The bell had just rung for the last class of the day, and you and Draco were doing what you always did: wandering aimlessly, side-by-side. Today, it was the grassy patch near the Black Lake.

The air was still, and you were happily squatting near the edge, tossing flat, gray pebbles into the water, watching the ripples spread.

Draco, was leaning against an ancient oak a few feet away, arms crossed, watching you with an easy, proprietary air. You'd been inseparable since your mothers dressed you in matching Slytherin green baby robes, so this comfortable silence was just... normal.

"You're going to use up all the good skipping stones, you know," he finally drawled, not moving.

"Oh, hush, Malfoy. There are billions," you replied, flicking another one that bounced three times. You glanced up at him, a wide smile on your face.

That's when it happened. A sudden, cold drop hit your cheek, followed by another, and then the sky opened up.

"Merlin's beard! Come on, let's go inside, now," Draco snapped, pushing off the tree. He was already pulling up the collar of his robes.

You just laughed, scooping up a handful of pebbles. "No way! It's just a little rain!"

He narrowed his eyes.

"A little rain? It's pouring! Get over here, you idiot, you'll ruin my robes!"

"Catch me if you can!" you challenged, turning and sprinting away toward the castle, laughing as you looked over your shoulder and ran backward for a moment.

"Are you serious? Stop that! I'm not standing out here getting soaked because you're having some sort of childish moment! You're going to get sick!" he grumbled, but as he watched that stupid, genuine, rain-streaked smile on your face, the annoyance faded.

"Stupid", he mutters, a familiar, exasperated affection warming his chest.

He finally gave in, a slow smirk twitching at the corner of his lips. There was no point arguing.

The world seemed to slow as you ran backwards, your wet hair plastered to your forehead. Just as you were about to turn forward again, Draco closed the distance.

He dropped his arms around your waist, his hands strong and sure, and lifted you clean off your feet.

You let out a startled squeal, wiggling frantically. "Hey! Put me down, you big git!"

He held you tight against his chest, the rain a sheet around you both now, and started walking toward the castle entrance. "You're infuriating. Honestly, the most ridiculous person I know."

He stopped his scolding just long enough to use his thumb to gently brush a sodden lock of hair off your forehead. His eyes, usually sharp, held a soft worry that he couldn't quite mask.

"You're going to get sick," he muttered, the insult now a genuine concern. "And I'm not holding your cauldron while you're laid up in the hospital wing. We're getting you dry."

You finally stopped struggling, letting the warmth of his arms seep into you.

You knew he'd never admit how much he loved these stupid moments.