Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The moment the final class of the day ended, he hurried outside the school building. For the past two weeks, ever since the start of term, he’d been doing his best to avoid crowds as much as possible. This was the last place he wanted to be; yet no other place was better than here either. Wherever he went, he would be shunned just as he was at Hogwarts. Everyone would keep looking at him as if he were cursed, blaming him, resenting him. At least here, he had two friends. Friends who didn’t judge, question, or accuse him…

Draco knew Blaise and Pansy were as curious about the truth as everyone else. But what set them apart was that they believed he didn’t know the truth himself. At least, they didn’t think he’d sold his soul to Voldemort or made a desperate plea for protection to switch sides. Yet, there were still idiots who truly thought so. The ‘good side’ believed he’d been rewarded by Voldemort; the ‘bad side’ thought he’d sought protection to join Harry Potter’s side and that he was a traitor. And all these rumors had a single cause.

Draco Malfoy was certain he was cursed. This was his curse. As if ruining his own life with his own choices wasn’t enough, he’d somehow ended up as everyone’s target due to a curse he didn’t even understand. People around him were talking about him, blaming him, and never hesitating to make him uncomfortable with hostile stares. And yet, all Draco had ever wanted was to be ordinary. Not good or bad, not loved or hated… He just wanted to be ordinary. Even when he found himself in the middle of the war, forced to pick a side with no control over the unfolding events, all he could think of was that, when it was all over, he’d find a way to be neutral, alone, and, above all, ordinary. But he couldn’t manage it. That was why he was here, trying to show everyone that, despite the rumors, he was normal, or at least trying to be.

He hadn’t been successful so far, but he was only at the beginning. He didn’t want to give up just two weeks in. But still, there were times when people pushed his limits. Some students he passed in the corridors would act as if testing the rumors, like they were trying to curse him. Draco had long since stopped attempting to defend himself.

When he reached the farthest corner of the courtyard, he sat down in front of a tree, leaning back against the trunk. Blaise and Pansy had landed themselves in detention after starting a row during Potions class, so he intended to make the most of this time alone. He pulled a book from his bag and started reading.

After a while of uninterrupted reading, he lifted his head for a brief pause and spotted Harry. He was walking from the other side of the courtyard toward the castle, not alone. With him was a Hufflepuff seventh-year. It was a sight Draco had grown used to recently. The Hufflepuff barely left Harry’s side. And since he got along well with Ron and Hermione, he didn’t seem to have any trouble fitting in with them.

Draco rolled his eyes after the two entered the building and returned to his book. The last thing he wanted was to catch anyone’s attention by staring at Harry Potter. Not that there was any hostility left between them. Harry didn’t interact much with Draco. In fact, he seemed to want to keep to himself, just as Draco did. He generally seemed unhappy—or at least that’s how it looked to Draco. In the eighth-year common room, he rarely spoke, sitting quietly beside his friends in a corner. Draco hadn’t seen him laugh or enjoy himself in a long time. It was as if the war, which had taken something from everyone, had taken away Harry’s cheer.

Draco pulled his mind away from Harry’s mood and tried to focus back on his book. After about an hour of reading, he noticed it was getting dark and decided to put the book back in his bag and stand up. He’d planned to meet Blaise and Pansy for dinner.

As he entered the Great Hall, he saw his friends sitting at their usual spot at the far end of the Slytherin table and walked over to join them.

“This was your fault,” Blaise said. “Just admit it and apologize.”

“Apologize to you? Me? Don’t hold your breath!” Pansy fixed a sharp glare on Blaise. “Idiot.”

Draco, settling into the seat next to Pansy, glanced at Blaise across from him. “Guess detention didn’t go well,” he said.

Pansy shifted her gaze from Blaise to Draco. “How well could anything go with him?”

“Look who’s talking,” Blaise muttered irritably. “She’s impossible, I’m telling you.”

“Oh, I’ll show you impossible!” Pansy picked up her dessert spoon and hurled it at Blaise.

“Ah!” Blaise clutched his forehead where the spoon had struck, glaring at her. “Are you crazy?”

Ignoring their bickering, Draco started eating his dinner quietly. He was used to their arguments. He wasn’t entirely sure how they’d come to this, but there were likely other feelings beneath it. He didn’t know when they’d realize it themselves, but he was waiting eagerly for that moment.

Toward the end of dinner, as Draco looked around the hall, he saw Harry getting up from the Gryffindor table and heading for the exit. It didn’t surprise him when a student from the Hufflepuff table quickly stood and hurried after him. Harry’s lone fan bold enough to make a move was, amusingly, a Hufflepuff. And the fact that Harry was blind to these advances was even more amusing.

“Draco, you coming?”

Draco snapped out of his thoughts and looked at his friend. “What?”

“Dinner’s over, isn’t it?”

“Oh…” He glanced around and noticed that most students were already leaving. “I’m heading to the library for a bit,” he replied. “I’ll catch up with you later.”

“Alright,” said Pansy, standing up. “See you.”

As Blaise rose and headed toward the door, Pansy gave him a shove on the shoulder. Blaise, in turn, drew closer on purpose, and they kept shoving each other all the way out of the hall. Draco watched them go before getting up himself and making his way to the library.

In the evenings, he’d been doing research, trying to figure out how to fix this cursed state that caused people’s prejudice against him. By now, he didn’t actually have much hope, but spending time in the library let him avoid people, so he lingered there before returning to the common room.

When he left the nearly deserted library, the corridors were just as empty. He walked calmly through the hallways leading to the dormitory. As he rounded the corner toward the common room entrance, he saw two figures ahead: Harry and the Hufflepuff. Since he was already in the corridor, he didn’t want to turn back and draw attention to himself, so he continued walking slowly. They already looked like they were saying goodbye.

As he got closer, he heard Harry say, “Good night, mate,” to the Hufflepuff.

Draco couldn’t help but feel a bit amused by the disappointment on the Hufflepuff’s face as he turned and walked toward Draco. Still, he managed to hold back his laughter—at least until the Hufflepuff had passed.

When Harry turned toward the common room door, he was only a few steps away from Draco. Unable to resist, Draco said, “Mate.”

Harry stopped and looked at Draco, seeming genuinely shocked. “What?”

Draco smiled. “When will you ever realize?”

“Realize what?”

Draco stopped just before the entrance and turned to face him. “That the Hufflepuff’s in love with you,” he replied, grinning as Harry’s expression shifted.

Harry’s look of surprise deepened. “What?” he asked. “In love with me? Nate?”

Draco chuckled lightly. “You can’t be that oblivious, Potter.”

Harry’s surprise hadn’t faded. “Nathaniel’s just a friend,” he said. “How did you come up with that?”

“Trust me; everyone except you knows.”

“Are you messing with me?”

“Either return his feelings or put some distance between you,” Draco said. “All you’re doing is breaking his heart. Though I must say, I don’t mind watching. His hopelessness, your obliviousness…”

Harry shook his head. “You’re imagining it, Malfoy.”

Draco shrugged indifferently. Without another word, he turned back to the door but stopped just before entering, turning once more to Harry.

“You’re not angry with me,” he said, genuinely surprised.

“Should I be?”

“Why aren’t you?”

“Why would I be?”

“I sort of made fun of you, called you oblivious—”

“And?”

“You should’ve told me to mind my own business and brushed me off.”

A bittersweet smile formed on Harry’s face as he looked into Draco’s eyes. “Even though you didn’t do anything wrong?”

“I didn’t do anything wrong?”

Harry was silent for a moment. Then he turned toward the door and gave the password. As it opened, he looked back at Draco. “Make peace with yourself, Malfoy. Will you?”

“But I—”

Harry smiled, walking inside without waiting for him to finish. As he left Draco standing there and entered the common room, the smile on his face gradually faded. With a heavy sigh, he moved toward a corner by the fireplace.

The eighth-years’ shared common room had become naturally divided. The few remaining Slytherins occupied the darkest corner. The Gryffindors favored a section reminiscent of their old common room. The Hufflepuffs usually gathered by a large window adorned with plants, while the Ravenclaws mostly gathered around the study tables. Overall, there was harmony among the three houses, and they often mingled for chats. The Slytherins, however, stayed separate from them entirely. After all, only three Slytherins had returned for their final year.

It took Draco a few moments before he finally entered the common room. As he did, he headed straight for the dormitory. From the corner of his eye, he briefly caught sight of Harry sitting alone, but then he quickly looked away, continuing on to the room he shared with Blaise.

-

The next morning, after breakfast, they headed to Defence Against the Dark Arts. Professor McGonagall was temporarily teaching the class. Although some Aurors had volunteered to take over, the other professors believed McGonagall would be a better choice. They didn’t want a stranger in Hogwarts immediately after the war. Professor McGonagall was a more ‘trusted’ figure for the students.

McGonagall had accepted the position under one condition: Professor Slughorn would continue to teach Potions. He’d expressed a wish to retire once more after the war, but McGonagall hadn’t wanted to go through the trouble of finding yet another professor. And so, an agreement had been reached.

Toward the end of the lesson, Professor McGonagall made an announcement. “I have an announcement. A Dueling Club is being established under Professor Flitwick’s supervision. Participation is mandatory for seventh- and eighth-years.”

“But that’s not fair!”

Professor McGonagall turned to Seamus. “What’s unfair, Mr. Finnigan?”

“Is Malfoy going to join too?”

“He’s in the eighth year, so yes.”

“But you know about his condition,” Seamus argued. Most of the students showed their agreement with nods and murmurs. “How can you expect us to duel with him?”

Draco merely rolled his eyes.

“Professor Flitwick assures us there will be no issues,” Professor McGonagall explained. “If you have questions, you may ask him. However, Mr. Malfoy is a student at this school just as much as you are. There will be no discrimination or exceptions.”

Blaise placed a supportive hand on Draco’s shoulder. Draco, in turn, shrugged nonchalantly. Of course, he cared—he just didn’t want to show it. Here he was, trying to stay as invisible as possible, and now he’d been drawn into yet another situation.

“It’s fine by me, Professor. Not that I particularly want to join.”

When Draco spoke, all eyes turned toward him.

“As I said, Mr. Malfoy, there will be no exceptions. You’ll have your first club meeting with Professor Flitwick after classes on Monday, where he’ll give you further information. You’re dismissed now.”

Draco wanted to protest further, but arguing with Professor McGonagall didn’t seem wise. So, he chose to stay quiet. Maybe he’d speak with Professor Flitwick later—or maybe he wouldn’t even need to. After all, Seamus was right; having him there wasn’t exactly fair.

Chapter Text

The excitement from the news about the Duelling Club lingered through dinner. While it stirred some thrill among the students, knowing that Draco would also be participating was enough to dampen their spirits. Because of the persistent stares and whispers directed at him, Draco left the Great Hall just five minutes into the meal.

"This is just so unfair," Dean said.

"I don’t want to lose to Malfoy," Seamus muttered. "But do we even have a choice?"

"Maybe if we spoke to Professor McGonagall privately, it might help," suggested Ron, casting a hopeful look at Harry. "What do you think, mate?"

Harry gave no reaction. Since the beginning of dinner, he hadn’t shown any interest in the conversation.

“I think McGonagall might actually listen to you,” said Ginny.

Still, Harry said nothing. He only mumbled a "thanks" to Nathaniel when he nudged a pie over to him.

"Maybe Professor Flitwick will have some solution," Neville added, returning to the topic. Then he dropped his voice and whispered, "Do you think he really did… you know, make a deal or something? Maybe sold his soul?"

Harry exhaled deeply, and all eyes turned to him. "Do you all seriously believe these rumours?" he asked.

"But there's no other explanation," Dean said.

"Some people think he asked for protection from me to switch sides," Harry replied. "But you know that’s not true, and so do I. People can say what they want, but selling his soul? Voldemort never cared enough about anyone else to make a deal like that."

"Exactly," Nathaniel agreed. "If anything like that had actually happened, he wouldn't have been allowed to return to school, right?"

Harry nodded toward Nathaniel and then glanced around at his friends. "So maybe you should stop letting your imagination run wild."

"But even so," said Seamus, "it’s ridiculous that he’s in the club. It’s not like we can hurt him."

Dean nodded, agreeing with Seamus. “Yeah, I mean, spells don’t even work on him! Since the start of the term, loads of people have tried, and nothing—it’s like we're Muggles around him.”

"I’m sure Professor Flitwick will sort something out," Harry replied. "Maybe Malfoy will just be watching or something."

"But, Harry—"

“I need some air,” Harry interrupted, standing up.

Ron immediately stood up with him. “All right then, let’s go.”

Harry raised an eyebrow. “I thought you had plans to go to the library?” he asked. “Didn’t you promise Hermione?”

“He did,” Hermione said. “But it’s fine; we don’t mind coming along.”

“That’s not necessary,” Harry said. “I’m just going out for some air. I’ll be right back.”

“Still,” Ron insisted. “You shouldn’t be wandering around alone—”

“I’ll go with him,” Nathaniel offered. “You go on to the library,” he said as he stood, looking at Harry. “You don’t mind, do you?”

Harry looked from Nathaniel to his friends. “Fine,” he agreed. “You all don’t have to change your plans. See you later.”

Ron and Hermione hesitated briefly before nodding. Harry and Nathaniel headed out of the Great Hall, descending the stairs and walking in silence through the evening shadows.

With a final look back, Ron and Hermione hesitated but finally agreed, and Harry and Nathaniel headed for the Great Hall’s exit. They walked out into the cool night air and made their way down the steps.

Nathaniel, a year younger than Harry, had been just a familiar face in the crowd until about two months ago when Neville had introduced them in Diagon Alley. Since then, they’d been spending more time together, both in and out of classes. With his easy-going nature, Nathaniel had fit seamlessly into the group, often hanging out with them between classes.

“Let’s take a walk; I’ll leave you alone soon after, don’t worry,” Nathaniel said with a smile.

"I thought you’re supposed to be keeping an eye on me," Harry said, half-joking.

Nathaniel chuckled softly. “Do you think I’d believe you’re someone who can’t handle himself?” he asked. "You clearly want some time to yourself."

Harry offered a small smile. "Thanks."

Nathaniel returned his smile, and they continued on quietly until they reached the lake. Slowing their pace, they eventually stopped. Harry sat down at the base of a tree along the shore, and Nathaniel looked out over the water before turning to Harry.

"I’ll head back then. Enjoy the peace and quiet."

“If you want, you can stay for a bit,” Harry offered.

Nathaniel reflexively rubbed the back of his neck, hesitating as he scratched. “Are you sure?”

Harry shrugged, "Yeah, have a seat."

Nathaniel dropped down next to Harry. For a moment, Harry thought back to what Draco had said the previous night.

Hufflepuff’s in love with you…

With the thought echoing, Harry found himself glancing over at Nathaniel, who met his gaze after a moment.

“What?” Nathaniel asked. “Something wrong?”

“No,” Harry replied, turning away. He was sure Draco was wrong.

Without another word, Nathaniel turned back to the lake. “Remember that bet we made in the Burrow?” he asked a moment later.

“You mean the one we made while playing Quidditch?”

Nathaniel grinned. “Yeah.”

“I remember.”

“You still have a chance to back out if you want.”

Harry chuckled. “I’m not letting you catch the Snitch, Nate. But if you want to back out, I promise I won’t tell anyone."

Quidditch was one of the few things that still seemed to bring Harry some excitement, a fact Nathaniel had quickly picked up on and used to keep Harry’s interest alive. Not that he believed he could win against Harry…

“We’ll see, Harry.”

“We will, Nate.”

Nathaniel looked at Harry, who was staring quietly into the distance. "Is there anything I can do to make you happy?" he asked, surprising Harry.

"What?" 

"You’re sad," Nathaniel said. "Even when you smile, you’re sad."

Harry forced a smile. "I’m not sad," he replied. “But… I guess I don’t have much reason to be happy either.”

“Well, still, if there’s anything I can do…”

“I know,” Harry said. “Thanks.”

Nathaniel nodded and stood. “Guess I’ll see you then.”

“You could’ve stayed?”

“You’re too polite to ask me to leave,” he said with a smile. “See you tomorrow.”

Harry gave a sheepish smile and nodded. “See you, Nate.”

As Nathaniel walked away, Harry turned back to the lake. He’d barely returned to his thoughts when he heard footsteps again, thinking Nathaniel had come back. But the sounds were coming from the other direction.

“A romantic moonlight date, huh?"

Harry turned to find himself face to face with Draco Malfoy’s smirking face. "It wasn’t a date," he replied, staying calm.

“Oh, right… A friend, you said?” Draco asked, strolling over and turning his gaze to the lake, his hands in his pockets.

“Exactly,” Harry replied. “And what are you doing here at this hour?”

“I’m always around here. I would’ve been here sooner if you hadn’t taken over my spot with your friend.”

“Sorry about that,” Harry said. “I can leave.”

Draco glanced at him just as Harry was about to get up. “No need,” he said, sitting down next to Harry before he had the chance.

Harry stared at him in surprise, then turned forward in silence. He wasn’t sure what to say, so he figured it was best to remain quiet. But when he felt Draco’s gaze lingering on him, he glanced over and met his eyes.

“Guess your date went well,” Draco observed, looking at Harry’s face. “You look happy.”

Feeling a strange thrill that he tried to ignore, Harry replied, “It wasn’t a date.”

“Right, that’s fair—people say you’re hopeless at flirting,” Draco smirked.

Harry couldn’t help but laugh as he looked away. “Sounds about right.”

Draco’s face turned serious. “You really don’t get mad, do you?”

Harry didn’t respond.

“Why don’t you get mad at me?”

Harry rolled his eyes, meeting Draco’s gaze. “I don’t have a reason to, Malfoy.”

“That’s… strange,” Draco said. “Something happened to you.”

“Let’s focus on you,” Harry replied. “You’re unhappy. Is it the Duelling Club?”

Draco sighed and shrugged. "I don’t care."

"You do."

"Why should it matter?" he asked. "No one asks me, right?"

"Well, I do."

Draco glanced away, letting his gaze wander. Then, unable to help himself, he turned back to Harry. “Don’t you believe the rumours?”

“They’re just rumours. And as far as I know, you didn’t ask me for protection to change sides, did you? I think I’d remember if you did.”

Draco shook his head.

"And Voldemort would sooner kill than give protection to anyone."

“But aren’t you curious why?” Draco asked.

"I thought you didn’t know yourself."

"I don’t," Draco replied.

“Then it’s just as well nobody can hurt you,” Harry said. “And it doesn’t hurt anyone else, right?”

“Right,” Draco said. “But I’m still the one cursed.”

Harry’s eyes widened. “You think you’re cursed?”

“I don’t know what to think,” he admitted. “Anyway, never mind.”

“Alright,” Harry said, deciding not to push it.

After a brief silence, Draco chuckled. "Well, look at us. Actually having a conversation, not even an argument."

Harry smiled. “I noticed.”

“Hard to believe, considering you almost tore me apart in the sixth year—”

The smile faded from Harry’s face instantly, and Draco hesitated. Harry felt a lump in his throat that he struggled to swallow as he turned his head away. Thinking about the sixth year was enough to shatter even the smallest sense of peace he’d managed to find.

“I’d better…” He trailed off, standing up and leaning against the tree for support.

“Potter,” Draco said, standing up immediately. “I didn’t mean anything by it. I wasn’t trying to make you feel bad.”

“It’s fine,” Harry replied. He found it difficult to look Draco in the eye, so he turned and walked away.

“Potter,” Draco called after him. “I’m sorry.”

Harry stopped and looked back at Draco, meeting his gaze. “You’re not the one who should be sorry,” he said quietly. “I am, Malfoy.”

Then, without another word, he turned and walked quickly away, nearly fleeing. The incident in the bathroom was a wound Harry couldn’t fully heal from, and he doubted he ever would. He’d never faced it with Draco, and having it brought up so suddenly shook him deeply.

Throughout the weekend, Draco didn’t see Harry at all. It seemed Harry had retreated into his room, avoiding even the common areas. When Draco finally saw him on Monday morning in class, Harry wore the same haunted, distant look Draco had come to recognize. Although he wished he could, Draco knew there was nothing he could do to change it, so he kept his distance.

After classes, though, the moment he had been dreading arrived: the first meeting of the Duelling Club. Every seventh and eighth year gathered in the Great Hall, now transformed into a duelling arena. For many, it brought back memories of their second year and Lockhart’s disastrous attempt to start a similar club. This time, however, it was different; Professor Flitwick, a renowned duelling champion, would be in charge.

Professor Flitwick stepped up onto the raised platform in the centre of the hall and addressed the students.

“Well then,” he began. “As we’ve learned, we never know when we may need to defend ourselves. This club is a chance to practice your defensive spells in a controlled environment—and have a bit of fun as well.”

Seamus’s dissatisfied muttering drifted over, but Professor Flitwick ignored it.

"I’ve set up a selection process to choose duel pairs," he explained, indicating the enchanted board behind him, where names were flashing. "Two names will be chosen randomly. If you’re ready, shall we begin?"

“What if we’re paired with Malfoy?” Seamus called out, unable to contain himself.

“You’ll face him, Mr. Finnigan,” Flitwick replied firmly.

“But—”

“I understand your concerns, children. I’m well aware of Mr. Malfoy’s unique situation. But rest assured, just because spells do not affect him doesn’t mean he can harm you with his own. If you defend yourselves properly, there should be no issue.”

No one responded.

“At least this way,” Professor Flitwick continued, “you won’t have to secretly hex him in the corridors to see if it works. If you’re paired with him, you’ll have the chance to test yourselves here, in a safe environment.”

Silence.

"Good. Now, if there are no other questions, let’s get started."

Professor Flitwick turned toward the board and lifted his wand. Names on the board began to swirl until two were left glowing in the centre:

Draco Malfoy & Harry Potter

The hall erupted in shocked whispers. Draco scanned the room until he located Harry, whose friends were holding him back from stepping onto the platform. Ron had grabbed his arm, and Hermione rested a hand on his shoulder.

"Right," Professor Flitwick called out. "Mr. Malfoy and Mr. Potter, please select your seconds and join me on the platform."

Draco waited, curious to see what Harry would do. Harry seemed to lean in close to Ron and Hermione, speaking quietly with them before finally heading to the platform, Ron at his side.

“Excellent,” Professor Flitwick said. “And Mr. Malfoy?”

Draco joined them on the platform, Blaise by his side, and took his position opposite Harry, just like in the second year.

“Wands at the ready,” Flitwick announced.

As curious whispers swept through the students, Harry met Draco’s gaze. Wands at the ready, neither of them knew what to expect. Draco’s immunity to spells could change everything, but the only option was to go forward and see what happened.

Chapter Text

All eyes were on the pair facing off for the duel. Under normal circumstances, seeing Draco and Harry go head-to-head would have been thrilling. But now, it was even more intense. One side had Draco Malfoy, on whom spells, hexes, and curses had no effect. On the other side stood the Boy Who Lived. Many had tried testing whether Draco could actually be harmed, and every attempt had yielded the same result: nothing.

The spectators had fallen into a tense silence as they waited for the duel to begin. Nobody made a sound. But on the platform, neither Harry nor Draco made a move. They simply stood there, staring at each other, waiting for the other to strike first.

Finally, Draco broke the silence. “Scared, Potter?”

Harry didn’t answer. The idea of pointing his wand at Draco, even under the professor's supervision, didn’t sit well with him. Draco’s immunity to magic, or whatever it was, unnerved him.

