Draco cursed the weather. Mud clung to his terribly expensive, black shoes, and the heel served no practical purpose in the real world. A very fine, misty drizzle began to come down in very patchy sheets, and Draco just cursed harder. "Should have brought an umbrella," he muttered, the makeshift tent coming into view. He strode confidently, raised his head up, and cleared his throat. "Excuse me, but you're trespassing."
A few seconds later, Draco had to try again.
"Excuse me?" He raised his voice, and this time, something happened.
"I am so sorry!" A frantic voice came from inside the tent. "I just- well I- I was flying-" A lot of ginger hair suddenly appeared, and Draco's face softened, if only due to recognition.
Draco's back stiffened, "Ginevra."