Letters To A Friend (Draco Malfoy Fanfiction)

XIII.

The common room is mercifully empty, and for once, I'm grateful for the quiet. It's one of the rare moments I have to myself, without Fred and George keeping an eye on me like I might shatter at any moment, without Ginny's concerned looks following me around. I sit by the window, watching the snow gather outside in soft, drifting layers, the cold seeming to slow everything down. It all looks so peaceful, but inside, I'm anything but that.

I've written to Cedric again. Every word felt like trying to grasp onto something solid, something from before—before everything went wrong. But no matter how many letters I write, nothing changes. He's still gone. And I'm still here, drowning in this quiet, desperate ache.

My breath fogs the glass, blurring the view of the courtyard below. Part of me doesn't want to wipe it away. Maybe it's easier not to see things clearly. Maybe it's less painful that way. But Christmas... Christmas is still too fresh. If it hadn't been for Ginny that day, I wouldn't be sitting here now. She saved me, pulled me out of that water when I couldn't pull myself back. I don't know how to thank her for that. Or even if I should. Some things are too heavy to speak about.

I've gotten so used to pretending. Pretending everything's fine, pretending I'm fine. But lately, the weight of it all is pressing harder, and I can feel the cracks. Everyone's concern—the constant watching, the whispered conversations when they think I'm not listening—it's all starting to suffocate me. And I don't know how to tell them to stop without making it worse.

Then there's Ron. His words have been playing on repeat in my mind. He actually thinks I'd betray the group, that being seen with Zabini means I've switched sides. It's like he doesn't know me at all. The hurt runs deeper than I expected it to. We're family, and he thinks I'd turn my back on them? I don't know how we've ended up here, but I'm so tired of trying to explain myself to people who should understand.

Outside, the snow keeps falling, soft and relentless. The world looks so calm, so still, but inside I feel like I'm being torn apart. I just want it all to stop—just for a little while. To catch my breath. But it feels like there's no end to this storm.

The common room has started to fill up, the first years returning from their flying lessons, laughing and chattering as they shed their cloaks. The noise grates against my nerves, making it impossible to keep up the façade any longer. I need to get out of here—somewhere quiet, where I don't have to pretend.

I slip out unnoticed, pulling my cloak tighter around me as I head deeper into the castle. The cold stone walls and echoing footsteps are oddly comforting, offering a reprieve from the constant buzz of noise and watchful eyes. I wander aimlessly, just trying to find a corner of Hogwarts where I can be alone, away from everyone else's expectations and questions.

It's by the Charms corridor, a usually quiet place at this time of day, that I finally stop. Or at least, I think it'll be quiet. But as I turn a corner, I freeze. I'm not alone.

Draco Malfoy is standing there, leaning against the wall, looking just as surprised to see me as I am to see him. His usual smirk is absent, replaced by something unreadable, and for a moment, neither of us speaks.

"What are you doing here?" I ask, though my voice lacks its usual bite. I'm too tired for games.

He hesitates, like he hadn't expected anyone to find him here either. "Could ask you the same thing," he says, his voice low, cautious. The sharpness I've come to expect from him isn't there.

I glance around. The corridor is empty, save for the two of us, and the silence between us feels strange, loaded with something unspoken. We've never been in a moment like this—no sneers, no mocking words exchanged. Just quiet.