Unable to bear the wait, Draco took a deep breath and finally moved his wand. Harry noticed the attack at the last moment, raising his wand to cast a shield charm but refrained from counter-attacking.

Draco cast another spell. This time, Harry was ready and deflected it easily. Then, seeing that Draco was preparing to attack again, he reflexively flicked his wand. His Stunning Spell hit Draco in the chest, sending him flying backward across the platform before he knew what had happened.

The moment Harry’s spell sent Draco sprawling; whispers erupted among the students. Everyone was astonished. Professor Flitwick, the students, and even Harry himself were shocked. But Draco’s reaction was the most telling. Lying where he’d landed, Draco stared at Harry, his face a picture of shock, visible even from the farthest corner of the hall.

“How?” he murmured, though his voice was lost in the murmurs around him. “How did you do that?” He tried asking again, but still, no one heard him.

Harry, too shocked to move, took a step toward Draco, only to have Ron grab him by the arm, holding him back. Harry looked at Ron, allowing him to pull him away.

“What just happened?” Harry asked, still bewildered.

“I don’t know, mate. I have no idea. Let’s go.”

As Harry left the platform, he looked back briefly at Draco, who was getting up with Blaise’s help. Harry’s head was spinning with questions. Spells weren’t supposed to work on Draco; so why had his spell broken through?

Draco’s thoughts were equally chaotic. Feeling pain after so long had shaken him deeply. He desperately wanted to know what Harry had done, how he’d done it. Draco had long ago given up trying to find out why he couldn’t be hurt, frustrated by the lack of answers. But now, he had a new lead—a new possibility.

-

Professor Flitwick, despite the commotion, decided it was best to continue. The duels proceeded with Nathaniel and Seamus facing off next, followed by Pansy and Neville, Ginny and Blaise... After the last duel, the club meeting concluded, and the students headed back to their common rooms, while the Great Hall was set up for dinner.

Intent on speaking to Harry and hoping to get some answers, Draco arrived at dinner earlier than usual, not wanting to miss him. But Harry never came down. Even as curious stares fixed on him, Draco waited patiently until dinner ended, watching for any sign of him. The scrutiny was harder to ignore than before. When people had assumed he couldn’t be hurt, they had gradually stopped staring. Now, with this new revelation, the prying eyes had returned.

Back in the common room, after failing to spot Harry in the Great Hall or on the way back, Draco went to his dormitory. Blaise was quietly working on his homework.

“Hex me.”

Blaise looked up from his parchment. “What?”

“Hex me,” Draco repeated, standing in the middle of the room. “Cast a spell, anything.”

“Stop being ridiculous and go to bed.”

“Just do it,” Draco said impatiently. “Potter’s spell worked; maybe the curse is weakening. Just try.”

With an exasperated sigh, Blaise put his quill down and spun in his chair to face Draco. “Have you gone mad?” he asked.

“I need to know, Blaise.”

Blaise stayed silent.

“Fine,” Draco said, heading for the door. “I’ll just go pick a fight with someone in the halls; surely someone will want to give it a go.”

“Wait—Draco! Alright, hold on!” Blaise quickly rose from his chair and stepped in front of the door. “I’ll do it.”

Draco narrowed his eyes. “Are you serious?”

“Yes, whatever. Let’s get this over with,” Blaise grumbled, standing in the centre of the room and raising his wand. “What do you want me to cast?”

“Try a Stunning Spell. That’s what Potter used.”

Blaise nodded and raised his wand. “Stupefy!”

Draco stood there, braced, but nothing happened. He sighed in frustration.

“This is infuriating,” Blaise said, lowering his wand. “You make me feel like a Muggle. Go to bed.”

Draco felt his irritation grow. He’d finally thought he was closer to feeling normal. It wasn’t something he could accept easily. Without hesitation, he turned and left the room, striding down the hall to the last door at the end. He knocked.

“Come in.”

He opened the door immediately, finding Ron in the middle of putting on his robe and Harry lying in bed.

“Malfoy,” Ron said in surprise. “What’s up?”

Without waiting for an invitation, Draco stepped inside. “Can we talk?” he asked, looking directly at Harry.

“No,” Ron replied. “It’s the middle of the night—”

“I wasn’t asking you, Weasley.”

Ron opened his mouth to argue, but Harry interjected, “It’s fine.” He sat up, shifting to a sitting position.

Draco turned to Ron. “I’d prefer if we could have a bit of privacy.”

“I’m staying right here. Whatever you have to say, you can say it in front of me.”

“You already know what it’s about.”

“So what’s the problem?”

“Your glaring is the problem.”

As Ron and Draco exchanged tense looks, Harry sighed heavily. “It’s alright, mate. I’ll be fine.”

Ron hesitated, clearly reluctant, but after a long look at Harry, he nodded and left the room, closing the door behind him. The second the door shut, Draco focused entirely on Harry.

“How did you do it?”

“I don’t know.”

“Potter, I’m serious… How did you do it?”

Harry got up and walked a few steps away from Draco, leaning against Ron’s desk. “I told you, I don’t know. All I did was cast a Stunning Spell, that’s it. I didn’t actually want to hurt you, and if it bothers you—”

“Hurt me?” Draco cut him off. “On the contrary, Potter, it felt… good.”

“What?” Harry asked, clearly taken aback.

“I haven’t felt that normal in a long time,” Draco said, stepping closer to him. “I’m not mad at you. I just want to know how it happened.”

Harry nodded in understanding. “I get it,” he said, shrugging. “But I honestly don’t know.”

“Well, could you do it again?”

Harry frowned. “No.”

“Blaise tried, but it didn’t work. I hate this.”

“What exactly are you asking me to do? Cast spells on you every day just so you can feel normal?”

“I wouldn’t say no to that, honestly,” Draco said with a small laugh. Then he turned serious. “Look, I don’t know, but if your spells actually work, maybe they can break the curse over time. If yours works, maybe… maybe you could help end it.”

“We don’t even know what this curse is, Malfoy, so I’m not about to start hurting you on the off-chance it could work.”

“I’m the one who’d be in pain, aren’t I? And I’m giving you permission. We both know that, sometimes, pain can break the hold of certain spells, like Cruciatus has been used for Obliviate damage—”

“Enough,” Harry interrupted. “You’re not sure of that, and I’m not going to hurt you just for a theory. So drop it, and—”

When Draco started grinning, Harry paused, thrown off. “And… what are you smiling about?”

“You’re getting angry,” Draco said, his grin widening.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Harry said, unaware of the faint smile on his own face.

Draco took two steps closer, standing directly in front of him. “You’re welcome to keep being angry,” he said. “In fact, grab your wand; I think it’s a great idea.”

“You’re impossible, Malfoy.”

Draco’s expression grew more earnest. “I just miss being normal.”

“I understand,” Harry said quietly. “My whole life, I’ve wished for the same thing. But hurting you is not the answer.”

“So you’re not going to do it?”

Harry shook his head.

“Could you at least help me figure it out? Clearly, you’re an exception, and there has to be a reason for that.”

Harry stayed silent, uncertain of how to respond.

Draco, his desperation evident, said, “Please.” Then he reached out, placing his hands on Harry’s arms. “Please—”

Harry held his breath, his gaze fixed on Draco’s face, a strange look of confusion crossing his features. “What was that?”

“What was what?”

“Just now… what did you do?”

Draco looked confused. “Are you seriously surprised just because I said please?”

“Maybe?”

Draco smiled. “So will you help?”

“Maybe.” Harry exhaled slowly. “Could I ask you a favour?”

“Of course?”

“Could you… back up a bit?”

Realizing he still had his hands on Harry’s arms, Draco looked slightly embarrassed and pulled them away. “Oh… right, we don’t want Hufflepuff to get jealous,” he added with a smirk, stepping back a couple of steps.

“Are we back to talking about Nate again?”

“That boy’s in love with you, Potter. He’s head over heels.”

“What makes you say that?”

“I’m not as clueless as you, Potter. I can see it.”

Harry rolled his eyes. “And how exactly do you see it?”

“For starters, the way he looks at you. He’s always smiling when he does, and he looks away when you catch him staring. He’s eager to do whatever you ask, always wants to be around you—”

“He’s just a really nice person,” Harry interrupted. “If you’re looking for entertainment, try somewhere else.”

Draco shrugged. “There’s always Blaise and Pansy, but they’re so dull,” he said. “I forgot how much fun it is to mess with you.”

“Lucky me.”

Draco let out a deep breath, smiling. “Well, I’m off for now. Let’s talk again tomorrow.” He started to turn, but paused at the door, glancing back at Harry. “Are you sure you don’t want to hit me with another Stunning Spell before I go—”

“Get out, Malfoy.”

“Goodnight to you too, Potter,” Draco said with a smirk as he closed the door.

-

Throughout the next day, Draco kept an eye out for a chance to speak with Harry again. But Harry was never alone; Ron, Hermione, and Nathaniel were always by his side. That night, Draco considered going to his room again, but Harry spent hours in the common room with his friends, thwarting his plan.

The next day followed the same pattern. And the day after that…

A full week passed in the same way. Each day, Draco observed Harry. He watched the sadness that lingered in his eyes, the melancholy that clung to him. He noticed Nathaniel’s quiet attentions, the way he watched over Harry. It seemed like everyone around Harry was trying to cheer him up, but nothing seemed to help. By the end of each day, Harry always looked weary and worn.

Draco was running out of patience. It was as though the fact that Harry could hurt him wasn’t the breakthrough he’d thought it was. But he wasn’t going to let it fade away. This was his only clue, his only lead.

On the tenth evening, returning from the Owlery, Draco spotted Harry heading toward the lake. Alone. Seeing his chance, Draco quietly followed at a distance, watching as Harry finally stopped and sat at the base of a tree by the shore. It was the same spot where Draco had seen him and Nathaniel together that night.

He waited, half-expecting someone else to show up. The sky had grown dark, and no one appeared. Unable to hold back any longer, Draco approached. Harry, hearing his footsteps, glanced over his shoulder, then turned back as Draco sat down beside him.

“You promised to help.”

“I said maybe. I didn’t promise anything.”

After a pause, Draco said, “You’re the only clue I have.”

“And that’s not enough,” Harry replied.

“We don’t know that.”

Harry sighed. “Why do you see this as a curse?”

“What should I see it as?”

“I don’t know,” he said, shrugging.

“A gift? A blessing?”

“Maybe,” Harry said. “But I don’t think it’s a curse.”

“I never wanted this,” Draco replied.

“Are you not glad that you can’t be hurt?”

Draco fell silent. After staring at the lake for a while, he spoke quietly. “It was useful at first,” he said. “Especially when Voldemort was using our manor as a headquarters… My aunt has a thing for punishment—”

“I know,” Harry said, unable to hold back.

Draco nodded, glancing at Harry. “During those times, it helped. I could pretend to be hurt and get away with it.”

“But?”

“But eventually, she realized I wasn’t actually in pain. It made her furious to see she couldn’t hurt me. She tried harder and got frustrated when nothing worked. Other Death Eaters learned about it, too. Greyback even offered to bite me. My mother stopped him.”

“And after that?”

“Whatever this thing is, it’s not just about spells,” Draco explained. “Here, I’ll show you.” He looked around, then picked up a small rock and held it out in his palm.

“Malfoy—”

Before Harry could stop him, Draco pressed the sharp edge of the rock into his palm, creating a cut. There was no reaction. The wound closed on its own within seconds.

“See?” he said. “Bellatrix figured that out, too, and didn’t hesitate to use her silver knife.” Noting Harry’s stunned look, he gave a small smile. “I might not feel physical pain, but this curse has worn me down in every other way. I just want to be normal. Pain doesn’t bother me—it passes.”

Harry swallowed and nodded. “I understand.”

“So will you help?”

Harry nodded again. Then he turned to look out at the lake, Draco doing the same.

After a few moments of silence, Harry, without realizing it, let his shoulder rest against Draco’s. He leaned his head back against the tree and closed his eyes.

Feeling the weight on his shoulder, Draco glanced at Harry’s face. It seemed he’d fallen asleep. Unsure what to do, Draco kept still, sneaking glances at Harry’s sleeping face. Not wanting to disturb him, he barely moved, eventually turning to stare at the lake as he lost himself in thought.

An hour might have passed before Draco heard footsteps. Turning his head, he saw someone approaching from the direction of the school.

“Harry?”

When he saw it was Nathaniel, Draco raised a finger to his lips, signaling for silence. Nathaniel came closer, pausing when he saw Harry, and nodded quietly.

“Ron’s looking for him,” Nathaniel whispered. “They were worried.”

Draco said nothing, simply looked down at Harry. After a moment’s hesitation, he spoke softly. “Potter.”

Harry didn’t wake.

“Potter,” Draco repeated. When there was no response, he raised a hand to Harry’s face, gently tapping his cheek with a finger. “Potter.”

Harry finally opened his eyes, blinking sleepily at Draco, his gaze unfocused.

“Your boy’s here.”

“What?” Harry murmured, still groggy. Realizing he’d been leaning on Draco, he quickly straightened. “Did I fall asleep-?”

“Harry?”

Nathaniel’s voice made Harry look up. “Nate,” he said in surprise.

Draco murmured, “I told you, your boy’s here.”

“Ron and Hermione were looking for you,” Nathaniel explained. “I figured you’d be here.”

“Smart thinking, Huffypuffy. You got it right.”

Ignoring Draco, “I can leave if you want,” he said to Harry.

“No,” Harry said, attempting to stand up. Still a bit groggy from sleep, he struggled slightly, and two hands reached out to help him at the same time. But Harry didn’t notice Draco’s hand. He instinctively took Nathaniel’s hand and used it for support as he stood up. Once he let go, he turned to Draco. “Goodnight, Malfoy.”

“Goodnight, Potter.”

“Goodnight,” Nathaniel added politely, though Draco didn’t respond.

Draco stayed seated as he watched Harry and Nathaniel walk back toward the castle. Then he turned back to face the lake. It looked like he wouldn’t be heading to bed anytime soon.

Chapter Text

As the hour grew late, Draco found himself sitting by the lake longer than intended. It felt as though there was a lot he needed to think about, yet he kept getting distracted by trivial thoughts, unable to focus on the main issue. The good news was that Harry had agreed to help him. This should have been his main focus, yet he kept looking down at his hand, still remembering how Harry had left it hanging. Was leaving him hanging like that some kind of strange hobby of Harry’s?

After sitting there for a while with a sulky expression and furrowed brows, he finally convinced himself to get up. It was nearly midnight, and if he delayed any longer, he knew Blaise would start looking for him. Draco might not have a Hufflepuff pining for him, but he had friends, didn’t he?

He wrapped his cloak tightly around himself against the night chill and hurried back to the dormitory. When he entered the eighth-year common room, he only saw two Ravenclaws, and he quickly made his way down the narrow corridor to his room. As he turned the corner, he suddenly bumped into someone and stepped back.

“Where’ve you been? I was just about to come looking for you.”

“I’m here?”

Blaise rolled his eyes. “Oh, really?” he replied. “Pansy’s been waiting in the room for you. I can’t stand being alone with her for another minute, so move it.”

Without responding, Draco brushed past Blaise and headed to his room. He opened the door to find Pansy sitting on his bed.

“That was quick,” Pansy commented.

“We ran into each other at the door.”

“For a second, I thought you’d actually made yourself useful,” she muttered. “Where have you been? I came over to talk, and he hasn’t stopped whining since.”

“This is my room, so if you’re bothered, you’re free to leave.”

Draco removed his cloak and hung it up neatly. Then he turned his chair to face both of his friends and sat down.

“What’s up?”

“Where were you so late?” Pansy asked.

“I was getting some air,” Draco replied, his tone more mocking. “Worried something might happen to me?”

“We’re more concerned about you getting irritated,” Blaise replied.

“Ever since Potter floored you—what? What’s with the grin?”

“Ever since what?”

Blaise glanced at Pansy. “You’re supposed to be the only mad one here.”

“Shut up,” Pansy snapped. “Ever since Potter knocked you down, rumours have been spreading like wildfire.”

Draco’s expression turned serious, and he sighed. “What are they saying this time?”

“Apparently, switching sides to be rewarded is true... only Potter was the one who rewarded you, which is why his spell worked on you...”

Draco couldn’t help laughing. “Not bad. Anything else?”

“Those who think Voldemort rewarded you are now saying it might be because it was Potter who killed him.”

This time, Draco laughed louder. “They’re getting more creative,” he said, and then after a brief pause, he grew serious again. “Could that actually be possible?”

“Oh, come on,” Blaise scoffed. “Are you saying Voldemort rewarded you?”

“Huh…” Draco shook his head. “I don’t know; they’re going to have me believing it soon.”

“If you ask me—”

“Nobody asked you.”

Pansy picked up a pillow and tossed it at Blaise. “Nobody’s asking you!”

“Alright, alright! Go ahead, don’t hold back.”

Ignoring Blaise, Pansy turned back to Draco. “I think you’re overthinking this,” she said. “Look on the bright side; no one can hurt you—”

“Well, almost no one,” Blaise corrected.

Pansy shot him a glare and returned her attention to Draco. “I think it’s great that you’re safe, so you don’t have to worry.”

“We’ve already talked about this,” Draco said. “I don’t want this. If things keep going this way, the rumours will never end, and they’ll only get more absurd. I don’t want my life to be defined by these rumours. I want to move on from my past mistakes and just be an ordinary person. But with everyone talking about how Voldemort rewarded me or how I sold my soul, that’s never going to happen.”

“We’re sure your family had nothing to do with it, right?”

“They say they don’t know, but I’m not sure,” Draco replied. “I think my mother would have told me. She knows how much this bothers me.”

Pansy nodded in understanding. “So, what are we going to do?”

“You’re not going to do anything,” Draco replied. “My only lead is Potter, and he said he’d help.”

Pansy raised her eyebrows. “Potter is going to help you?”

“Yes.”

“Great. You should stay out of it then, Pans.”

“Why?”

“Well, considering the last time you wanted to turn Potter in, you might ruin the arrangement.”

“And I seem to remember Potter leaving gaping holes in Draco’s chest the last time. So what?”

“Those two—”

“Alright,” Draco cut in. “Forget the past. Potter seems surprisingly civil and warm. He doesn’t even treat me badly.”

“Warm?” Pansy echoed. “He’s been walking around like an ice cube since the start of term.”

“What he went through wasn’t easy,” Draco said. “He may look distant from afar, but when you talk to him, he’s actually normal—at least that’s the impression I got. Though, I suppose it’s stranger that he’s normal but, anyway…”

“Well, if you say so,” Pansy replied.

“By the way, there’s something else,” Blaise said.

“What is it?”

Blaise hesitated. “Well…”

“What?”

“Apparently, Burke’s been talking trash about you.”

Draco rolled his eyes. “He’s been giving me dirty looks since the beginning of term. I’m not surprised.”

“Still, be careful,” Pansy warned.

“Why? Is he going to hurt me?”

“Alright, we get it. Spells don’t work. But couldn’t you at least defend yourself sometimes? The fact that you don’t react only makes them angrier.”

Draco shrugged. “They’re idiots. It clearly doesn’t work, so why do they keep trying?”

Laughing, Blaise added, “Good thing Potter’s on the case. There’s nothing he can’t solve, right?”

“Let’s see Potter do his thing.”

“We’ll see soon enough,” Draco replied. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, may I go to sleep?”

“Message received,” Pansy said, standing up from the bed. As she headed for the door, she said, “Goodnight, darling.” Then she turned to Blaise. “Hope you have a nightmare-filled night.”

“Guess you’ll be in it, then,” Blaise shot back.

Without a word, Pansy left the room. Blaise picked up Draco’s pillow and threw it back at him.

“I remember when you two actually got along…”

“With that witch? Not a chance.”

Draco tried not to laugh. “Honestly, how long has this been going on?”

“I don’t know,” Blaise replied thoughtfully. “She’s been acting weird since last summer.”

“Since last summer,” Draco repeated. “Since you started seeing Daphne, you mean?”

“Yeah,” Blaise said. “She’s annoying, alright. I’ve gotten used to it.”

“Merlin,” Draco muttered, shaking his head. “I’m surrounded by the blind…”

“What?”

“Nothing,” Draco said, taking off his sweater as he got ready for bed. He was already looking forward to the morning.

-

The next morning, as he left his room to head down for breakfast, he spotted Harry and his friends about to leave the common room.

“Potter!”

Harry, at the back of the group, stopped and looked at Draco. “Malfoy.”

“Can we talk?”

Harry glanced at Ron and Hermione. “You two go on; I’ll catch up.”

After a brief hesitation and a few disapproving glances, Ron and Hermione left the common room. Harry stepped aside to let them pass, then took two steps toward Draco.

“I’m listening?”

“I’ll be at the usual spot after dinner,” Draco said. “I’m bringing a few books to research. You said you’d help—”

“Did I promise?”

Draco frowned. “Potter.”

Sighing, Harry said, “Fine. I’ll come by.”

“Good. Let your friends know this time, so they don’t get worried.”

Harry chuckled. “Got it. Can I leave now?”

Draco nodded. “See you there.”

“We’ll see.”

“Potter!”

Laughing, Harry left the common room. As he walked through the door, he saw his friends waiting on the other side and sobered up with a sigh.

“What did he want?” Ron asked as they started walking.

“Just help with some research.”

“Are you going to?”

Before Harry could respond, he noticed someone approaching and smiled. “Morning, Nate.”

“Morning,” Nathaniel replied, holding out a well-worn but cared-for book to Hermione. “I believe this is the book you were looking for.”

Hermione took the book with delight. “You’re amazing! How did you find it?”

“When you mentioned it, I wrote to my grandfather. He has a rather unusual library, and he sent it over.”

“Please thank him for me,” Hermione said happily, already starting to leaf through it.

Nathaniel smiled and turned to Harry. “Our plans for tonight are still on, right?”

“Yep,” Harry replied. “I’ll be there, don’t worry.”

“Guess I’ve been cast aside,” Ron grumbled playfully.

They laughed as they continued down the corridor, Hermione absorbed in the book, walking with her nose buried in it. After a while, Ron took her arm to guide her safely, ensuring she didn’t trip.

-

Though they’d agreed to meet after dinner, Draco’s impatience got the better of him, and he went to the library for the necessary books as soon as his classes were over. He placed three books in his bag and headed toward the castle exit. He wanted to get some reading done before Harry arrived, convinced that Harry wouldn’t be much help at this stage.

He stepped out into the courtyard and made his way toward the lake, walking slowly. But then he heard a voice calling out.

“Hey, Malfoy!”

Draco turned to see Jackson Burke, flanked by two other Slytherins a few steps behind him. Their stance reminded Draco of the kind of trouble he used to cause, and he was glad he no longer took part in such nonsense.

“What do you want, Burke?”

“How does it feel to walk around freely after everything you did?”

Draco sighed. “I don’t have time for this. Get lost.”

Draco turned to leave, but Jackson stepped in his way. “So, you’re not untouchable anymore,” he sneered. “Seems your protection only lasted so long, didn’t it?”

“What’s your problem?” Draco asked, his gaze steady.

“You and your family are my problem,” Jackson snapped. “You traitors to purebloods... My family’s in Azkaban because of you, and you’re walking around freely.”

“Guess that means we earned our freedom, and your family chose the wrong side. Don’t try to pin their bad choices on me.”

