Inferno | Draco Malfoy

108 | A Night Too Bright to Sleep

Late June
1999.

It is well past curfew (nearly the stroke of midnight) and yet, in a twist of fate, we have managed to elude the ever-watchful prefects on their nightly patrols, sneaking into the quiet refuge of the out-of-bounds Astronomy Tower.

At the centre of our gathering lies Theo's prized possession: a small gramophone he'd shamelessly pilfered from a long-forgotten classroom, its brass horn dulled with age, now spinning a few tunes, as the melodies spill lazily through the tower, crackling in between songs.

Spread before us is our feast, laid out like a trove looted from a clandestine raid: bottles of firewhisky glinting in amber, a great bowl of popcorn with a serving spoon jutting out at an angle, brown parchment bags waiting beside it for us to claim our bounty, and glossy packets of Barry's Berries chocolate that gleam like scattered jewels. 

We sit in a circle, as close as ever, but somehow closer still. And, we're clad in matching pyjamas, the spoils of a spirited bet over Exploding Snap, where the losers had to wear pink. The girls and I lounge in sleek, black, silk button-up tops and shorts, effortlessly comfortable in the summer warmth. The boys, meanwhile, have been consigned to soft pink sets. The silk gleams treacherously in the low light, yet they take it all in stride, wearing their forfeit with good humour, unfazed by the colour, secure enough to laugh at their loss.

Our mirth resonates with a newfound freedom, untainted by nerves but unshackled by the undeniable truth we can no longer ignore: the last of our exams are behind us, and with them, our time here is drawing to a close.

Theo leans against Pansy, his arm slung with practiced ease over her shoulder, while a half-emptied bottle of firewhisky dangles carelessly from his other hand. Blaise sits close beside Daphne, his arm snug around her waist; their fingers toying with one another in quiet play over a bag of popcorn balanced between them.

And then there's Draco, closer to me than a shadow on a sunny day. My head rests against his shoulder and his arms curl around me, protective and unyielding, as I let a square of milk chocolate, mixed with crushed berries, melt on my tongue. Every shift of his weight, every subtle squeeze of his fingers along my arm, feels intentional, yet so natural.

"For each 'Exceeds Expectations' I manage, how about a handsome sum of ten Galleons from each of you?" Theo proclaims with a mischievous smile, evidently amused by his own bon mot.

I chuckle, hardly able to fathom that, at long last, the relentless gauntlet of N.E.W.T.s is a thing of the past. The preceding months have felt like nothing short of a trial by fire: hours of frantic revision crammed into every available moment, all in a bid to compensate for the vast and utterly insane amount of content.

Still, I'm confident. If I don't walk away with an 'Outstanding' in nearly all my subjects, I will gladly eat my hat. Transfiguration, in particular, has become my quiet triumph. Draco's patient guidance pulled me through, his incisive explanations cutting through concepts that once seemed insurmountable. Even Professor McGonagall has acknowledged my improvement, and that recognition means far more than I can ever admit aloud.

"How about—" Draco drawls, letting the pause stretch just long enough to drip with mock consideration, "absolutely not."

Theo lets out a groan and rolls his eyes in exasperation. "Oh, come now, Draco, must you deny a touch of generosity to my genius?"

"Genius?" I arch a brow, letting a soft, teasing cadence colour my words. "You nearly launched half your Charms equipment into orbit. I should hardly call that a profitable investment."

"Good one, Adria," Draco intones, extricating one hand from its encircling hold and raising it expectantly towards me, palm up. I can't help but laugh, shifting a bit in his embrace to meet his hand.