third person pov

' if i could make you the enemy,
i would '

After ducking and hiding behind multiple tapestries and statues, Draco and Rose finally made it to the Astronomy Tower.

She let out a laugh she was holding in as they began to climb the spiral staircase leading up. "Merlin," she breathed. "Minnie's face when she heard my laugh but couldn't find us was glorious."

Draco rolled his eyes, placing a hand on her back and pushing forward, annoyed by the slow space she kept going at.

"If you were capable of not finding everything excessively hilarious, we wouldn't have had to hide behind that molded tapestry."

To Rose, Draco sounded irritated. But in all actuality, he felt at his happiest in a way he hadn't since the night he held her after Orion Black's funeral. Her laugh, that damn laugh, spread a warmth into his chest that made him uncomfortable.

Upon stepping off the last stair, she let out a dramatic sigh and started to spin herself around with arms spread.

Draco watched in amusement, coming to a stop on the top step where she had just left from. Rose was always wearing this facade, a mask if you will. He enjoyed being alone with her, even if he wouldn't ever be able to admit it. There was this twinge in his heart at the way she always seemed to drop the act when it was just them.

Rose stopped spinning and looked at him expectantly. "So...are you going to join me, or just stand there like a fool?"

Her voice snapped him out of his daze.

"You want me to spin around with you?"

Draco shot her an odd look as he stepped onto the floor and began walking closer.

"Well, of course, Mister Malfoy."

He began to roll his eyes until his arm was snatched, Rose spinning herself under it with laughter filling up the tower once more.

She dropped his arm with a pinch to his cheek before walking away to the edge of the tower, the boots on her feet loud.

Weird as ever, Draco thought, with no explanation,

He had to take a deep breath, remember to breathe and not forget himself. It was as if everything in him wanted to drag her back, allow her to spin herself again and again until she was sick of it. How foolish, what was he even thinking? Draco Malfoy, spinning around? Laughing? It was impossible to imagine, and he was disgusted with himself for wanting it to happen.

Rose leaned an elbow against the railing, reaching into the pouch and pulling out the cigarette pack. She placed one in between her lips, using a hand to attempt to shield it from the wind while her pointer finger lit the tobacco.

Draco once again was too busy staring at her to move until the smell of smoke hit his nose, forcing him to shake his head and walk up beside her. Unlike Rose, he leaned both his elbows down onto the railing, their shoulders brushing as he focused on the night sky littered with stars and the bright half-moon.

Rose turned her head toward him, comforted to see his relaxed face with grey-eyes flickering around the sky—as if he was searching for something high above.

He glanced over at her lingering gaze, Rose quickly handed the pack to him. Draco nodded with a signal to do it the way they used to—the way they did it after the funeral.

Rose rolled her eyes while pressing her shoulder firmly against his and leaning up. He did the opposite, leaning down and pressing the end of his cigarette to the lit end of her own with lingering eye contact.

It brought back a sense of nostalgia.

A painful one.

They were best friends once, childhood lovers once, but now they only had the hateful words to hold onto in the midst of anguish.

Still, there was something unreadable about their bond for others to comprehend. Both had heard one another's screams of pain while being 'taught' by their families. They knew things about each other no one else did, and they knew to keep those things unspoken.

Rose once kicked Lucius in his private parts at the ripe age of eight when he pinned Draco up against a wall. That was just one of the many instances providing proof she would always want to protect him. Even Narcissa used to say Rose acted as if she was his own personal bodyguard.

Draco had done his part too, comforting Rose when Walburga would leave her in the family tapestry room after a 'lesson'. They'd even sneak potions and clean one another up any time they got too injured from their family.

But when they came to Hogwarts, things changed.

Rose bonding with Harry Potter and his friends was the start of it all.

Lucius's hate for the girl only grew after that, with the need to fill up Draco's ears full of nonsense about her. But he never listened, and Rose would never know how many punishments he endured for standing up for her.

When she befriended Harry and actually became close with him during the first year, Draco began to quickly change his demeanor toward her. Then, her friendship with Hermione and Ron made him angry too. He felt replaced, like all it would take were a few years of being around that group for her to abandon him.

Draco wouldn't ever admit that though.

But he did believe she left him, in every form.

The two began arguing during the first year, though Rose barely spent time with any of the Gryffindors, and had Draco begged Theo and Whitman to see his reason—he was so terrified of losing her and what the future could hold.

Draco began to call Hermione awful names, and it hurt Rose. She had never been allowed girl friends before and then she found one, only for him to treat her like scum. At the end of the day Rose knew what they all thought of Hermione. Even Whitman and Theo, who were great people, saw her differently from their upbringing—but all that mattered to Rose was they never voiced it or treated Hermione that way.

Despite Rose still spending all her time with Draco, Theo, Whitman, and Blaise—Draco and her couldn't stop fighting.

Both too prideful, and hurt, and too fearful of abandonment.

Their arguing only escalated throughout the years, and turned from simple bickering to spiteful.

Attempting to shoot for the heart almost every time.

It was sad for Narcissa to witness, she loved Rose almost as much as her own.

But nothing would ever compare to things Draco lived in a constant of wanting to spit at her—she had abandoned him, genuinely and fully-heartedly abandoned him.

She sat on this high-horse, claiming to know things he did not—to be capable of kindness, of never leaving anyone, for loving her friends more than herself. But Draco knew it was a lie. She was the one who left, the one who abandoned, the one who hurt him more than anyone ever could.

At the tower, Rose and Draco realized, in sync, that they had been staring off into the distance without speaking for what seemed like an hour—the only sound being them taking long drags of cigarettes.

He has thought about what he would say to her a million times, and here she is alone, once more, and he still does not know.

Draco broke the silence, turning his gaze down to her, with the only thing he could think of, "Are you scared of him being back?"

