Quarter to Midnight

A soft rapping of knuckles against her front door catches her attention. With a glance at the clock, her brows knit together. Who on earth is outside her door at quarter to midnight?

Hermione dog ears the corner of her page, saving her place for later, and sets it—along with her glasses—on the walnut coffee table. The leather sofa squeaks as she pushes herself to stand, and grabs her wand.

She pads down the hallway, slipper clad feet shuffling against the wooden floorboards. Her fingers curl around the brass door handle and she opens it despite her apprehension. Hermione sucks in a sharp breath at the sight of the mystery knocker.

The moonlight illuminates their pale skin with an iridescent shimmer of silver. Visibly injured and shivering from the cold, Draco Malfoy is standing on her doorstep.

“W-what are you doing here?” she asks.

Teeth chattering from the cold, he stutters. "I—I’m sorry, I didn't know where else to go."