Redemption | Drarry (Old version. Incomplete)

Chapter 15: Dauntless (Edited)

The scarf had finally settled around his neck, its warmth a weak reward for the battle he’d fought with the fox. She’d won, of course. She always did. But for once, Draco didn’t care.

His fingers moved absently through the fur at her neck, her body curled like a smug little crescent moon in his lap, tail flicking once in sleepy satisfaction. The tower around him was quiet now, silent except for the faint wind rattling against the glass.

But the quiet didn’t sit easy. It never had. Not since him.

Draco let his head fall back, eyes drifting toward the stars above. He’d meant to be alone tonight. Meant to avoid everyone. His magic had been prickling since this morning, skittering just beneath his skin like something caged. The walk to the tower had helped, a bit—but the feeling hadn’t faded until Potter walked in.

His fingers froze in the fox’s fur.

Potter.

Draco clenched his jaw, his other hand gripping the edge of his cloak. He didn’t know why the name tasted strange in his mouth now, like trying to pronounce something in a foreign language.

It made sense, of course.

He wasn’t stupid. He’d read about it in the library and traced the old notes his mother kept locked away in the manor’s western wing. Bonds. Threads of magic that snapped taut between the rare few. Always involuntary. Always inconvenient.

Always dangerous. But this wasn’t supposed to happen to him. He wasn’t supposed to be chosen for anything. He was just supposed to exist—sharp-tongued, quietly efficient, good at being unnoticed. Not this.

Not tethered to Harry bleeding Potter.

The worst part? It had felt good.

He remembered it now—the brief moment when Potter had entered the tower, cloaked and quiet, and how everything in Draco had gone still. The chaos in his head, the ache in his chest—it had vanished, soothed like someone had poured light into his bloodstream.

And now Potter had left. And everything ached again.

“Brilliant,” he muttered bitterly, closing his eyes.

The fox yawned in his lap, tail flicking up to slap his face once. He pushed it away, but there wasn’t much heat behind the gesture.

He didn’t want this.

He didn’t ask for this.

But deep inside, buried in the part of him he rarely let breathe, there was a voice that whispered,
You didn’t feel alone when he was here.

And it was that voice that frightened him more than anything else.

Then there was the matter of the morning at breakfast. He sat directly opposite Potter, although he was separated by the first bench and the large table, he still had a good view of him.

And he was able to catch the little flinch he did when a student merely bumped into the table. It seemed like something he should be looking into, but it was more of a problem for Potter not him.

Yet the mere thought gave him a migraine like no other.

“…Something’s wrong.” Draco muttered to Ingrid who was originally curled up on the floor, but hopped up onto Draco's lap after hearing him speak to her.

Licking her paw nonchalantly, she said, “Yes. You still have potato on your chin.”

“Not me, him! Harry Potter is being weird.” Draco snapped at her, as he hissed under his breath it was already weird enough that he had to actively carry her around on his head when she she got too lazy to move.

But it was another thing to talk to her like they were having a heated debate. He would look mad for Circe's sake.

“And this is new?” Ingrid replied, and Draco wondered if she intruded on his inner dialogue or she meant Potter, so he played his luck and stuck to Potter.

Draco rubbed his temple, sighing dramatically. “No, but this is… weird weird. There was a shift. I felt it.”

Ingrid's ears perked up and her eyes seemed to glow with mischief, “Ohhh, did the bonding thing start? You know, the wobbly magic link of inevitable doom and attraction?”

“Would you keep your snout down, please? We don’t just say things like that in public.” Draco hissed at her.

“I don't know why you would just continue to ignore this as if it's nig hurting you, and besides, it's not like it's your business now anyway. It's not affecting you."

Draco looked back at Harry once more, watching how the boy shifted uncomfortably, clearly trying to ignore whatever was going on inside.

“…Bloody hell, don’t let it be him.”

With that, Ingrid just kept to herself.