His love

Chapter 7: Shadows

The sun poured through the tall windows of the Hogwarts classroom, casting golden rays onto the wooden desks. Daphne Riddle sat quietly near the back, her quill tapping rhythmically on the parchment in front of her. She watched as Professor Snape scrawled a complex potion formula on the blackboard, his sharp voice cutting through the murmur of the students.

Daphne glanced around, her gaze flickering to the familiar faces at the Slytherin table. Her classmates sat focused or whispering in pairs, their eyes glazed over from the lecture. On the other side of the room, her eyes caught sight of Draco Malfoy, sitting next to Crabbe and Goyle. His cool, calculated demeanor drew attention without effort.

Ever since she'd been sorted into Slytherin, Daphne had been an object of curiosity. Whispers followed her everywhere—Voldemort's daughter, the heir to darkness, they'd say. But she didn't care for the gossip or the weight of her father's legacy. What mattered to her was carving out a space of her own, free from the shadows that clung to her family name.

She returned her attention to the potion ingredients lined neatly on her desk. Today's lesson was on advanced potion-making, something Daphne had always excelled at. But her mind wandered despite herself. It had been hard to concentrate since arriving at Hogwarts, not because of the classes but because of the atmosphere—the tension between houses, the constant judgment, and, lately, the unspoken connection she felt toward Draco.

At first, Draco had been like everyone else—another Slytherin with a reputation for arrogance. But over the past few weeks, they had started to speak more often. In the library, during study sessions, or between classes, they found themselves in quiet conversation, their initial banter giving way to something more meaningful. She hadn't expected to find someone who understood the pressure of living under the shadow of a powerful family.

"Miss Riddle, if you're quite done daydreaming, I expect you to start brewing your potion," Snape's voice sliced through her thoughts, his eyes narrowing in her direction.

Daphne straightened in her seat, her cheeks flushing slightly. "Yes, Professor," she muttered, setting to work immediately. As she gathered the ingredients and began brewing, her thoughts still drifted to Draco. There was something about him that intrigued her—his sharp mind, his wit, but more than anything, the way he seemed to be struggling with his own identity, much like her.

As her cauldron began to simmer, she felt someone move closer to her. Glancing to her right, Draco was beside her, his usual smirk playing on his lips.

"Riddle, need help with that potion?" he teased, leaning casually against her desk.

She rolled her eyes but couldn't suppress a small smile. "I don't recall asking for assistance, Malfoy. In fact, if I remember correctly, I had to save you from botching your own potion last week."

Draco chuckled softly, his gray eyes glinting with amusement. "Touché. But we all need saving sometimes, don't we?"

The underlying meaning in his words caught Daphne off guard. She looked up at him, really looked, and for a moment, the playful banter gave way to something deeper. There was a vulnerability in his eyes, hidden beneath the bravado he often displayed. She understood that look all too well.

"Maybe," she said quietly, her eyes meeting his. "But some of us aren't sure we want to be saved."

Draco's expression shifted, his smirk fading as he regarded her thoughtfully. There was a brief pause before he spoke again, his voice softer. "Maybe we're not as different as we think."

The words hung in the air between them, a quiet confession of sorts. Before either of them could say anything more, Professor Snape's voice echoed through the classroom again, demanding their attention. Draco gave her a small nod before moving back to his seat, leaving Daphne to ponder their exchange.

The rest of the lesson passed in a blur, but Daphne's mind was elsewhere. She couldn't shake the feeling that something had shifted between them. It was strange—Draco Malfoy, of all people, was becoming someone she could confide in. They hadn't spoken openly about their families, but she could sense that he, too, was burdened by expectations he didn't entirely want to meet.

As the bell rang, signaling the end of class, Daphne packed up her things quickly. She stepped into the corridor, the buzz of students moving through the halls filling the air. Just as she turned to head toward the Slytherin common room, Draco caught up with her.

"Daphne," he called, falling into step beside her.

She glanced up at him, raising an eyebrow. "What is it, Malfoy?"

He hesitated for a moment, his usual confidence faltering. "Do you ever wonder what would happen if we didn't have to follow in our families' footsteps? If we could just...be ourselves?"

The question surprised her. She wasn't used to Draco being so candid. For a moment, she didn't know how to respond. But then she realized that, in a way, she'd been thinking the same thing for weeks.

"All the time," she admitted quietly. "But it's not that easy, is it? We can't just walk away from who we are."

Draco nodded, his expression contemplative. "No, I suppose not. But maybe...maybe we don't have to let it define us either."

Daphne looked at him, surprised by his words. Maybe Draco wasn't just the arrogant Slytherin prince everyone thought he was. Maybe, like her, he was searching for something more.

"Maybe," she said softly, offering him a small, genuine smile. "We'll figure it out."

As they walked together down the long, winding corridors of Hogwarts, Daphne couldn't help but feel a strange sense of relief. For the first time in a long while, she felt like she wasn't alone in her struggle to find her place in the world.