"I had a really clever comment all worked out," said Draco wistfully.

"Then you fell on my head and I forgot what it was."

"Tell me anyway."

"I can´t, the momentś past."

Rhysenn shook her head and the gems glittered in her hair. "You think too much," she said.

The snow was beginning to soak into the back of Dracoś cloak. He shivered. "Such men are dangerous," he said.

Rhysenn didn´t reply. Her eyes were glittering, flat gray and amused. "Do you want the message I have for you," she said at last, "or not?"

Draco yawned. Snow went into his mouth. He tried not to splutter. "Have I got a choice?"

"Not really." Rhysenn was smirking. This was her favorite part, when Draco had to play hide-and-seek to find the parchment concealed among her voluminous clothes. Usually Draco played along, but tonight he was feeling unaccountably irritable. He put one hand firmly on her waist, and slid the other up under her dress, along her outer thigh, and found the rolled-up parchment tucked neatly into the top of her stocking. He pulled it free, and held it up in front of her. "Got it."

She looked irritable. "How did you know…?"

"You´re a woman, and therefore predictable."

"Oh!" Rhysenn emitted a very girly squeak of annoyance, and got up off Dracoś chest. She stood over him, hands on her hips, a position which would have afforded him a good view up her skirt had he craned his head. He decided to be gentlemanly, and didn´t. Instead, he stood up, brushing the snow off his cloak as he did. When he looked up, he found himself staring squarely into her eyes. There was nothing girly about her gaze — it was sharp, cold, calculating, ageless. He wondered again how old she was, something she had never been willing to tell him. "You´re horrible."

"Don´t," said Draco, standing up, and brushing the snow from his sleeves with the parchment, "pretend like you care what I do."