But she didn't care because Draco Malfoy was striding towards her instead, through the heavy downpour with a deathly expression plastered across his face. The canary sat wobbling on his shoulder as he began jogging, coming to a stop inches from where she stood, frozen. His quidditch robes sat slick against his heaving chest, the sweat and rain sticking to him like glue, the outline of his abs visible through the sopping fabric.