can go rot in the dungeon," Draco hissed, his fingers fumbling along the sides of an autobiography, "these things are sickening."

After a boring hour in Transfigurations, I managed to slip out of the classroom undetected to meet the Slytherin in the library. He was already waiting for me when I arrived, surprisingly. There weren't many students in the space, which was good to our advantage, so I made my way over to the boy (who was sulking in a shadowy corner per the usual).

I plopped down into the chair across from him, picking up one of the books he had gathered.

"Did you find all these yourself?" I questioned, gazing at a book labeled 'Aurors and the Dark Wizards they catch', "I'm not sure these are relevant to the task."

Draco frowned, "neither is reading, but here we are."

"I only meant that this..." I explained, gesturing to the book in my hand, "has nothing to do with Moody as a person."

"It's a book about Aurors."

"Which Mad-eye isn't even in," I noted, dropping it back onto the table, "it's from 1952, Draco, Moody wasn't born till 61'."

He didn't like that I pointed out he was wrong. What? I had to, or else he would have been studying up an irrelevant topic for hours! He should be thanking me, honestly.

Draco rolled his eyes, "it's not my fault the title is misleading."

"How is it misleading?"

"How am I supposed to know? I didn't flip open the pages to get a look at the timestamp!"

I blinked, hesitant to point out that the cover had a giant date written on the top in golden letters.

"Did you never learn to read?" I smirked, "poor Malfoy."

"I'm not poor," he scoffed, as if it was the most offensive thing he's ever heard, "I've got a manor bigger than your whole neighborhood, [l/n]."

"Oh, yes, because I give a damn about your mansion."

"You don't seem to give a damn about anything!"

"And what about it?"

"Maybe the fact that you—" Draco started, before snapping his mouth shut. He glanced around the empty library in caution, before turning his head back to me with a softened expression, "we're forgetting rule number nine, remember?"

Oh. Right.

Rule 9: Draco and [y/n] need to stop fighting.

I nodded my head in agreement, clearing my throat and picking up another book. Reading the cover briefly, I pushed it across the table towards the boy, implying that it was suitable enough to read.

"Right, then," I said, averting my gaze, "just read the book and stop complaining."

Surprisingly, the boy listened, picking up the textbook and flipping it open to the first page. I flipped open a book of my own, beginning to read.

Chapter one, it said, The five basic principles of Auror Alastor Moody, and how he gained fame in the Wizarding World.

A few minutes past, and I made it through a good five pages. Did you know Mad-eye Moody can see through invisibility cloaks? I'd have to let Harry know about that immediately. Also, did you know Moody is one of the only people in the world who knows what a Boggart truly looks like?

I'd always imagined it to look like Voldemort's missing nose, because no one's ever seen it in its true form—

"Oh, would you look at that," Draco sneered, flipping his book around, "famous Harry Potter managed to worm his way into this book."

I looked up from my reading to see a picture of Harry and Gilderoy Lockhart standing side by side awkwardly. The picture moved around, showing Lockhart flashing his pearly smile, but I wrinkled my nose in disgust.

"How is that slimeball relevant to our task, Draco?" I frowned, trying to redirect the subject.

The boy frowned, "I just thought you'd want to see a picture of your beloved Potter."

"That's a waste of time."

"So is reading."

"Oh, will you stop complaining?" I snapped, shutting my book closed, "if you want to ask Moody why he's so suspicious in person, go ahead! Otherwise, the only way we can study him is through these books, okay?"

Draco opened his mouth to speak, but I cut him off.

"And stop bringing Harry into every single bloody conversation," I continued, "I'm already worried sick that he's going to die in this stupid tournament, and I don't need you poking fun at him every five seconds!"

Right. Rule number 9.

Clearing my throat, I turned my attention back to my book, ignoring the burning of my cheeks. I didn't mean to snap. I really didn't. It was just...tough. Even if I wanted to explain it in full detail, I probably couldn't, because I don't even know why I'm so bent on starting fights with him.

Glancing back up, I realized Draco was staring at me.

