human again / hp.

Chapter 72

The library was quiet, save for the occasional rustle of pages and the scratching of quills against parchment. It should have been the perfect place to focus, but my thoughts were anything but quiet. My Potions essay lay untouched before me, the neatly written instructions for analyzing the properties of Shrinking Solution blurring together.

I sighed and rested my chin on my hand, staring blankly at the words on the page. I'd come here to escape, to think clearly, but instead, my mind kept wandering back to the Yule Ball, to the balcony, to Harry.

Harry.

I could still feel the warmth of his lips, the way his hand had gently cupped my cheek, the way the world had seemed to fade away in that moment. It had been perfect, and yet the perfection of it terrified me. Because I was a Malfoy, and he was Harry Potter. Because my family would never accept it. Because the more I thought about it, the more impossible it all seemed.

The creak of a chair being pulled out broke through my thoughts. I looked up, startled, to see Harry standing across from me, his hands gripping the back of the chair. His green eyes met mine, and my heart skipped a beat.

"Hi," he said, his voice soft but uncertain.

"Hi," I replied, my voice barely above a whisper.

He hesitated, then sat down across from me. "I—I've been trying to talk to you," he admitted, his gaze dropping to the table. "But I didn't know if you wanted to. I thought... maybe you regretted what happened."

My chest tightened, and I shook my head quickly. "No, Harry. I don't regret it. I never could."

Relief flickered across his face, but it was quickly replaced by hesitation. "Then... why have you been avoiding me?"

I closed my eyes for a moment, trying to gather my thoughts. When I opened them, he was watching me with that same earnest intensity that made my heart ache.

"It's not you," I said quietly. "It's everything else. My parents, they—they think Theo is perfect for me. He's from the right family, has the right connections. They've been talking about him for years as someone I should consider."

Harry's jaw tightened, and he leaned forward slightly. "But he's not right for you," he said firmly. "Not after what he tried to do."

"I know," I said quickly, my voice cracking. "And I told Daphne about it. She knows what kind of person he is. But my parents—they won't care about that. They only care about appearances, about bloodlines and alliances. If they find out about us..." I trailed off, unable to finish the thought.

Harry reached across the table, his hand brushing against mine. "Celeste," he said softly, his voice filled with a kind of quiet desperation. "I don't care about any of that. I just know that I don't regret what happened on the balcony. I don't regret being with you. And I—I want to be with you. Even if it has to be a secret."

Tears stung my eyes, and I pulled my hand away, my chest aching at the sight of the hurt in his eyes. "Harry, it's not that simple," I said, my voice trembling. "If we're caught, it won't just ruin me—it'll ruin you. My family would go after you, and Voldemort..."

I stopped, swallowing hard. "He'd see it as a weakness. He'd use me to get to you."

Harry's eyes darkened, and he shook his head. "I don't care," he said fiercely. "Let them try. I'm not afraid of them, Celeste. I'm not afraid of anything as long as I'm with you."

I let out a shaky breath, my heart breaking at the sincerity in his voice. "But I am, Harry," I said, tears spilling over. "I'm afraid of what they'll do to you. And I'm afraid of what I'll lose. My family might not be perfect, but they're still my family. And I can't lose them."