Aimlessly roaming through deserted hallways, his mind wandered. It was for the best; he couldn't be there, couldn't be the saint, couldn't be what was expected. The chill in the dungeons was unmatched by the frost in his heart and still he wandered, waiting.

Near-silent footfalls disturbed the quiet almost imperceptibly and he tore his eyes away from the dank stone floor.

The reason for his midnight excursions stalked by, oblivious to eyes that watched from the shadows.

Harry almost smiled, the cold breaking for a moment. Malfoy would return again tomorrow, precious seconds. Harry would be waiting.