Harry unfolded the piece of parchment for at least the thousandth time, rereading it to make sure he wasn't imagining its contents.

Harry Potter,
Meet me next to the trophy case at midnight. Do not let anyone know where you're going or why.
-Draco Malfoy

The Slytherin himself had dropped the note in Harry's cauldron after potions class, only briefly meeting his eyes before rushing out of the classroom.

Harry had "accidentally" dropped all of his potion ingredients, forcing Ron and Hermione to go ahead of him while he read the note.

What did it mean? Did Malfoy—Draco—want to kiss him more? Harry wasn't sure how he felt about that yet.

What if he told him that it was a one time thing and that it couldn't ever happen again? Harry knew exactly how he felt about that. Just the thought left him feeling strange and empty.

Harry spent the rest of the day in an impatient mood, waiting idly for night to fall so he could see what Draco wanted. He was distracted during his class, but it didn't matter anyway. He only had one subject left, and it was History of Magic with Professor Binns, the most mind numbingly boring class of the week.

The common room quickly cleared out as students finished assignments and went to bed that night. It wasn't long until it seemed Harry was the only student left, at around half past ten. He sat for several long moments, wondering what to do during the hour and a half he needed to wait until he could make his way to the trophy room. He looked at the small table beside his chair, visually checking that he had everything. His Invisibility Cloak was folded up neatly with his wand balanced precariously on top. He reached over and picked up the cloak, allowing it to unravel in silky waves before folding it again out of pure boredom.

He sighed inwardly. If he wasn't doing anything with the time, he knew he should probably begin the mountain of Transfiguration homework McGonagall gave him. He pulled out his copy of Standard Book of Spells and flicked through the pages idly, reading a full page and then having to reread it, after realizing that he hadn't actually processed the information at all.

At long last, it was eleven forty-five, and he decided it was an appropriate time to leave. He carefully stood up, trying not to make the furniture squeak and the floorboards creak as he made his way over the portrait hole. He swung it open carefully, desperately hoping to avoid waking the Fat Lady in an effort to dodge unnecessary conflict. Of course, no such luck.

"Student out of bed? I'll bet it's Potter," he heard a tired voice mutter before he stepped into her line of sight. He attempted to walk forward a few steps without being noticed, but he stopped abruptly as the voice spoke again. "Typical."

He turned around slowly, pushing up his lopsided glasses. They had broken the day before, but he hadn't had time to ask Hermione to fix them. He could do it himself, he supposed, but Hermione's spells always lasted longer.

"I could get Filch over here in no time at all, you know," the Fat Lady said casually, but Harry knew she wasn't serious. The painting was known to avoid being directly involved in student affairs, unless of course it was spreading rumors and gossip. Just the week before, she had told everyone that Hannah Abbott from Hufflepuff smuggled a niffler into the school and lost it in the Great Hall, ensuing a fair amount of panic.

"I'll be back," Harry muttered as he walked away, hearing an indignant humph as he went. The corridors were dark and vacant, but Harry still slipped the Invisibility Cloak around his body, just in case. He was still wearing his robes from school, having not bothered to change.

He was almost there when he heard a soft rustling sound right behind him. He whipped around, breathe held and heart hammering in his chest, to see a sliver of orange disappear into the door of an empty classroom. He took a few steps closer to it, careful not to make his footsteps audible as he cautiously peeked around the doorframe. There, crouched a few feet in, was...

"Ron? Hermione? What are you doing here?" he asked, tugging the cloak off and letting it fall at his feet. The pair looked up at him, stunned. Ron turned bright red as he stammered out a response.

"Um--Well, you see, Harry, we were just worried--"

"We saw you leave through the portrait hole and followed so we could make sure you weren't killed," Hermione clarified bluntly.

"Why would I be killed?" Harry asked, confused. Even considering his history, it seemed an odd thing to assume.

Hermione blushed. "I may have read that note that Draco gave you."

Harry's eyes widened, but he didn't say anything. He didn't want to give anything away if she hadn't figured it out yet.

"I think he plans on dueling you, or perhaps just luring you there to get you in trouble," she said quietly, looking around anxiously as if a teacher was going to jump out at her at any second.

"I don't think that's it," Harry said, wary of his choice of words.

"What makes you so sure?" Ron grumbled irritably. He seemed suddenly annoyed, probably because Harry was acting so suspicious. He couldn't help it; he was making things up on the spot.

"I just don't, alright?" Harry said. "You should get back to the common room, before Filch catches you."

Hermione shook her head adamantly. "If you're going to be an idiot, we're going to follow."

For once, the trait that Harry admired in his two best friends was something that he wished they didn't have. Their unwavering loyalty would prevent him from talking with Draco about... what he really wanted to talk about.

"Fine," he conceded, thinking quickly, "but we need to be quiet. We can't all fit under the cloak anymore."

Ron and Hermione nodded, standing up from their crouch. The trio wordlessly began to walk through the halls. It only took a few minutes since they were relatively close the trophy room already.

Once they arrived, Harry motioned at Ron and Hermione to wait before slipping into the room. Draco stood in the center, his pale features bathed in moonlight from the single window that was close to the ceiling. He looked at Harry impatiently and crossed the room.

"Is anyone here?" he murmured, in a tone softer than one Harry had ever heard him use. Harry winced and brought a finger up to his lips.

"They followed me. I--I didn't realize," he explained in a whisper, trying not to let Hermione and Ron hear.

Draco bit his lip, looking conflicted as he contemplated something. "Here, I'll--"

"STUDENTS OUT OF BED!" a loud, slightly hoarse voice interrupted from behind them. Harry's eyes widened with alarm as he searched the ground for the Invisibility Cloak, before realizing he had left it in the abandoned classroom. He glanced at Draco, who was already staring arrogantly at a space behind Harry. He turned and saw Filch standing there, fumbling with his lantern before it burst out with light that practically blinded Harry. He was holding the robe sleeves of both Ron and Hermione, the former seeming frustrated and the latter turning redder with every second.

"Detention, for all you. Hopefully, Dumbledore will finally let me use the shackles in the  dungeons," Filch said enthusiastically. Hermione flinched in his grip.

Just then, there was the sound of yet another set of footsteps. Emerging from the shadows of the corridor came McGonagall, her lips pursed in a thinner line than Harry had ever seen.

"What is all of this?" she demanded tersely, looking straight at Harry.  He cleared his throat nervously.

"Professor, please, let us explain--"

"Four students out of bed, in one night? Potter, Granger, Weasley, this is a repeating occurrence for all of you, and Mister Malfoy, this is not the first time you've lured students out of bed," McGonagall reprimanded.

"Professor, I wasn't--" Draco began indignantly, but he silenced at the look on the teacher's face.

She narrowed her eyes. "Fifty points from Gryffindor and Slytherin," she said. Ron began to protest, until McGonagall added, "each."

"Professor!" Harry exclaimed. Her harsh glare landed on him, and he remained silent until she looked away.

"Perhaps you will have opportunities to regain those points, but as of now, that is the consequence. You're detentions will be told to you in the morning," she said stiffly. "Off to bed."

Harry met Draco's eye for a split second, and the disappointed, frustrated look in his pale blue eyes sent a shiver up his spine. He followed Hermione and Ron, who were being escorted by McGonagall, leaving Draco with a very irritable looking Filch. He hoped that perhaps the two of them would have the same detention.

He didn't even mind getting caught and losing points, if it meant talking to Draco like he so desperately needed to.

He could tell the Slytherin felt the same way.