The plaques on the wall shone in the dull light of the night sky. Bouncing off the glass, shining over the reflection of the hallway, the moon cast smudges of light gray along the dark walls. Draco's feet were cold against the floor.
He made quick work of his bathroom break, trotting back down the corridor towards the Slytherin dorms, wiping his freshly washed hands on his wool shirt. Footsteps rang from the end of the hallway, and Draco froze.
"Stinking bloody rats-" Filch muttered under his breath, his lantern lighting the walls before he turned the corner.
"What are you on about?" Draco stepped forward, the inquisitor within him already accustomed to jump at the chance to assert discipline upon other students.
"Filthy rats in the bloody greenhouses." Filch stopped in his tracks and rumbled on. "I hear 'em, but I can't find even one of the damn things. Gone before I get there, every time." His voice was bitter and rough like gravel.
Draco nodded, interest peaked.
Filch adjusted his grip on the handle of his lantern, Mrs. Norris yawned where she was tucked into his free arm. "Get to bed," He spoke, tone not lacking malice. "Wouldn't want to send Umbridge her own lapdog." He cleared his throat, starting again down the hallway.
Draco scoffed. Filch was one to talk about being Umbridge's lapdog. He rolled his eyes and pushed past Filch uncaringly, baring a sneer at the squib. He waited for them to disappear around another corner, rerouting himself when the last of Mrs. Norris's bushy tail was out of sight.
The school was quiet as he made his way through it, calm. He ducked past the dark walls until his feet touched the dirt-marred floor of the greenhouse hallway. He cringed at the feeling, but carried on.
Creeping along, he leaned slightly into the doorway of greenhouse one. His eyes scanned the room, the boxes of soil lining the walls empty.
Sloshing water broke his concentration. He turned towards the noise, squinting his eyes at greenhouse three across the hallway. He caught sight of a figure hovering over the plants, and pulled his wand from his pocket.
Gripping it tightly, he approached the doorway of greenhouse three as quietly as he could, waving it in the air before pointing it at the figure and casting, "Expelliarmus!"
Your startled shout rang through the air, watering can flying out of your grip and landing with a thud on the ground, rolling over and leaking water onto the floor.
"What the hell?" Your familiar voice made his stomach drop, and he swore he could feel the shame in his nail beds. You were audibly pissed, angry even. It was almost as terrifying as his father's wrath. "I'm not going to attack you with a watering can! Unnecessary!"
You dug your wand out of your pocket and flicked it in the air, muttering a Lumos and filling the greenhouse with light.
Draco opened his mouth to speak, but couldn't find the words.
You blew a puff of air from your nose. Your brows were furrowed. "Draco." Your voice around his name was laced with a bite he'd never heard from you, and it had him regretting every decision he'd ever made. His throat felt dry. "You gonna take me Um-bitch? Someone has to keep the plants alive."
"You shouldn't be out of bed after hours-" He chased the words out of his mouth, knees feeling weak from the clever nickname given to Umbridge.
Your scowl shut him up.
"Sorry," Draco choked, voice cracking.
His face felt hot, hotter than the air in the train car he'd last been able to speak to you in. He coughed, and it did little to quell the tightness in his airways.
"I, uh... I won't take you to Um-bitch." He let a breathless chuckle escape him.
You looked him up and down, and felt like he was about to crawl out of his skin. One of your brows jerked up in suspicion, and he wanted to run his thumb along it, to feel the muscles under the skin tense and relax.
He stepped into greenhouse three, taking a shaky breath and pushing closer despite the tension. He picked the watering can up off the floor, avoiding the puddle that had formed around it. The space beneath his ribs burned, and he held it out to you, his eyebrows raised in sincerity.
Your eyes met, and he hoped he looked as apologetic as he felt. Your face had matured over summer break and the beginning of the year, and he subconsciously tallied all the ways your face managed to fit you impossibly better. He wanted to touch it and feel for himself how your features had changed.
His lungs quivered when you reached to take the watering can back with your free hand. Your fingers brushed his on the handle, and he felt sparks fly up his arm. His knuckles ached. He wanted to throw the stupid watering can across the room and lace his fingers with yours.
"Thank you." The suspicion and anger bled from your face, and you returned to contently watering a line of plants, shriveled beyond identification.
He watched you quietly, admiring how your dirty fingers pressed and prodded the soil. "Regerminating Potion would help." He offered, pulse speeding up when your eyes met again. He'd missed you over break, and he found it a real shame he didn't see more of you day to day.
"That's a sixth year potion." You pointed out, a smug smile tugging at the corner of your mouth. Draco felt his face heat up.
His eyes widened and he opened and closed his mouth around an excuse he couldn't find to make. He'd rather go full inquisitor on you again than admit he'd been reading ahead and studying even advanced sixth year potions for the chance you'd need more help from him. Your observation went unanswered.
"We're not allowed to make potions anyways." Your smile morphed into something more leisurely, working your way to the last of the plants.
Finished watering, you set the can down on the ground quietly and looked at him. Maybe having special inquisitor privileges wasn't all that bad, Draco thought.
"I could make you some."
"You'd do that?"
Draco swallowed roughly. He'd do anything for you if you asked. "You want me to?"
He stared into your eyes, hoping you were paying close enough attention to see the unspoken vulnerability in them. He wanted to break every rule Dolores Umbridge put in place if it meant he could make you happy. His bones felt restless.
You blinked, and your eyes faltered for a moment. They flicked down over his face, catching on his lips and he felt his stomach lurch forward. His own eyes fell to yours before he tore them away and found you already looking back into his eyes.
It felt like you were strung together, thread tightening with every breath that fanned between the shortening space between your faces.
You took an audibly shaky breath, and Draco hoped it meant you were as flustered as he was. Your mouth poised open, forming words on your tongue that lost their chance to be spoken when the light of Filch's lantern reflected on the glass walls across the hallway.
The light at the tip of your wand went out. Draco whispered for you to duck under the table at the center of the room. Your wand clunked against the floor as you did, and Filch's footsteps picked up in speed until he was limping into the greenhouse almost shouting about the filthy rats he was set on catching.
Draco felt anxiety lick up his spine. "No rats here, there was only one." He spoke, projecting his voice like was giving a speech, guttural lilt not unlike the tone he took up with Potter. "Made quick work of the pest, you can be sure of that."
Filch huffed, peeved but uncomplaining. Must just be thankful those 'rats' are out of the picture, Draco figured. "I'm not gonna tell you again." Filch grumbled. "To bed with you." He twitchily shook his head and tore his disapproving glare from the room, righting back on his path around the school.
Mrs. Norris lingered in the doorway, nose bobbing against the floor, sniffing. Draco crossed his fingers behind his back and his gaze dropped to you. He held his breath even when his heart picked up at the amused look you gave him from under the table. Mrs. Norris licked the pack of her paw before trotting away back to Filch.
When he held his hand out to help you up, it's a miracle it wasn't too sweaty to grip onto. He felt adrenaline pulse through his veins, and the energized smile you gave him mirrored his own as it crept onto his face.
"You know, these pajamas are a good look on you." You stayed in his space, pinching the fabric of his sleeve between two fingers. Butterflies raced through his chest at the contact.
The lightheartedness made him want to kiss you, made him want to pull you into a hug and breathe in your smell. You blinked at him and he blinked back, head reeling, picturing all the ways he wanted to break more of his own rules with you.