The frosty fresh air blows over the body of the young wizard, the cold penetrates him to the bones, but he continues to stand in the astronomical tower, leaning with pale palms on the stones, sticking his head out to look out the window at the winter landscape.

Draco didn't like coming here, because it's cold and dangerous here, given that Filch is always prowling the corridors of Hogwarts to detect curfew violators. However, now it seemed to the pure-blooded wizard that all this was somehow unimportant, empty, like the background of a painting, which is often ignored.

Malfoy wraps himself in a warm robe, waiting for her, the girl who was able to settle into his cold, callous heart. She, of course, does not know about this, just as she does not know that Draco is waiting for her here, in her favorite place at Hogwarts, where she often goes to retire.

With a creak, the old door opens and she appears. Turning to the creak, Draco, of course, pretends to wrinkle his nose, as if he is disgusted with the young person and says with his usual arrogance:

— "What are you doing here, mudblood?"— the grey-blue eyes of a pure-blooded wizard sparkle in the small light from a magic wand. They seem to look right into your soul, freezing it with their cold brilliance.