I've decided that I'm not an idiot. It was a hard conclusion to reach because Malfoy's suggestion that I sneak out after hours was compelling. Going with him would make be the biggest fool on campus. I know what happened to another muggle-born when she was out at night. The Slytherins' attack on her isn't something that anyone would easily forget. Even if he weren't to betray me to him, there is the risk of getting caught by Filch, and there are concerns of drawing attention from the girls in my dorm, and there are a thousand and one problems that I've listed out in detail.

That's what doesn't make me stupid. I've thought through every risk possible. I'm not blindly walking into danger. I'm embracing it.

On the fifth floor, I find Boris Bewildered's statue. I count out the doors to the left. I get to the door. My hands press into the wood, feeling the grooves along it. I shouldn't hesitate. I'm more likely to get caught if I hang out.

So, I breathe in and whisper, "pine fresh."

The door clicks inside. It doesn't swing open. My fingers find the knob and I turn it, pushing softly.

There aren't lights on. It's pitch black inside here. I wonder if I'm too late. It's half past eleven, later than he asked, and if I did actually expect him to be here, I don't know why I expected him to wait around for me. With my wand in my hand, I'm not sure if I'm supposed to do something. Instead, I listen. My breath is so loud, and so I hold it so long I feel my throat tighten and burn. I stay still for so long that my cheeks flush and I can feel my heartbeat under the skin in my forehead, hoping to hear a sound.

Then, I open the door again. He didn't come.

My hand jerks the handle and the door slams back shut.

"Lumos," I twist my wand around, hoping to catch a glimpse of the room and some sort of hidden trap. A rune on the door which will keep me in, an assailant in the shadows, or something that will tell me what's going on.

Malfoy is next to me. Hanging practically above me, even just a bit taller than he was this summer. His one arm is up against the door behind us, holding it shut. The thundering of my heart only seems to get stronger. He was so close, and I couldn't even hear him breathe. He doesn't say anything either.

"I've got it," I manage, swallowing. "Pale skin, dark eyes. You're not a whole wizard, are you? My bet is part boggart. You seem to feed off scaring people."

"Funny," he answers, grimacing. "You're late."

He steps away, deeper into the room. With his wand, he lights a few of the lamps around the space. The Prefect bathroom is a strange place. In the Ravenclaw tower, each suite of about five girls has its own bathroom, with a standing shower. The bathrooms around Hogwarts are like this one in a sense, with marble floors and columns, and gothic architecture. Of course, none have a bath. Really, I would hesitate to call this a bath. The whole in the floor surrounded by faucets is really a swimming pool. It is as deep as one anyway, and if I wanted to I'm sure I could swim laps. The details are hard to make out with only the glow of the oil lamps, and the corners of the room past the bath are obscured.

Malfoy steps away from me. He walks over to the bath, before sitting down. His legs dangle over the edge while he sits on it. His back is to me, his grey jumper looks tight from the way he pushes his shoulders back and straightens himself. Before the summer, I never would've described him as lanky. I might now, if pressed to comment on his body. The way he stands upright, every muscle stiff no matter how strong it is, certainly doesn't help his case.

"What happened?" I still don't know why he invited me and I can't dance around my presence any longer.

Well, perhaps I could. If I were so inclined, I could come up with quip after quip to throw at him. Maybe I would make fun of how his serious demeanour is out of place in a bathroom. I could ask him why he changed into weekend clothing because I know prefects are expected to patrol in their school uniforms. I could ask if he's going to conjure a table and candles so we can have a silly little date here in the bathroom. No matter how much I get around it, I'm going to have to ask him why he called me here.

He sighs, "sit."

"Malfoy, I'm not-"

"Sit," he commands it.

And so, I sit down. Next to him, with my feet dangling over the edge, and closer to him than we have ever been for longer than a minute. No one could sit between us, not even sneak past. Yet, I do not touch him, and so, in this dimly lit room with him only in my peripheral vision, it is easy to think I'm alone.

"You need to think of something," Draco begins.

He doesn't continue. If I didn't take astronomy, I would think this was like sitting up at the highest tower in Hogwarts at night. My feet hanging off the edge, staring into the dark. No, there are stars and planets and clouds above our heads up there. This is nothing.

"What do I need to think of?" I ask.

He swallows, "an escape route."

I don't answer. This is what he has come to tell me. The question I asked him earlier, the thing I've come here to discover. I'm not sure what exactly has prompted him to tell me other than that I asked, but here we are.

"I might have a fighting chance," I offer.

"No," he disagrees. "I've watched you in class."

He's watched me. Just as I watched him. I brush the thought out of my mind as I tuck my hair out of my eyes, "well, not me. I meant our side, anyway. My side."