Jackson Burke was currently a sixth-year student, and his family had served Voldemort. Because he was younger, he’d been kept out of it and, since he hadn’t participated in the war, was allowed to return to Hogwarts. Now he lived with his grandmother.

“You’re awfully bold for someone who’s no longer untouchable.”

“If you think I’m scared of you, you’re an idiot,” Draco said. “I have things to do and don’t have time to waste on you.”

He turned to walk away, but after only a few steps, he heard Jackson shout in anger.

“This time, you won’t get away!” he yelled. Then, “Stupefy!”

Draco chuckled as he turned to face Jackson and his two friends. “Ooh, very stunning…”

“You’ll pay for this!” Jackson snarled, casting another silent spell with a sharp flick of his wand. Still, nothing happened. As he prepared to cast another spell—

“NO!”

The shout made all of them turn. Ron and Hermione were sprinting towards them.

“Expelliarmus!”

Jackson’s wand flew from his hand, and one of the Slytherins raised his own wand at Ron and Hermione. The other, looking unsure, pointed his wand at Draco.

“Don’t even think about it!” Ron warned, stepping in front of Draco. Draco was taken aback, stunned by Ron’s protective stance.

“What were you doing?” Hermione demanded, anger blazing in her voice.

“This has nothing to do with you!” Jackson shouted back. “It’s between me and Malfoy!”

“What the hell are you doing, Weasley?” Draco asked in shock.

“Enough!” Ron shouted, then turned to the Slytherin who had his wand raised at them. “Stupefy!”

The last Slytherin was about to make a move, but Hermione quickly stunned him too.

“What did you cast?!” Hermione demanded angrily, glaring at Jackson.

“I cast whatever I wanted! It’s not like it works! Look at him, he’s perfectly fine! Mind your own business!”

“Damn it,” Ron muttered, moving away from Draco. In a few strides, he reached Jackson, grabbed him by the collar, and yanked him close. “What did you do?”

“You know it well,” Jackson replied, smirking as he looked over Ron’s shoulder at Hermione. “Remember it from Dolohov.”

Furious, Ron shoved Jackson back. “You’re going to regret this.”

“Harry,” Hermione said, her voice filled with worry. “We need to find him.”

“What are you talking about?” Draco asked, trying to understand, confusion evident on his face. “Don’t overreact, nothing’s happened.”

“Neville! Have you seen Harry?!” Hermione shouted as she spotted a group leaving the castle and ran towards them.

Ron approached Draco and grabbed him by the arm. “You’re coming with us.”

Draco tried to pull his arm free, snapping, “Let go of me. You know I don’t get hurt, so this whole reaction is—”

“But Harry does!” Ron glared at Draco, speaking quietly and furiously. “Every spell cast on you— he feels it!”

Chapter Text

As he tried to process what he’d just heard, Draco couldn’t bring himself to object as Ron grabbed his arm and started pulling him along. Every spell cast on you— he feels it! The words echoed in his mind as he was practically dragged down the corridor.

“They didn’t see him,” Hermione’s voice broke through. “Where’s the map?”

“I don’t have it; Harry usually keeps it on him.”

“What’s going on?” Neville asked, looking between them.

“We need to find Harry,” Hermione explained. “Immediately.”

“Let’s split up, then,” suggested Luna.

Seeing how anxious Ron and Hermione were, nobody needed further explanation. Knowing that they had to find Harry was enough. Without wasting more time, they split up into pairs and went their separate ways. Though Ron released Draco’s arm, he stayed rooted to the spot, still trying to process what was happening. He couldn’t understand or accept Ron’s explanation.

“Harry!” Ron shouted, hoping for a response.

Since waiting around wouldn’t help, Ron and Hermione set off running toward the lake, with Draco following silently behind them. They hadn’t made it far from the castle when they spotted a familiar face.

“Hey! Ron!”

“Nate!” Ron called, his voice laced with urgency. “Have you seen Harry?”

“Harry? Not yet—I was just heading to meet him. We were supposed to play Quidditch before dinner. Is something wrong?”

“Nate, please go find Madam Pomfrey,” Hermione urged.

“Is Harry alright? Hermione—”

But that was all he needed to hear; without further explanation, they took off running toward the Quidditch pitch. Draco followed in silence, desperately hoping that this was some kind of joke or misunderstanding. The idea that Harry could feel the spells cast on Draco was too bizarre to accept. With every step, he felt the weight on his shoulders grow heavier, his mind racing with thoughts he tried to keep calm. He didn’t know anything for sure yet. Maybe it wasn’t what he thought. Maybe… he wouldn’t let his thoughts spiral until he saw Harry for himself.

When they entered the Quidditch pitch, all three of them froze for a moment. In the middle of the field lay a broken broomstick—and not far from it, Harry’s body.

“Harry!”

As they ran toward him, Draco’s determination to stay calm began to falter.

“The spell must have hit him midair,” Hermione said, her voice breaking with barely contained tears.

The moment they reached him, Ron and Hermione dropped to their knees beside Harry, who lay face down on the grass. They turned him over gently, both of them filled with worry. The spell Jackson had cast was one that could cause severe internal damage; if cast properly, it could even be fatal. And they had no idea how high Harry had fallen from.

“We need to get him to the hospital wing, fast,” Hermione said, hesitating. It might be quicker for Madam Pomfrey to come to them, but she was afraid of making the wrong move. “We need to do something.”

Harry was unconscious, his chest rising and falling in shallow breaths. He coughed a few times, and with each cough, blood trickled from his lips.

“I should have stayed with him,” Ron muttered, his voice full of guilt.

“Harry,” Hermione whispered, trying to wipe the blood from his cheek. “Please be alright. Please. I don’t know what to do.”

Draco felt the strength leave his legs, a heavy weight settling on his chest as he struggled to breathe. Seeing the effects of Jackson’s spell on Harry filled him with a strange and painful emotion. He felt his own anger slowly bubbling up, but it was drowned out by a sense of helplessness. He didn’t know what to do—what he could do or should do. He felt useless, helpless, and guilty.

Just as Ron and Hermione were preparing to lift Harry, they heard a loud crack. Professor McGonagall had Apparated to their side, along with Madam Pomfrey.

“Professor! Help us!”

“Stand back!” Madam Pomfrey ordered, kneeling down beside Hermione. She administered a potion in quick succession. “We need to get him to the hospital wing. Now.”

-

Once Harry was taken into the hospital wing, no other students were allowed inside. Ron, Hermione, and Draco waited by the door. Draco needed answers; he needed to understand what had happened, to know what Ron’s words meant, and to get some clarity. But he knew Ron and Hermione weren’t in the mood for questions, so he stayed silent, trying to keep his patience.

After a while, he felt Ron’s gaze on him. Looking up, he saw Ron watching him from where he leaned against the wall. For a moment, Ron looked away, but then he couldn’t hold back.

“Aren’t you supposed to be a wizard?” he asked angrily. “Are you a Muggle? A Squib? What’s the point of your wand if you’re not going to use it?”

“Ron—”

“No, Hermione! We’re here because of him! He doesn’t even bother to defend himself! Our lordship here is untouchable! He can’t be hurt!”

“I know you’re upset, and I don’t want to argue. So shut it, Weasley.”

Ron tried to lunge at him, but Hermione held him back, gripping his arm. “Please calm down.”

“What did you expect me to do when I didn’t know?” Draco asked as calmly as he could. “I still don’t understand what’s going on!”

“I told you! Every single spell cast on you goes to Harry! All of them! So either you start protecting yourself, or I’ll keep you glued to my side, Malfoy.”

Hearing footsteps approaching, they fell silent and looked toward the end of the hall. A group of students rounded the corner and ran over to them.

“Is Harry—Is he alright?” Nathaniel asked, breathless.

“We don’t know yet. Madam Pomfrey’s checking him,” Hermione replied.

“What happened?” asked Luna.

Ron and Hermione exchanged a glance. They would stick to the story they’d agreed on with McGonagall, even if they doubted it would work.

“Well—he fell off his broom.”

“Harry?” Neville asked in disbelief.

“Off his broom?” Dean echoed.

“Are we sure it’s Harry?” Seamus added.

Ron threw Draco a scathing look before turning to the others and nodding.

Ginny asked, “And there were no Dementors around or anything?”

Ron nodded again. “We don’t know when they’ll be finished in there, so you might as well head back.”

“If you don’t mind me asking,” Seamus began hesitantly, “what’s Malfoy doing here?”

“He was with us when we found him,” Hermione explained immediately.

Seamus glared at Draco. “I hope you didn’t try anything, thinking he’s the only one who can hurt you.”

Draco’s expression turned dark, and he took a step toward Seamus. “I have no issue with him, but if you don’t shut up, I won’t hesitate to put you in that bed next to him.”

“Hey, hey!” Hermione stepped between them as Ron pulled Draco back, and Dean restrained Seamus.

The hospital wing door opened, and Madam Pomfrey’s voice cut through the tension. “Quiet, please.”

Everyone turned to face her. “Whoever found Potter, come in.”

Ron, Hermione, and a reluctant Draco followed Madam Pomfrey inside. Once the door shut behind them, they walked toward the bed where Harry lay, surrounded by bottles of potions and medicine.

“He’s going to be alright.”

Hermione let out a deep breath and hugged Ron in relief. Draco took a slow, deep breath, waiting for Madam Pomfrey to continue.

“The boy wasn’t skilled enough,” she went on. “It may have been their first attempt because, had they been more competent, I doubt I could have saved him given how late we found him. It’ll take time for his internal organs to heal. And due to the fall, he also has multiple fractures. He’ll be here for quite a while.”

“Now,” said a different voice. Turning, they saw Professor McGonagall. “Would one of you care to explain what happened?”

A heavy silence settled over the room.

“I’m waiting.”

“Spells cast on Malfoy,” Hermione said quietly, “seem to affect Harry instead.”

“And how is that possible?”

Ron and Hermione exchanged a glance, and Ron answered, “We don’t know.”

“And for how long?”

“Since the end of sixth year,” Hermione said, shrugging slightly.

Draco interjected, “It started for me around then, too. After the incident in the bathroom…”

Ron and Hermione nodded.

“Anything else you’d like to share?” McGonagall asked.

“No, Professor,” Hermione replied.

“Then I’ll speak with Potter when he wakes up. Until then, no one else is to know about this,” she said. “Does Burke know?”

“No,” Ron said. “When I told Malfoy, he was far enough away not to hear.”

“Good.”

“Professor,” Ron spoke up. “What about Burke? Will he be punished?”

“I’ll handle it. Don’t worry.”

After a brief silence, Madam Pomfrey and Professor McGonagall moved away to speak privately. McGonagall left shortly after.

“Out, all of you,” Madam Pomfrey said. “Go eat something.”

“No, we’re staying here.”

“He won’t wake up for a long time,” she explained. “Come back tomorrow. Don’t crowd my ward. I’ll take good care of him.”

With no other choice, they headed for the door. Draco paused, though, and pulled Harry’s glasses from his cloak pocket, placing them on the table by the bed. He’d picked them up from the ground just before bringing Harry here.

After setting down the glasses, Draco followed Ron and Hermione out of the room. Nathaniel looked like he was eager to go in, but Hermione’s explanation would have to suffice for now.

“Where to now?” Seamus asked as they walked. “The Great Hall?”

“No,” Ron replied. “I’ve lost my appetite. I’m going back to the dormitory.”

Draco walked slowly behind the group, feeling his frustration and unease intensify. He didn’t feel like questioning anyone. Harry was the only one who could answer his questions, and Harry wasn’t conscious. He would have to wait.

As they walked, Ron, mumbling to himself, suddenly changed direction and started marching off at a faster pace.

“Ron, where are you going?”

“I have something to do,” he said, continuing with quick strides. The others, curious, followed.

In a few moments, they reached the entrance to the Great Hall. Dinner was in full swing, and the hall was packed. Taking advantage of the crowd, Ron stormed inside and shouted, ignoring the professors.

“Listen up! All of you, listen well! From now on, anyone who tries to hurt Malfoy will have to deal with me! No one—no one—is going to hex him! Or else I’ll make you regret it! Got it? Your ridiculous hatred or curiosity—”

Realizing he couldn’t mention Harry, he fell silent, took a few deep breaths, and stormed out as abruptly as he had entered, paying no mind to the murmurs he left in his wake.

“Even Voldemort couldn’t kill Harry,” he muttered under his breath. “I’m not letting him die over some stupid accident.”

When they returned to the common room, everyone settled into their own spaces. As Draco headed to his room, Ron noticed and followed him down the corridor.

“Malfoy,” he called, making Draco stop.

“What do you want, Weasley?”

“I’d appreciate it if you could manage not to get yourself hexed until morning,” Ron said. “I assume you understand how serious this is.”

Draco shot him a dark look before opening his door without a word. He understood the gravity of the situation perfectly. But if Ron kept pushing his patience, things might not end well. Sensing this, Draco wanted to walk away before things escalated.

-

The next morning, Ron and Hermione met early in the common room. They would have gone the night before if it weren’t for Madam Pomfrey’s warning, so they had to wait until morning. Hermione knew from experience that it would be a while before Harry regained full consciousness, but they needed to see him for peace of mind.

When they reached the hospital wing, they moved quietly to the door, slowly pushing it open. What they saw inside shocked them.

Draco was sitting on a chair next to Harry’s bed. Hearing the door, he looked up at Ron and Hermione, then turned back to Harry without a word.

“What are you doing here?”

“Just checking,” Draco replied. By the look of him, he hadn’t slept all night and had likely stayed by Harry’s side.

“Where’s Madam Pomfrey?”

“She was here a moment ago.”

“Did she say anything about his condition?”

“She said there’s been no change, that sitting here wouldn’t make a difference, and she told me to leave.”

“But you didn’t.”

Draco looked up and fixed his gaze on Ron. “Do you realize how ridiculous your little stunt in the Great Hall was?” he asked calmly. “I don’t need protection. Least of all yours.”

“Really?” Ron replied. “Well, you weren’t the one I was protecting.”

“Good, because I can take care of myself.”

“Oh, we’ve seen that,” Ron sneered. “Thanks to you, he’s been through hell.”

“If you’d bothered to tell me about this sooner, maybe I would have acted differently,” Draco replied, trying to control his irritation.

“Look—”

“May I come in?”

They all turned to see Nathaniel standing in the doorway, waiting for permission to enter.

“Of course,” Hermione said immediately.

Nathaniel nodded in thanks, then approached Harry’s bed, falling silent as he stood by it. After a moment, he asked, “How is he?”

“He’ll be alright,” Hermione said. “He just fell off his—”

With a slight smile, Nathaniel interrupted, “I don’t believe that he fell... But I won’t ask for details. Knowing he’ll be okay is enough.”

Draco rolled his eyes as he watched Nathaniel. Noticing, Nathaniel narrowed his eyes at Draco. Unfazed, Draco met his gaze evenly. Hermione, sensing the strange tension, tried to break the silence.

“Well, with Madam Pomfrey here—”

“What are you all doing here?” Madam Pomfrey’s voice interrupted.

“Just what we needed…” Hermione mumbled.

“How is he?” Ron asked. “When will he wake up?”

“He won’t be waking for at least a few more days,” she explained, approaching with a potion. “Move aside, boy,” she told Nathaniel, who stepped back. She raised Harry’s head and administered a small sip of the potion. “His organs are healing, and his fractures are mending well. But it’ll take time for everything to return to normal. Until then, it’s best if he stays asleep.”

Ron put a comforting arm around Hermione, gently patting her shoulder. “Can we come back this evening?” he asked.

“Not with so many people,” Madam Pomfrey replied. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have more potions to prepare.”

With some reluctance, Ron, Hermione, and Nathaniel began making their way to the door. Draco rose from his chair last, following them out.

-

Three days passed. Ron, Hermione, and Nathaniel visited Harry every morning, but they didn’t see Draco again after that first day. He came at night, sneaking out to avoid crossing paths with them. During this time, Harry still hadn’t regained consciousness, but according to Madam Pomfrey, he was steadily improving. His fractures had healed completely, and all that was left was for his internal organs to recover fully.

On the fourth night, Draco once again snuck out of the dormitory, heading toward the hospital wing. He hadn’t gone far when he ran into two Slytherin students—Jackson’s friends. Jackson had been expelled for his actions, and no one expected him to return.

“Well, look who’s here.”

Draco rolled his eyes. “Get lost. Don’t waste my time.”

“What, so now you’ve gotten Jackson expelled? Are we next?”

“This time, you don’t have any protectors,” one of them said, raising his wand.

At that moment, Harry’s image flashed through Draco’s mind. Without a second thought, he raised his wand and cast a spell, sending both Slytherins flying back. Pocketing his wand, he walked away without a backward glance.

It was strange. For the first time in a long while, he’d defended himself—and not for his own sake.

Once he’d entered the hospital wing unnoticed by Madam Pomfrey, Draco allowed himself to relax a little. Silently, he made his way to his usual spot beside Harry’s bed and sat down, his gaze tracing over Harry’s face. His hair was damp with sweat, and some strands had fallen over his eyes. Draco reached out to brush them back, checking his forehead to see if he had a fever.

Finding no fever, he began to pull his hand away, but then he noticed a change in Harry’s breathing. Harry took a deep breath, swallowed, and his expression shifted slightly. Draco pulled his hand back and waited, but nothing happened.

Sighing, Draco leaned back in his chair. His gaze drifted to Harry’s hand resting beside him. After a moment, he reached out, gently took Harry’s hand, and turned it over to examine his palm.

“Bloody hell,” he muttered reflexively.

There, on Harry’s palm, was a half-healed cut—an exact reflection of the wound Draco had made on his own hand a week ago. Realizing this, Draco’s carefully controlled thoughts began to spiral.

“Malfoy?”

Draco, still staring at Harry’s hand, hadn’t noticed him waking up. When he looked up, he found himself meeting Harry’s open eyes.

“Potter,” he said, relief flooding through him, momentarily overriding his anger. “Good morning.”

Harry smiled.

When Harry smiled, Draco couldn’t help but smile back. All the questions he’d been waiting to ask Harry vanished from his mind; he couldn’t even recall exactly what he’d wanted to ask. And then… he decided there was no need to rush. For now, the questions could wait.

Chapter Text

Days had passed, and the guilt Draco felt still hadn’t completely faded, though it had eased somewhat. Seeing Harry awake had been more reassuring than Madam Pomfrey’s assurances that he’d be fine. Now that he could speak with him, now that he could see him smile, he felt better. Even though Harry didn’t know the truth, Draco couldn’t ignore that he’d played a part in this situation.

Harry was startled to see Draco when he opened his eyes. He didn’t know exactly what had happened, how he’d ended up here, or how long he’d been in the hospital wing. But he’d expected to see Ron and Hermione when he woke up.

“What happened to me?” he asked, barely able to speak.

Draco raised an eyebrow. “What happened to you?” His tone held a hint of incredulity.

“Yes?”

Noticing Harry’s unfocused gaze, Draco reached over, picked up his glasses, and placed them gently on his face. “Last I recall, I tried to kill you for standing me up, but of course, you’re impossible to get rid of. So, now what?”

Harry tried to laugh, but the attempt only resulted in a pained grimace. “Standing you up?”

Draco nodded. “To play Quidditch with that Hufflepuff—”

“Oh… I remember. I, uh, fell off my broom…”

Draco studied him closely. “What happened before that?”

Harry paused for a few seconds. “I wasn’t actually going to stand you up,” he clarified. “I was planning to come see you afterward.”

“That wasn’t my question.”

“What was your question, again?”

“What happened before you fell?”

Harry closed his eyes, pausing as if he were resting. “I don’t know.”

“Oh, really?” Draco asked. “Well, I do.”

Harry opened his eyes, meeting Draco’s gaze. “You do? What do you know?”

“What do you think I know?”

“What happened to me?”

“I think you know too.”

After a moment’s hesitation, Harry asked, “What?”

Draco smiled slightly, sensing Harry’s effort to evade the question. “You finally admitted that you’re not that good at Quidditch and threw yourself off your broom, right?”

“Ah, caught me.”

Draco’s smile faded as he grew serious again. “I know what happened, Potter. I know that spells cast on me… affect you.”

Harry’s expression shifted instantly. His initial surprise quickly turned to a guarded seriousness as he averted his gaze. “Great,” he muttered. “How did you find out?”

“Is that what matters?”

Harry didn’t reply.

“I need to know the details, and I want to know why you didn’t tell me.”

“How many days have I been here? And who could you possibly have pissed off so much to end up like this?” Harry asked, calmly.

“Your friends can tell you those details. How about answering my questions?”

“I’m tired,” Harry said, his voice genuinely weary. “Can we talk later?”

Draco wanted to argue but held back. “Alright, for now,” he said. “But don’t think you can avoid this. We will talk.”

Harry nodded slightly, and Draco reached over to remove his glasses, placing them back on the bedside table.

After a brief silence, Draco asked, “How do you feel? Is there anything I can do?”

“I don’t think so,” Harry replied. “I think I’m fine.”

“Good. Now go to sleep. Your friends will be here in the morning, and I’ll be gone before they arrive.”

“Why?”

“Let’s just say they’re not thrilled to see me here.”

Harry’s pain was beginning to increase, and he closed his eyes, swallowing hard. “Understandable,” he murmured. “You don’t have to wait around, really. Why are you still here?”

“I’m not waiting around,” Draco replied quickly. “I just happened to drop by, and I’ll be going now.”

After taking a deep breath, Harry said, “Good.” And he couldn’t keep himself conscious any longer.

Once Draco realized Harry was asleep, he made a choice to stay, despite what he’d told Harry. Confident he wouldn’t be caught, he reached over, taking Harry’s hand to examine his palm. Seeing the wound he’d caused made Draco’s anger flare.

How could he not have said anything, despite the pain he was in? Was it really that hard to say, Stop, it’s affecting me? No, it wasn’t. It shouldn’t have been. Draco was certain there was something more going on, and he would find out at the first opportunity. He’d been patient for days already; a few more wouldn’t hurt.

-

The next time Harry opened his eyes, the room was brighter. As his blurry vision cleared, he became aware of voices around him.

“Finally!”

“Thank goodness, he’s waking up!”

“Alright, back up, everyone. I need to examine him.”

Madam Pomfrey’s face came into view, and Harry felt her lift his head, helping him drink two potions before gently lowering him back onto the pillow.

“How do you feel, Potter? Are you in pain?”

“Not much,” Harry replied. “I’m alright.”

“Good,” said Madam Pomfrey. “In two hours, you’ll need to take more potions, and you’re not to leave that bed. Understood?”

Harry nodded.

“I’ll inform the Headmistress,” she said, pulling back. “And you two—don’t exhaust him,” she warned as she headed out.

Once Madam Pomfrey left, Harry’s friends appeared in his line of vision, leaning over his bed to check on him.

“Are you really okay, mate?”

“If you’re in pain, you should tell us, Harry. I know how much that curse can hurt.”

As Harry began glancing around, as if looking for something, Ron noticed and handed him his glasses. “You really scared us,” he said.

Hermione had already seated herself on the edge of the bed, holding Harry’s hand and smiling.

Harry smiled back, trying to reassure them. Then he asked the inevitable question: “I’d love it if someone could explain what happened.”

“Burke tried to curse Malfoy. First, he used a Stunning Spell—”

“Great timing, really,” Harry interrupted.

Hermione nodded. “Then he cast Dolohov’s spell,” she continued. “When we found you, you were lying in the middle of the field.”

