Drarry AI Oneshots

The Confessional Booth

Eighth year was supposed to be about healing. It was supposed to be a time when the students of Hogwarts could come together, rebuild, and try to move on from the war. But Harry Potter knew better than anyone that healing wasn't that simple. The scars ran deep, and everyone-himself included-was struggling in their own way.

That's why, at the start of the year, he had quietly opened the confessional booth.

It wasn't anything fancy. Just an old broom cupboard near the library that he had repurposed. Inside, a simple desk, two chairs, and a dividing curtain provided a safe, private space where students could come to talk about whatever they were going through-completely anonymous. Harry sat behind the curtain, listening to their stories, offering words of comfort and advice when he could, or just letting them vent if that was what they needed. No one knew it was him sitting behind the curtain, and that was the point.

Students had been trickling in since word had gotten out. Some came to talk about their nightmares, others to grieve for lost friends or family members. And some just wanted to talk about how hard it was to go back to normal after everything they'd been through.

Harry had found it oddly therapeutic, listening to others. It made him feel less alone in his own struggles.

But there was one thing Harry hadn't considered.

People might come in to talk about him.

It was a quiet afternoon, and Harry had settled into the booth with a cup of tea, waiting to see if anyone would stop by. He didn't mind the quiet moments-they gave him time to reflect and gather his own thoughts. But as the minutes ticked by, he heard footsteps approaching.

The door creaked open, and someone stepped inside. Harry couldn't see them, of course-the curtain divided the space, ensuring that the confessions remained anonymous. But he could hear the shuffling of feet as the person sat down in the chair on the other side.

"Hello," Harry greeted, his voice soft but steady. "Feel free to talk about whatever's on your mind."

For a moment, there was silence, as though the person was gathering their thoughts. Then, a familiar voice filled the small space.

"I feel ridiculous for doing this, but..." The voice was unmistakable. Draco Malfoy.

Harry froze, his heartbeat suddenly loud in his ears. Of all the people who could have walked into the booth today, Draco Malfoy was the last person he had expected.

Draco cleared his throat, clearly unaware that Harry was the one sitting just a few feet away behind the curtain. "I don't even know why I'm here. This is stupid."

Harry's throat tightened, but he forced himself to stay calm. He had to play his role-he couldn't let Draco know it was him. "It's not stupid," Harry said gently. "You came here for a reason, didn't you?"

Draco let out a soft, bitter laugh. "Yeah, I suppose I did. But I doubt you'll have any useful advice for this."

Harry leaned forward slightly, his curiosity piqued. "You'd be surprised. Why don't you just... tell me what's on your mind?"

Draco sighed heavily, and when he spoke again, there was a vulnerability in his voice that Harry had never heard before. "I'm... in love with someone."

Harry's breath caught in his throat. He hadn't expected that.

Draco continued, his voice laced with frustration. "And it's driving me mad, because I've been trying to keep it to myself, but it's just getting worse. Every time I see him, it gets worse."

Him. Harry's mind raced. Draco was in love with... someone. Some guy.

"I've never felt this way before," Draco went on, his tone bitter. "It's pathetic. I've been walking around Hogwarts like some lovesick idiot, and I can't even work up the nerve to do anything about it."