Back to Black- Draco Malfoy

29| ocean eyes

The morning after Draco and me had that interaction, I woke up in the common room. The couch wasn't comfortable but it sufficed just fine last night. Draco's small gesture was all I needed to carry on through the night.

It was early morning, before the first sunlight rays peeked through kind of early. Nobody was in the common room when I woke up and stretched, not like I expected it. It had to be around 4 when I awoke. Then a thought popped in my head.. today is the second task of the Triwizard Tournament.

The common room was shrouded in shadows, the only light filtering in from the faint glow of the green lake through the arched windows. The hour was so early it felt unreal, a stolen moment where the entire castle seemed to sleep.

I blinked, adjusting to the darkness and the silence. The flickering embers in the fireplace that cast dancing shapes across the stone walls. The plush, dark leather couch beneath me creaked softly as I shifted, trying to shake off the sleep.

That's when I noticed him.

The door to the boys' dormitory opened quietly, and Draco stepped out, his platinum-blonde hair almost ghostly in the dim light. He hadn't noticed me yet, rubbing his eyes as if he, too, wasn't quite awake. But then, just as he looked up, his eyes locked onto mine. For a moment, neither of us moved; the silence grew heavy, like a secret hanging in the air.

Draco's expression shifted-first to mild surprise, then to something unreadable. But, without breaking eye contact, he started walking toward me. Each step felt deliberate, echoing slightly in the stillness.

"Couldn't sleep either?" he asked, his voice low but clear, a slight smirk tugging at his lips as he finally stopped just a few feet away.

There was a teasing challenge in his gaze, something that made my pulse quicken. I could see that familiar confidence, but there was a gentleness there too, something I hadn't quite noticed before in the hustle of the school day.

For a moment, I forgot to respond, my gaze fixed on his. The usual sharpness of Draco's demeanor seemed softened in the quiet of the common room, stripped of the usual crowd and the daily pretense. It was just us, wrapped in shadows and faint whispers of warmth from the fire.

"Yeah," I finally answered, my voice barely more than a murmur. "Couldn't sleep. You?"

Draco shrugged, shoving his hands into the pockets of his green-lined pajama pants. "Guess not." He cast a glance toward the low-burning fire, as if gathering his words from the embers. "Or maybe," he added, looking back at me, "I just needed to get out of there."

There was something raw in the way he said it, and I could feel myself drawn to it, a hint that there was more to him than the biting remarks and carefully crafted arrogance he usually wore like armor.

He tilted his head, studying my face for a moment. "What's got you up this early? I thought you were one of the few who actually got sleep around here."

I gave a small laugh, hugging my knees as I looked into the fire. "Usually, yeah. Just... couldn't shut my mind off, I guess."

Draco was quiet, watching me, and I could sense his curiosity. He lowered himself onto the edge of the couch, keeping a respectable distance but close enough that I could catch the faint scent of his cologne. I almost expected him to make some snide comment to fill the silence, to crack a joke and keep up the front we both so carefully maintained. But he didn't.

"Sometimes... it's like that," he said, barely above a whisper. The vulnerability in his tone was something new, something that felt private, like I'd stumbled onto a side of him he kept hidden.

We sat there in silence, side by side, neither of us breaking the quiet, almost as if talking would shatter whatever fragile understanding was building between them. The soft light played over his face, highlighting the sharp angles softened by the quiet warmth of the common room, and I couldn't help but wonder if anyone else ever saw him like this-stripped of his defenses, almost peaceful.

"Do you ever think," he murmured after a while, eyes focused on the embers, "that there's... more to all this than what everyone expects of us?"

I glanced at him, surprised, but he wasn't looking at me.Instead, he seemed lost in thought, as if voicing something he hadn't even admitted to himself.

"Yes," I said softly, and for the first time, I felt as though we understood each other in a way words couldn't quite express.

Draco shifted slightly, finally looking over at me with a faint, searching expression. The common room was usually a place of camaraderie or rivalry, depending on who was around, but now it felt like a sanctuary, a place where we could both drop their masks, even if only for a few minutes.

He seemed to hesitate, as if deciding whether or not to speak again. "Sometimes," he began slowly, "I think about what it would be like if... things were different. If we didn't have to live up to what everyone wants from us."

I could feel his heart racing, as if this conversation was balancing on the edge of something delicate, something both of us had kept locked away. "Yeah," I replied softly, meeting his gaze. "If we could just be who we are, without the... expectations."

Draco's eyes darkened slightly, the usual sharpness replaced with a look of yearning that took me by surprise. "Exactly," he murmured, almost as if to himself. "But it feels like it's too late for that, doesn't it? We're already in too deep." His fingers traced absent patterns on the arm of the couch, his voice laced with something between regret and resignation.

The way he spoke, with so much honesty, made my chest tighten. I felt an overwhelming urge to reach out, to bridge the distance that seemed both endless and minuscule between us. I shifted, drawing myself closer to him until there was hardly any space left.

"Maybe... maybe it's not too late," I whispered, watching his reaction carefully.

Draco's eyes flickered up, meeting mine with an intensity that sent a shiver down my spine. For a moment, he looked vulnerable, as if he wanted to believe my words, to believe in the possibility of something else, something free from the pressures that weighed on us both.

"Maybe," he said, his voice barely audible. His hand drifted closer to mine on the couch, so close our fingers were nearly touching, but not quite. It was a gesture so small, yet it felt monumental. He hesitated, his gaze darting from our hands to her face, as if silently asking for permission.

In response, I gently moved my hand, letting my fingers brush against his. The contact was barely there, but it sent a spark through me, a quiet thrill that filled the space between us.

Draco held my gaze, his expression softened in a way I'd never seen before. "You're... different from the others, Briar." he murmured, almost as if he were confessing something. "It's like you see more than just... the role I'm supposed to play."

I felt my heart skip a beat. "Maybe that's because I know what it's like," I whispered back. "Feeling like there's more to me than anyone cares to see."

For a few heartbeats, we stayed like that, fingertips barely touching, connected by an unspoken understanding. The weight of the common room's silence seemed to hold us in place, as if suspending them in a moment outside of time.

Draco's hand shifted, his fingers slipping over mine, gentle but purposeful. "I don't know what this means," he murmured, a hint of uncertainty flashing across his face. "But... I'd like to find out."

The vulnerability in his words, the courage it took for him to admit even that, made my heart swell. I gave his hand a light squeeze, nodding. "So would I. But you know we can't."

A hint of a smile played on his lips but with a small setback, and in the dim light, his eyes softened, the sharpness melting away entirely. We sat like that, hand in hand, both knowing that this was only a beginning but feeling, for the first time, that maybe, just maybe, we don't have to face everything alone.