“How long have I been here?”

“Today’s your fifth day,” Ron answered.

“What about everyone else? What do they know?”

“They think you fell off your broom,” Hermione explained.

“Nate didn’t believe it, but he’s not pressing,” Ron added.

“What about Malfoy?”

At Harry’s question, a brief silence fell over them. Ron gave Hermione a sidelong glance before admitting, “He knows.”

“How much does he know?”

“I told him spells cast on him affect you,” Ron explained.

“Why?”

“He needed to know,” Ron said firmly. “I was sick of being scared every time something happened, Harry. It’s time that idiot realizes he has to defend himself. I’m not losing you because of him.”

Harry nodded calmly. “I understand.”

Hermione added, “He’s not going to let this go.”

Harry shrugged. “What can he do? It’s not like he can change anything…”

“Malfoy is one thing, but Professor McGonagall will expect an explanation, you know that, right?”

Harry sighed heavily. “Right, there’s that too.”

“Oh well,” Hermione said. “The important thing is that you’re alright now.”

“Exactly, I don’t care about the rest,” Ron agreed.

Before Harry could reply, the door opened, drawing their attention. Professor McGonagall entered, closing the door behind her as she approached. Harry began to sit up.

“Stay in bed, Potter.”

He’d barely lifted himself before he lay back down at McGonagall’s command. “Professor,” he greeted respectfully.

“Are you feeling better?”

“I’m fine. I could probably go back to my room today.”

Professor McGonagall frowned. “You’re not going anywhere until Madam Pomfrey says so. That’s not up for debate.”

“Professor’s right,” Hermione added. “It’s best if you stay a while longer.”

Harry merely nodded.

“Now, Potter, is there anything you’d like to tell me?”

“Like what, Professor?”

“About feeling the effects of spells cast on Malfoy.”

Harry shrugged. “Spells cast on him affect me?”

“I already know that much. Why?”

“I don’t know that much,” Harry replied.

Professor McGonagall studied Harry’s face for a few moments. “How long have you known?”

“Since the end of the sixth year,” Harry admitted.

“And why didn’t you say anything?”

“What difference would it have made?”

“We can’t know without investigating,” McGonagall replied. “This isn’t something you can keep to yourself, Potter. You’re well aware that Malfoy has stopped defending himself, thinking nothing can affect him.”

“It’s not like a few Stunning Spells could kill me…”

“Surely you realize it went beyond Stunning Spells,” Ron interjected, earning a glare from Harry that silenced him.

“Really, Potter, why didn’t you tell anyone?”

Harry let out a deep sigh. “I didn’t want to be at the center of more rumors,” he explained. “There was already so much going on, and back then, I had no idea what would happen.”

“You should have said something regardless,” she said, pausing for a moment. “Did Albus know?”

“Is there anything he didn’t know?” Harry replied with a question of his own. When Professor McGonagall continued to watch him, he added, “I don’t think so. Only a few minor things happened before- you know- he died.”

“The night you encountered Malfoy,” she said, and Harry was already beginning to feel uneasy. “The night in the bathroom—did anything unusual happen? Anything that could have triggered this?”

“Besides nearly killing him?” Harry replied, his tone instantly changing.

Professor McGonagall didn’t want to press the matter, but she didn’t have many other clues to go on. Still, seeing that Harry was not yet fully recovered, she decided to leave it for now. “Alright, that’s enough for now. I’ll look into it. Rest well.”

“Thank you, Professor.”

Turning to Ron and Hermione, she said, “I doubt you’ll leave even if I tell you to attend your classes. Just don’t let him get up,” she reminded them as she exited the hospital wing.

Once Professor McGonagall was gone, Harry started to sit up, saying, “Let’s get out of here.”

“What? Don’t be ridiculous!”

“Lie down, Harry!”

He’d already managed to sit up, swinging his legs over the edge of the bed. “I’m fine, I think I’ve rested enough,” he said.

Unsure of what to do, Ron glanced at Hermione. She stepped in front of Harry, wagging her finger sternly. “If you don’t lie down right now, I’ll call Madam Pomfrey, and I’ll make sure she keeps you here for another ten days.”

Slowly, Harry swung his legs back onto the bed, turned, and lay down calmly. Hermione, satisfied, smiled.

Nathaniel came to visit first, spending a few quiet moments checking on Harry, asking no questions about what had happened, just making sure he was okay. Once reassured, he decided it was best to leave Harry alone with his best friends.

Later, other friends came by in a group. They spent about ten minutes expressing their surprise over Harry’s broom accident before Madam Pomfrey chased them out.

Towards the evening, Harry was left alone with Ron and Hermione once more. Hermione gave him a thorough “summary” of all the classes he’d missed, while Ron tried to lift his spirits with the latest Quidditch news. As night fell, Madam Pomfrey returned, gave Harry his potions, and then “kindly” asked his two friends to leave.

As they prepared to go, Ron remarked, “Not a single visit from Malfoy.”

“Wouldn’t you have kicked him out if he had?” Hermione asked.

“Probably,” he admitted. “But still, he could at least show up, right?”

“He was here last night,” Harry said, cutting in.

“What?”

“When I woke up last night, he was here. I guess he just came by out of curiosity. Then he left.”

“So you woke up, and he knew about it?”

Harry nodded.

“That scoundrel—he could have said something!”

“We came pretty early; he probably didn’t have the chance,” Hermione reasoned.

Ron shrugged. “Oh well, better if he doesn’t come.”

“We’d better go before Madam Pomfrey returns. Don’t even think about getting out of bed, Harry. We’ll be back in the morning.”

“Understood,” Harry replied. “But you don’t have to come. Just go to class.”

“Are you mad?” Ron said. “Even if you could get up and dance, you know I’d still skip classes.”

“Of course, you just need an excuse to avoid lessons.”

Ron gave Hermione a charming smile. “My love knows me well.”

Hermione smacked Ron’s arm playfully. “Come on, let Harry sleep. Goodnight.”

“Goodnight,” Harry replied.

“Goodnight, mate.”

Ron and Hermione left the room, closing the door quietly. Finally alone, Harry took a deep breath. He hadn’t had a single moment of solitude all day, and he was beginning to feel stifled. It wasn’t that he didn’t appreciate his friends; he was grateful. But hiding his pain and facing constant questions wasn’t exactly pleasant. After a bit more recovery, he’d be fine.

-

Rumor had it in the common room that Harry was awake, and Draco already knew this, but hearing that his condition was improving was still good news. It meant that soon Draco could speak with him and get some answers.

He hadn’t explained the situation to Blaise or Pansy, preferring to hear Harry’s explanation first. So before sneaking out, he waited for Blaise to fall asleep. Unfortunately, Blaise had chosen tonight to stay up unusually late, and it took Draco longer than usual to escape from the dormitory. By then, he wasn’t even sure he’d be able to speak with Harry, but he was determined not to give up.

As he quietly pushed open the large door, he glanced around the dark room. Harry wasn’t in his bed. He was standing by one of the windows, looking out.

“Aren’t you supposed to be lying down?”

Hearing Draco’s voice, Harry turned to look at him, smiling slightly before turning his gaze back to the window.

Draco approached him, answering his own question. “Apparently not.” As Harry continued to look out the window, Draco stood next to him, studying his face. “You’re better.”

Harry nodded.

“You don’t seem inclined to talk,” Draco noted.

“I spent the whole day trying to convince people that I’m fine,” Harry replied. “I don’t feel like talking.”

“It’s natural for them to worry,” Draco replied. “Even I was worried.”

Harry turned to him, surprised. “I’m fine.”

“I can see that,” Draco said with a smile. “But you weren’t. So we need to make sure this doesn’t happen again.”

“So you’ve finally decided to protect yourself?” Harry asked.

“I was talking about fixing the problem at its root,” Draco said. “Whatever caused this, we’ll fix it, so this doesn’t happen again.”

“Oh… right.”

“Until recently, I didn’t know anything. I’d given up hope. But now, I know I’m not alone in this, and we have new clues. Although, you apparently knew about this already, but it’s new for me.”

Harry nodded and looked back out the window.

“Any thoughts on how we should proceed?”

“I do,” Harry replied. “You’re going to start defending yourself, and that’ll be the end of it.”

Draco was unimpressed by the response, and surprised. “What nonsense are you talking about?” Draco said. “Are we doing nothing?”

“I don’t think there’s anything we can do. I looked into it.”

“Maybe you didn’t look hard enough,” Draco said. “First, we’ll find out what’s happening, and then we’ll fix it.”

Harry didn’t reply.

“I don’t want to live like this. I’m sure it’s worse for you.”

“I’m used to it.”

Draco reached out, placing a hand on Harry’s shoulder, ignoring Harry’s startled look. “We’ll figure it out,” he said. “I’m sorry for causing you pain. If I’d known, I would have been more careful.”

Harry smiled and shook his head. “You don’t need to apologize. It’s not your fault.”

Draco felt more hopeful than ever. He might never have been close to Harry, never considered him a friend, but he trusted him to solve problems. He’d seen Harry solve countless problems over the years. And now, he’d be doing it not just to help Draco but for his own sake as well. Draco wouldn’t feel indebted to him, either. It wasn’t ideal that Harry had nearly died for this breakthrough, but Draco was trying to focus on the positive.

“I feel like I’m finally going to be free of this,” he said, removing his hand from Harry’s shoulder.

Harry looked away, back out the window. “I don’t think so, Malfoy.”

“Don’t be so pessimistic, Potter—”

“It’s not pessimism,” Harry interrupted. “I’m sorry, but you’d better get used to living with it.”

Draco frowned. “If you don’t want to deal with this, just say so,” he said, a bit annoyed. “I’ll handle it myself.”

Harry took a slow, deep breath and then turned, sitting down on the edge of his bed. He continued to look out the window. “I just don’t want you to waste your time.”

“A waste, is it? No, I don’t understand—you should be more eager than me to solve this, shouldn’t you? You’re the one suffering, right? You should be mad at me, pushing me to solve this.”

“I know it’s pointless,” Harry said with a shrug. “There’s no solution.”

“No—how can you be so sure? Maybe you missed something. If we get help—”

“I did this, Malfoy.”

Draco couldn’t quite believe what he’d just heard. “What?”

Harry raised his head, meeting Draco’s gaze. “I know there’s no solution because I did this.”

Chapter Text

Under normal circumstances, Harry would never have considered confessing this to Draco. He knew that the truth would only burden Draco, and there was no way to fix it—they would just have to live with it. But now that Draco knew Harry was getting hurt, he wouldn’t drop the matter. Harry couldn’t let him chase a hopeless dream. That was why he’d thought it best to tell the truth, despite knowing how hard it would be and that Draco would likely react badly. According to the plan Harry once made, Draco would never have known about this. He wished Draco still didn’t know. Facing every curse, every pain had been easier for Harry than facing Draco now.

“What did you say you did?”

Draco’s shock was on a whole other level. He wasn’t sure he’d heard correctly; even if he had, he was almost certain Harry was joking.

“I said I did it,” Harry admitted once more. “I don’t want you wasting time or chasing after a solution that doesn’t exist. I know the spell I cast, and there’s no way to undo it.”

Draco, more confused than ever, asked, “I don’t understand—why?” Then his face twisted into a half-smile. “You’re joking, right?”

Harry shook his head.

“You’re serious?” Draco grew serious again. “You did this? So this… curse… is your doing?”

Harry didn’t answer.

“Why?” Draco asked. “I mean—why would you do it? Why—ah… out of guilt…” Draco was beginning to grow angry as thoughts came to him. “You did it out of guilt, didn’t you?”

Harry turned his gaze away, unable to help himself. Whatever he said now, he knew Draco would react badly.

“You did this because of the curse you used on me… to ease your conscience.”

Draco’s anger and disappointment were clear in his voice. Seeing Harry’s silence as acceptance, he didn’t even wait for an explanation.

“So, I’m stuck with this because of you,” he said, as if explaining it to himself. “Both sides from the war are spreading ridiculous rumors about me, people keep trying to curse me, they think I’m abnormal—all because of your guilt.”

Silence.

“As if almost killing me back then wasn’t enough, you put me under this burden just to clear your conscience, Potter?!”

Silence.

“Did I ask for this? Just because you couldn’t handle the weight of what you did, how could you bind me to you like this?!”

“Malfoy—”

“Shut up! I actually thought you were going to help me! I felt bad for you because you got hurt! You deserved it, Potter.”

Without waiting for Harry to respond, Draco took two steps back.

“I don’t even want to see your face. Stay away from me.”

Then he turned around and quickly left the hospital wing. He wasn’t sure how long it would take him to process the truth, but he was sure he didn’t want to see Harry. He didn’t look back as he walked away.

Harry had expected this reaction, so he thought he’d feel less affected. But the weight in his heart was surprisingly heavy. Ever since he’d learned that Draco referred to their connection as a “curse,” he’d already felt bad about it. Confronting it like this made it even harder.

As his pain intensified, reminding him it was time for his next potion, he began to take deep breaths. He removed his glasses, covered his eyes with his arm, and waited a few seconds. After wiping his eyes, he put his glasses back on. Lacking the strength to get back to his own bed, he just let himself fall back against the one he was already lying on.

-

The next morning, Ron, Hermione, and Nathaniel came to visit him. Although they could tell that Harry wasn’t in a good mood, they didn’t want to ask about it. Instead, they pulled up chairs, chatting about cheerful topics to lift his spirits. After a while, Nathaniel couldn’t hold back when he saw that Harry seemed like he wanted to say something but then held back.

“If you want to talk about something private, I can step out,” he offered with a smile.

“What?” Ron said, not understanding. “What private things?”

Nathaniel shrugged. “Maybe that thing between Malfoy and Harry, with their strange connection—”

“What?” Hermione cut in. “How do you—”

Harry looked at his friends, shocked. They had said no one else knew. Nathaniel’s casual mention of it took all three of them by surprise.

“If Malfoy doesn’t get hurt but only Harry can hurt him, if Burke’s attempt to curse Malfoy got him expelled and then Ron went around announcing he’d protect Malfoy, well… it’s not hard to guess. I mean, I doubt Harry would actually fall off his broom unless it was a total disaster. And then there was Malfoy’s late-night visit…”

Nathaniel smiled back at their astonished faces.

“I came by at night to avoid the crowd,” he explained. “When I saw him coming into the hall, I went back to my dorm, but I figured he came to see you.”

“Impressive,” Hermione commented.

“So, if you want to talk about anything—”

“I told him that I did it,” Harry said, cutting him off.

All eyes turned to Harry.

“You told him?” Ron asked. “So Malfoy knows?”

“One second,” Nathaniel said. “You did it? You mean this thing where he doesn’t get hurt?”

Harry took a deep breath, then let it out slowly. “He needed to know.”

After a brief silence, Nathaniel said, “I think it’d be better if I left you alone,” getting up from his chair. “See you later?”

Harry nodded in agreement. “Thank you for understanding.”

Nathaniel smiled, then turned and left the room, closing the door behind him. Ron and Hermione were now completely focused on Harry.

“How did he react?” Hermione asked.

“He was justifiably angry,” Harry replied. “Said I did it out of guilt and that I had no right.”

“Jerk,” Ron muttered. “You went through all that for him, and that’s how he reacts? Idiot!”

“Ron,” Harry said, wearily. “He’s not wrong. He sees it as a curse.”

“I repeat,” Ron said, “Jerk.”

“What are you going to do?” Hermione asked, ignoring Ron’s anger.

“Nothing,” Harry said. “What can I do?”

“Well, at least he knows now. Maybe he’ll come around in time, right?”

“I don’t care if he comes around; he just needs to protect himself. Or I swear, I’ll—”

“Ronald!”

Ron went silent. Harry stayed thoughtful and quiet, while Hermione was trying to think of a solution. And so the minutes stretched on in silence.

-

Two nights had passed since Draco had learned the truth. He was still furious. He felt tricked, like Harry had overstepped, and he didn’t want to believe there was no solution. Sitting with his friends in the common room, his mind was entirely preoccupied with the situation. He didn’t even hear what they were saying, let alone pay attention.

“Potter’s recovered.”

At Pansy’s words, Draco snapped out of his thoughts, lifting his head. Ron, Hermione, Harry, and, oddly enough, Nathaniel had just entered.

Draco wanted to look away when Harry’s eyes met his, but he couldn’t. After a few seconds of staring, it was Harry who looked away. The rest of the group greeted Harry warmly, distracting him.

When Harry sat on the couch, Nathaniel sat beside him. Unable to take any more of the warm reception, Draco got up and headed to his room. Of course, Blaise and Pansy followed him.

Once they were in the room, Blaise asked, “What’s wrong? Did something happen?”

“Nothing,” Draco replied. “I just don’t want to see Potter.”

Sitting on the bed, Pansy said, “I thought you two were on good terms. Wasn’t he going to help you?”

“No help or anything,” he replied, trying to stay calm.

After a short silence, Blaise asked, “What’s wrong? You’ve been acting strange for days, you know.”

“Yeah,” Pansy agreed. “You can tell us. You know that.”

“It’s not important,” Draco said. “Just Potter’s mess.”

Blaise and Pansy exchanged a look, then fell silent. Draco reached for the chair, but it caught on the edge of the desk, and he let go in frustration.

“Draco,” Pansy said. “Just tell us.”

Draco took a deep breath and leaned against the desk behind him. He hadn’t told his friends that Harry was taking all the damage meant for him because he’d thought it best to talk to Harry first. Now, knowing the whole truth, he no longer had a reason not to tell them. He was tired of trying to deal with it alone. Besides, after Ron’s “protection” speech in the Great Hall, Pansy and Blaise had noticed something was off. They’d held back from asking, though, waiting for Draco to open up.

Unable to hold back any longer, Draco simply said, “Every spell cast on me affects Potter.”

“What?”

“How?”

“Apparently, Potter feels everything I don’t. The reason he’s been in the hospital wing for days is because Burke’s curse hit him instead.”

“Wow,” Pansy said, shocked. “How does that work?”

“Potter did it.”

“Wait, I’m not following… Potter cast a spell so that he’d take the hits meant for you?”

“In short, yes,” Draco replied.

“But why?”

“To ease his conscience, what else? I guess when he couldn’t kill me, he decided to protect me. And then he tied me to a spell that has no solution, the idiot.”

“How did you find out?”

“He told me.”

Blaise fell silent, processing everything. It was a lot of information to take in at once.

“And you’re mad because…?”

“Because it’s his fault I’m in this situation!” Draco shouted. Then he lowered his voice. “You know how much I hate this. People were right—apparently, I got ‘rewarded’ by Potter without even knowing. Look at this mess…”

“Wow…” Pansy couldn’t hide her surprise. “Potter is full of surprises.”

“He says there’s no solution, but I’m not letting this go,” Draco said.

After Draco’s explanations, silence filled the room. Finally able to tell someone, he felt a small sense of relief. Blaise and Pansy seemed to be trying to make sense of it.

At last, Pansy broke the silence, saying, “It’s really strange. All those tortures you talked about… Bellatrix’s attempts… did they affect Potter?”

Draco looked up at Pansy, his gaze haunted. As images flashed through his mind, he held his breath and swallowed. He hadn’t thought of it that way before. Maybe he hadn’t wanted to.

“Right,” Blaise replied to Pansy. “When you put it that way, it’s chilling. Even though we knew you didn’t feel it, what you described was horrible.”

“Didn’t you say she tried using the Cruciatus Curse on you constantly?” Pansy asked.

“And every time she got angrier—”

“Enough,” Draco interrupted, unable to take it anymore. “Shut up.”

He struggled to catch his breath, each inhale feeling insufficient. Finding it hard to stand, he slowly pulled the chair he’d shoved earlier and sat down. He didn’t want to think about it, but it was too late—his mind was already flooded with images of his aunt.

Draco didn’t move from that spot for almost two hours. Pansy and Blaise exchanged glances from time to time, unsure of what to do. They knew Draco was in bad shape, that his state of mind was deteriorating, but they didn’t know how to help him.

When midnight came and went, Draco finally got up from the chair and began walking slowly toward the door.

“Draco, where are you going?”

He didn’t respond to Blaise’s question. He left the room, walking down the corridor past the other rooms. He stopped in front of one door and hesitated before knocking.

“Come in.”

At the sound of the voice, he opened the door slightly. Standing in the doorway, he could feel Ron and Harry’s surprised eyes on him.

Harry turned to Ron, still stunned. He didn’t need to say anything. Ron understood what he wanted, so he silently headed for the door, passing Draco on his way out.

Draco stood in the doorway for a while, even after Ron had left. Harry stayed silent too. Finally, Draco took a step inside, closed the door, and pulled out his wand, murmuring, “Muffliato.” After setting his wand on the nearby table, he walked up to Harry, who was standing in the middle of the room, and stopped right in front of him.

“I want to see,” he said quietly.

“What?”

Draco raised his hand, indicating Harry’s shirt. When Harry understood what he meant, he swallowed and looked away.

“There’s no need,” he said.

“Please,” Draco said.

Harry turned his gaze back to Draco, trying to understand what he was thinking. The last time he’d seen him, Draco had been angry. Now, he couldn’t tell what he felt.

Taking Harry’s silence as permission, Draco hesitantly reached for the hem of Harry’s sweater, lifting it. Harry knew he’d have to face this too. So he didn’t resist, raising his arms and taking off his sweater, which fell to the floor.

As Draco looked at Harry’s body, he felt a weight settle over him. He could barely release the breath he was holding, unaware that his eyes were filling with tears. Every scar that should have been on his body was on Harry’s. Some, he remembered the circumstances for; others, he didn’t even recall. When he realized Harry had endured all that pain, he could no longer hold back his tears.

As his legs weakened, he took a few steps back. “Why?” he asked, lifting his head to meet Harry’s gaze. His back met the wall, and he could no longer stay standing. He slid down until he was sitting on the floor in front of the wall.

“Why?” he repeated. He didn’t even try to wipe the warm, salty tears from his lips.

“Why did you do this?” he asked, raising a hand from where he sat to gesture at Harry’s body. “I wasn’t worth it, Potter.”

Looking down at Draco from where he stood, Harry didn’t try to hold back his own tears. But unlike Draco, he wore a faint smile.

“All that pain wasn’t worth it,” Draco repeated, struggling to speak through his tears. “Why did you do it?”

“Because I was in love with you.” Harry smiled through his tears. “Because I loved you so much, and all the pain was worth it for you, Malfoy.”

Chapter Text

He had no idea what kind of response to expect from Harry, but this certainly wasn’t it. I was in love, he’d said. I loved you; you were worth it... This unexpected confession left Draco completely shaken. Sitting there, he pulled his knees to his chest, wrapping his arms around them. He wanted to hide, to vanish, if possible. Perhaps what hurt most was realizing that someone had protected him unconditionally, without expecting anything in return. It had all felt simpler when he’d thought it was out of guilt. Now, he didn’t know how to feel or what to think.

Noticing Draco’s struggle to meet his gaze, Harry picked up his sweater from the floor and put it on. Then, he moved closer and sat down on the floor in front of him.

“I understand why you’re angry with me,” he said in a calm, understanding tone. “I really do.”

Draco, still unable to stop his tears and unable to look Harry in the face, lowered his head, resting it on his knees.

“The spell I cast was a kind of protection spell,” Harry continued, explaining slowly and deliberately. “A type of magic that can’t be reversed and lasts until death once it’s cast.” He tried to control the change in his voice as he added, “I’m really sorry that you see it as a curse.”

