Y/N x Draco Malfoy (Enemies to Lovers)

Truth

Y/N's POV

The silence of the dormitory was only broken by the quiet breathing of my friends sleeping soundly around me, but sleep felt like an impossible task. My mind spun with thoughts of what had happened earlier. The kiss with Draco—it shouldn't have happened. Yet, I could still feel the faint warmth of his touch, the intensity in his eyes as he'd looked at me, almost as if he'd let his guard down just for a moment. But the pang of guilt that followed was sharper than anything else.

Oliver deserves to know.

The thought churned in my stomach, twisting my emotions even tighter. I knew I had to face him and tell him the truth. I didn't want to lie to him, not when he'd been so genuine, so kind. But how could I break his heart? I sighed, burying my face in my pillow, wondering how I'd ever have the strength to look him in the eye again.

The next morning, I barely tasted breakfast. Every passing second felt like the world was caving in as I searched for Oliver in the Great Hall. I finally spotted him at the Gryffindor table, looking up as I approached, smiling like he always did.

"Hey, Y/N," he greeted me warmly, but I could see the curiosity in his eyes when he noticed my expression.

"Can we... can we talk?" I managed to get the words out, barely above a whisper.

Oliver's smile faltered, but he nodded, setting down his goblet and following me out of the Great Hall. We found a quiet corner, and I took a deep breath, feeling the weight of what I had to say pressing down on my shoulders.

"Oliver," I began, meeting his eyes, "there's something I need to tell you, and it's not easy."

The concern in his face grew deeper. "What is it, Y/N?"

I took a shaky breath. "I... I kissed someone else. Last night. It was..." I paused, struggling to find the right words. "It was Draco."

The flicker of pain in his eyes felt like a punch to my chest. He looked away, his jaw clenched as he processed what I'd said. Silence hung between us for a few agonizing moments.

Finally, Oliver spoke, his voice low and filled with hurt but understanding. "So... it's him then?"

I bit my lip, fighting back the sting of tears. "I don't know, Oliver. I'm just... so confused. I never meant for this to happen. You mean so much to me, truly. But I can't keep pretending that my feelings aren't... complicated."

He nodded slowly, taking it all in. His shoulders sagged, and he gave a small, sad smile. "Maybe we should... just be friends then." The words held an air of finality, but there was also warmth and understanding behind them.

I nodded, swallowing hard, feeling an ache in my chest. "I'm sorry, Oliver. I never wanted to hurt you."

He gave a little nod. "I know." After a pause, he added gently, "And I hope... whatever it is you're looking for, you find it."

With that, he gave my hand a reassuring squeeze before turning back towards the Great Hall, leaving me standing there, feeling as if I'd lost a part of myself.

Later that day, I found myself drawn to Hagrid's hut. The news had spread fast: Buckbeak's final appeal had been denied, and he was sentenced to death. When Harry, Ron, and Hermione arrived, Hagrid's heartbroken expression told us everything.

"'S not right," Hagrid said, his voice thick with sorrow. "Buckbeak never hurt nobody that didn't deserve it." He wiped his eyes, looking away as he tried to compose himself. "I just don't understand it..."

Harry's fists were clenched, his face a mixture of anger and sadness. "This is wrong. They can't just... sentence him like this."

Hermione's eyes glistened as she put a hand on Hagrid's arm. "We're so sorry, Hagrid. We'll be there when... when it happens."

Ron and I exchanged a look, both of us feeling the unfairness deeply. My mind drifted to the rules, the rigid, often senseless rules that seemed to care little for kindness or compassion. First Buckbeak, and now Oliver, hurt in ways they didn't deserve.

"I wish there was something we could do," I whispered, my voice catching. Hagrid glanced at me with gratitude, nodding, though we both knew there was little hope left.

As we left Hagrid's hut, I stole a glance at Harry, who seemed just as upset as I was. There was something between us, a silent understanding of wanting to change things, to make them right, even when it felt impossible.