Summary: Draco feels there is something missing…and when he realizes what, he realizes nothing will ever be the same again.

Disclaimer: Harry Potter belongs to the wonderful, awe-inspiring, fantastic and beautifully imaginative role model that is JK Rowling.

Draco stormed around the corridors on this dreary November morning, feeling angry and agitated. His silver-blonde hair was tousled about his face, but in a way that said that he'd spent hours over it, making it look so carelessly perfect. His pointed, sophisticated face was twisted into a scowl. Draco was not happy.

Lately Draco kept feeling like something was missing. And he couldn't figure out what it was. It was driving him mad. For heaven's sake Draco, he thought angrily, nothing is missing! You're life is perfect. Stop worrying so much! Well now he knew what the little Malfoy in his head thought of this situation. And he would agree. It does not do for a Malfoy to worry about not having something they want. Everyone knows that Malfoys get whatever they want.

Well maybe that's the thing. He can't get what he wants this time because he has no clue what it is! Ugh! He kicked the wall in frustration, which probably wasn't a good idea as now his big toe was throbbing. He needed some air.

Draco walked outside onto the grounds, brooding immensely. It appeared that nobody was outside today. They sky was gray and ominous, emitting a damp, misty rain. A light fog seemed to hover about. Draco thanked his lucky stars that he had – by some happy mistake – used his Frizz-Ease products this morning…for it was a day that would surely make his hair look similar to Granger's. The thought made him shudder.

He stomped gloweringly across the grounds, letting his feet take him wherever they wished. He soon found himself heading towards the Quidditch Pitch. He might go for a quick ride. Flying usually helped him clear his head…unless he was competing against Potter. That always disoriented him. He felt the thirst, the need to be better than Potter and that took over all other emotions when the two were competing. Stupid bloody Potter.

Involuntarily he growled. Oh how he loathed Potter. And then, as if Potter had read his thoughts and felt the need to make Draco's day even worse, he spotted Potter flying around on the Quidditch Pitch. For a moment Draco's mind shut down. As much as he despised Potter, he could not deny that the boy was a decent flyer…OK so a good flyer…alright he was bloody amazing at it and anyone who denied it was either lying or credibly insane.

The way Potter flew was effortless and almost poetic Draco mused. What am I thinking…this is POTTER we're talking about, idiot! However Draco merely ignored the rude little voice in his head and continued to watch Potter fly. He seemed so light when he flew, like he was totally weightless. And in his face you could see the passion and peace he felt whilst he was flying. Draco couldn't look away.

That is until Potter noticed him and the blissful, contented look on his face was wiped off. Draco cursed himself for being spotted and noticed that Potter was landing.

CrapCrapCrap, the little voice muttered, Can you run? I think you can still run. No, then he'll think you're scared. Just insult him! Insult him!

Draco almost nodded to the voice in his head but caught himself just in time. "Good work Potter," he drawled sarcastically, "You'll need all the practice you can get if you have any chance of not humiliating yourself…or ending up in the hospital wing." Draco smirked. Take that Potter.

"Oh really witty, Malfoy, however if I recall…I haven't lost to you yet…even if I have ended up in the hospital wing." He shot back, wiping the smirk right off of Draco's face.

Stupid bloody Potter. Draco thought again. He thought frantically of something to say.

"So Potter, where are your dearest friends? Or have they all given up on you? It must be really depressing being ditched by a Charity case and a filthy mudblood." Draco applauded himself, not a bad insult, really.

Potter's eyes flashed with anger, and he lunged and Draco, knocking him to the ground. He sat on top of Draco, holding him firmly in place. He pulled out his wand and pointed it at Draco's chest. "Never," Harry spat, "Say that word in front of me." Draco couldn't deny he was scared. Nonetheless he couldn't just give up.

"Oh terribly sorry, Potter, does it remind you a little too much of your mummy dearest? I would've thought any memory of her would be cherished Potter…seeing as how there are so few." Inwardly, Draco cringed. That was a low blow and he knew it. He was disgusted with himself and actually hoped Harry would hit him.

Wait a second…when did it become Harry?! The voice had a good point and Draco became worried. However then Har-POTTER got off of him, and when Draco looked in his eyes he saw pain and fury. Draco felt…guilty?! Harry glared at Draco. "You aren't worth my time. You aren't worth fucking anything. You are positively worthless." And he stomped off, his firebolt under his arm, his hair messed about his head like a black halo.

And suddenly, with a jolt of horror and revulsion, Draco realized what exactly was missing.

: Aha! So darling little Draco knows exactly what is missing. Can you guess what it is? Hehehe Poor little Draco and the little voice in his head.

Draco: I cannot believe you actually brought up the voice in my head, that is just cruel. Everyone is going to think I'm insane. *pouts*

Harry: *smirks* A black halo? Cheesy enough? And Draco…my flying is poetic? Oh wow.

: These are my muses. They provide me with entertainment. :)