The Library--Drarry

Chapter 5

Winter had fully descended on Hogwarts, and snow covered the grounds in a thick, pristine blanket. The castle halls were filled with the warmth of crackling fires and the laughter of students preparing for the holidays. But Harry had never felt more out of step with the festive mood.

He found himself heading to the library again, more out of habit than anything else. By now, it had become a quiet haven—a place where he could think without being pulled into the constant buzz of the Gryffindor common room.

When he walked in, he wasn't surprised to see Draco already there, a furrow in his brow as he pored over yet another ancient tome.

"Starting to think you live here," Harry teased lightly as he sat down across from him.

Draco glanced up, arching an eyebrow. "And yet you keep coming back. What does that say about you?"

Harry smirked, shaking his head as he pulled out his notes. "Touché."

For a while, they worked in companionable silence. The library was quieter than usual, with most students off celebrating early or packing for the trip home. It made the space feel almost intimate, the distant sound of the wind outside the only accompaniment to their rustling parchment.

As Harry scribbled down a particularly tricky note for Transfiguration, Draco's voice broke the stillness.

"Potter," he said, his tone softer than usual.

Harry glanced up. "Yeah?"

Draco hesitated, his fingers tapping lightly on the edge of his book. "Do you ever feel like you're... stuck? Like no matter what you do, people will only ever see you as who you used to be?"

The question caught Harry off guard. He stared at Draco, trying to gauge the meaning behind his words.

"I—yeah," Harry admitted after a moment. "All the time, actually."

Draco's lips pressed into a thin line. "It's exhausting," he murmured. "Trying to move forward when everyone keeps dragging you back."

Harry nodded, the weight of Draco's words sinking in. "I guess the only thing we can do is prove them wrong," he said quietly.

Draco's gaze flicked to him, his gray eyes searching. For a moment, Harry thought he might say something more, but instead, Draco simply nodded.

The next morning, Harry was walking down to breakfast with Ron and Hermione when he spotted Draco in the entrance hall. He was leaning against the banister, talking in low tones to Blaise Zabini.

Harry hadn't spoken to Draco outside the library before, and he wasn't sure what to do now. But before he could make a decision, Ron elbowed him.

"Still can't believe you're spending time with Malfoy," Ron muttered under his breath. "What's gotten into you?"

"It's not like that," Harry said quickly, though he wasn't sure how convincing he sounded.

Hermione gave him a thoughtful look but didn't say anything.

Draco glanced their way, his expression unreadable. For a brief moment, his eyes met Harry's, and Harry felt an odd twist in his stomach. He looked away quickly, hoping Ron and Hermione hadn't noticed.

Later that evening, Harry found himself back in the library. Draco was there again, as if they'd both silently agreed that this was their space now.

"You keep coming back," Draco said, not looking up from his book.

"So do you," Harry shot back, settling into the chair across from him.

Draco smirked faintly, but his expression turned serious a moment later. "What did Weasley say?"

Harry blinked, caught off guard. "What?"

"This morning," Draco said, his tone dry. "When he saw you looking at me. What did he say?"

Harry hesitated, unsure how to answer. "He... doesn't understand," he admitted finally. "But that's his problem, not mine."

Draco's gaze softened slightly, and he nodded. "Fair enough."

For a while, they didn't speak, but the tension between them had eased. Harry felt a strange sense of relief, as if he'd crossed an invisible barrier he hadn't realized was there.

As they packed up for the night, Draco paused, glancing at Harry.

"You know," he said, his voice quieter than usual, "you're not as insufferable as I thought."

Harry grinned, unable to resist the urge to tease. "Careful, Malfoy. You're almost being nice."

Draco rolled his eyes but didn't argue.

And as they left the library together, their footsteps echoing in the empty halls, Harry realized that the distance between them was shrinking—one step at a time.

The next day, Harry sat in the common room with Hermione and Ron, pretending to read while Ron went on about Quidditch strategies.

"Harry," Hermione said suddenly, lowering her book. "Are you alright? You've been spending a lot of time alone lately."

"I'm fine," Harry said, a little too quickly.

Ron narrowed his eyes. "You've been in the library a lot. You're not actually revising, are you?"

Harry shrugged. "Maybe I'm trying something new."

Hermione gave him a knowing look. "It wouldn't have anything to do with Malfoy, would it?"

Ron sputtered. "Malfoy? What's he got to do with this?"

"Nothing," Harry said quickly, standing up. "I'll see you later."

"Harry—" Hermione began, but he was already out the portrait hole.

That evening, Harry arrived at the library to find Draco already there, looking more tense than usual.

"Rough day?" Harry asked, sitting down.

Draco sighed, running a hand through his hair. "You could say that."

Harry hesitated, then asked, "Do you ever talk to your friends about... things?"

Draco snorted. "You mean Pansy and Blaise? They mean well, but they're not exactly the confiding type."

Harry smiled faintly. "Sounds like Ron and Hermione. Except Hermione's always prying, and Ron can't keep a secret to save his life."

Draco's lips quirked into a smirk. "And yet, you're still their fearless leader."

"Something like that," Harry said, rolling his eyes.

They worked in silence for a while, but Harry couldn't shake the feeling that Draco wanted to say more. Finally, Draco set his quill down and leaned back in his chair.

"Potter," he said quietly, "do you ever think about what it would be like if things had been... different?"

Harry frowned. "Different how?"

Draco gestured vaguely. "If we hadn't been at each other's throats all those years. If... we'd actually been friends."

Harry blinked, startled by the question. "I—yeah," he admitted. "I've thought about it."

Draco looked at him, his gray eyes piercing. "And?"

Harry shrugged, feeling strangely exposed under Draco's gaze. "I think... we might've been good at it."

Draco's smirk returned, softer this time. "Imagine that. Potter and Malfoy, friends."

"Stranger things have happened," Harry said, smiling.

As they left the library that night, walking side by side through the quiet halls, Harry realized that the walls between them were crumbling faster than he'd expected.