The viewpoint from the tower was breathtaking. The city was lush beneath them, with sparkling waterfalls dancing through the streets as flows of crystal-clear water dropped from the edges of the city with a rush of droplets and foamy spray. Draco leaned against an aged light stone railing, silently watching the clamor of the market below. This entire city, tucked away, protected by centuries-old magic felt like stepping back in time. There was no Ministry of Magic, no Hogwarts, no semblance really of the life they left; yet there was life. Vibrant culture and a community that persisted for millennia. These people, they had no idea of Voldemort, of Death Eaters, of war – of any of the things that Hermione, or Harry, or Draco had dealt with. It was a type of peace that she had craved for a long time. 