He paused, giving Draco time to absorb what he’d heard and allowing himself a moment to gather his own thoughts.

“I never wanted to hurt you. Using a spell I didn’t fully understand was foolish, and I acted really stupidly. I couldn’t bear the thought of ever hurting you again. I didn’t want you to feel pain or for anyone else to harm you. I just wanted to protect you. I didn’t do it to ease my conscience; I did it because I loved you.”

When Draco lifted his head, he saw Harry wiping his own tears away. Draco wanted to look away but found that he couldn’t. He sniffed, exhaling slowly.

“You shouldn’t have,” he said helplessly.

“I’m sorry,” Harry replied with a smile. “But if I had to, I’d do it all over again.”

“Potter—”

“Even if you see it as a curse, I’m glad I could protect you. Knowing you didn’t feel all that pain brought me peace. You were safe, and I never regretted it, not once.”

As he listened to Harry, a torrent of thoughts swirled through Draco’s mind. Most of all, he wondered how Harry could have fallen in love with him. Considering their history, especially the sixth year… Harry must have been crazy to love him. He’d done terrible things, caused terrible things to happen. Yet Harry had still fallen for him? Loved him enough to bear the pain in his place? For someone who didn’t think he deserved to be loved, it was difficult—nearly impossible—to understand. He couldn’t comprehend it.

Harry reached out and placed his hands on Draco’s knees. “And there’s no need for you to feel bad about all these scars. After what I did to you, I deserved them. Believe me, I did.”

For the first time in a while, Draco reacted, shaking his head. “No one deserves to suffer like that,” he said. “No one.”

Harry smiled. “Neither did you. And you didn’t. That’s what matters.”

Draco fell silent again. He wiped his face on his sleeve, trying to rid himself of the tears, succeeding only partially. He swallowed and looked away as he spoke.

“So, do you still… I mean…” He left the sentence unfinished.

“Still what?” Harry asked.

After a few seconds, Draco tried again. “Do you still…” but fell silent once more.

“Still what, Malfoy?” Harry asked, though he understood what Draco was trying to ask. “Finish your question.”

Draco took a deep breath and said, “Never mind. It doesn’t matter anymore, does it?”

Harry smiled slightly and nodded. “Right, it doesn’t matter,” he agreed, pulling his hands back from Draco’s knees.

After a brief pause, Draco braced himself against the floor and stood up, saying, “I’d better…” He didn’t know what else to say. He had things he needed to process. He didn’t want to speak thoughtlessly again.

Harry stood up as well, watching him without a word.

“I need to think,” Draco explained, feeling the need to say something. “I don’t know how to process all this.”

“You’re free to be as angry with me as you want,” Harry said calmly. “But don’t do it because you can’t believe that someone could care about you this much, alright?”

As Draco’s eyes filled with tears once more, he turned his head away. “I’m not sure I’ll ever stop being angry,” he admitted.

Harry nodded, choosing to stay silent. What more was there to say?

After a moment of silence, Draco slowly turned his back on Harry and headed for the door. As he reached out to open it, he hesitated for a moment, turning back to face Harry. He walked up to him, stopped just in front, and wrapped his arms around him.

Finding himself in Draco’s arms, Harry’s initial surprise was quickly replaced by a feeling of peace. He hadn’t expected this, but he certainly didn’t mind. It felt like his soul was finally taking flight. In that moment, it was as if every scar that Draco had cried over simply faded away. Harry realized, all over again, that every bit of pain had been worth it. Even for just this one moment, for the way he felt now, it had all been worth it.

Draco didn’t know exactly why he’d done it; maybe it was his way of apologizing. Apologizing for what he’d said in the hospital wing, for all the pain he’d inadvertently caused, for making Harry fall for someone like him. This was how he’d apologized to Harry.

After a few brief moments, it was Draco who pulled away. Without a word, he turned, picked up his wand from the table, and left the room. He needed time. Plenty of time, to think and to process.

As soon as Draco left, Harry felt his defences crumble, his balance faltering. He took a couple of steps back, and when his legs hit his bed, he couldn’t stay standing and sat down. In that moment, all he wished was to understand Draco’s thoughts and feelings.

-

A few days passed. During this time, they didn’t speak, didn’t reach out to each other, and mostly chose to ignore each other. Draco was distant as he tried to process his emotions and thoughts; Harry, on the other hand, stayed away to avoid confusing him further.

No matter how much he thought about it, Draco still hadn’t reached any resolution within himself, caught between his anger and his guilt. He was trying to understand Harry, to accept his feelings. But he’d seen their connection as a “curse” for so long that suddenly thinking of it differently was incredibly difficult. So, he kept researching protective spells. If he could solve the problem at its root, he wouldn’t need to dwell on it so much.

For Harry, things were simpler but just as stressful. He believed he’d already weathered the worst of Draco’s reaction. Surely, it couldn’t get worse, right? He’d confessed, he’d confronted it, and now he just had to wait for Draco to come to his conclusion. He knew this wait might never end. After all, it wasn’t a matter of Draco making a decision; he just had to accept it. In the end, Draco’s anger toward him might never subside, or he might decide to carry on as though nothing had happened. Maybe he’d already made that choice; maybe that’s why he was ignoring Harry.

It was the last lesson of the day, and they were in Potions class. As Professor Slughorn gave a brief introduction, Draco’s gaze drifted for a moment in Harry’s direction. He was paired with Nathaniel at the cauldron since Ron and Hermione were working together.

“Remember, everyone, over-stirring could lead to unexpected results. That’s the most important thing to keep in mind with this potion,” Professor Slughorn cautioned.

As he continued his instructions, Nathaniel seemed to be pointing something out in the book to Harry.

“Let’s get started, Draco.”

Hearing Blaise’s voice, Draco turned his attention back to his own table and began inspecting the ingredients Blaise had laid out. He looked at Harry, then back down, read the instructions, looked at Harry again, and went back to following the directions. He was caught in a strange loop as he tried to focus on brewing the potion.

“I didn’t bring enough ginger root; I’ll get some more.”

Without looking up at Blaise, Draco nodded. “Alright.”

At that moment, Harry was adding an ingredient to their cauldron, nearly adding too much, when Nathaniel caught his wrist and stopped him. Harry put the excess back on the table, leaning over the cauldron to smell the mixture.

Draco rolled his eyes, continuing to stir their potion.

“Got it,” Blaise said as he returned, setting the ginger root among the other ingredients. Then he looked into the cauldron. “How many times have you stirred that?”

“What?” Draco asked, turning to him.

“How long have you been stirring?” he asked again, just as strange noises and smells started coming from the cauldron.

Professor Slughorn, catching the scent, turned his attention to them. “Mr. Malfoy, Mr. Zabini! Step back—move away!”

Blaise retreated instinctively, but Draco, distracted, was slower to respond. Just then, a loud crack echoed, and the cauldron exploded, shattering into pieces. Draco reflexively raised his arm to shield his face. When he lowered it, he saw the cauldron in fragments, the potion splattered all around.

“Is everyone alright?” Professor Slughorn asked as he quickly checked on the students around the cauldron. “I specifically said not to stir more than five times, Mr. Malfoy! For this outcome, you must have stirred at least ten times. Please be more careful.”

Draco nodded in acknowledgement, looking down at his potion-splattered robes. A tear in the sleeve of his cloak caught his eye, and as he lifted his arm to inspect it, he noticed a cut beneath, only visible as it began to heal.

“Are you okay?” Pansy asked.

He shrugged. “I’m fine,” he said, turning back to help clean up the mess.

Blaise, leaning in, whispered, “Potter.”

“What?” Draco asked instinctively, glancing at Harry. He saw Harry discreetly holding his own arm, realizing with a sinking feeling what had happened. Ron and Hermione hadn’t noticed since they hadn’t seen Draco’s injury. Nathaniel, however, had a sense of it and reached toward Harry’s arm as if to check. Harry shook his head, stopping him, and turned back to the potion.

Draco wanted to go to him right then but knew it would draw too much attention. He didn’t want to leave any room for questions or expose the situation, so he forced himself to wait until the end of the lesson.

As soon as the lesson ended, he wanted to follow Harry, but Professor Slughorn held him back to give a few more reminders about the incident, allowing Harry to slip away. When he finally exited the classroom, Draco scanned the corridor in both directions. Not seeing him, he had a feeling, and turned to find Ron behind him.

“What are you doing?” he asked as he noticed Ron standing a little way off.

“When Harry wants to be alone, it’s easier to follow you than him,” Ron explained. “Just making sure there won’t be any trouble.”

“Listen, Weasley—” Draco began, but then he paused. Harry wanted to be alone? Without waiting for Ron to continue, Draco set off at a quick pace. He left the school building and headed toward the lake. When he reached the spot he had in mind, the sight he’d expected brought him some relief.

As he walked closer to the tree where Harry was sitting, he looked back, noticing that Ron was no longer around. He must have decided to go back, thinking everything would be fine now that he’d seen Draco reach Harry. Draco turned his attention forward, walked a bit more, and finally sat down beside Harry.

Harry turned to look at him.

Draco stayed silent for a moment, looking at Harry.

Then Harry turned his gaze back in front of him.

Draco took a deep breath and held out his hand. “Let me see?”

Pulling his arm closer to himself, Harry said, “I’m fine. Really, it’s nothing.”

“Did Hufflepuff take care of it?”

Harry looked at Draco, surprised. “Really? Nate? Again?”

“I don’t know, he seemed to know about the situation. Are we telling everyone?”

“He figured it out on his own,” Harry replied calmly. “We didn’t tell him.”

“Oh, so he’s clever, then?”

“He is.”

Draco was quiet for a few seconds but couldn’t resist reaching out again. “Potter, your arm.”

After a moment’s hesitation, Harry decided he had no choice and extended his arm. Draco took him by the wrist and gently rolled up his cloak and shirt sleeve to the elbow.

“It doesn’t look too bad,” he said, examining the fresh cut.

“I’m getting better at healing myself these days.”

Draco didn’t reply, his gaze shifting from the recent injury to an older scar.

“I remember this one,” he said, tracing a finger over it. “Bellatrix wanted to show I didn’t deserve the Dark Mark.”

The scar on Harry’s arm was in the same spot where the Dark Mark was branded on Draco’s arm.

“Do you remember?” Draco asked when Harry stayed silent.

Harry turned his gaze toward the lake and nodded. His mind drifted back to the night that scar had formed.

-

The sharp pain in his arm had woken him up. No matter how hard he tried to suppress it, he couldn’t stop himself from crying out, waking Hermione and Ron.

“Harry!”

Lying there, he clutched his arm tightly with his other hand, waiting for the pain to pass.

“Harry, wait, let go!”

Ron tried to steady him while Hermione pointed her wand at the wound. But since the injury wasn’t finished forming yet, her attempts to heal it weren’t working.

“He’s in trouble,” Harry groaned through the pain. “He must be getting punished.”

He tried to steady his breathing, watching the deep cut form along his arm. Short, uneven breaths escaped him, and the tears that filled his eyes weren’t just from the pain.

“I don’t even know where he is,” he murmured, almost to himself. “I can’t help him.”

“You are helping,” Ron said. “Right now, you’re helping him. What more can you do?”

“He’s right,” Hermione said, pouring some kind of potion over the open wound.

-

“What were you doing?” Draco asked when Harry didn’t respond.

Harry smiled. “Sleeping.”

Draco nodded, as if he understood. His gaze was still fixed on Harry’s arm. “Did it hurt much?”

“Not really,” Harry replied. “I have a pretty high pain tolerance,” he added convincingly, or so he thought.

Draco nodded, pretending to believe him, and let go of Harry’s arm. As Harry adjusted his cloak sleeve, he could feel Draco’s gaze still lingering on him.

After a while, they both turned their gazes back to the lake. Draco had come to check on Harry’s injury, but even though he’d done that, he didn’t feel like leaving. He sat there in silence, and Harry, not wanting to prompt him to leave, stayed silent too. He didn’t want to say the wrong thing and risk upsetting him.

After a long stretch of silence, Draco decided to bring Harry along on the journey his thoughts were taking.

“What do you want from me?” he asked calmly.

Surprised by the sudden question after such a long silence, Harry replied, “What do you mean?”

“Do you want me to forgive you? Or just carry on as if I never knew? Or… do you want me to… love you back—”

“No,” Harry interrupted, shaking his head. “I don’t want you to love me.”

Draco locked his gaze on Harry’s eyes. “Why?”

“Because if you love me, I’ll never be able to forgive myself.”

Draco didn’t fully understand his answer, so he asked again, “Why?”

With a bittersweet smile, Harry replied, “Because I don’t deserve your love.” He paused, then added, “You said it yourself: as if almost killing you wasn’t enough, I also forced you into this situation you call a ‘curse,’ right?”

“I’m sorry for saying that.”

Taking a deep breath, Harry looked into Draco’s cold gaze for a long moment. “What do you want?” he asked. “From me? From yourself?”

“I don’t know,” Draco said, averting his gaze. “I don’t know what I want.”

Silence.

“But… what if I wanted to… love?”

Chapter Text

Draco's question brought a half-smile to Harry's face. Every time they met, he found himself more curious about what was going through Draco's mind. Now he wondered why Draco wanted to love and how such an idea even came to him.

“You don’t,” Harry said, smiling. “Why would you want to? Because you feel guilty or something?”

Draco frowned. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You saw my scars, and now you know I was once in love with you. Are you just trying to ease your conscience?”

“Stop talking nonsense, Potter.”

Harry chuckled softly.

“What are you laughing at?”

“I know I’m talking nonsense,” he replied. “You can’t love someone just to ease your conscience. Some things can’t be done for that reason.”

Realizing what Harry was trying to say, Draco rolled his eyes. “I get it; you’re taking a jab at me.”

“No, I just don’t want you to have any doubts.”

“Fine, I understand.”

When Harry turned to face the lake, Draco continued to watch him for a while before also looking ahead. After a long silence, Draco spoke up.

“So, is it always going to be like this?”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, are you always going to suffer in my place?”

Harry shrugged. “Yes,” he said. “It’ll stay this way until one of us dies.”

“So, this protection spell,” Draco continued, “does it apply to death too? I mean, if someone tried to use a killing curse on me—”

“I’d die,” Harry interrupted.

“Great,” Draco said in a sarcastic tone. “Can’t tell you how much that puts me at ease.”

“Don’t worry about it, Malfoy. After school, you’ll lead a safe, peaceful life, grow old, and die naturally.”

“I don’t plan on staying under your protection until I die, Potter. Of all people, you should know that the wizarding world is full of mysteries. I’m sure there’s a way to change this, and I’ll find it.”

Harry smiled. “Best of luck, then.” He leaned back and closed his eyes. The evening was growing chilly, and the cool breeze brushing his face was the kind that could make someone shiver. But Harry didn’t mind. He felt good; the silence was comforting, and Draco was by his side.

Draco had no particular reason to stay, but lately, he’d gotten used to doing things without reason. Why not stay here too, even if it was one of those things? If he left now, Hufflepuff would likely take his place, and there was no need for that.

They stayed there for a long time, not moving or speaking. Each of them embarked on a long mental journey in the company of the other. They each had so much to think about and even more to share with each other. But they hadn’t learned how to talk openly yet. It was still hard for them to find common ground, to express their feelings and thoughts. Although, Harry was undoubtedly better at it than Draco. Still, he had things he couldn’t say.

Finally, Draco took a book out of his bag. It was about protective spells. Lighting his wand, he began flipping through the pages.

Harry glanced at the book, sighed deeply, but said nothing. He turned back and continued watching the lake.

Another half hour passed. As Draco read, Harry slowly stood up. Draco looked up at him with curiosity.

“Where are you going?” he asked.

“I’m heading back to the dorm,” he said, already walking away.

“The school’s in the other direction, Potter.”

“I know,” he replied without looking back. “I’m tired of sitting; I’ll walk a bit.”

Draco put the book in his bag, stood up, and hurried to catch up. Once he did, he slowed his pace and continued walking beside Harry.

“I thought you wanted to research.”

“And I thought you weren’t supposed to be left alone,” Draco replied. “If I leave you alone, Weasley will kill me—or he won’t be able to, but I’m sure he’ll make me regret it with his whining.”

Harry just chuckled, and they continued walking. By the time they returned to the common room in the middle of the night, four people were there: Ron, Hermione, Blaise, and Pansy.

“Well, look who’s here,” Draco said with a teasing tone. “Having a party?”

“We got worried when neither of you showed up,” Hermione said.

“Then we realized that they knew too,” Ron added.

“Can’t just you two know everything, right?” Pansy added.

Harry and Draco rolled their eyes and started toward the rooms. Their friends watched them in surprise as they walked away.

“Goodnight, Potter.”

“Goodnight, Malfoy.”

At the corner of the narrow corridor, they parted ways and headed to their rooms with their friends.

As soon as Harry entered, he dropped his bag, threw his cloak onto the bed, and lay down, exhausted.

“What did you guys do all that time?”

Harry responded to Ron’s question with a sigh, then said, “Nothing. We sat by the lake, walked, and came back.”

“That’s it?”

“Yes,” he replied. “At one point, he was looking through a book on protective spells.”

“Doesn’t look like he’ll give up on researching, does it?” Hermione asked.

“Seems so,” Harry said.

“What will you do?” Ron asked, sitting on his bed. “What if he learns the details?”

“Let him,” Harry said. “There’s nothing I can do about it. He already knows most of it—how much angrier can he get?”

Hermione hesitated. “I don’t know. I can’t predict how he’ll react.”

“Don’t worry; I don’t think he’ll find a solution. As long as you two keep quiet…” he said, casting a pointed glance at Ron.

Raising his hands as if he were guilty, Ron said, “Don’t worry; I won’t say a word. My priority was your safety; knowing the details won’t change anything.”

“Good,” Harry said, closing his eyes. “What did you guys do?”

As Ron and Hermione began talking about their day after class, Harry closed his eyes. He was hungry, but his exhaustion outweighed his hunger.

-

“I tried to do some research on the spell.”

“Out there?” Blaise asked.

Lying on his bed, Draco stared at the ceiling. “Yes,” he replied. “I had the book I borrowed from the library with me.”

“Did you find anything?”

“No, I couldn’t get close,” he said with frustration in his voice. “There are plenty of protective spells, but none like this… I haven’t come across anything this powerful. What Potter did seems much deeper—more dangerous.”

“Definitely,” Blaise agreed. “A simple spell wouldn’t be this effective.”

“Right, you’re saying it could even reverse death. It’s much more—”

“Wait a minute…”

“—and a powerful—”

“Wait a minute,” Draco repeated, interrupting Pansy.

“What is it?” Pansy asked, curious.

“This is a very big, deep, and dangerous spell… It’s not exactly normal magic, is it?”

“Yes?” Blaise replied, prompting him to continue.

“Like… dark magic… Of course!” Draco jumped up from the bed. “I was foolishly looking through ordinary books! How could I think that something this powerful would be legal? This is something very dark; it’s impossible to find it in a book anyone can access.”

“Wow, you’re right.”

“I’ve been looking in the wrong place from the beginning,” Draco said. “I need to go to the restricted section,” he added, already heading toward the door.

“Wait,” Pansy said. “You’ll get caught!”

Blaise looked at Draco for a moment, then couldn’t help himself. “If we help, there’s less chance of getting caught.”

Draco smiled at Blaise’s response. Pansy was already ready and jumped up, heading for the door. Sneaking into the restricted section in the middle of the night without getting caught wouldn’t be easy, but Draco didn’t care. The risk of getting caught was worth it for the chance of finding the spell Harry had cast.

The previous night, Draco hadn’t found what he was looking for in the restricted section, even though they hadn’t been caught. All he’d found was one book on protective spells, but it didn’t have what he needed. After a while, they had to flee when they heard Filch’s voice. Now, he was impatient to return there again. But first, he had to get through a Duelling Club meeting.

All the students had taken their places around the platform, waiting for the meeting to start. Names were written on the board and ready for the drawing.

“Today, I want you to focus on more powerful spells,” Professor Flitwick announced. “You’re all graduating this year, and, as sad as it is, you’ve all experienced a major war. I know you’re capable of defending yourselves and fighting back when necessary. Don’t hesitate to challenge each other.”

The students responded eagerly, and Flitwick pointed his wand at the board to begin the first draw.

Padma Patil & Parvati Patil

When the first pair was announced, there were chuckles from the crowd. The twin sisters took their places on the platform, raised their wands, saluted each other, and began their duel. After a long, challenging, and exciting duel, Padma emerged as the winner.

Anthony Goldstein & Ernest Macmillan

For the second pairing, Anthony and Ernest took their places on opposite sides of the platform, looking cheerful. The duel started with the same excitement as before. Since they’d practiced dueling among themselves back in Dumbledore’s Army, this wasn’t unfamiliar to them. Plus, they’d trained with Harry’s help during the war, making the duel long, evenly matched, and challenging. In the end, Ernest won.

Ron Weasley & Harry Potter

When the new pairing was announced, the crowd erupted in cheers. The prospect of a duel between the two close friends was thrilling for everyone. Ron chose Hermione as his second, while Harry picked Neville. Then, they took their places on the platform.

“I hope you don’t go too hard on me, mate.”

Harry chuckled. “Don’t sell yourself short. I’ll be lucky if you don’t blast me to the other end of the hall.”

As the surrounding students laughed, they raised their wands, and the duel began with Ron’s attack, which Harry easily deflected.

As Draco watched the duel between Harry and Ron, he started feeling strange. Harry looked so strong, and he didn’t even seem to be trying—it was natural for him. Then Draco realized how silly that thought was. Of course, Harry was strong; he’d seen Harry’s strength countless times over the years. But seeing Harry’s scars and vulnerable side lately had made him momentarily forget just how strong he really was.

Draco suddenly realized that what he’d witnessed recently wasn’t Harry’s weakness at all… it was proof of Harry’s strength. Enduring all that pain, fighting for his life, and winning that fight wasn’t something a weak person could do. He felt a pang of guilt for having thought Harry weak, even for a moment. It was unfair to think of Harry as weak or powerless.

Harry deflected Ron’s attack so effortlessly that Draco couldn’t help but smile. He watched Harry intently throughout the evenly matched duel, without even realizing that he was growing more and more impressed by him.

At the end of the long duel, Harry Potter emerged victorious. Amid the applause, Ron and Harry hugged as they left the platform. Draco’s gaze remained on Harry. He only noticed that he’d been staring when Harry’s eyes met his. Without caring that he’d been caught, Draco nodded slightly in acknowledgment. Harry nodded back, then turned his attention to Ron.

“Today’s final match,” Professor Flitwick said, capturing the students’ attention. The draw began, and when the result was announced, there were murmurs from the crowd.

Draco Malfoy & Nathaniel Joyce

When the match was announced, Draco stepped onto the platform with much more ease than Nathaniel, who hesitated, unsure of what to do.

Draco, already on the platform, saw Harry approach Nathaniel, whisper something in his ear, then give him a friendly pat on the back, encouraging him toward the platform. Draco felt irritation flare up and instinctively tightened his grip on his wand. When Nathaniel took his place opposite him, Draco fixed him with a hard stare. The wands were raised, and the duel began.

Draco immediately sent a spell his way. Nathaniel defended himself with a shield spell but didn’t counterattack.

