Shadows of Slytherin

A Different Morning

Draco stirred, his body on the edge of consciousness, not quite ready to face the day. His arms tightened instinctively around something warm and solid beside him. He held on a little tighter, as if it were the most natural thing in the world, the comforting presence easing him back into sleep. Everything felt oddly right, as if Harry belonged there, in his arms.

For a fleeting moment, Draco wondered if he should wake up, if something was wrong. But his brain, still hazy from sleep, dismissed the thought. Without fully realizing it, he buried his face into the warmth beside him, feeling safe, feeling... content.

Moments later, he slipped back into sleep, unaware of just how tightly he was holding Harry.

---

Draco awoke again some time later, the fog of sleep finally lifting. His bed felt unnaturally empty, and this time, awareness came with it. Blinking in the dim light of the early morning, memories of last night slowly filtered in. Harry had been there, asleep beside him, and not only that—Draco had held him.

His heart gave an odd, heavy thud in his chest at the memory, the warmth of Harry's presence still faintly lingering in the sheets. Draco sat up abruptly, eyes darting to the side of the bed. It was empty now, and for a fleeting moment, Draco wondered if he had dreamt the whole thing.

He ran a hand through his tousled hair, feeling his thoughts spiral into confusion. Harry had been in his bed. He hadn't even realized when he'd fallen asleep, but there was no mistaking it. He'd woken up with Harry in his arms, and now... now, he was gone.

Draco swung his legs out of bed and planted them firmly on the floor, as if trying to ground himself in reality. He had never let anyone that close before, least of all Harry Potter. And yet, it had felt... right. Comfortable, even. The weight of Harry resting against him, the sound of his steady breathing—it was strange how easily Draco had accepted it.

But now that Harry was gone, Draco's stomach twisted with discomfort. Why had he let Harry stay? Why had he held him like that? None of it made sense. He shouldn't care, and yet, there was a nagging ache in his chest that he couldn't ignore. Draco shook his head, telling himself it didn't mean anything. It was a one-time thing, an accident of circumstance. Nothing more.

He dressed quickly, pushing the thoughts from his mind as he left the Slytherin dorms. He couldn't dwell on it—he had breakfast to get to. But as he walked through the cold stone corridors of Hogwarts, Draco's mind kept wandering back to Harry, wondering if he'd slipped out before anyone saw him. Or perhaps, Harry had left because—

No. He wasn't going to let himself think about it. Not anymore.

---

The Great Hall was already buzzing with morning activity by the time Draco arrived. Students were scattered across the tables, chatting and eating breakfast. Draco glanced toward the Slytherin table, but his gaze drifted—almost against his will—toward the Gryffindor table instead.

And there they were.

Ginny and Harry, practically glued together, sitting so close it was impossible to tell where one ended and the other began. Ginny had one hand threaded through Harry's messy hair, her lips pressed firmly against his. They were snogging, right there in front of everyone, as if they were the only two people in the world. Harry's hand rested on her waist, his fingers lightly tracing patterns on her side as they kissed.

Draco's stomach clenched painfully at the sight, a wave of heat rushing to his face. It was like a punch to the gut. He forced himself to keep walking, to pretend he hadn't seen anything, but the image of them together was burned into his mind. It wasn't the first time he'd seen them like this, but today—after waking up with Harry in his bed—it hit differently.

He hated the way it made him feel.

Draco found a seat at the Slytherin table, but his eyes kept straying back to Harry and Ginny. He tried to ignore it, tried to focus on the food in front of him, but it was impossible. Every time he glanced up, they were still there, still snogging. How could anyone just sit there and watch that without feeling... something?

Finally, Ginny pulled away, laughing softly as Harry brushed a lock of her fiery hair behind her ear. She leaned in, whispering something in his ear, and Harry smiled that lopsided smile Draco had seen far too many times. It was the kind of smile that made Draco's insides twist with something he didn't want to name.

Ron, sitting across from them, groaned loudly and rolled his eyes. "Merlin's sake, will you two stop? I'm trying to eat here," he said, waving a hand dramatically in front of his face. "It's bad enough you're sitting on his lap. Do we really need a front-row seat to your snogging?"

Ginny just laughed, not the least bit embarrassed. She kissed Harry's cheek before turning to Ron. "Jealous, are we?" she teased.

Ron pulled a face. "Of you snogging Harry? Definitely not." He made an exaggerated gagging noise, though his grin betrayed the joke. "I swear, you two are worse than the house elves and their cooking. It's making me sick."

Harry chuckled, pressing a quick kiss to Ginny's temple before responding to Ron. "Yeah, Ron. Maybe you're just bitter because Hermione doesn't kiss you like that in the Great Hall."

Ron's face turned an amusing shade of red as Hermione, sitting beside him, gave him a pointed look. "Hermione wouldn't kiss me in front of everyone anyway," Ron muttered, poking at his food with his fork. "Too dignified for that."

Hermione rolled her eyes but smiled slightly, giving Ron a gentle nudge. "Oh, please. You know I'm not into public displays of affection."

"Well, lucky for us, Harry and Ginny don't seem to care about that," Ron retorted, his tone teasing but affectionate.

Draco clenched his jaw, forcing himself to look away. He should've been used to this by now—Harry and Ginny were always like this, always so... comfortable with each other. But today, for some reason, it felt unbearable. He hated it.

He told himself he didn't care, that it didn't matter what Harry did, but every glance toward the Gryffindor table said otherwise. The knot in his chest tightened with each kiss, each laugh, each casual touch between Harry and Ginny. And the worst part was, Draco didn't understand why it bothered him so much.

He tried to push it down, to focus on his breakfast, but his appetite had vanished the moment he walked into the hall. The sight of them together made his skin crawl, and no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't shake the feeling.

Eventually, Draco gave up on breakfast altogether, shoving his plate away in frustration. He could feel the familiar burn of jealousy creeping up inside him, and it infuriated him. He wasn't supposed to care. Not about Harry. Not about any of this.

But as Ginny leaned in for another kiss, her fingers trailing lightly down Harry's cheek, Draco knew he couldn't keep pretending.