dear draco,

twenty-eight

I miss you. I miss your touch and your skin and your warm smell. Your hand in mine, your breaths against mine. Your voice that always seemed to say more than it was saying.

-

I stare at the fire for a few minutes longer before I realize I actually want to follow Ginny and the others. Of course I want to help destroy the Carrows' classrooms, and Ginny can't stop me.

I edge out of the portrait door. The darkness of the wide corridor in comparison to the brightly lit common room is sudden and overwhelming. The only light comes from the flickering candles that line the walls. As I head on in search for my friends, I suddenly remember it's nearly Christmas time. If it weren't for the jingly music drifting from the common room, it wouldn't seem like it at all. There's not a decoration in sight.

"What are you doing here?"

I spin around, causing half my drink to spill along my arm. "Oh, hello there." Draco stands mere meters from me, his face so perfectly illuminated in the flickering light that he looks like a mysterious fairy prince. A beautiful fairy prince. "Draco. What a convenient twist to my night."

He keeps his distance, eyes on mine. I feel myself blushing. "Why are you here?" he says sharply. "What are you doing out of bed?"

"Are you angry, or just concerned for my safety? It's hard to tell sometimes."

Draco shifts uncomfortably, and I notice his gaze dipping down to my outfit. "I can have you punished for this," he tells me.

"But you won't," I say, stepping closer to him. "You won't have any harm come to me, will you?"

Draco blinks. "Are you drunk?"

I stare at him blankly, wishing I could explain how numb I feel. I can still hear the Christmas music, faint and unfittingly cheerful. I notice the shades of blond in his hair changing in the candlelight. He'll never know how wonderful he looks.

"I really hope you don't hate me," I say finally. "I've been a bit angry lately. But I suppose we're all allowed to be a bit angry right now."

Draco shakes his head. "You should be in your common room," he says. "You shouldn't be out here."

Thinking of my dad, and the life I could have had with Draco, and of the world crumbling around us, tears fill my eyes. I've been mean, I know I have. But I'm angry and sad and breaking. "Do you hate me?"

"No," says Draco. "No, I don't. You need to get out of here."

"I don't want to," I say. "I don't want to be with people right now." Except you, I catch myself thinking.

Draco sighs. "As head boy, I'm telling you to get back to your common room."

"I don't want to."

"Well, you have to."

I frown at him. "Let me go, then. Let me go for a walk or something. Just not back to the common room. Please?"

He sighs again. "You can't go for a walk alone."

"Yes, I can."

Just then, footsteps sound in the next corridor. Draco grabs my arm and pulls me into a narrow stairwell. The space is tight, and even in my tipsy, numb state, all I can feel is his chest against my back, his arm around my shoulders.

"Oh", I say softly. "This is cozy."

Draco's hand snaps up over my mouth and he moves back so that he is touching me in as few ways as possible. His back must be sorely pressed against the stone wall. "Be quiet," he murmurs.

The footsteps grow louder. I hear voices rising and cloaks swishing, and shadows grow large against the stone walls, but they gradually fade and I know we are safe. I try to move out of the stairwell, but Draco grabs my arm again. I gasp, and he pulls back his arm at once. "Sorry," he whispers. "But we should stay here, just until we're sure the coast is clear. If one of the Carrows see you out of bed – well, you know what they're capable of."

"I do indeed. You tried to educate me on that very topic a while ago."

"Yeah, well. You don't want them to catch you."

"No, I'd rather they didn't. Although, I'm not sure it would matter if you were with me," I turn around to him, smiling. "My knight in shining armour, remember? That's what I said to you two Christmases ago. Can you believe how much has changed since-"

Draco presses his finger to my lips, shushing me, but pulls away almost at once.

"Why can't you be out there? You're head boy."

"Someone needs to keep you quiet."

"How courteous-"

Draco puts his finger to my lips again, shushing me gently. The stairwell is not built to accommodate two seated people, and no matter how far back Draco tries to sit, his knees press up against mine. It's all I can feel; he is the only real thing in the world and I long for him to be closer. He is electric; every time his knuckles accidently brush against me, goosebumps rise on my arms. If I was giddy before, that is subsiding now, and a strange sense of reality is beginning to take its place.

"I remember your touch so well," I say, pressing my fingers lightly to his knee. I know I shouldn't, and I'm so embarrassed that I'm almost glad I can't see his face. But I can't stop. "I can remember a time when it didn't make you uncomfortable. When all you wanted was more, even when nothing was left." Draco shifts, and I continue. "Don't tell me you never think about that," I say. I move forward so that our faces are closer. "I see the way you look at me, Draco. And this? You wouldn't go to this trouble for any other Gryffindor." I move my fingers up to his shoulders. "Do you miss it?" Draco is breathing heavily. Now that I'm closer, I can make out his face. His eyes don't leave mine. I take his hand, and place it softly against my left shoulder. "You would tickle me here, and I would touch you – there. Behind your ears. It was all so stupid, right? But so, so wonderful. Like we were the only people in the world. Do you miss it, Draco?"

We are deadly close now. When he speaks, his voice comes out croaky. "Stop saying my name."

Tears prick at my eyes. "I do. I miss it, and I don't believe that you don't." I lean forward, millimetres, and place a soft kiss on his cheekbone. "Draco," I whisper. He doesn't reply, but his eyes are miserable, desperate. A tear leaks onto my cheek. "Draco. I just wish I could-"

And I press my lips against his. And suddenly, I am taken back to a happier time, a wonderful, innocent time when we were careless and blissfully ignorant, when sadness and drunken tears did not exist, only oblivion-

"No."

I blink.

"No," Draco repeats hoarsely. He stands up abruptly and moves out of the stairwell. "They're gone now. Come, I'll take you back to your common room."

And I follow obediently, with not a word more than a quiet "thanks," when he leaves me at the portrait. I smile sadly as his figure grows smaller and smaller while he retreats down the stairs, eventually disappearing around the corner. "Happy Christmas, Draco."