She looked up at him, blowing out a stream of smoke to the side. "Honestly?"

He nodded.

"Honestly."

"I'm not scared, I'm fucking furious." She flicked her cigarette off the tower, frustratedly reaching down to grab another. Draco waited patiently for her to light it and became amused again as she handed him one, signaling him in for their old ritual this time.

His lips twitched as he leaned down to press the cigarette against hers, adoring the anger in her eyes in the most twisted sense.

Rose pulled away with a huff.

"He selfishly left me with a nanny and went off to murder thirteen people." She blew out her smoke frustratedly, muttering, "And now what? He's come to kill me? What did I do to him? He doesn't even know me. I'm not...like them."

He knows what she meant.

She was not like the Blacks.

Sirius would hate her even more for it, when he found out of her rebellion.

Draco focused back on the stars above with a shake of his head. "He's not going to kill you, Rosie...You'll kill him first. You're not some fragile girl, you never have been."

Rose sighed as she spotted the Sirius star. "He deserves it, doesn't he? To be killed, like he did to all those muggles and his friend?"

Draco shot her a look that showed he meant his words, nudging her shoulder. "If you didn't kill him, I would."

And Draco really, really meant it too. He would kill for Rose in a heartbeat, because frankly, he would do anything for her. Sometimes he wished to steal some of her bravery so he could drop his facade against her and tell her that.

Rose smiled at him, making his chest tighten. "Can I tell you the real truth?"

Draco stared back down at her, bringing the cigarette up to his lips while tightening his fingers around the handrail. "Tell me the truth, Rosie."

The way he was looking at her as if she was the only one to exist in the universe with him, and the sound of his voice, made her speak more truthfully than she has in years.

"That night in the hospital is the best I've slept in so long," she whispered in a hush tone, unable to look away from his grey-eyes.

His knuckles turned ghostly white around the handrail.

As more intent showed on his face, she willed herself to garner the strength to look away. Because now he was staring into her soul, and it made her feel like he could see every part of her, as if she couldn't hide anything from him. Perhaps she could act as if she were in a play for everyone else, but he was here now—not letting her even pretend to hold anything but the truth.

Draco looked away to flick his cigarette off the tower, giving Rose the out she needed to pull her gaze away.

She inhaled a sharp breath.

But then he abruptly grasped her chin, forcing her to face him at his full height with a chill shooting down her spine.

A pause, a long one, full of nothing but that infamous blittering stare directed upon her.

She couldn't move, couldn't look away.

She could only take a shaky breath, begging him internally to not ruin this.

He moved his hand onto her cheek, brushing his knuckles over the skin there.

"I still have them too," he muttered.

Rose simply nodded at him, afraid if she moved too much his touch would slip away. She knew what he was speaking about, the night terrors. The cause of her vulnerability is clear, the words tumbling out as their eyes stay locked, "I want them gone, Draco."

Draco felt such a deep pang of understanding that he almost stopped breathing for a minute.

He began to nod, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. "I do too, Rosie."

Rose sighed, leaning her forehead into Draco's chest.

"Can we pretend? Tonight?"

"Yes," he said, no second of hesitation.

But he tensed for a minute, not used to being touched anymore.

He was extremely deprived of such things, and if someone did touch him, chills would spread over his body—every time someone's fingers grazed his skin it was a reminder of the turmoil he went through.

Hold me, she internally begged. Show me that I'm not the filth you say.

After a moment or two, he put his arms around her. She flinched. Rose touching him never made him flinch or feel disgusted. And when he held her after the funeral, it seemed like the first time he had been held in years.

Her arms shakily went around him.

Draco let out a heavy breath of relief and rested his chin atop her head, them both just standing there, enjoying letting someone see them—even if it's just for a few minutes.

"I like you best, like this," he muttered, pushing a hand into her hair. The action was habitual. "When it's just you and me."

She fisted his jumper in between her hands, tightening her arms around him. How could she feel such anger with him, but when alone with him become the most vulnerable version of herself?

Maybe it's the alcohol still swarming in her veins.

"I think I like you best when it's just you and me too," she sighed out deeply, like it hurt her to think about how they will return to their cold shoulders towards one another tomorrow morning.

"You could just be like this all the time, you know," he responded, knowing it was foolish to say. Of course she couldn't be like this, she was raised to have a fortress around her heart.

Walburga Black crafted the perfect mask.

She allowed herself the smallest grace of taking in the familiar smell of him she missed gravely.

"It's not that simple, Draco."

"Nothing's ever that simple with you, Rosie."

Rose couldn't help but think maybe in another lifetime her and Draco never grow apart. They never begin to hold 'hate' for one another—that they stick by each other's side through anything.

Or perhaps they are as doomed in every world.

"You're drunk," she muttered against his chest.

"So are you," he shot back.

She had to pull back from their embrace in fear of crying, inspecting his face with the softest smile he had seen on her lips in a long time.

Her head shook before she turned back to the railing, grabbing it with both hands.

"The moon holds all our secrets, doesn't she?"

Draco felt the sudden urge to wrap his arms back around her, and found his hands shakily reaching, before he forced his arms down.

Instead, he put his shoulder directly against her own—any touch, anything at all, would be better than nothing— and grabbed the railing and looked up at the moon.

"That she does."

Rose smiled without letting her focus fall from the moon, laying her head against his arm mindlessly. "I like to think she's a good secret keeper."

Draco couldn't help the smile that spread on his face. He wanted to shake Rose and remind her he had been in love with her since the day they met as children, that his love for her grew from a childlike-love to the most all consuming one in existence.

But he wasn't in Gryffindor for a reason.

Draco Malfoy is not brave, especially not in the matters of the heart.

This moment, this here, would have to be enough for now.

He would love her in silence for the rest of his life if he had to.