The rain had started hours ago, but you didn’t care. The Quidditch pitch was empty, the storm fierce enough to keep even the most reckless students indoors. But not you. Your broom cut through the sheets of rain, water soaking your robes, your hair plastered to your face as you flew higher, chasing the roar of the thunder. It was madness, and maybe that was the point.

Draco saw you from the stands. He hadn’t meant to be there; he was looking for quiet, for space. But when his pale eyes caught sight of you soaring alone through the storm, he froze. There was something in the way you moved—unrestrained, furious, free. Something he didn’t understand but couldn’t look away from.

Before he realized what he was doing, he grabbed his broom. The rain hit him like needles as he rose into the sky, his robes whipping behind him. You glanced over your shoulder, startled, as he closed the distance between you.

“What are you doing out here, MaIfoy?” you shouted, though your voice was nearly swallowed by the wind.

He didn’t answer. Not really. “What are you doing?” His smirk was faint but there, even in the storm. He flew beside you, weaving through the air like he’d been waiting for someone to challenge him.

The sky cracked open with a bolt of lightning, illuminating his face for a heartbeat—his hair plastered to his forehead, rain dripping from his sharp jaw, and his eyes fixed on you with something unreadable. You dove suddenly, and without hesitation, he followed. The two of you twisted through the storm, wordless, pushing faster, closer, until you could feel the heat of his shoulder brushing yours despite the cold rain.

When your feet finally touched the ground, neither of you spoke. Water dripped from your robes and pooled at your feet, but the silence was louder than the storm around you. His breath came heavy, chest rising and falling, as his pale gaze burned into yours.

The rain kept falling.

So did everything else—walls you hadn’t realized you’d built, the steady rhythm of your heart faltering under the weight of whatever had just passed between you. Draco’s hand twitched at his side like he wanted to reach for you but didn’t know how.