The Great Hall.

2:30am.

Be there.

Xx

He knew who the note was from before he even read its contents. The cursive writing on the front bearing his name and a single heart said it all. A sudden wave of apprehension tore through him as he folded the parchment neatly and slotted it into the breast pocket of his shirt, hidden beneath the regulation grey jumper before nonchalantly standing up and walking towards the bathroom. 2:30am... Be there. It was a curt order, not a suggestion or a request. But that was one of the things that made the tingling sensation in his stomach all the more powerful. Apprehensively, he glanced at himself in the mirror above the sink.

Troubled, pale grey eyes stared at him from a pasty white face, his messy white blond hair making him look all the more pale. Angrily, Draco Malfoy filled the sink with cold water and cupped his hands into the clear liquid, closing his eyes before splashing his face and running his damp hands through his hair in an attempt to make it lay flat against his head. He was one of the most sought after boys in Slytherin House. All the girls swooned over him, the guys wanted to be his friend, and

Pansy Parkinson smugly swanned around on his arm like they were an item.

"If only you knew the truth," Draco spat at his reflection, glowering at himself. He saw a handsome young man staring back at him, a twisted expression on his pale rose lips. He curled his upper lip into a sneer, seeing the striking resemblance between him and his Father. Lucius Malfoy was a cruel man who took great pleasure in being above others. Draco swore secretly he would never be like his Father. If only he knew what was going on behind the scenes, when the castle lay in dark. He laughed hollowly, imagining the look on his Father's face. The sheer disappointment he would have to endure, the anguished tears from his Mother, the tirade of abuse from his Father and his Aunt.

Somewhere, a clock struck 2:15. Draco looked round himself with a jerk. He hadn't realized he'd been in the bathroom for so long. Quickly wiping his face dry, he left the bathroom with a purposeful stride.

"I know where you're going." Angelina Johnson's disapproving tones rang out as she uncurled her slender legs from beneath her on the chair where she had seated herself comfortably by the fire. The perpetrator glared uncomfortably, checking the watch on their wrist. Exactly 6 minutes to get to the Great Hall. "You can't keep doing this. You're as good as betraying the name of Gryffindor!" Angelina stood firmly, folding her arms across her ribcage. "Please, think about what you're doing."

"I am thinking about what I'm doing," Was the sharp response. "I'm following my heart, why can't you see that I love him, Angelina? Remember how happy you were when I told you I'm in love? Why should it change just because of who I love?"

"Because you're a Gryffindor and he's a Slytherin!" Angelina remarked haughtily, as though that snippet of information was not something that had been considered many times before. "It's like... It's like an Acromantula mating with a Unicorn. It just doesn't happen! Please, for me. For us. Gryffindor needs you." Inexplicable tears filled Angelina's eyes as she let her arms drop to her sides defeatedly. "We all need you." She took a step forward, reaching for his hand. "Please,"

He retracted his hand sharply and walked to the portrait, pushing it open without a backward glance. It closed with a snap behind him, quickly enough for him to miss the sob erupting from Angelina's throat as she wept into her hands, sinking to the floor defeatedly.

Draco paced back and forth across the floor, glancing at the enchanted clock Dumbledore had placed above the door the Great Hall door. 2:36. He's late. He's not coming. He thought defeatedly, sitting on the nearest table as he felt his heart thudding dangerously. He doesn't love me. He can't...

Stop being so foolish, boy! Lucius Malfoy's voice echoed clearly in Draco's mind, so clearly he almost jumped out of his skin. Of course he doesn't love you. How could he? You're a Slytherin. Heir to the Malfoy fortune. Voldemort's Future Right Hand Man! He's a Gryffindor. Scum of the earth. Fraternizing with that POTTER boy. He's not worthy to be in this school.

"Shut up!" Draco bellowed as he stood up as though his Father was in front of him. "I don't care about what you say! I love him, alright? I LOVE HIM!"

"Well, I love you too gorgeous. Assuming you were talking about me, of course," The tone had a laugh to it as it reached Draco's ears. His chest began to tighten and he found it hard to swallow as he turned round. The cocky grin, the tousled hair – He'd grown it simply because Draco had expressed a desire to see him with longish hair – the impish eyes. God he's perfect. Draco couldn't fight the smile attacking his lips as he walked towards the door and into the arms of his loved one, nuzzling his face into his neck. "I missed you so much, Draccie." He whispered gently, stroking Draco's hair. Draco shivered in anticipation, nuzzling closer to him.

"I missed you too, Ollie," He replied, his voice muffled by the jumper he was currently inhaling.

Oliver Wood smiled softly as he pushed Draco away slightly, staring into his eyes. "I was afraid you weren't coming," Draco admitted, unable to stop staring into Oliver's eyes. "You were so insistent on the time and you were late, and I thought maybe you were with someone else, and I was just a convenience for you and that..." Babbling was an unusual trait for Draco as he kept telling Oliver the reasons he thought he wasn't going to show. Oliver smiled before hushing Draco with a single kiss on his lips, their mouths moulding together perfectly as though they had been made to kiss each other.

"I got held up," He admitted, dropping his hand so he could thread his fingers with Draco's. "Angelina Johnson found out about us, and she's been trying to stop me from coming to see you," He paused, seeing the look on Draco's face. "She'll have to wait a long time if she wants to tear me away from you, though." He added assuringly before pulling Draco into his arms. He smelt divine. Oliver's stomach knotted as he let his hands drift down Draco's back, pausing at his waist as he felt content with holding him close. Moments like this were theirs, and theirs alone. Nobody could tear them apart.

Nobody...