"Be quiet! Someone will hear you!" said Draco, giving your hand a squeeze. But nothing could dampen the mood. You looked at each other, before bursting into fresh peals of laughter, young, careless and home for Christmas.

You were running and skipping, pulling Draco behind, feeling the wind through your hair. The feeling of doing something bad, something forbidden, was exhilarating. Your euphoria infected Draco, and soon he was laughing too, feeling free as he hadn't felt for ages.

Glancing behind him, he could barely make out the outline of the Manor in the distance. The thought of his father and mother sitting in a room idly made him laugh.

To you, the thought of Harry and Ron at the Burrow, surrounded by the other Weasley's made you slightly sick inside, but happy still. Because you weren't with them, you were with Draco.

The cracks began to show sometime after you had lain down, exhausted. The sun was now setting, and you remembered telling the Weasley's you'd be back from your parents at sundown. Draco remembered his father's party.

"Don't be a stranger," you whispered, kissing him. Draco answered enthusiastically, lifting you off your feet.

If only you knew someone was watching you.