It was the last day before Christmas Holiday in our sixth year. I was a prefect, and Draco was not. He seemed to hate me even more after he learned that I was a prefect. I was walking down the empty hallway late that night when I heard something move behind me. I turned around and I didn’t see anything. Then, when I got to a patch of light he seemed to emerge from the shadows. “Potter?” he says is like a question, like he’s wondering what I’m doing out late at night. He raises his eyebrow and I almost melt. I forget how to breathe. He steps up to me and I look up at him. I still can’t breathe and my mouth gets dry and my throat gets tight. I clear my throat to relieve the pressure. He looks left, then right, then behind him. “What are you doing?” I ask him.