She glanced up, eyes locking onto mine across the courtyard; my birthday gift glimmering, refracting the sunlight against her skin. I knew now who she was and it filled me with dread. My forearm throbbed and I winced, turning from her, retreating back into the shadows, I could never tell her it was me. If 'he' knew I cared for another, he would only kill her too if I failed...

There was a time Draco Malfoy thought he would never know the feeling of true happiness again. A world away, back turned to all he knew, he finally found it. When a freak accident lands a certain bushy haired, know-it-all in his care, he stands to lose everything. Will his story be enough to keep her from alerting Wizarding Britain there is still one Deatheater un-captured?