Draco doesn't seem to answer the question I am subtly asking.

"You should learn to apparate," he explains. "When's your birthday?"

"The fall," I answer, rather than provide details.

He continues quickly, "I was born in the summer. You'll be able to learn at Hogwarts in sixth year, but I won't be old enough yet so my parents are going to teach me before I can get my license. You can start your training once school starts up."

"You're being dramatic," I roll my eyes. "We're at Hogwarts. The place is warded tightly against apparition and portkeys, so I'll be fine."

"Unless you are intent on creating another temporal distortion, you're going to have to leave the grounds eventually. Perhaps your next trick should be learning to create illegal portkeys in seconds, or becoming an animagus, or something."

Something is tapping next to me. I glance over to see him fiddling with his wand again. The same tapping I saw in the shop over the summer.

"I could just walk into a small muggle town and no one would ever find me," I say, but it isn't quite true. There are tools to track people, but they are hard to come by. If someone doesn't want to be found and they have the magic and galleons, they can disappear. A muggle-born witch from Brighton doesn't have those same advantages. "At least, who would go looking?"

Draco shifts beside me. I can't help but look at him. It ruins the illusion of us all hiding out here.

"I suppose you are unremarkable," he answers, glancing at me. There is a wisp of a grin on his face.

"I'm so unremarkable you flew to Brighton on a broom during a storm to see me," I mumble, mostly for the satisfaction of saying it. The consequences don't feel that far off.

He cracks a grin, "actually, I remember flying there to threaten you."

"Really? You're threats feel like flirting, you know," I can't help but smile. "What can I say? I have certain charms."

"Yes, and they cause time to go wonky," he responds.

"Only because the days must feel agonizingly long when you don't see me," I wink.

He stares at me, mouth slightly open. I wonder what he's thinking. If I had brought the Sagum, if I had attuned it to him, if I could manage to find not the sources of my thoughts but the place where I am thought of. If, and if, and if. I should be more grounded in the world than this.

"Did you..." he hesitates, peering at me.

He leans forward but stops abruptly. Our eyes lock. I doubt if I whispered Alohamora our shared look could break.

"Did you know why I called you here?" he asks.

The air feels cold on my lips when I inhale. I'm acutely aware of every part of my body.

"It wasn't to tell me what you've already told me," I assume, which might make me a fool, but I've already decided I'm not an idiot so I can settle for a fool. "You have been avoiding me for weeks. Something made you walk through that classroom. Something different."

I've never minded the quiet, but this is so much quiet. A world-swallowing, all-encompassing kind of quiet. I'm glad the room is dark because the silence and seeing him in any more detail would instantly give me a migraine from overstimulation. Merlin, what I fool I am. Terry is back in our dorm, and he is just as clever and as I am, and we are so suited for each other. The world would be right and simple and just enough for me to handle.

Draco is different. He pushes me. He lights fires under me. It is a pleasure to burn. To feel something other than the way I've hidden since the summer before last. I can't move. Actually, it paralyzes me. I am nothing but a log, and I want to be consumed.

Food never tastes as good as I expect it to when I hunger. Is this that moment? Will I never be satiated again? I've never let myself want something. It is easier to be consumed than to let myself feast. I cannot even move closer to Draco, no matter how much I want to.

He is so close he doesn't need to leap this time. He just leans. Then, his lips are on mine. It's just as aggressive as last time, just as tight. His hands find the base of my neck, pulling at my hair. I am still delayed, not frozen but thawing. On fire. A roast in the oven.

You'd think he'd be cold. If we met under different conditions, I might think he is Jack Frost. His hair is so light I might call it white, his skin just as pale, his eyes cold too. Yet, his touch is warm. The pads of his fingers are rough like the ends of matches. Yet, I do not think he is going to strike me, even though I expect him too. Even if I'd want to let him do it. It's hard to tell where the anger toward him ends and the flush of desire begins. I hope the desire doesn't really begin at all.

When he goes in for a second kiss, I oblige.

Then, I, Time-Turning Turner, catch up to reality. Like the fool I am, I don't run away. I go in for a third kiss, digging my hands into the front of his jumper. I drink him in, and somehow I am both ashes in his hands and a fire beneath him.

~~~~~

I'm actually super proud of this! The two of them, finally starting to get somewhere. Oh, and somewhere it gets.

Also, sometimes I like to drop little treats. You want something secret? 26. If you're more things people don't allow themselves to enjoy, 28 is your best bet. If nothing will satiate you but everything, 31 will finally fill your hunger. You want disaster, I give you 24. If you want to guess what any of this means, leave a comment.