It was an odd feeling, being done with school. I'd never considered the finality of the end of it all. I knew that I wanted to become a Healer, I knew that I'd continue to spend the majority of my free time reading and the rest with Harry and Ron. But I had never considered the fact that when all was said and done, exams were over and the end of year feast had begun, I would be worried.

I had known the answer to every single question on the Potions exam and I was quite confident that I would receive O's in all of my other subjects as well. I had been accepted into the Healer training program based on recommendations and well before any other student this year. But I was afraid. I was afraid of a future outside the walls of Hogwarts. I had helped Harry Potter, the Boy Who Lived, battled Voldemort and the Death Eaters, yet I was afraid of the future.

It was for this reason, and the fact that I'd had a rather huge fight with Ron that ended in our breaking up, that I found myself sitting at the top of the Astronomy Tower, gulping down more firewhiskey than I'd drunk before.

I loved Ron, I did. But he didn't really understand why I wouldn't want to spend all my time listening to him regale his stories of the war and of Quidditch matches. Merlin forbid I might not like Quidditch and flying, which I do not. Whatsoever.

It was for this reason, and the fact that I wasn't really listening, that I missed the patter of footsteps and the creaking of a door, so I was utterly surprised when two legs appeared beside me.

Glancing up, I was met with the smirk of Draco Malfoy. In the moonlight, he was lovely. He was always attractive, with his ice blonde hair, piercing grey eyes and commanding height. Yet, he was now illuminated; a halo spread around his hair, his irises darker than usual. Malfoy was very attractive indeed.

I had never spent much time with Malfoy. He'd always been on the outskirts of my existence; a brooding, charismatic Slytherin that habitually got into fights with my friends and occasionally teased me about my hair. I'd hit him once, in third year, but we hadn't had much contact since that point in time, come to think of it.

"Granger," He inclined his head respectfully. "Might I ask what you're doing up here?"

I pursed my lips. He seemed almost... gentleman-like and polite.

"Getting drunk," I stated matter-of-factly.

Raised eyebrows were the only response I seemed to receive, however, after a few seconds of careful scrutiny, he lowered himself to the ground beside me, grabbed the bottle from my clutches and took a healthy gulp.

"Why?" He asked once he'd returned the firewhiskey to me.

"My ex-boyfriend is an arse."

Malfoy merely smiled understandingly. I suppose he did have a bit of an old vendetta against the prick. "Too true, my dear."

We spent a good deal of time in silence, with only the sounds of the castle in the distance.

"You know..." He turned to me and I realised we were much closer than I thought we had been. Barely a foot lay between his outstretched leg and mine, our hands even closer, laying on the floor. "...if you really wanted to piss off Weasel... I have an idea."

"Mmhm?" I took another swig, nodding for him to continue as I placed the bottle on the ground farther away, to discourage myself from drinking much more. My judgement was seriously impaired if I was having a semi-nice conversation with Malfoy, of all people.

As I turned back, I found him inches away, murmuring, "This." And then he kissed me.