REQUIREMENTS | DRACO MALFOY

12 | Detective Draco

Y/N

_

"GOODNIGHT HERMIONE," I yawned, melting into my mattress, "dream of Ron or something."

Even though it was incredibly late, and we were both incredibly tired, Hermione shot out of her bed and stomped her way over to where I was laying. Her hair was tied into two thick braids, and she looked like she wanted to murder me.

Wouldn't be the first time.

"No, I will not!" She huffed, "I have better things to dream about than that stupid idiot."

I gasped, "I thought you liked that stupid idiot?"

"It's still up for debate," she hissed, her cheeks pink, "and anyways, you still haven't opened your letter."

"I did that four years ago."

"That's not what I—"

"Apparently I'm a wizard."

"Will you stop being impertinent for one single second?" The girl huffed, stalking over towards the door. Bending down, she swiped a thin white envelope up from under the carpet, tossing it across the room and onto my bed. She sighed, "it looks rather important."

I furrowed my brows, reaching over my blankets to pick it up.

As soon as my fingers touched the paper, the flap burst open, and a scented piece of parchment paper flew out of the envelope and into the air. Hermione narrowed her eyes at it, but I was too busy reading what was on the letter to care.

Invitation for [y/n] of Gryffindor house to join Minerva Mcgonagall for a private meeting in her office at 10pm sharp.

Tell no one, and come alone.

"Who's it from?" Hermione questioned, climbing into her bed, "please tell me Harry didn't waste good ink on a love letter."

I blinked, tucking the letter into my pocket in confusion. Why did Mcgonagall want to see me? And why past curfew? That wasn't very Professor like of her, and it was oddly suspicious.

"Madame Pomfrey," I lied, doing justice to Mcgonagall's request, "Neville needs me to bring him his potions textbook."

Hermione yawned, "make it quick."

"I will."

It was a very unsure promise, because the next ten minutes took incredibly long. I had to stick to the shadows, try not to wake the paintings, and travel halfway across the school to get to the Transfiguration classroom.

When I walked in, Minerva Mcgonagall was sitting at her desk, a quill tucked neatly in her palm as she scratched something down.

I knocked softly on the door.

"Oh, [y/n], please come on in," the woman exclaimed, setting down her writing utensil, "I normally wouldn't condone students being out of bed after hours, but this is a rather important matter."

I bit my lip, "is everything okay, professor?"

There was a brief pause, before she gestured for me to sit down across from here.

"No, no it is not," she sighed, pushing her thin-rimmed spectacles up the bridge of her nose, "I need to discuss two matters with you, one which involves you solely, and the other which might require some help."

"Help?"

"Of a sort. I've brought another student here to assist in the matter."

Like clockwork, the sound of a wand clattering to the floor rang out from the hallway, and a thin shadow came stumbling in. At first they were unrecognizable, but the classroom's firelight soon highlighted the stranger's features.