His Ravenclaw (Draco Malfoy)

the uninvited meeting

The corridors of Hogwarts are so inviting at night. All the nooks and crannies are begging to be explored when the students turn to bed, and the sky darkens in the heat of the night.

This particular night finds you strolling a hallway up towards the astronomy tower. You're hoping to find some blissful quiet from the loud, boisterous party in the Gryffindor common room. Your Ravenclaw self would normally stray away from such parties, but Ginny and Neville urged you to celebrate Gryffindor's win against Slytherin during the most recent Quidditch match.

Now, the music and laughter and chatter dwindles down as you hurry up the stairs. You're wearing a black silk dress, simple yet elegant. You take off your heeled shoes to console your aching feet as you push open the door to the astronomy tower.

The trouble is, you're not alone.

Someone is sitting there by the railing, in a pool of moonlight. He's wearing a white buttoned-up shirt, a black vest over it, and fancy black dress pants.

Draco Malfoy.

You've never seen him in anything over than his Slytherin robes or his Quidditch robes. His head is leaning against the wall, his platinum blonde hair slightly ruffled.

"What are you doing here?" You say casually, walking forward. You sit down, keeping your distance from him.

"Get the hell out," he mutters without looking at you.

You watch him closely. You'd never paid much attention to Malfoy, but you can't help but stare at his silvery-blue eyes, the curl of his lip, the sharp line of his jaw. The moonlight from the window makes his pale skin look almost...angelic. You look away. The thought of Draco Malfoy being angelic was almost laughable. No, you think bitterly, he is anything but angelic.

"Why aren't you at the party?" You ask, at another bold stab for conversation. You can't exactly comprehend why you're talking to him, but somehow, after the loud music and drinking of the Gryffindor party, you feel the need to talk to someone. Even if that person might be Malfoy. And two people, however burning passion of hatred you might feel, sitting alone in the Astronomy tower calls for conversation. 

His eyebrows raise as he judges you, looking you up and down, and you will yourself not to look away from his smoky-colored eyes. 

"Really, Ollivander?" He drawls, "I thought you were a Ravenclaw. Are you that stupid?"

You hesitate, hearing the name you'd always associate with your grandfather, the wand-maker. But of course, you weren't on a first-name basis with Draco; he'd never call you by the name Aurora. Then you think back to his question and you can feel your cheeks blush up with heat. He's a Slytherin, and the party was celebrating Gryffindor's defeat against the Slytherins. No wonder he wasn't there.

"Oh, right," you say. Then you say, "Why are you all dressed up, then?"

Draco throws you a glare of utmost disgust and anger, a look you're quiet familiar with. "Shut up and leave me alone." He says, shortly. 

You sigh and play with a loose thread in your dress. Although it isn't much comforting spending your time here with Malfoy, you'd much rather be here than at the roaring party. At least, it might be amusing to watch the muscles of his jaw contort with rage as you anger him. It might even be entertaining. A wind blows through the open windows and lifts your hair cruelly, causing quivers of cold to sprint across your bare shoulders and neck. Suppressing a shiver, you say, "It's quite cold in here."

"I told you to shut up," Draco snaps, his jaw clenching. He leans his head back on the wall, closing his eyes tightly and furrowing his brows, as though he's trying to control himself.

After another few heartbeats of silence, Draco shuffles close to you until he's sitting right beside you. His fingertips brush ever so slightly against your hip, and you shiver against the scrape of his cold ring through your dress. Despite its coldness, you feel something warm settle through your stomach, something almost like comfort that mixes with the butterflies you feel, creating a combination you've never felt and can't describe.

"Maybe that might warm you up," he says quietly.

Somewhere in the castle, a clock strikes.

Draco stands up and as you're sitting there at his feet, you notice how tall he is and it's rather intimidating.

"Why don't you go back to that Gryffindor party? I'm sure they're missing their little blood traitor princess," He says, sneering. You don't move, feeling a little stunned at the sudden change in his behavior. But you're rather relieved. The previous Draco who had sit near you, nearly touching you, was unknown territory; something new, something you'd never seen of him, and it made you flustered. But, this Draco, the one standing in front of you right now, snapping at you, had tormented you for years, and was nothing different.

"Go on. Leave." He curses at you under his breath and turns on his heel. You watch his back as he strides to the door and slams it shut so hard, it nearly rattles off its hinges. 

You sit there, unfazed. This treatment from Draco is expected, and you shrug it off. It used to make your blood boil when you were in first year, but now you were in your fifth year. You think back to your first year at Hogwarts. You had clutched to the idea of Ollivander being your grandfather, the only well-known connection you had to the Wizarding world. You held onto it like some sort of protection against the world. And then you met your closest friends, Luna, Neville, and Ginny, and your life seemed to melt past the barriers of blood and wealth you had grown up in.

Slytherins and Ravenclaws typically treated each other well. Other than Draco Malfoy. He was the exception.

The moonlight dims as you leave the astronomy tower. And your thoughts that night, however strange it might be, strayed to the boy who had bullied you and your friends the past five years.