Draco woke the next morning, the sky still softly dark. Sunrise was just moments beyond the horizon. He sat slowly, stretching out his sore muscles, cursing the bottles of wine he overindulged in the night prior. And silently, with a reverence Draco had not known he had, he watched the sun rise over the French valley, bathing the expanse of fields in a soft orange glow. Draco was sure that what ever laid beyond this life could never compare to this simple beauty. A small smile ghosted his lips and it was so genuine and achingly pure that he nearly felt guilty for it, knowing he was experiencing this alone when he instead should have been sharing it with another. 