"What?" I questioned, "have I got something on my face?"

He didn't answer, turning back to the thick pages of his book like it was nothing. Maybe it was nothing, and I was just overanalyzing things like usual.

Going back to my reading, my eyes scanned the columns of words in interest, making note of anything that could provide useful information in understanding Moody. Oh! Here's another fact! Alastor Moody—

I didn't get to finish the sentence, before I realized Draco was staring again.

"What, Draco?" I asked again, "stop staring at me like a creep and spit out whatever you want to say."

Draco narrowed his eyes at the word 'creep' but eventually set down his book on the mahogany table. He furrowed his brows slightly, as if he was scolding himself for even thinking of something, and clasped his hands together slowly.

His ring made a scratching sound against the table.

"Does Potter..," he started, his throat twitching as he swallowed, "does he really mean that much to you?"

I was confused at first, but then I remembered the rant that I spilled out a few moments ago. The one where I said I was worried sick. Hm, I was surprised Draco even paid attention to what I was saying.

I nodded my head slowly, "he does."

"Oh," the boy murmured, inhaling sharply, "has anyone ever meant...more?"

More?

I wasn't sure how to answer that, since I never compared my friend's values to each other, and I wasn't ever going to make the mistake of putting a 'price tag' on them. I loved them all equally, even though everyone pressured me and Harry to be an item.

I hesitated, trying to think, "I'm not sure, honestly."

Draco was about to say something, but was cut off by a faint sound echoing in through the library doors.

Hermione, Ron, and Harry had just walked into the room, charms textbooks tucked into their hands uniformly. I widened my eyes in panic, and Draco did the same; we couldn't be caught here together.

"I haven't seen her since this morning, Harry," Hermione said, nearing our spot by the second, "I've looked everywhere for her."

Ron yawned, "I doubt she'd be in the library, honestly."

"Well, we've looked everywhere but here."

I didn't get a chance to hear what Weasley had to say in response, before I was caught off guard by a sound coming from behind me.

Draco let out an annoyed grunt, sliding out of his chair and sweeping his books up into his hands. As I fumbled my things into my arms, I let out a squeak as I felt his hand clamp around my wrist, pulling me helplessly behind a dusty bookshelf.

My back hit the shelf with a thud, and Draco lifted his arm so that it was resting over my head. I knew he was only doing it to cover me from being seen, but I felt incredibly trapped.

"Don't say a word," he muttered, his voice heavy, "or they'll hear you, got it?"

Nodding my head, I watched as he shoved a few books aside, peering over the empty space to see what was going on outside. My three friends were probably searching the tables. Lowering my gaze, I noticed that the hem of Draco's shirt had fallen to the side, leaving a blatant view of his collarbones.

Merlin's beard.

He had a few freckles running along his pale skin, shimmering against the dim firelight of the library; which, in turn, cast creviced shadows along his neck. I could smell the faint scent of his cologne.

UUHHhhhhhhh.

"If you're going to stare down my shirt, just ask," Draco's voice whispered abruptly, as he tilted his head down to look at me.

I gulped.

I didn't realize I had been staring.

Well, no, I did realize I was staring, I just was too busy staring to care.

"Don't flatter yourself," I said, averting my eyes, "there wasn't anywhere else to look considering you have your bloody arms trapping me in."

"Why didn't you close your eyes, then?" He pressed.

"I didn't think to in the moment."

"Well next time you can think, try not to make it so obvious that you like what you see."

I almost choked, "I'm sorry, what?"

Draco smirked, the sides of his lips twitching with amusement. Pressing his face closer to mine, he moved his hand off of the bookshelf to graze his fingers against my cheek.

"You're blushing," he teased, "don't think I didn't notice."

Today is a good day to die.

Shoving him away with a huff, I sulked over to the other side of the book aisle, plopping down onto the floor. As I flipped open my book, I noticed Draco resume his practice of watching the outside events. He looked flustered now, maybe even a little embarrassed, but managed to hide it well.

Maybe I should just keep reading.