocking on the door. "Daphne!" he bellowed. A crash and a delicate tinkling sounded from the kitchen, and Daphne ran out, still wearing an oven mitt, her eyes wide with shock. The moment Draco saw her, he seized her by the front of her shirt. "Why did you tell her those things?" He shook her. "How could you do that to me?"

"Wha -" Daphne backpedaled as his anger crashed over her, but he gripped her too strongly. "Draco, calm down, I have no idea what you're talking about -"

"Yeah?" he snarled, dragging her over to the dinner table and slapping the crumpled newspaper down. "Can you explain that then?"

She stared down at the picture of Dawn, then back up at him. "What in Merlin's name are you talking about?"

"Astoria!" he bellowed. "I'm talking about Astoria -"

"Hey!" Footsteps pounded, and hands wrenched Draco away from Daphne. "Let go of her, you oaf!"

Draco whirled on the intruder, wand out. "Stay out of this, Blaise -"

His words stopped dead in his throat, mid-sentence. It was almost as if a physical barrier had suddenly appeared, and the rest of his sentence slammed into it with the speed and intensity of a freight train.

Time stumbled a little bit.

Not only that. It stumbled, tripped, then fell flat on its face.

Draco stared.

His eyes travelled up the slender jaw, smooth cheeks, and straight nose before it lighted on a familiar, piercing green.

Standing in front of him, with her wand pointing at his heart, was Dawn Potter.

The two of them stared at each other.

France, or Italy, or wherever she had been, had clearly been good for Dawn. Her skin was tanned; it glowed now, in the gentle light of the room. The last time he'd saw her, she'd been gaunt and haunted from the war, just a ghost to the world. It was very clear, though, that she was back now. Even her eyes had regained their viridescent light, their calm confidence.

I need to find myself first, he remembered she had told him before she left. Clearly, she did.

She looked so beautiful it hurt Draco. Made him angry. Very angry.

"What the fuck are you doing here?" he spat out.

Dawn flinched, as if he had hit her. He wish he had. Who was she to show up in front of him, just like that, seconds after Astoria left him? What had he done for fate to laugh so cruelly in his face?

"I'm back," she said quietly.

"I know that," he sneered. "I'm asking why you're here, in front of me. What gives you the right to look me in the eye after all these years?"

"I… I -"

"Dawn's here because Blaise and I invited her for dinner," Daphne said loudly, glaring at Draco. "You, on the other hand, were not invited. So if you want to leave, feel free to do so -"

"I owled you!" The words tore from his throat, burned into the air between them. "I sent you so many letters. Birthday gifts, even. And you didn't reply to a single one! Why didn't you reply to me? Why didn't you reply to me?"

"Draco, I -"

"Get out," he snarled. "Get out! I don't want to see you. Not now. Not this moment. Go back to France, or Italy, or wherever the fuck you were -"

The door to the apartment opened, and Blaise walked in, his smile turning into alarm when he saw the scene. "Woah, what's going on here?"

Then he saw Dawn, and then looked at Draco, and his face morphed into something entirely different. "Oh."

"Draco, I'm sorry," said Dawn quietly.

The words punched him in the heart. "Oh, you're sorry? You're sorry?"

"Draco, calm down," Daphne said, waving her oven mitt in the air. "You're emotional. You're tired. Maybe this conversation should continue another time -"

"Don't you dare tell me to calm down," he snarled. "Astoria broke up with me because she -" he pointed at Dawn, "- is back. And you encouraged her!"

Daphne paled slightly. "Oh."

"Draco, mate -" Blaise began.

"I'm leaving," Draco snapped. "And you," he glared at Dawn, "you better be gone the next time I'm here."

Then he stormed out the door, letting in a chilling gust of air before a slam sealed his departure.

Seven years.

Seven years.

Outside, it had started to snow.