The Library--Drarry

Chapter 7

The castle was unusually quiet as the last of the students boarded the carriages for the journey home. Harry watched them from the window of the Gryffindor common room, a strange heaviness settling over him. Ron and Hermione had left earlier that morning, leaving Harry with a reminder to "try not to get into too much trouble."

But trouble wasn't what Harry was thinking about. His thoughts were consumed by Draco, who had seemed even more distant in the past few days, as though retreating into himself now that the castle was nearly empty.

That evening, Harry made his way to the library, unsure if Draco would even be there. To his relief, he was. But something was different—Draco's usual sharp composure was fraying at the edges.

"You alright?" Harry asked, sitting down across from him.

Draco glanced up, his expression unreadable. "Why wouldn't I be?"

Harry frowned. "I don't know. You just seem... off."

Draco sighed, running a hand through his hair. "It's nothing, Potter. Drop it."

Harry hesitated, then leaned forward. "You know you can talk to me, right? Whatever it is."

Draco stared at him, his gray eyes narrowing slightly as though searching for something. "Why do you care?" he asked finally, his voice laced with frustration.

Harry blinked, caught off guard. "Because—" He stopped, struggling to find the right words. "Because I do."

Draco's lips pressed into a thin line, and for a moment, Harry thought he wasn't going to respond. But then he said, "It's my family."

Harry stayed quiet, waiting for him to continue.

"My mother," Draco said, his voice low. "She's trying to keep up appearances, act like everything is fine. But it's not. The war..." He trailed off, his hands clenching into fists. "The war left scars, Potter. Not all of them visible."

Harry swallowed hard, the weight of Draco's words settling over him. He thought about his own scars, the ones that still ached in the quiet moments, and nodded. "I get it," he said softly.

Draco looked at him sharply, as though surprised by his understanding. "Do you?"

Harry met his gaze, his green eyes steady. "Yeah. I do."

The silence that followed was heavy but not uncomfortable. It felt like the kind of silence that came from two people sharing a burden too heavy to carry alone.

The next morning, Harry found himself wandering the castle grounds, the crisp winter air biting at his cheeks. He didn't expect to see Draco, but there he was, standing by the frozen Black Lake, his hands shoved deep into the pockets of his coat.

Harry approached cautiously, his footsteps crunching softly in the snow. "Cold day for a stroll."

Draco glanced at him but didn't respond.

Harry stood beside him, his breath forming small clouds in the air. "You come out here a lot?"

Draco shrugged. "Sometimes. It's quiet."

They stood in silence for a while, the vast expanse of the lake stretching out before them.

"Do you ever feel like you're just... waiting for something?" Draco asked suddenly, his voice barely audible over the wind.

Harry looked at him, surprised by the question. "Yeah," he admitted. "All the time."

Draco nodded, his gaze distant. "Me too."

There was something in the way Draco said it that made Harry's chest ache, as though he were glimpsing a part of him that no one else ever saw.

"Maybe we're both waiting for the same thing," Harry said quietly, not entirely sure what he meant.

Draco turned to him, his gray eyes searching Harry's face. For a moment, the world seemed to hold its breath.

And then, as if breaking the spell, Draco smirked. "Leave it to you to make it sound philosophical."

Harry laughed, the tension between them easing. "Can't help it, Malfoy. It's part of my charm."

Draco rolled his eyes, but there was a hint of amusement in his expression.

As they walked back to the castle, side by side, Harry realized that something was changing between them. Slowly but surely, the walls they'd built were coming down, leaving room for something new to take their place.