I don't own anything remotely relating to the freakishly successful Harry Potter franchise, damnit.

This is just a drabble that came to me in Hanover, New Hamphire, of all places, while I was in the midst the enormously foreboding New England college tour. I posted it in my livejournal but I kinda like it so I decided to share it with everyone here, too. Very short and angsty. Enjoy, if you can.

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He found her where the east wing opened into an ironically green courtyard and where she remembered time had often slowed. It was the last day.

Somehow he caught her wrist and with a jarring grip pulled her where they couldn't see. Her ankle slipped sideways and it sent a sting of pain up to her hip.

When they were hidden she whispered, "Draco! I told you—"

Everything in his eyes stopped the words in her throat. The cold in his eyes had some time between then and now become something incensed. "We're not done," he hissed in her ear, his hand an inflexible cuff on her forearm.

She told him he was delusional and tried to step into where the air was clearer.

"You began this. This is your fault."

Shut up.

"Shut up, you senseless prick!"

And then she began to feel fear, because he stepped closer and jaw went hard.

"Draco," she said quickly, her heart an absurd beat in her chest, "this can't work. You know that."

"None of this would have happened if you weren't so—"

"What?" She said destructively. "Slutty? Whorish? Easy?"

"Fuck you," he spat.

"Fuck you. What are you doing? We agreed on this, remember?"

"Yeah, well, maybe it isn't working for me."

Then her eyes started to burn. She closed them and felt his fingertips over the hot lids, his lips over her mouth. She made a desperate sound, a wet sob, and tore away, into the clear.