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Chapter 4

A few months later…

It was nice warm afternoon, but even that could not chase the cold out of his heart. It was always there, ever since that night when Harry Potter had killed the Dark… Voldemort, Draco reminded himself. I must remember to call him Voldemort. It was harder than he had previously thought, but in fact, he shouldn't have expected it to be easy – his whole life had been full of reverie for the Dark Lord – Tom, as Harry Potter called him – and his iminaginable power and abilities in magic. Well, at least that was not exaggerated – the D… Voldemort had possessed power that Draco had never seen in anyone else and hoped that he would never see again. Unfortunately, almost everything else his parents had told him had turned out to be a lie. All in all, a great disappointment.

I won't think of him. I lost my whole life so far in awe of him; I won't lose the second one thinking of him.

Easier said than done.

He wanted to sit in Florian Fortesque's and eat an ice cream and wondered whether this small pleasure would be worth all resentful glances that he would get out of virtually everyone who saw him. The Malfoy family was in no one's good graces right now. Who am I kidding? We'll never be in anyone's good graces, ever again. He thought about the way things had been only two years earlier, when so many pureblooded families had been scrambling to get into their good graces. How things changed. It was humiliating.

Anyway, it turned out that his debate over entering Fortescue's or not was in vain, since the Golden Trio – Harry Potter, Ron Weasley, and Hermione Granger – popped out of nowhere and went to have their ice cream and there was no way in hell that he would sit down in a radius of two miles from where they sat. Three, preferably.

They had a little bundle with them. It was so wrapped in white cloth that it looked like a luggage, but the shape of it was human and when it turned from side to side, it revealed brilliant blue hair and a wide smile.

Draco stood where he was, at the corner, and watched them. Since Harry Potter had helped his family escape legal punishment – since he had been charitable towards them, a thought that still left Draco with sour taste in his mouth, - he had never seen them face to face, but he had seen them from afar and had taken some grim delight in their obvious misery – at least he wasn't the only one suffering!

But now the bright summer had obviously went into their bones. They smiled and chatted, Weasley and Granger kissed over the little Metamorphmagus' head and Potter looked away, embarrassed, and used the moment to feed the baby a spoon of his own ice-cream… and Granger sharply turned her head towards him and snapped something. Potter looked at her guiltily. How she saw what he was doing, Draco wondered. They were behind her. Probably Granger had developed a sixth sense where the child and these two idiots of hers were included… they would probably kill him with their wise ideas, if she weren't watching.

They looked so disgustingly happy, it was sickening. Draco thought about the grim grandeur of Malfoy's manor, his father's dark silence and his mother, never crying, but each morning looking bloated with past weeping, the silent movements of the house elves. The mix of pity, love and yes, resentment that he felt for his parents. If anything, they all had turned into pariahs in the wizard society. Not that they didn't deserve it, but damn it, he hated every minute of it!

Sometimes, he wondered if living without fear was worth it.

And now the obvious happiness of the Golden Trio felt like a physical blow for him. Everyone in this bloody world seemed to be delirious with happiness. Everyone but Draco Malfoy.

"Hello."

At first, he didn't bother to look, because the girl, whoever she was, could not be talking to him. No one did. But then she came closer and stood behind him, and he blinked.

She wore a bright yellow robe that resembled somewhat a Muggle dress. The slight wind blew it a little and under the sunrays, she looked like a sunray herself – like a bright yellow flower. Her smile was brilliant – he had never seen her smiling like this.

The most beautiful girl in the world smiled at me, he found himself thinking.

"Hello," Astoria repeated, ever so joyfully.

"Hi." His own voice was significantly cooler.

"How are you?"

"I am fine," he lied. It was a lie, of course, for he was all but fine. Yet, damn it, if he let her see that. He still had his pride, after all, and she wasn't a friend. Since she had healed his arms, they had never talked again and she had resumed her former hostile altitude, which made the current change even more confusing: today, Astoria was all friendliness and smiles.

"Would you for a coffee?" she asked. "Or maybe an ice-cream?"

He wanted to snap at her, to tell her that she should stop playing games and pretend that she had forgotten her former hostile ways. He even opened his mouth to say so, but he found out that he couldn't. For first time since the Dark Lord… Voldemort's fall… someone was talking to him, asking how he was, wanting to be with him. He couldn't say no, even if they were Astoria Greengrass – the girl who he understood less of all and didn't like at all.

"I'd like to," he said and added, "Just not here."

She looked at Florian Fortescue's, saw the three celebrities there – Weasley's hair made him immediately stand out and the fluff on the kid's head had taken the same colour, repulsive! – and the photographers that were already gathering around them – and nodded. "Of course not."

They walked down the street, Astoria chatting away about anything – her holiday, the last bits of gossip, Daphne's new boyfriend and so on. She was acting like an old friend so convincingly that at one moment, the astounded Draco started asking himself whether all her hostility had not been a figment of his own imagination.

They drew a few glances, of course, all grim and baleful. They were all directed at Draco, but Astoria got her fair share just for being with him. Surprisinly, Draco felt annoyed on her behalf. She, however, didn't seem to mind.

She had never been so vibrant – not since he had started noticing her. He had no doubts about the reason. Living without fear really agreed with some people. He found himself really smiling at her over his ice-cream, happy just to be with someone.

Astoria suddenly ducked under the table and when she straightened again, Draco saw the small thing in her arms – a kitten, quite young, spotted, his front paw severely injured. It certainly had fleas, but that didn't seem to bother Astoria, who drew her wand out, before she remembered that she had no right to do magic out of school yet.

"Give me yours."

He looked blank. "Give you what?"

"Your wand," she said impatiently, "so the spell won't be traced back to me."

She must be joking. "You want my wand to use on a cat? A street cat?"

"Yes," she confirmed, "that's exactly what I want."

Stunned, he gave it to her anyway and saw how the new wand that he had never felt the desire to try out, did its first magic. Removing the fleas from a street cat's fur. If Narcissa Malfoy had seen it, he'd have never heard the end of it.

"You don't really intend to take him in, do you?" Draco asked.

"Why, yes. I have always felt empathy for creatures that need care and attention and he certainly qualifies here. He isn't the first cat I take home and treat."

"And you keep all of them?" He couldn't believe it. Her parents should have drawn a line somewhere.

"No." She grinned. "Not since I was ten. Then, my father decided to make an account for all the poor creatures that I had taken in. He almost fainted, when he found out that he was paying for the food of twelve cats, four dogs, and two pigeons."

Draco could fully sympathize with the man. Having all these animals, in addition to a daughter who was obviously insane could drive everyone mad.

"So, now it's limited to only two at a time. But I think I can pass that one out as a birthday present."

And so they sat – the blond ex-Death Eater, the dark-haired unusual Slytherin, and the kitten. The day suddenly looked brighter, and the sun warmed his skin more intensively. The sky was blue and clear, and Astoria was smiling.

He almost thought that living without fear would be worth it.

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So? Am I forgiven?

5