Draco attacked again, and once again, Nathaniel only defended, without retaliating.

Nathaniel’s refusal to attack was infuriating Draco. He attacked with a stronger spell this time, but Nathaniel managed to deflect it too.

As the crowd watched attentively, Ron and Hermione subtly moved Harry to the back of the group, just in case. Harry had reassured them that Nathaniel would be fine and that there was no cause for concern.

Draco attacked again.

Nathaniel defended.

“Come on, Hufflepuff, aren’t you going to fight back?” Draco taunted, attacking once more. “Don’t be so cowardly.”

Distracted by Draco’s taunt, Nathaniel was a moment too slow with his shield spell. The spell hit him in the stomach, and he staggered backward. Falling to his knees, he quickly got back up, raised his wand, but still didn’t attack.

“I didn’t realize you were so weak, Joyce.”

“What would you know about strength, Malfoy?” Nathaniel replied defiantly. To him, being strong wasn’t about winning this duel—it was about accepting the possibility of defeat.

Draco, growing increasingly frustrated, began to cast spells one after another. Nathaniel did nothing but defend himself. But at one point, Draco was faster and sent a powerful spell his way. It hit Nathaniel square in the chest, sending him flying off the platform.

As Nathaniel fell hard outside the platform, his friends hurried over to help him. But Harry was faster, reaching him first and offering a hand.

“Are you alright?” he asked.

“I’m fine,” Nathaniel said, taking Harry’s hand and letting him help him up. He was smiling genuinely.

“I told you there wouldn’t be a problem,” Harry murmured, just loud enough for him to hear.

“And I told you I couldn’t do it,” Nathaniel replied. “It’s just a duel, no big deal.”

Draco Malfoy won the duel, but he wasn’t satisfied. He was still angry. Angry that Nathaniel hadn’t fought back, and angry that Harry was by his side.

That night, Draco went to the restricted section again with Pansy and Blaise. The search was longer than before, but once again, they found nothing. However, Draco wasn’t ready to give up. He wouldn’t quit until he’d checked every protection spell in the section.

-

A few nights later, Harry was in his room with Ron and Hermione. After checking over their homework, Hermione had stayed to chat. They were discussing what to do during the upcoming holiday. Though Harry wasn’t really part of the conversation…

The door suddenly burst open.

“POTTER!”

Draco stormed into the room in a fit of rage, and Ron jumped up instinctively. Hermione was more cautious, but Harry, still sitting on his bed, looked stunned.

“What are you doing, Malfoy?” Ron asked angrily. “This—”

“Shut it, Weasley!” Draco yelled, striding up to Harry with a book page in hand. “Is this true, Potter?!”

As Draco waited for an answer, a silence fell over the room. Hermione took Ron’s hand and led him toward the door. Though Ron was reluctant, he caught sight of the page Draco was holding and, seeing no other choice, followed Hermione. Before leaving, Hermione cast a silencing charm on the room.

“Answer my question! Is what’s written here true?!”

Chapter Text

Harry recognized the page he was holding all too well. He’d spent days studying it, committing every line to memory. He didn’t need to read it again to understand what had angered Draco so much. What was written was true—but he couldn’t find the words to respond. What was there to say? His silence was answer enough, and Draco understood that.

“Potter,” Draco said, his voice more desperate than angry now. “Please tell me it isn’t true. Tell me I found the wrong spell.”

Harry’s silence continued. Draco, unwilling to accept the truth, tightened his grip on the paper in his hand.

“It says here that… to protect me… you had to give up part of your soul.”

He paused, waiting for Harry to deny it, but Harry didn’t.

“It says a part of your soul is surrounding me, acting as a shield—is that right?”

Harry gave a slight nod before looking away. It was the first acknowledgment Draco had seen from him, and it was all the signal Draco’s tears needed to start flowing. He wasn’t even sure how he was still standing as he let the tears fall freely.

“It says you’ll never feel happiness again, Potter… that you’ll feel the breath of death on your neck every moment. It says you’ll be trapped somewhere between life and death…”

As he spoke, unwilling to believe what he’d read, memories from the start of the year played before his eyes. He recalled how Harry had never seemed happy, how he’d moved around like a ghost… He’d never seen him enjoy himself. Everyone had just assumed it was an effect of the war, that there was no need to look for an underlying reason. They had chalked up his demeanor and lack of cheer to post-war exhaustion.

“It says you’ll feel incomplete,” he continued, almost talking to himself now. “It says you’ll be a living dead, your life a living death… That in time, you’ll lose your sense of feeling, and… go numb…”

Draco couldn’t meet Harry’s gaze, as Harry was now the one avoiding eye contact. Struggling to accept what he was realizing, Draco gripped the chair beside him to keep himself steady.

“How could you do this? How could you give up your soul?”

“Only a part of it—”

“Oh, just a part of it!” Draco spat, yanking the chair and flinging it to the other side of the room in fury. Then he slammed his fist onto the table, releasing the paper as he withdrew his hand.

“Look, yes, what you read is true, but it’s not as bad as it sounds.”

“What could be worse? What—”

“That’s enough!”

When Harry shouted and rose to his feet, Draco fell silent, his startled gaze fixed on Harry.

“Stop yelling,” Harry said, now in a lower but serious tone. “I haven’t gone completely numb, Malfoy. I can still feel sadness, I can still feel hurt—and you keep hurting me just because I stay silent.”

Draco said nothing.

“I understand that you’re angry and upset, but if you’re not going to listen, don’t ask questions, alright?”

Draco took a deep breath, exhaling slowly, doing his best to stay calm. He wasn’t doing a very good job, but at least he managed to hold his tongue.

“Everything you said is true,” Harry went on, his eyes beginning to blur with tears. “I’ve read it all; I know what it says. I knew the price I’d have to pay before I cast the spell, and I accepted it. I know it sounds terrible, but it’s really not as bad as it sounds.”

Draco hastily wiped away his tears. “You gave up your soul,” he managed to say. “You gave up your life. You said you could die in my place… but you’ve already done that, Potter.”

Harry shook his head. “I’m alright when I’m around you,” he said softly. “I didn’t know it would be like this—I truly didn’t. But when I’m near you… my mood lifts. I feel alright. My soul must be able to feel something.”

“What?”

“When you touch me, I feel whole. Especially when you hugged me,” he said, no longer able to hold back his tears. “I felt more alive than I have in a long time. It was like… hugging you was like hugging my soul, like I was complete again, just as I used to be.”

“This… this isn’t supposed to happen; it wasn’t in any of the descriptions. How can it be?”

“I don’t know,” Harry said. “I’m not saying this because I expect anything from you; I just want you to understand that it’s not as bad as it seems. Maybe, over time… things will get better. I don’t know. But I don’t want you to feel responsible, Malfoy. I told you—this was my choice.”

“How could you make a choice like this?” Draco asked, genuinely curious. “Knowing the consequences, how could you? Just for- your love?”

Harry replied with a bittersweet smile. “You have no idea how I felt about you.”

Draco turned away, placing his hands on the table, leaning forward, trying to clear his head. Trying to process, to accept, to calm down… Then he straightened up, faced Harry, and focused on his face.

“Really, it’s fine,” Harry said, as if trying to reassure him.

Draco’s blurred gaze remained fixed on Harry’s face as he lifted his hands to Harry’s cheeks. When Harry closed his eyes, releasing a relaxed breath in response to the sudden warmth in his soul, Draco’s tears began falling once more, dampening his cheeks.

“How am I supposed to leave you now, Potter?” he asked, pressing his forehead against Harry’s. “How can I leave, knowing this helps you?”

“You have to,” Harry replied, too afraid to move. “You can’t be by my side for life. And I can’t let you stay just because you feel bad.”

Despite Harry’s words, Draco moved his hands from Harry’s face to his back and wrapped his arms around him. Thinking about all that Harry had given up, all the pain he’d endured, and the sacrifice he’d made for him, he felt his own contribution seemed like such a small thing.

“Don’t,” Harry whispered. “I’m not expecting this from you.”

And the small comfort that Draco could offer was something that would hurt Harry at the same time. Realizing this, he held him a little tighter.

“I can’t,” Draco replied. “I can’t leave you.”

“You have to.”

Draco remained silent, holding him close. Then, “You know more about this than I do,” he said. “Please tell me there’s a way to undo it.”

After a short pause, Harry said, “I’m sorry. Please, Malfoy… step away.”

Draco swallowed, releasing his breath softly against Harry’s hair. “Is that what you want?” he asked. “To feel incomplete?”

Harry answered with a helpless, “Yes. This was my choice, and I’ll bear the consequences. I won’t let you carry it for me.”

Draco didn’t respond and didn’t pull back either.

“Do you know how it would make me feel if you stayed just because it helps me?” Harry asked. “I told you it’s not as bad as you think; I’ll be fine. Really.”

After a few moments, Draco slowly released him. “I’m sorry you had to live like this,” he murmured. He didn’t know what to do. Seeing Harry’s face after everything he’d learned felt almost unbearable. He took a couple of steps back, turned away, and left the room in a near panic.

Harry, whose soul felt once again incomplete, staggered back to sit on his bed. He wasn’t crying. He’d known this day would come. The day he would have to say goodbye to Draco—even the fleeting moments he’d spent with him each day—had finally arrived. Just as he’d told Draco, it was time to accept responsibility for his choice. Time to show his strength. Knowing how his weakness would affect Draco, the best thing he could do was to show that he was strong.

-

The following morning, Draco waited with Blaise in the common room for Pansy. He wasn’t entirely present; since last night, all he could think about was Harry. He had no idea how he would stay away from him. His emotions and thoughts were so tangled that he wasn’t even sure what he wanted anymore.

While waiting for Pansy, Ron and Hermione emerged from the dormitory side. Draco was hesitant to meet their eyes. When he heard footsteps again, he hoped it was Pansy, but it was none other than Harry.

“Good morning!” Harry said, with an odd grin on his face.

Hermione gave him a questioning look. “What’s with the cheer?”

Harry shrugged. “I’m just in a good mood,” he said, leading the way to the door.

With a surprised grin, Ron said, “That’s great. Should we take advantage of it? Some Quidditch, maybe?”

“Fine by me,” Harry replied. “Let me show you how it’s done after a long time."

“Sure! We’ll let Nate know too.”

Once the three friends left the common room, silence filled the space again. Blaise’s curious gaze lingered on Draco’s face. He seemed to want to ask something but stayed quiet, and Draco didn’t seem inclined to talk.

“Good morning, my dear friend and… friend’s friend!” Pansy said, making a lively entrance.

“Hey!” Blaise protested. “I’m a friend too!”

“Nope,” Pansy replied, starting to walk ahead. “Come on, friend and friend’s friend.”

Draco followed his friends in a daze. He wasn’t sure he could focus on anything other than Harry.

And he didn’t…

Throughout the day, he watched as Harry spent time with his friends, trying to have fun. Or rather, pretending to have fun… because Draco could easily tell that Harry was putting on an act. At least, Draco was sure that those smiles weren’t genuine. Harry was simply trying to show him that he could be alright. That he could act like his old self, without needing Draco around.

Harry’s ongoing attempts to prove he’d be fine only made Draco feel worse. So, Hufflepuff was who Harry would now rely on for comfort? Every time Draco saw them together, his unease grew—and it wasn’t a new feeling, though he still couldn’t quite name it. It was a familiar, nagging discomfort.

At dinner, Harry continued to chat and laugh with the others, with Nathaniel at their table as well. It seemed to be an enjoyable dinner for everyone. If only it truly were, Draco thought. Or if only I didn’t know the truth.

-

Pretending to be fine had weighed on Harry more than he’d anticipated. Forcing himself to smile, trying to engage in conversations he didn’t care about, acting as if he were enjoying himself… None of it had been easy. Every minute he spent pretending seemed to add to the weight he carried. By the time he returned to the common room that evening, he felt mentally exhausted. All he wanted to do was sleep.

As soon as he reached the dormitory, he threw himself onto his bed, not caring that it was still early. When he next opened his eyes, it was past midnight. Ron was snoring in his bed.

Harry tossed and turned for a while, trying to get back to sleep. When that failed, he got up quietly, put on his glasses, and left the room. The common room was empty. He walked slowly to the armchair by the crackling fire, sank into it, and let himself gaze into the flames, glad that he didn’t have to keep up his act.

After a while, he heard footsteps behind him, but he paid them no mind, assuming it was nothing to do with him. But then a hand touched his shoulder, and he instantly knew who it was. Closing his eyes for a moment, he took a deep breath, exhaled slowly, and began to get up.

“Wait,” Draco said, pressing lightly on his shoulder to keep him seated. “I’m not doing this for you,” he added quietly. “I’m doing it for myself.”

Harry didn’t move. After a moment, Draco removed his hand, and Harry assumed he’d left.

But he hadn’t.

Draco walked around the chair, sat down beside Harry, and handed him something—a sandwich wrapped in a napkin. Noticing that Harry hadn’t eaten anything at dinner, Draco had brought him this. Harry took the sandwich in surprise, and for a few seconds, Draco sat there in silence. Then he reached out, placed his hand next to Harry’s on the couch, and, after a small pause, gently held two of Harry’s fingers. His gaze was fixed on the fire.

Neither of them spoke. What could they say? They didn’t know. So they stayed quiet, letting the crackling of the fire fill the common room.

Just for a little while…

Chapter Text

The silence that stretched out over long minutes wasn’t uncomfortable for either of them. They could have sat there much longer, lost in the quiet together. But they both knew it was time to start learning how to communicate with each other. At least Draco hoped he could manage to talk to Harry without causing him more pain. He wanted to understand Harry’s thoughts and feelings, but more than anything, he wanted to understand his own—to figure out how he felt and what he truly wanted.

“What do you want to know?”

Draco turned to him, surprised by Harry’s unexpected question. Was it really that obvious that he wanted to ask something? Feeling caught, he averted his gaze, looking back at the fire instead.

“I’m not sure.”

After a pause, Harry spoke calmly. “My life has been filled with loss,” he said. “One by one, I’ve lost the people I cared about. I couldn’t lose you, too.”

“Why did you think something would happen to me?”

“Because it was me who caused you harm, remember?” Harry replied, releasing a strained breath. “I didn’t expect to survive the war, so I wanted to know you’d be safe… at least until I was gone. I didn’t realize it would last this long or that I’d become such a burden to you.”

“You’re not a burden to me. It’s just… because what you sacrificed was so much…”

“I’ve sacrificed even more,” Harry replied.

“What?” Draco asked, genuinely surprised. “There’s more?”

Harry shook his head. “When I saw you there, bleeding… I’d already lost a lot of myself,” he explained. “When you hurt someone you love like that…”

“You didn’t do it on purpose,” Draco replied. “I’ve never blamed you for what happened that day.”

Harry turned his head to the side, pulling his hand from Draco’s. He couldn’t shake off the guilt he felt, and in that moment, it seemed unfair to let Draco make him feel better.

“And Weasley and Granger… how did they let you do something like this?” Draco asked this time.

“They didn’t know,” Harry replied. “If they had, they wouldn’t have let me.”

Draco nodded, as if to show he understood. Silence settled over the common room once more, stretching on for several minutes.

Finally, Draco broke it. “I know you were pretending all day,” he said. “You don’t have to prove anything to me, or force yourself.”

“I told you I’ll be alright,” Harry replied. “I will be.”

“Do you really believe you can?”

“Maybe if I play my part well enough, I’ll start believing it too,” he said calmly. “I appreciate that you care, Malfoy. But as I said, if you stay by my side because you feel bad for me, that won’t make me feel any better. Just let me try to get better on my own.”

As Harry stood up without waiting for a response, Draco instinctively reached out and took his hand. When Harry’s gaze met his, Draco swallowed.

“If that’s what you want,” he said, giving Harry’s hand a slight squeeze, “I’ll do it, Potter. I’ll leave you alone.”

Harry smiled faintly. “Thank you,” he said, gently squeezing Draco’s hand in return.

“Goodnight,” Draco said, releasing Harry’s hand.

“Goodnight,” Harry replied, turning and heading toward the dormitory.

And so began Draco’s attempt to stay away from Harry. He truly wanted to give Harry the time and distance he’d asked for; deep down, though, he suspected it wouldn’t be easy.

On the first day, Harry’s efforts were impressive. He spent a normal day with his friends, and at times, even seemed to enjoy himself. Draco caught his gaze a few times, but they didn’t communicate.

The second day was even better than the first. Gryffindor had Quidditch practice, and when Harry returned to the common room with some of the team, he seemed in high spirits. He even teased Blaise about how they’d defeat Slytherin in their first match.

The third day was quieter. Draco saw Harry deep in conversation with Nathaniel at dinner, but nothing particularly noteworthy happened.

On the fourth day, after classes, Harry was lounging under a tree in the courtyard with Ron and Hermione. They chatted until nightfall. What they talked about, Draco didn’t know—he couldn’t hear them.

On the fifth day, Draco didn’t see Harry or Ron at all. He spotted Hermione entering their dorm room at one point and assumed they were spending Saturday inside.

On the ninth day, Draco noticed that Harry didn’t seem as cheerful as he had in the first few days. He wanted to go over to him. He didn’t.

On the tenth day, there was a Duelling Club meeting. The only match that interested Draco was between Harry and Nathaniel. Harry didn’t go too hard on him, so the duel lasted a bit longer than usual. In the end, Harry’s consecutive attacks caused Nathaniel to lose, but he was surprisingly cheerful for someone who’d just lost. Draco left the meeting early to avoid cursing someone.

On the twelfth evening, Draco watched Harry play chess with Ron in the common room. He seemed to be enjoying his Saturday night with his friends.

On the thirteenth day, Draco found Harry by the lake at dawn, sitting under their usual tree and staring out at the water. He wanted to go to him. He didn’t.

On the fourteenth day, Draco had to watch Harry’s unhappiness during classes. Although he tried to look fine while talking to others, his true feelings showed on his face when no one was paying attention. He looked miserable and exhausted. Draco decided to approach him at the first chance he got. But after classes, he couldn’t catch Harry alone.

On the fifteenth day, Draco still wanted to go to Harry, but when he saw Nathaniel by his side, he held back.

On the sixteenth day, Nathaniel was with Harry. Again.

On the seventeenth day, Nathaniel was with Harry. Again. This time, Harry wasn’t faking his smiles.

On the eighteenth day, Nathaniel was with Harry. Again. Draco could no longer contain his irritation.

On the nineteenth day, Draco saw Harry leaving the common room early in the morning. At first, he decided not to do anything. But that decision didn’t last long. Soon, he left the common room and started searching for Harry. Knowing Harry preferred the lakeside when he was alone, he headed in that direction.

When he reached the lake, he spotted Harry—but he wasn’t alone. Nathaniel was with him. Harry was picking up stones and tossing them into the water, while Nathaniel watched him silently. This continued for a while, then Harry began to speak. Draco could see his face, and it was the real Harry—the sad, hollow one.

After talking for a short time, Draco noticed Harry’s face crumple as he began to cry. He instinctively moved toward them, but Nathaniel was quicker. He reached out, held Harry by the shoulders, and gently pulled him into a hug.

Upon seeing this, Draco took a deep breath, let it out slowly, and managed to walk away before his anger got the better of him.

For the rest of the day, Draco stayed in his room, drowning in his thoughts. He was trying to separate his emotions and figure out where Harry fit within them. His anger toward Nathaniel was a massive obstacle to this process. He could feel his patience waning, knowing he couldn’t hold out much longer.

That evening, there was a Halloween feast in the Great Hall. Blaise and Pansy had gone ahead, while Draco had hesitated, unsure if he would join. Eventually, he decided to go and prepared himself. Just as he entered the common room, he saw Harry heading out the door. On impulse, Draco quickened his pace, left the common room, and called out just as Harry was about to turn a corner.

“Potter!”

Harry stopped and looked back at him. “Malfoy.”

Draco didn’t speak until he was standing right in front of him. Then, he said, “You told me you’d be alright.”

With a slight smile, Harry replied, “I will be. I’m trying, don’t worry.”

“With Joyce?”

“What?” Harry asked, genuinely surprised. By now, he wasn’t sure whether he should be surprised when Nathaniel came up in conversation.

“You wouldn’t let me stay by your side, but you want Joyce with you? Is he the one who’s going to make you alright?”

“Look, I’m really not in the mood today. Let’s talk later.”

Without waiting for an answer, Harry turned away and continued down the corridor. Draco followed after him.

“Go find Hufflepuff,” he called after him, “he might be of some help.”

At that moment, Nathaniel came into view at the other end of the corridor. Harry had told Ron and Hermione he’d meet them at the feast, and Nathaniel had come to check on him when he was late.

“Ah, here comes your boy,” Draco said. “Don’t hesitate to have a good cry on his shoulder.”

Harry ignored him, feeling too drained to deal with Draco. In fact, he barely had the energy to speak with Nathaniel. So, without even glancing at him, Harry walked past and headed down the corridor toward the stairs leading to the Great Hall.

As Harry walked away, Nathaniel didn’t follow him. Instead, he turned and approached Draco, who looked back at him with a defiant expression.

“You’re going the wrong way, Joyce.”

Without warning, Nathaniel grabbed Draco by the collar and shoved him against the wall. “Listen—”

“Get your hands off me,” Draco growled, knocking Nathaniel’s hand away. “What do you think you’re doing?”

“Could you be a little more considerate, just for today?” Nathaniel’s voice was sharp with anger, his fists clenched at his sides. He was clearly holding himself back, and Draco noticed it.

“What’s this?” Draco taunted. “Going to hit me? Go on, Joyce, let’s see it.”

Nathaniel took a deep breath, exhaling in frustration. “Well done, Malfoy. You actually managed to upset him on the anniversary of his parents’ death. You must be proud of yourself.”

“What? Anniversary of their death?” Draco’s entire expression shifted as he spoke, stunned by the revelation.

The world doesn’t revolve around you, Malfoy. And if it revolved around one person, I think it would be Harry. Stop acting like it’s all about you.”

Draco’s expression shifted entirely, confusion and realization mingling on his face. “Today… that’s why he was…?”

Nathaniel stepped closer, standing defiantly before him. “Listen to me carefully,” he said in a low voice. “I’m in love with Harry, and you know that perfectly well. But if his heart chose you, if you’re the one he wants, there’s nothing I can do about it.”

Draco said nothing.

“But if you keep hurting him, I won’t back off. Do you understand? Get a grip and try being a bit more human.”

Without another word, Nathaniel turned and walked away, leaving Draco standing alone, lost in thought.

It was only after a long moment that Draco processed what had happened. Harry had been mourning his family that morning, and Draco had been too blinded by jealousy, too consumed with his own irritation at Nathaniel, to consider that something deeper might have been troubling him. He felt the weight of his own foolishness settle over him, an unsettling realization that his jealousy had gotten the better of him. He didn’t know how he could make up for it.

When he finally went down to the feast, his eyes immediately searched for Harry. He was sitting next to Nathaniel, absentmindedly stirring the food on his plate, seemingly detached from everyone around him. Ron and Hermione occasionally glanced his way, as if they wanted to comfort him, but refrained from doing anything that might overwhelm him. And so, Harry spent the Halloween feast in his own quiet world, indifferent to the stares around him.

