ᴛʜᴀᴛ ᴅʀᴀᴛᴛᴇᴅ ʟɪʟᴀ ʜᴏʟᴍᴇꜱ || ᴅʀᴀᴄᴏ ᴍᴀʟꜰᴏʏ x ᴏᴄ || ʏᴇᴀʀꜱ 1-3

winds that howl

The next morning, most everyone else was still asleep when I woke. Beside me though, Harry was wide awake, staring up at the ceiling. My brain was foggy, and my mind was racing with the last dream that I had.

"Harry!" I whispered. He looked over to me immediately.

"What is it?" He asked.

"I had the most peculiar dream last night," I told him, making sure to keep my voice very low. "Malfoy and I were messing with one of Snape's Potions ingredients — moonberries, I think, and then he kissed me! And I kissed him back! And then, Professor Snape came in early to tell us that Sirius Black had gotten into the castle, and he lead us to the Great Hall and then— and then—"

The horrified look on Harry's face, as well as the fact he was there at all, said everything.

"That wasn't a dream, was it?"

"No," Harry said slowly. He squinted and hissed. "You kissed Malfoy?!"

"I didn't mean to!" I said quickly, "oh, that was so stupid of me!"

"Good God," Harry ran his hands down his face. "Never a dull moment with you, is there?"

I was about to tell him that he's one to talk when another terrible thought struck me. "Oh no, what do I tell Ron?"

"Ron is not going to find out," Harry put a finger to his lips, but it was too late.

"I won't find out what?" Ron rose up to his elbows and looked between us groggily. Harry and I shared a panicked look before Harry started to wave his hands.

"You're dreaming," he said, seemingly doing his best Trelawney impression. "Back to sleep with you."

"Mm, alright," Ron seemed to have no complaints, letting his head fall back against the pillow. Minutes later, he was snoring again.

The next Potions lesson was terribly awkward. I avoided eye contact with Malfoy the entire time. Harry kept looking over judgmentally as if trying to make sure we didn't do it again, though we worked in total silence. Malfoy opened his mouth to speak after twenty minutes and I quickly cut him off.

"I don't want to talk about it."

Malfoy exhaled impatiently. "I was just going to ask for the mortar and pestle."

"Oh, sorry." I handed it over, mouth pressed into a firm line. "But for the record, we're going to just forget it ever happened. Deal?"

He and I both knew it wasn't that easy, but he rolled his eyes and nodded anyway.

"Deal." He agreed. "But really, Holmes. It's all just rather silly. It's not like either of us wanted that to happen-"

"It's forgotten." I cut him off. "Don't even know what you're talking about."

Despite that, I continued to find myself in situations where I was alone with Malfoy. Like weeks later, when we were working on an assignment together and he informed me that Slytherin wouldn't be playing in the next match because of his arm.

"An injury's an injury Holmes, nothing I can do about it," he said smugly.

I scoffed. "You just don't want to play in the weather."

Today was the day before the match, and it was already very windy and overcast — it was likely to rain tomorrow.

"You know I'd be out there if I could," Malfoy said innocently. I rolled my eyes.

"You're infuriating," I told him.

He hummed noncommittally. "Pot meet kettle."

He raised an eyebrow at me, "don't you have class? In about —" he checked his watch, "— three minutes?"