A New Chapter at Hogwarts [Drarry]

Chapter 36: The Confrontation

 Harry stood before Draco's apartment door, the cold evening air biting at his skin, but it was a distant sensation, overshadowed by the weight of the letter in his pocket and the storm of emotions churning inside him. He had imagined this moment a hundred times already—thought of all the things he wanted to say, all the questions that demanded answers. But now that he was here, just a few steps away from Draco, doubt gripped him. What if Draco refused to talk? What if he slammed the door in his face and acted like none of it mattered? Harry's hand hovered above the door, his breath coming in shallow puffs. He had waited too long for this moment—there was no turning back now.

With a sharp breath, he knocked firmly on the door, the sound reverberating down the dimly lit corridor. For a brief moment, nothing happened. The silence stretched on, and Harry's heartbeat quickened, wondering if Draco would even answer. But then, just as he raised his hand to knock again, the door creaked open.

Draco stood there, framed by the dim light of his apartment. He looked nothing like the sharp, composed man Harry had seen at Hogwarts. Gone was the immaculately groomed professor. In his place was a figure worn thin by sleepless nights and the weight of something far heavier than either of them had spoken aloud. Draco's hair was tousled and unkempt, dark circles hung beneath his eyes, and his rumpled shirt clung to his frame, as if he hadn't cared to change for days. There was a hollowness about him, a fragility that made Harry's heart clench painfully.

This wasn't what he had expected. But his resolve hardened. There was no going back now. Draco's lips parted as if to speak, but no words came out. For a moment, they simply stared at each other. He stared at Harry, clearly not expecting him to be there, and the air between them felt heavy, weighted with everything they had left unsaid. The air between them was thick with unspoken tension, with everything they had left unresolved since that night. Harry's chest tightened with the sheer weight of it, the silence pressing down on him like a physical force.

Without a word, Harry pulled the letter from his pocket, holding it up like an accusation, his hand shaking slightly. "How long?" he demanded, his voice tight with emotion.

Draco's gaze dropped to the crumpled parchment in Harry's hand, confusion flickering across his features. "What are you—?"

"How long?" Harry repeated, his tone sharper now, frustration bubbling up inside him. "How long have you been in love with me?"

The question hit Draco like a physical blow. He froze, his body stiffening, his wide eyes locked onto Harry's. The shock on his face was palpable, and for a fleeting moment, he looked as though the ground had opened beneath him. His mouth opened and closed, words failing him as he struggled to process what Harry had just said. He looked utterly lost.

Harry took a step closer, his grip tightening on the letter. "How long, Draco?" His voice was rising now, the frustration that had been simmering for weeks finally spilling over. "How long have you felt like this?"

Draco blinked rapidly, as if trying to shake off the stupor that had overtaken him. His gaze darted from the letter to Harry's face, still not fully understanding what was happening. "What are you talking about?" he muttered, his voice barely above a whisper. "Harry, I don't—"

"You know exactly what I'm talking about," Harry snapped, cutting him off. He waved the crumpled letter between them, the paper wrinkling under his grip. "You wrote this, didn't you?"

Draco's eyes finally settled on the letter, and Harry saw the moment recognition hit him like a freight train. His face went pale, and his throat worked as he tried to form words. "Where did you get that?" Draco managed, his voice hoarse, barely above a whisper. He took an involuntary step back, retreating into the safety of his apartment, his eyes wide with something like panic.