Under normal circumstances, Harry’d had happier Halloweens. Those were the days when he hadn’t known the exact date of his parents’ deaths. Now, he knew. And with his new connection to death, he felt strange, as if he were somehow closer to his family, as if he could almost sense them… as if the emptiness in his soul might grow over time, eventually reuniting him with them…

Draco didn’t know any of this. In fact, the anniversary of Harry’s parents’ deaths hadn’t even crossed his mind. If Nathaniel hadn’t mentioned it, he probably never would have realized. He spent the rest of the evening berating himself for having been so thoughtless.

-

It was well past two in the morning. Blaise had long since fallen asleep, but Draco lay awake, staring at the ceiling in the dark, lost in his thoughts. A weight had settled on his chest, so heavy that every breath he took felt like it burned. He was questioning what kind of person he was. Was he truly a bad person? Did he really carry a dark side that he projected onto those around him?

Perhaps he did.

He knew that darkness had been there once; however, he had hoped that it was gone by now. He had wished that, by learning to be ordinary, he might also rid himself of that darkness.

When he got angry, jealous, or felt a need to prove himself, the darkness within him emerged—and Harry was the last person he’d ever want to drag into that darkness. How had he managed to be so cruel toward him? How could he have let the emotions stirred up by Joyce and the jealousy he provoked lead him to the point of hurting Harry on such a day? For nearly twenty days, he’d done everything he could to stay away, hoping it would help Harry feel better. He’d even managed to keep his distance. Was it all for this? Just so he could end up hurting him?

Had keeping his distance really been good for Harry?

Lost in thought, Draco sat up in bed. He’d spent days watching Harry put on an act. But who was he really trying to fool? Himself? The others? Or was he just trying to convince Draco that he was alright? No matter how he looked at it, it all seemed ridiculous.

In that moment, Draco realized he wanted to be by Harry’s side, no matter what.

Amid the whirlwind of his conflicting emotions, he may have been making an irrational decision, but he didn’t care. Rising from his bed, he quietly left his room and made his way to the door of the room Harry shared with Ron. He pressed his ear against the door, listening carefully. Hearing nothing, he slowly pushed it open. The room was dark, confirming they were asleep.

Draco stepped inside, gently closing the door behind him, and walked quietly over to Harry’s bed. Harry was turned away, and Draco’s gaze lingered on the small part of his face he could see. Moving as little as possible, he sat down, then lay down behind him, wrapping his arm softly around Harry’s waist.

Harry stirred slightly, his breathing shifting, signalling that he’d woken up. Draco, realizing this, held him a little tighter.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered. “I really am.”

Harry didn’t respond.

“I know I acted foolishly,” Draco continued. “Please don’t ask me to stay away anymore. I only end up doing more foolish things when I’m not around you.”

Harry kept silent for a moment before shifting slightly, turning to face Draco. Draco was still holding him, and when Harry turned, he tightened his embrace a little more, his gaze fixed on Harry’s eyes.

Breaking the silence that seemed endless, Draco quietly admitted, “I think… I’m jealous.”

Harry, surprised by this unexpected confession, asked, “What?”

“Of Joyce,” Draco admitted.

Harry looked even more surprised. “Why?”

Draco moved his hand from Harry’s waist to his cheek, gently brushing his thumb over it. “You won’t understand, will you?”

“Understand what?”

Propping himself up slightly on his arm, Draco leaned in closer, closing the distance between them. And then, he pressed his lips to Harry’s, bridging the last unspoken words with a kiss.

Chapter Text

Harry initially thought he was dreaming. Feeling Draco’s lips against his own was so far removed from Harry’s reality that it didn’t even seem possible. It was so far-fetched that Harry hadn’t even dared to imagine such a moment. Even in his dreams or fantasies, he felt unworthy of such peace. And that was exactly why the thought that he was dreaming slowly faded from his mind. Draco was truly there, and the warmth on his lips genuinely belonged to Draco’s.

The kiss didn’t last long—just a few seconds—likely because Harry was too shocked to respond. When their lips parted after the brief contact, Harry could still feel Draco’s warm breath on his lips. If Draco had blown his soul into him to complete Harry’s own, it couldn’t have made him feel better. But what he felt in that moment wasn’t about the missing or completed part of his soul; it was the thought that the love he had nurtured for years was somehow being reciprocated. His soul being complete was just a minor detail to Harry.

For Draco, it was a much clearer moment. There was a sense of relief in finally understanding—more precisely, accepting—what he wanted. He now knew that the ‘unease’ he had dismissed regarding Nathaniel was jealousy. He now knew that he wanted to be close to Harry, that he cared for him, and that his anger over his own foolishness stemmed largely from how much he valued Harry. Most importantly, he understood how ridiculous it had been to stay away from him for weeks. That was why he was here.

That didn’t mean he wasn’t afraid of how Harry might react. After all, even though Harry had talked about his past feelings, he had recently said, “I can’t let you love me.” Draco knew that this stemmed from Harry thinking Draco’s feelings were solely rooted in guilt, but he was ready to prove otherwise.

After the brief kiss, he laid his head back on the pillow. As he continued to stroke Harry’s cheek, he tried to decipher what was going through his mind. The longer Harry remained unresponsive and silent, the more Draco’s anxiety grew.

“Potter,” he whispered, as if trying to bring Harry back to him.

“Hmm?”

“I guess I like you.”

Harry’s expression began to shift, as if he had heard something terrible. Draco didn’t let it faze him.

“No,” Draco corrected himself. “I do like you. No ‘guessing’ here, it’s a totally guess…less fact. I like you. Guessless.”

Because the bed was small, Harry couldn’t pull away much, but he turned onto his back, trying to create some distance. Draco didn’t let that faze him either. He rested his arm over Harry’s stomach, continuing to hold him halfway.

“I know what you’re thinking,” Draco whispered, leaning slightly closer so that his forehead touched Harry’s head. “It’s not like that.”

Harry swallowed before finally replying in a whisper, “It is.”

Draco smiled, his eyes still closed. “It isn’t.”

“Malfoy—”

“I’m sorry for hurting you,” Draco cut him off. “Let’s talk in the morning. For now, let’s just sleep.”

Harry remained silent. Draco took that as agreement.

“If you cry, I’ll hear it,” he whispered, tightening his arm around Harry slightly.

Harry, whose eyes had already filled with tears, wanted to get up and leave.

He couldn’t.

-

When Ron woke up in the morning and saw two pairs of feet in Harry’s bed, he experienced one of the biggest shocks of his life. When he stood up and realized the other pair of feet belonged to Draco, he wasn’t as shocked. That was because he didn’t think it was real. He assumed he was having some sort of nightmare and decided to busy himself with his morning routine until he fully woke up. He could have woken them, but that would have only made the nightmare worse. He had no desire to deal with Draco, even in his sleep. So, he quietly went about getting ready.

Eventually, when it became clear they weren’t waking up, Ron was forced to confront the painful truth. The shock hit him like a slap to the face, leaving him momentarily stunned. Just then, there was a knock at the door, and Hermione poked her head in. She was about to speak when Ron raised his finger to his lips in a “shush” gesture.

Hermione, suspicious of both his gesture and the expression on his face, stepped further inside and looked around. When she saw Harry and Draco sleeping together, her face first showed a look of sheer shock. Then, slowly, her expression shifted into a smile.

Mouthing the words, “Finally,” she looked at Ron.

Ron pretended to gag.

Hermione grinned and motioned for him to follow her.

Ron gestured toward the bed as if to say, What about them?

Hermione waved her hand dismissively, as if to say, Let them sleep... When she realized Ron wasn’t moving, she walked over, grabbed his arm, and dragged him out of the room. She then closed the door softly behind them.

-

When Harry woke up from what had been the most peaceful sleep he’d had in years and saw Draco beside him, it felt strange. Both good and bad. Like everything was perfectly fine and completely wrong at the same time… If only it could be true that everything was fine. If only Harry had become blind and foolish enough not to see how wrong this situation was. But he was painfully aware of everything. He knew just how wrong it was to let Draco stay beside him.

As he watched Draco silently, he leaned back to grab his glasses so he could see him more clearly. Putting them on, he refocused on Draco’s face. He seemed to be in a deep sleep. Unable to help himself, Harry reached out and found his hand resting on Draco’s cheek. When Draco didn’t react, he grew a little bolder, leaning in to leave the faintest kiss at the corner of his lips. It was Harry’s fleeting goodbye to one day of peace.

Because he loved Draco too much to allow him to stay.

With a bittersweet smile lingering on his face, Harry pulled back, his expression turning serious as he got out of bed. Though there were no classes, he needed to find something to occupy himself—and more importantly, a way to distance himself from Draco. He decided to visit Hagrid.

When Draco woke up, Harry was buttoning up his robes. Draco didn’t realize the sleepy smile that had spread across his face.

“Good morning, Potter.”

“Good morning.”

As Draco’s awareness sharpened, the smile faded, and he suddenly sat up straight in bed.

“Where are you going?” he asked immediately. “I think we need to talk.”

“There’s nothing to talk about,” Harry replied indifferently. Fastening the last button, he focused on Draco. “You’re just confused. Let’s forget about it.”

Draco quickly got out of bed, stepping in front of him. “I told you I like you,” he said calmly. “This is the part where you’re supposed to say you like me back.”

Harry smiled faintly. “I’ve told you much more than that,” he replied. “But I can’t say what you want to hear, and you can’t just choose the parts that suit you.”

Draco frowned. “I know why you’re doing this,” he said. “You think I’m acting this way because I feel guilty. I understand why you’d think that, but it’s not true, Potter. I remember looking forward to seeing you even before I knew what you’d done. If it weren’t for the spell… would it be like this?”

“What do you mean?” Harry asked.

“I was angry about what you did because it was you,” Draco explained. “If it had been someone I didn’t care about, I’d have thought, That’s their mess to deal with, and moved on. We both know I’m that kind of person.”

Harry sighed deeply. “I don’t think so.”

“I don’t understand,” Draco said. “What do you want now? What do you expect me to do?”

“Nothing,” Harry said. “You just need to stay away from me.”

“No.”

“Please.”

“Why?”

“I’ve told you,” Harry said helplessly. “I can’t let you love me.”

“But why?”

Harry shrugged. “I’m incomplete, Malfoy,” he replied. “Isn’t that reason enough?”

“Then let me complete you,” Draco said. “Let me try. I can do it. Living on the edge of death all the time can’t be pleasant.”

Harry couldn’t respond.

Draco stepped closer, gripping Harry’s arms. “Living is a wonderful thing, Potter. You might not feel that way right now, but it is. Let me remind you.”

For a moment, Harry simply stared at him. Then, exhaling slowly, he said, “I’m a hopeless case.” He added softly, “I appreciate that you want to be here for me, but there’s no need. It’s better if you stay away.”

Without waiting for a response, Harry gently pulled Draco’s hands from his arms and walked past him toward the door.

“What else don’t I know?”

Harry stopped in his tracks at Draco’s question.

“What else are you hiding, Potter? There’s more to the spell, isn’t there?”

Turning around to face him, Harry replied calmly, “No. You already found the spell; you know what it is.”

“But you said it doesn’t work exactly as described,” Draco insisted. “What don’t I know? What happens if I stay close to you? Would I die or something?”

“If I said yes, would you stay away?” Harry asked seriously.

“No,” Draco replied. “I wouldn’t. You can leave now, run from me all you want, but I won’t stay away. You’ll have to accept that I want to be by your side. You’ll see that I don’t want this just for you.”

“I’ll speak with Professor McGonagall,” Harry said, ignoring Draco’s words. “There’s no need for you to keep researching. I’ll take responsibility. This won’t drag on.”

“Potter, you’re wasting your time. You won’t make me stay away.”

Harry didn’t respond. He turned and left the room, hurrying through the common room without noticing Hermione waving at him. Both Ron and Hermione, sensing something was off, quickly followed.

“Harry!”

He didn’t respond to Ron’s call as he walked quickly through the school corridor. If he heard, he didn’t show it.

“Harry, wait!” Hermione called out.

This time, Harry slowed his steps, allowing them to catch up. Once they reached him, he continued walking, albeit more slowly.

“What happened?” Hermione asked. “I thought you’d wake up happy.”

“Did he say something bad?” Ron asked.

“No,” Harry replied. “There’s no problem.”

“Are you sure?” Hermione pressed. “Because I don’t think someone who’s finally with the person they love would act like this…”

Harry sighed deeply. “Because that’s not the situation,” he replied. “There’s nothing between me and Malfoy. There won’t be.”

Ron and Hermione exchanged looks of surprise. “Why not?” Ron asked. “He hasn’t forgiven you? He’s still angry?”

Harry stopped in the middle of the empty corridor. “He told me he likes me,” he said.

“Well, where’s the problem in that?” Ron asked. “I mean, I could list a ton of problems from my perspective, but for you—”

“Because he doesn’t,” Harry said. “He just feels guilty.”

Ron and Hermione remained silent.

“And even if he were telling the truth, what makes you think I still feel anything for him?”

Hermione rolled her eyes while Ron gave him a look that screamed, You can’t be serious.

“I told him to stay away,” Harry added this time. “It’s better for both of us.”

“If that’s what you want,” Hermione said with a nod.

“It’s what I want,” Harry replied.

Was it really?

-

Draco spent nearly the entire day in the library. He wanted to be sure Harry wasn’t hiding anything else. So, even though he didn’t know what he was looking for, he tried to do some research. Blaise and Pansy had joined him in this endeavour. When Draco explained what had happened between him and Harry, they had offered to help. Considering they weren’t very adept at making logical conclusions, the best thing they could do was help sift through books.

That evening, after an unsuccessful day of research, Draco returned to the common room and saw Harry sitting with his friends. Blaise and Pansy headed toward the dormitory area, but Draco lagged behind. As he approached the chair where Harry was sitting, he slowed his steps. Reaching the back of the chair, he placed his hand on Harry’s shoulder and left it there for two seconds before walking away.

Feeling Draco’s hand on his shoulder, even for just a moment, was enough to lift some of the weight off Harry’s soul. For just a little while, it eased the day’s exhaustion. But then, with his half a soul, he reverted to his hollow self the moment that completeness faded.

-

The next day, Draco did everything he could to keep his promise not to leave Harry alone. He did this in his own way, of course—it wasn’t as if he hovered constantly. For example, at breakfast, he intentionally bumped Harry’s shoulder as he left the Great Hall, using the contact to try to bring him some relief.

In the afternoon, as students hurried out of class, Draco weaved through the crowd, pretending to rush but making sure to brush Harry’s back.

In the evening, when Draco saw Harry leaving the Great Hall just as he was about to enter, he deliberately walked toward him. As he passed by, he lightly touched Harry’s hand, hoping to make him feel better.

This pattern continued the next day. And the day after that… Draco took every opportunity to make Harry feel good. At the same time, he continued his research in his own way. He made nightly visits to the restricted section and delved into deeper studies of the spell. While he hadn’t yet made any progress, he had no intention of giving up.

During this time of maintaining some distance, Draco found himself becoming more aware of his feelings for Harry. He felt more certain of himself and what he wanted, which boosted his confidence. It pleased him to have this clarity about his own emotions. He would try even harder for Harry.

For two weeks, Draco spent every day trying to make Harry feel better. Harry didn’t respond in any way. In fact, most of the time, he seemed to actively avoid Draco—but it wasn’t very effective. Wherever he went, Draco managed to catch up to him, using small moments of closeness to offer comfort. This was starting to frustrate Harry. At one point, he hoped Draco would eventually give up, but seeing Draco become more motivated with each passing day only unsettled him further. Things couldn’t continue like this.

By the third week, Harry was determined to put an end to it and to make Draco stop. That’s why, when everyone else had gone to their rooms that night, Harry stayed behind in the common room. He was certain Draco would come. Sitting thoughtfully by the fire, he waited, trying to suppress his emotions and gather his strength.

Sure enough, someone eventually sat down next to him—it was Draco. Before long, Harry felt Draco’s hand on his own and closed his eyes, swallowing hard.

“I told you to stay away.”

“And I told you I wouldn’t.”

“Malfoy—”

“I won’t stay away,” Draco interrupted. “I like you. I care about you. And I will keep staying by your side.”

“But I don’t like you.”

Draco paused for a moment before calmly asking, “So?”

This time, Harry turned his head to face him, locking eyes. “I don’t like you, Malfoy. It’s true that I loved you once, but I don’t feel anything for you anymore. I don’t want to be near you; I don’t want to see your face. It only bothers me. Is that so hard to understand?”

Draco didn’t know how to respond, so he remained silent.

“It’s true that I loved you once,” Harry said. “It’s also true that I wanted to protect you, that I tried to protect you. I don’t regret it; don’t get me wrong. But it’s in the past. It’s truly in the past.”

“Potter—”

“There’s no place for you in my heart, Malfoy.”

Chapter Text

There’s no place for you in my heart, Malfoy.

Draco found himself wondering how a nine-word sentence could hurt this much. Even though he hadn’t expected anything from Harry, hearing it put so bluntly was agonising. Especially knowing how deeply Harry had once loved him… Realising he now meant nothing to Harry introduced Draco to emotions he wasn’t familiar with.

“I understand,” he said, unsure of what else to say. He fixed his gaze on the roaring flames of the fireplace, feeling as though his insides were burning just as fiercely.

Harry turned his head away without a word. He knew he had hurt Draco and didn’t want to make things worse by saying something else.

“Is it Joyce who’s taken my place in your heart?”

The unexpected question made Harry turn to Draco in surprise. “What?”

“Do you love him?” Draco asked this time, still not looking at Harry. “Am I too late?”

Harry took a deep breath and released it slowly. “No,” he replied calmly. “Nate is just a good friend, and that’s all he’ll ever be.”

“But he’s in love with you.”

“Does that change anything?” Harry asked.

Draco finally tore his gaze away from the fire and looked at Harry. “Doesn’t it?”

“I was in love with you once,” Harry said. “Did that change anything?”

“I didn’t know,” Draco said. “If I had…”

“If you had what? Would you have fallen in love with someone you hated for years? Someone who nearly killed you?”

Draco studied Harry’s face silently for a while. “You don’t realise how easy it is to love you, do you?”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“I realised it when we started talking like normal people,” Draco replied. “You have this calming presence, and you’re completely unaware of it. Loving you isn’t as difficult as you think it is.”

After a long silence, Harry noticed that Draco was still holding his hand. Gently pulling his hand away, he murmured, “I’m sorry. I’m not the person I used to be. I’ve changed.” Then, he said something he had never wanted to say. “I don’t love you.”

“I understand that,” Draco said, giving a small shrug. He turned his head, avoiding Harry’s gaze.

“Please, stay away from me, alright?”

Draco nodded slowly. “Still, if you ever need me—if you’re feeling down or anything—you can come to me. I won’t forget what you did to protect me.”

“That won’t happen, but thank you,” Harry replied.

“It’s alright,” Draco said. “Whenever you need me, I’ll be here for a hug.”

Harry nodded and stood up, heading toward the dormitories.

“Potter.”

Harry stopped a few steps away and turned back to Draco. “Yes?”

“You really don’t love me?”

Harry swallowed hard, hesitated, and finally shook his head.

With a bittersweet smile, Draco said, “I never understood how you could love me in the first place.” Then, after a pause, he added, “Goodnight.”

“Goodnight,” Harry replied, his voice barely audible. He quickly turned and walked toward the dormitories. The moment he turned the corner and disappeared from Draco’s view, he leaned back against the wall and took deep breaths. After composing himself, he entered his room without delay.

-

The next day, Harry didn’t see Draco outside of class. Even during lessons, Draco seemed restless and miserable. He avoided eye contact with Harry and hurried out of the classroom as soon as the lessons ended. Seeing Draco in such a state deeply saddened Harry, but he knew this was for the best. He thought that if Draco continued like this for a few more days, he would eventually return to normal. After all, Harry hadn’t given him a chance to deepen his feelings, had he?

But things didn’t go as Harry had hoped. Instead of improving, Draco’s mood seemed to deteriorate with each passing day. He barely ate, avoided his friends, didn’t participate in class, and was rarely seen in the common room. When Harry checked the Marauder’s Map, Draco was always in his room, seemingly in the same spot. This pattern continued for two weeks.

Harry wasn’t doing much better himself. In fact, he was in a worse state than at the beginning of the year. Back then, he hadn’t been aware of two things: how he’d felt when his soul was whole and how the possibility of Draco loving him would feel. Not knowing those things had made everything easier for him. Now, he was more unhappy, hollower, and, most importantly, more filled with self-loathing. The weight in his heart grew heavier each day, his energy drained, and maintaining a façade of normalcy became harder. He no longer wanted to be around people. Even spending time with Ron and Hermione felt exhausting. He could see the questioning looks in their eyes. They didn’t understand why he was acting this way. They couldn’t understand why he had rejected Draco—the person he had given up a piece of his soul for. Even if they didn’t ask, Harry knew what they were thinking.

If only he could explain.

If only things were different.

By the middle of the third week, after a Duelling Club session, Harry was so drained that he returned to the dormitory early. Instead of going to dinner, he decided to sleep. Lately, sleeping had been the only thing that brought him any relief—at least when he didn’t have nightmares.

He raised his wand toward Draco and shouted, “Sectumsempra!”

Draco fell to the wet ground, the blood from his wounds turning the water red.

“No—no—no! Malfoy!”

“Sectumsempra!”

“Cru—”

“Sectumsempra!”

The scene kept replaying itself. Each time, Harry’s spell struck Draco in the chest, and he collapsed in a pool of blood.

Harry jolted awake, drenched in sweat and tears. His chest heaved as he tried to shake off the nightmare, but the images remained vivid in his mind as if they had just happened. The words of the cursed spell echoed in his head, over and over again in his own voice.

He put on his glasses, hastily donned his robes, and left the room. He needed fresh air.

The common room was still crowded, but Harry didn’t notice. He only heard Ron’s worried voice calling after him.

“Harry, where are you going?”

“I need some air,” Harry replied. “I want to be alone, please don’t follow me.”

Without waiting for a response, he walked out of the common room and into the fresh evening air. Taking deep breaths, he stepped further away from the school. But it wasn’t enough. He needed to get away—from his past, from what he had done, from Draco. He kept walking, his feet carrying him further away from the castle. By the time he stopped, he found himself near Hagrid’s hut. After a brief hesitation, he started walking toward the Forbidden Forest.

-

When Hermione returned to the common room from the library, she saw Ron approaching from the dormitory side with the Marauder’s Map in hand.

“Hermione!”

“What?” Hermione asked, alarmed. “What’s wrong?”

The common room was still occupied by a few students, including Draco, but Ron ignored them and showed Hermione the map.

“He said he was getting some air,” Ron explained. “But he’s wandering off.”

Hermione didn’t wait for further explanation. She turned back to the door she had just entered and headed out, Ron following close behind. They ran out of the school building and continued running toward the last location Harry had appeared on the map. Entering the Forbidden Forest, they began searching for him carefully.

“Harry!” Ron called, hoping his voice would carry. There was no answer. He was growing more concerned. Harry usually went to the lake or the Quidditch pitch to clear his head—not the Forbidden Forest.

They moved deeper into the forest, taking care not to draw the attention of the other creatures that lived there. Instead of calling out, they searched the area in silence.

“Ron,” Hermione whispered, grabbing his arm. “Over there.”

Ron followed her gaze and saw Harry sitting at the base of a tree, knees pulled to his chest, arms wrapped around them, and his head resting on his knees.

“Harry,” Ron called as he ran toward him. “What are you doing here?”

