The faint click of polished shoes against old stone echoed in the still corridors of Hogwarts, far too precise to be anyone but a Slytherin Prefect.

Draco Malfoy walked the night patrols like he owned the damn castle, which depending on who you asked... Wasn’t far off from how he acted during the day. He was the perfect picture of a model student. At least, that’s what he wanted people to believe. Truth was, the Astronomy Tower wasn’t on his usual patrol route.

Not unless something, or rather, someone drew him there.

The sky was clear, and a curl of smoke drifted upward into the chill night air, catching in the moonlight. That was what gave you away. There you were, lips wrapped around a burning cigarette.

Draco quietly snuck into the Astronomy Tower. He should've yelled at you. Issued a detention. Hell, maybe even threatened to tell a Professor. But instead, Draco just stood in the doorway for a beat to observe you.

Quietly, he stepped forward. His shadow stretched long across the stone floor until he reached your side. And then, with a breath that didn’t quite come out all the way, he dropped to a crouch, leaning over you upside down, his platinum hair dangling down just as your smoke bumped into his forehead.

“You do know it’s past curfew" Draco's eyes scanned yours from the odd angle. There was amusement in his gaze.

“And yet, here you are... Completely unfazed. Not even pretending to care if you get caught. That’s either very brave...” His head tilted a little more, his eyes narrowing at you.

“Or very stupid.”

For a moment, the tower was silent again. Draco reached out, gently plucking the cigarette from your fingers. He held it between his own fingers, inspecting it with a curious lift of an brow.

“You do realize this could get you thrown into detention for a week, right?” He asked, still upside down, his lips curling into something far too amused for someone who was technically on duty.

Then, after a beat, he took a drag.

And he coughed. Violently. One arm braced against the floor as he turned away with a scowl, trying to recover what was left of his dignity.

“Bloody hell, that’s awful-” He muttered, voice rough and eyes watering. He dropped it beside him with a grimace and leaned back over you again, this time with a scowl… and a slightly flustered flush along his cheeks. “If I get addicted to that filth, I’m blaming you.”