dear draco,

seven

I have never actually been to London before, and I tell Draco this. Encouraged by his astonished reaction, I go on;

"Only to King's Cross, for the Hogwarts Express. And well, here, but I've never actually been around London, if you know what I mean."

I sit down on the brick wall behind us and tell him about the trips I have been on, to different places around England, as well as several holidays to Ireland, to Galway and Donegal and Achill Island. How my father is Irish, so it suits us better to go there anyway, and how happy it makes him to be back in his home country and to see all his Irish family again.

Draco tells me all about all his own trips, to Tokyo and Stockholm and Moscow. Their family have so many connections that he has been to many faraway places, but what amazes me is how passionate he is about it; how much the different cultures fascinate him. I have never heard him talk about things that make him happy before, and he, I suppose, is astounding.

"It makes you feel small," he says slowly, as if carefully picking his words. "There's a whole world out there that we haven't even seen, full of people just as complicated as us. It makes you realise how egotistic we are."

"You, egotistic?" I say slyly, and he glares at me. "Never!" I laugh out loud and he relaxes a little. "I think that's our own fault," I say. "We're getting too used to amazing things. Like, you can buy your own star, right? But now so many people have their own star, that it's not special anymore. And there's no way to make getting someone a star special, or individual, because they're all just stars. It's not amazing anymore."

"So I could get you a star and you wouldn't even be grateful?"

I roll my eyes. "I mean, I would, but I would know that a million other people also have stars. And as I would never see it, it wouldn't actually be unique."

"You have very high standards." He smiles playfully. "I do wonder why you're single."

I hit his shoulder and he pouts. "We should all have high standards," I say, but he doesn't look convinced. "At least I don't have this ridiculous vision of love that everyone else does. You should hear the girls in the dorms, they would sacrifice limbs to live in the story of Blue Lagoon."

"What ridiculous vision of love?"

"Oh, you don't know?" I turn to him, and he looks puzzled. "I'll fill you in", I say decidedly. "Let me tell you just how messed up this world is. You find all these stories – thousands upon thousands of them – of this perfect, goody-two-shoes girl. And her love interest is conveniently the polar opposite – he's this rude, badass guy, who hates everyone, but it just so happens that he falls head over heels for her, and she's the only person that he'll listen to, and bla bla bla. So realistic, you know?" I kick up my leg to inspect my heel, and swing it back down. "And that's all that girls want these days! They want attention, they want someone to fall head over heels for them, even if that person is arrogant and conceited and condescending. Like, have they no respect for themselves?"

He leans forward, eyes sparkling. "Yeah, what's all the hype about arrogant guys?"

"I know, right?" I burst out, nearly spilling my drink in excitement. "Bad guys deserve bad girls, and good guys deserve good girls. We shouldn't all like the bad guys, that's boring."

Draco rests his arms on his legs and stares out at the city, where the night lights flicker on and off with eternal energy. "You really think it's that simple?"

"What do you mean?"

"Do you think it's so black and white?" he asks. "Do you think that's what we all are, either good or bad?" He sighs. "I don't think black or white exists. I think there's a little bit of both in everything. Infinite truths and reasons and meanings, you know?"

I watch him in fascination. His breath forms tiny clouds in the December air as he speaks, and his cheeks are rosy from the cold. Synthetic lights catch between his fair eyelashes, and he is truly and perfectly white, and I think, he's right; surely a person this angelic cannot be all bad.

He turns to me, awaiting my response and I blink. "Uh – yeah. Yes. That was deep."

"Yeah." He pauses. "Um. We should get you back. Wouldn't want your parents to worry or anything."

I nod and hop down, stumbling as I do so. He puts his hand on my back to steady me and I force a rude scoff. "I can help myself, Malfoy."

The sound of his last name seems to call us both to our senses. He snaps away his hand and we walk down the stairway in an awkward silence, the unexpectedly long conversation ringing in our ears.

My mother pounces on me the moment we re-enter the ballroom. "Where have you been? Isobel, I've been so worried-"

I shake her off, embarrassedly. "I'm fine, Mum, stop it. I'm sorry." Cringing under my mother's embrace, I glance at the spot where Draco was, but he has disappeared into the crowd.

-

When I awake the next morning, to the sweet sound of Christmas carols drifting around with the chilly Christmas breeze, I notice a small brown package at the end of my bed. I unwrap it curiously - my first Christmas present of the year - and out falls a delicate, silver necklace.

A small star pendant dangles at the end of the necklace. When I look closer to admire it, I notice its tiny engravings: I.Y. - my initials.

My own star.