The Girl Who Lived (Draco Malfoy x OC)

The Owlery

November 25th 1996

Frost grew over the windows even as the duvet kept her warm. Harper sunk deeper into her bed, watching the ice-crystals grow for a while, allowing her brain to be empty, content to just relax. She loved the snow so long as she was inside. Tomorrow would bring the beauty of ice for sure, that crunch under her feet and the fresh awakening cold air brings. She sighed, it was late and she had an early start tomorrow helping Jimmy Peakes and Ritchie Coote on the Quidditch pitch.

Hermione and Lavender were both fast asleep. Their bed curtains drawn, silencing spells cast over them. She had thought Pavarti was also asleep, but then the door creaked open to reveal her, an elated smile on her face. Since Harper still had her curtains up to see the snow fall, Pavarti caught sight of her and smile brighter.

"You're up late," Harper commented, eyeing her unnatural smile. "Where have you been?"

"Oh," Pavarti smiled. "Around."

"Okay..."

She skipped to her bed and held out a small scroll of parchment and Harper felt all the contentment evacuate her body.

"Let me guess," she said flatly. "You can't tell me who gave this to you?"

Her dark whiskey eyes looked upwards as she thought. "No..." she frowned, "I don't remember."

Harper took it from her as Pavarti slowly made her way to her bed, rubbing her eyes like waking up from a hangover. She flicked it open to see a different type of letter this time. It wasn't a description of her body or face. It wasn't a devoted promise or poem. For once, it was the letter she was wanting to receive.

My beauty, meet me where the feathers deliver when you read this

Her frazzled nerves jumped all together, her heartbeat doing a tango. Excitement, relief, fear, it all came at once. She immediately slipped out of the sheets, pulling her robe off the hook fixed above her bed. The letter could only mean one place, the Owlery.

It was freezing cold outside and in her tumult she dismissed the idea of throwing on a sweater. She kept washing the hot air charm over her, but it was the coldness of winter. The type of coldness that reached into your bones, as if your chest were a door left wide open to the icy wind. The sky was a rolling blanket of cloud the colour of wet ash above and the ground at her feet a dank reflection. Finally the Owlery was in sight and she rushed up the stairs.

She had forgotten how slippering the steps were on the way up in the winter season. As she reached the top, the wind howled in her face, all glassless windows funnelling it to sweep all her messied hair back and chill her bones. She tiptoed carefully across the floor entirely covered with straw, owl droppings and regurgitated skeletons of mice. Apart from the many sleeping owls, she felt like the only one in the tower.

"Homenum Revelio," she whispered with her wand drawn.

Nothing.

It was possible she was just early. She did run, she supposed. So she leant back on the brittle stone, scratching the crown of her head against it. Hedwig was fast asleep in her nest above, black beak tucked into her soft white feathers. She was half tempted to wake her for support in her pursuit, realising that the situation she darted into could potentially be dangerous. Of course, in Harper Potter tradition, she wouldn't realise that until after she went head first into it.

She knew it was her weakness and would be her downfall. Her impulsive actions and reckless thinking.

More time passed and the cold started to get to her the longer she stood up there. Her teeth chattered and she bathed herself in another hot air spell. In her waiting, she recited what she wanted to say to this anonymous poet. It varied depending on who it was. She had a 'I have no time for your bullshit' speech and a 'I think you're very sweet but also creepy' speech ready.