Harry lifted his head to look at them, making no effort to wipe away his tears. “Getting some air,” he said, leaning his head back against the tree.

Hermione and Ron sat down on either side of him. Hermione placed a hand on his knee and asked, “Are you alright? What’s wrong?”

“Mate, something’s going on, and you’re not telling us,” Ron said. “Let us help.”

Harry didn’t respond. The tears he had been holding back began to flow again.

“Harry, please,” Hermione urged. “Tell us what’s going on. Maybe we can help.”

Feeling overwhelmed, Harry stood up and walked a short distance away, turning his back to his friends as he tried to steady his breathing.

“There’s nothing wrong,” he said, unconvincingly.

“It’s about Malfoy, isn’t it?” Ron asked.

Harry didn’t respond.

“I don’t get it,” Hermione said, her voice thoughtful. “I’m really trying to understand, but I can’t. You gave up part of your soul for him, you were in love with him, and no matter how much you deny it, I know you still are. So why are you pushing him away? Why are you doing this to yourself?”

Harry couldn’t answer; his tears fell harder, and his breathing grew more erratic. His emotions, past wounds, and mistakes all seemed to intertwine, suffocating him. At that moment, he wished he could disappear—just like he had when Voldemort’s Killing Curse had struck him.

“The price you paid for him was so big, mate. How can you give up so easily?”

“Harry, please tell us. Why—”

“BECAUSE I KILLED HIM!”

Harry’s shout was filled with emotion, and he turned to face them as he yelled. Both Ron and Hermione were stunned into silence for a few seconds before Hermione spoke softly.

“You have to move past this,” she said gently. “Yes, you almost killed him, but you didn’t. He’s alive. And he doesn’t blame you, does he?”

“You don’t understand,” Harry said through his tears. “I killed him! He was dead! Snape didn’t get there in time, and he was dead! If Professor Dumbledore hadn’t—if he hadn’t given me the Time-Turner…”

“What?”

Ron and Hermione’s immediate reaction was one of shock. Their wide eyes and stunned expressions showed they were struggling to comprehend what they had just heard.

“I killed him,” Harry repeated, unable and unwilling to stop his sobbing. “I killed the person I loved. Then I went back in time, tried to save him, failed, and tried again. I had to watch myself kill him. And finally—somehow—I saved him. He’s alive. But that doesn’t change the fact that I killed him.”

“Harry—”

“I can’t explain what that feels like,” Harry interrupted Hermione. His breathing was ragged, and he was on the verge of hyperventilating. “How can I let him love me now?” he asked, his voice full of desperation. “I don’t deserve his love. I don’t deserve to have him by my side. I don’t deserve to feel good.”

“Mate—”

“If he knew what I did to him, he’d hate me,” Harry said, averting his gaze. He was too ashamed to even look at his friends.

Then, another voice cut through the air.

“So that’s why?”

Harry turned toward the voice, and the last piece of his soul seemed to drain away. Draco stood a short distance away, staring directly into Harry’s eyes.

Chapter Text

When Draco’s gaze met his, Harry instinctively took a step back, fear and guilt overwhelming him. It took him a moment to process the situation, to realise that Draco had heard everything. And when he did, tears welled up in his eyes again. He wasn’t ready for this; he would never be ready to face Draco about this. Every second he spent close to Draco, looking into his eyes, only intensified his shame and guilt. How was he supposed to explain himself now? How could he possibly apologise for something so horrible, something he could never forgive himself for? He didn’t deserve forgiveness.

In that moment, Harry wished he could disappear, swallowed whole by the ground beneath him. Never before had the weight of his actions—the truth only he knew—felt so crushingly real. The pain was unbearable, as if his fractured soul was being dragged in every direction at once, amplifying his suffering a hundredfold.

“Answer me, Potter.”

Harry lifted his eyes from the ground for just a second and met Draco’s gaze. Then he noticed Blaise and Pansy standing a little further back. He didn’t care.

“Potter,” Draco said, stepping toward him. Processing what he had heard wasn’t easy; he needed to hear an explanation from Harry. He was confused and unsure of how to react.

“I—I-” Harry stammered, swallowing hard. He couldn’t bring himself to look at Draco or anyone else. “You… you were dead. I—I tried to fix it. Then I wanted to protect you, but I was the one who caused the most harm.”

Everyone stood in stunned silence, too shocked to speak. Hermione, on the verge of tears, clutched Ron’s arm. Blaise and Pansy remained in the background; their expressions unreadable. As for Draco, he seemed oblivious to everyone but Harry.

“So that’s why you wanted to protect me?” Draco asked. “Not because you loved me, but because of this?”

Summoning a fleeting burst of courage, Harry raised his head and locked eyes with Draco. The moment he did, his tears began to flow more freely.

“No,” he replied. “I loved you. I don’t know how, but I loved you more than I loved myself.”

Draco, surprised by his own unspoken hope, muttered, “You still love me.”

“I can’t take it anymore,” Harry said helplessly. “I can’t take you being around me, treating me kindly, loving me.”

Draco opened his mouth to respond, but Harry spoke first.

“I can’t take it,” Harry repeated. “I just want to die already. I want it to end.”

“Harry—” Ron began, trying to intervene.

“I’ve already died once here,” Harry interrupted. “This time, I don’t want to come back. Kill me,” he begged, his voice trembling with desperation. “I’ve earned it, haven’t I? I’ve done my duty, haven’t I? I’ve done everything that was asked of me. You’re all safe now—you’re safe now.”

Harry truly meant it. He wanted to die. The weight of his guilt was too much to bear. He didn’t know how much longer he could keep going. Perhaps the spell that had left his soul fractured also played a part; the constant presence of death looming over him didn’t help.

Looking into Draco’s eyes, Harry opened his arms slightly. “Malfoy,” he pleaded, his voice breaking. “You kill me. End this.”

At that moment, Harry was genuinely ready to embrace death for a second time. Just as he had been in front of Voldemort. But this time, he wanted it to be final. He wanted a real end. Even though he knew death was an easy escape, he craved it.

Draco didn’t respond. Harry’s plea had shocked everyone into silence. Draco, however, remained composed, his gaze fixed on Harry’s face. Then, he began to walk toward him slowly.

As Draco approached, Harry held his breath, utterly exhausted. He knew he had to be prepared for any reaction from Draco, but what came next was entirely unexpected.

Standing in front of Harry, Draco studied his face for a few seconds. Then, to Harry’s surprise, Draco gently embraced him.

“No—Malfoy, no, don’t—this isn’t what I want.”

When Harry tried to step back, Draco only held him tighter, refusing to let him go.

“It’s alright,” Draco murmured. “I don’t care that you killed me. It really doesn’t matter. Just calm down.”

Harry stopped resisting, too shocked to process Draco’s reaction or his words. “You don’t understand,” he said, his voice shaking with protest. “You can’t just act like nothing happened. I—”

“I know you’re hurting,” Draco interrupted. “But it feels like you’re telling me a story—a bad dream…”

Harry’s tears, which had briefly subsided out of shock, began to flow again. Every second Draco held him only made him feel worse.

“But it was real,” Harry said through his tears. “It was real. It happened. I killed you.”

Draco tightened his embrace and turned his face slightly toward Harry’s neck, inhaling deeply. “This is my reality, Potter,” he whispered. “I can’t blame you for something that belongs to a different reality.”

“But—”

Draco pulled back slightly to look Harry in the eyes. Placing his hands on Harry’s cheeks, he gently wiped away his tears with his thumbs. “Listen to me,” he said. “Even if I’d known you were going to kill me in that reality, I wouldn’t have blamed you. I’d have been grateful. Because, Potter, you don’t know this, but I already wanted to die.”

“What?”

“What I had to endure, the things I was forced to do—it was too much. I never blamed you for ‘almost’ killing me that day in the bathroom because I’d wished for death.”

Harry shook his head. “You don’t understand,” he said.

“No, you don’t understand me,” Draco countered. “Hearing that there’s no place for me in your heart hurt more than hearing that you killed me.”

Harry couldn’t respond.

“I’m here. I’m alive. That’s the reality, do you understand? The only truth I know is that I’m alive.”

“But it’s all here,” Harry said, tapping his temple with his finger. “You may not remember, but I do. I remember everything. I can’t forget it, can’t pretend it didn’t happen, can’t forgive myself. I can’t let you forgive me. I can’t let you love me.”

“I don’t need your permission to love you, Potter.”

Harry stepped back with a heavy sigh. “Please don’t do this,” he said. “You don’t know what happened!”

Draco, with unwavering confidence, replied, “Even if I did, it wouldn’t matter.”

Harry let out a bitter laugh, turning away. Tilting his head back to gaze at the dark sky, he took deep, steadying breaths. He no longer had the strength to cry. As he stood there, lost in thought, he couldn’t comprehend Draco’s reaction. How could he forgive so easily? How could he treat it as if it were insignificant? How could he dismiss a truth that had destroyed Harry’s life? Draco should hate him. He should blame him, scream at him, punish him. There were so many things he could do—so why had he chosen to forgive? Harry didn’t want forgiveness. He didn’t want to get away with what he had done. From the beginning, he had wanted to pay the price. To face what he deserved. He had carried the burden for so long, knowing he had a greater responsibility—a responsibility to one day face Voldemort. He had endured it all because he was the one who could end the war and save countless lives. But now, there was nothing standing in the way of his punishment.

Draco, on the other hand, didn’t seem to care.

To Harry, this was because Draco didn’t know the truth—because he didn’t remember what had happened. If he did, he would hate Harry. He had to hate him.

Harry turned toward Hermione and Ron, his gaze settling on the bag slung over Hermione’s shoulder. “Hermione,” he said, his voice soft but heavy with purpose. “Do you have a vial with you?”

Hermione, startled, nodded and rummaged through her bag. After a moment, she produced a small glass vial and handed it to Harry.

“Thank you,” Harry murmured as he took the vial. Then, without looking at her, he turned to face Draco. Drawing his wand, he pressed it to his temple and closed his eyes. When he pulled it away, a silvery, thread-like memory clung to the wand’s tip. Carefully, he guided the memory into the vial and sealed it.

Harry’s vision blurred with tears as he extended the vial to Draco. “Take this to Professor McGonagall,” he said. “She’ll let you view it.” His voice wavered. “When you see it, you’ll hate me. Once you understand how real it all was, you’ll hate me for every moment I let you love me.”

Draco stepped forward, gently taking hold of Harry’s hand that held the vial. He looked into Harry’s eyes, a faint smile playing on his lips.

“If that’s what you want, I’ll watch it,” Draco said. “But you’ll see that you’ve been worrying for nothing.” He took the vial from Harry’s hand and released his grip.

Harry didn’t respond. A tense silence followed until Draco broke it.

“Shall we head back now?” he asked, his gaze softening as he looked at Harry.

Harry shook his head. “You go.”

Draco hesitated, glancing briefly at Ron and Hermione before returning his attention to Harry. “I get that you need to talk to them, but does it really have to be here? Couldn’t you pick somewhere less dramatic?”

Silence.

“Alright, I get it. I’ll leave for now, Potter. But we’re not done talking.”

Harry didn’t respond, unsure if he truly wanted to continue the conversation later. Draco, however, didn’t wait for an answer. He motioned to Blaise and Pansy, who were still standing in shock, and led them back toward the edge of the forest.

When they were out of sight, Harry turned to Ron and Hermione. “I—”

He couldn’t finish his sentence. Both of them stepped forward and wrapped him in a tight embrace. Caught off guard, Harry stood frozen for a moment, unsure how to react.

“You could have told us,” Hermione said, her voice thick with emotion.

“You know we wouldn’t judge you,” Ron added. “Mate, you should have told us. We’d have been there for you.”

“You didn’t have to face this alone,” Hermione continued. “You’re not alone.”

Harry couldn’t hold back any longer. He returned their embrace, tears streaming down his face as he sobbed into their shoulders. They stood like that for a long while, wrapped in an emotional silence. When they finally pulled back, Hermione couldn’t help but ask.

“Did we know? Back then…”

“We couldn’t have reacted badly, could we?” Ron asked, looking worried. “If I did anything horrible, it wasn’t really me.”

“No,” Harry said. “You didn’t know. Only a few professors and Myrtle knew. As for the fact that I went back… only Professor Dumbledore.”

“Is there anything else we don’t know?” Hermione asked. “If there is, please tell us. Let us help.”

“No,” Harry replied. “There’s nothing else.”

A heavy silence fell between them. No one seemed to know what to say. Harry was still reeling from everything that had happened. His thoughts were consumed by Draco, by his unexpected reaction, and by what it all meant. Ron and Hermione, on the other hand, seemed to be carefully choosing their words, not wanting to make Harry feel worse.

“Well… I bet Hagrid’s got some hot tea ready,” Ron said finally.

Hermione smiled at him. “You’re right,” she said. “He’d be happy to see us.”

Harry knew what they were trying to do, but he shook his head. “I’m not feeling great. I just need some time to think.”

“Then let’s head back to the dormitory and—”

As Ron spoke, Harry walked away from them and sat down beneath a nearby tree.

“Or… not,” Ron finished, exchanging a look with Hermione. They followed Harry and sat down beside him.

-

Draco, meanwhile, sat on his bed, staring at the vial in his hands. He hadn’t moved since returning to the dormitory. His thoughts were tangled, his emotions a confusing knot. Despite everything, he felt remarkably calm.

“Draco,” Pansy said, breaking the silence. “What are you thinking?”

“He’s not deciding what to have for breakfast tomorrow,” Blaise interjected. “What do you think he’s thinking about?”

“I’d argue with you, but this is serious,” Pansy said, turning back to Draco. “Why aren’t you angry?”

Draco sighed deeply, interrupting their conversation. “Why should I be angry?” he asked.

“Don’t you think you’re being a bit too calm for someone who just found out they were killed?” Blaise asked.

Pansy nodded in agreement. “Exactly. You were angrier when you found out about the spell.”

“I don’t know,” Draco admitted honestly. “It feels… different.”

“How different?”

“Back then, Potter was the one in pain. It was more about him. But now it’s about my death, isn’t it? And I don’t even remember it. I can’t take it seriously.”

Pansy shrugged. “That’s what the vial is for,” she said. “So, what are you going to do?”

“I’m not sure if I want to watch it.”

“What?” Blaise asked, incredulous. “Why not?”

“Because watching it won’t change anything for me,” Draco said, looking at Blaise. “But it will make Potter feel worse.”

“You’re still thinking about him?” Pansy asked, surprised.

“Who else would I think about? Put yourself in his shoes. He killed me, went back in time to save me, gave up a piece of his soul to protect me, and now everything is weighing on him.”

Silence.

“And then there’s…”

“There’s what?” Pansy pressed.

“The consequences of the choice he made.”

“Like what?”

“The night Professor Dumbledore was killed,” Draco began. “I let them into the castle. If I had died, Professor Dumbledore might still be alive.”

“You can’t think like that,” Blaise said. “Maybe he would have died anyway, for another reason. Time is complicated; we can never know the alternatives.”

“Even if I think that way, I don’t know what Potter thinks.”

“So, how do you feel overall?”

“Conflicted.”

“In what way?”

“On the one hand, I feel… good,” Draco admitted. “Knowing he still loves me—it felt good. Does that make me a terrible person?”

Pansy shook her head. “That seems like a reasonable reaction.”

“On the other hand,” Draco continued, “I feel awful because of what he’s been through. The things he’s had to endure are unbearable.”

“Seriously,” Pansy said. “He literally asked you to kill him. I was shocked.”

“I don’t think he really meant it,” Draco said.

Blaise disagreed. “It seemed pretty real to me.”

“It could be the spell,” Draco explained. “It said he’d feel close to death. And even if it wasn’t the spell, even if he really meant it, thinking I’d do it was just stupid.”

“Well, you didn’t do it, but what if others in the forest had?” Pansy asked.

Both Blaise and Draco turned to look at her.

“What?” Pansy asked defensively. “It was just a thought!”

Draco rolled his eyes and got up from his bed. He placed the vial into the drawer of his desk. He still hadn’t decided what to do with the memories. He needed to think it over carefully to ensure he made the best decision for Harry. Whatever would bring Harry the most comfort, the most peace—that’s what he would do. But first, he needed to talk to Harry again. He didn’t believe that Harry’s emotional outburst had conveyed his true feelings.

As he closed the drawer, he heard Pansy mutter, “No, he’s definitely too calm. Something’s happened to him.”

Draco took a deep breath and turned to his friends, a faintly bittersweet smile on his face. “Maybe I’m in love,” he said. “They always said love changes people. Turns out they were right.”

Chapter Text

When they returned to the common room, Harry wasn’t expecting to run into Draco. Considering what he had been forced to confront just a few hours earlier; it was difficult not to turn around and flee. In fact, he was genuinely considering doing just that when he felt Ron’s hand on his shoulder, grounding him. Harry slowly released a breath he hadn’t realised he was holding. Under different circumstances or for another issue, his friend’s gesture might have given him strength. But it had only been hours since he had faced them, and he still felt terrible about it.

“I just,” Draco finally said, breaking the awkward silence in the room, “wanted to check if you’d come back.”

Harry could only nod in response. Then he averted his gaze from Draco’s face and headed toward the dormitory.

“Potter?”

Harry stopped in his tracks as he was about to pass Draco, but he couldn’t bring himself to look at him.

When Harry didn’t respond, Draco asked, “Can we talk for a bit?”

With a deep sigh, Harry quietly asked, “Did you watch the memories?” He wasn’t sure what kind of answer he wanted to hear.

“No.”

Harry nodded, still avoiding eye contact. Was it even worth asking if Draco had watched them? He was certain Draco wouldn’t be this calm if he had.

“Potter—”

“We’ll talk,” Harry interrupted. “Once you’ve watched the memories, we’ll talk. I know that. But I’m not sure I want to talk right now, Malfoy. Just give me some space, alright?”

Draco wanted to protest but, after a brief pause, nodded. “Alright,” he said calmly. “Try to get some rest.”

Harry didn’t bother responding, eager to retreat to his room as quickly as possible.

After watching Harry and his friends leave, Draco realised he didn’t want to go back to his own dormitory. He was sure Pansy was still there, and he didn’t think he could handle her questions any longer. Blaise was more manageable in situations like this, but Pansy was unstoppable. Draco needed his nerves intact; dealing with Harry’s mood and behaviour was already difficult enough without adding Pansy into the mix.

Trying to collect his thoughts, Draco returned to the chair he had been sitting in earlier. One way or another, he needed to talk to Harry and convince him that everything was fine. He knew Harry was in a terrible state—so distraught that he had asked Draco to kill him. Draco had no idea how to fix this, but he knew he had to. He couldn’t let Harry carry this guilt and regret any longer. If possible, Draco would have talked to him that night and tried to resolve everything. But after seeing how exhausted Harry was, he decided it was better to give him some time. Just a little time… maybe one night. Then he would knock some sense into him.

Besides, Draco didn’t think watching the memories would change anything. He already knew what had happened, didn’t he? Harry had killed him in a reality Draco didn’t remember. Yes, that part sucked. But Harry had gone back and saved him. In this reality, none of it had happened. What would watching the memories accomplish? Would Draco die all over again?

Lost in thought, Draco stayed in the common room for a long time. At first, he believed the situation was simple, but as time passed, he found himself drowning in his own thoughts. When his mind became a tangled mess, he decided to return to his dormitory despite Pansy’s presence. He would sort it out later.

-

The next morning, Draco had hoped to start his day as usual, but he was disappointed. His mood was… strange. Understandable for someone who had learned they had once died, but unpleasant nonetheless. Perhaps it was because of the nightmares he’d had during the few hours he managed to sleep. He hadn’t expected to dream of sixth year—especially not the version where Harry killed him.

He felt awful.

Remembering that the real version of those nightmares was sitting in his desk drawer only made him feel worse. He had told Harry that it was no different from a bad dream. So what had changed?

“Good morning.”

Draco snapped out of his thoughts at the sound of Blaise’s voice. “Huh?” He turned toward him reflexively.

“I said good morning. Are you planning to get ready?”

Draco nodded and cast one more reluctant glance at his desk before begrudgingly starting to get dressed.

When they met Pansy in the common room, Harry and his friends were nowhere to be seen. Draco assumed they had already gone to the Great Hall, but they weren’t at the Gryffindor table either. He didn’t see Harry until they entered class. Harry was already seated, his head resting on his book, eyes closed. A faint smile appeared on Draco’s face. Despite everything, seeing Harry felt good. He only wished he could make Harry feel better. From the other side of the room, Draco could tell Harry was exhausted. He wanted to go over and offer support, but the professor’s arrival thwarted his plan.

During class, Draco plotted how he would talk to Harry afterward. But when class ended, Harry dashed out without even glancing at him. Draco knew he had to be patient. As much as he wanted to talk, he needed to give Harry the time and space he needed. But knowing Harry was suffering from the absence of his soul only made it harder. This couldn’t go on for much longer.

By evening, Draco still hadn’t found an opportunity to talk to Harry. Their dormitory was enveloped in an oppressive silence. Draco sat at his desk, pretending to work on an assignment, though he hadn’t moved for hours. He wanted to distract himself, but it wasn’t working. Within five minutes of starting his assignment, he found himself holding the memory vial, turning it over slowly in his hands. He wondered what exactly it contained, how bad it could be, and how it might affect him.

Draco knew he would have to watch it eventually. Just the night before, he had been sure it wouldn’t change anything. But now, he wasn’t so sure. The uncertainty was unsettling. Wouldn’t everything be better if he just didn’t know?

As he wrestled with his thoughts, Draco looked at the door. Then, on an impulse, he stood and headed toward it.

-

Harry had endured another night of torment. Sleep eluded him. The rare moments when exhaustion forced him to doze off were quickly interrupted by nightmares that jolted him awake. His sleep had never been peaceful, but since Draco’s confession and the revelation of the truth, things had taken a turn for the worse. Back when Harry had assumed Draco hated him, he had felt better—because Draco’s hatred had felt deserved. But now, nothing was the same. Ever since Draco had begun reciprocating his feelings, Harry’s own emotions and regrets had become unbearable. He had stopped pretending altogether; the energy he once used to mask his struggles was now so depleted that his exhaustion was evident to everyone.

He truly wanted to die.

The closer he felt to death, the more he yearned for it. Losing the remaining fragment of his soul didn’t seem like such a bad thing. The idea that his existence might still serve to protect Draco provided some comfort, but Harry doubted anyone in the wizarding world would genuinely try to kill him now. There could always be people like Burke, of course, but Draco could defend himself in those situations. Harry was confident that if his protection ended, Draco wouldn’t allow anyone to bully him.

Still, a part of Harry felt awful for thinking this way. It wasn’t just about Draco; he had his friends to consider. Ron and Hermione didn’t deserve the pain of losing him. They had already endured so much because of him over the years. The thought of causing them even more suffering hurt Harry deeply. But he knew that if he died, the pain his friends would feel would pale in comparison to what he was experiencing now. The absence of his soul felt more pronounced than ever. He couldn’t put it into words, but he felt increasingly alienated from himself. Perhaps it was because Draco’s efforts had temporarily completed his soul. Harry wished he could forget how he had felt when his soul was whole when he had truly been at peace.

Harry?

Hearing someone call his name startled him. He turned his head toward the voice and met Ron’s gaze. Confused, he glanced around the room before looking out the window, noticing that daylight had already broken.

“Harry,” Ron repeated. “Are you alright?”

Harry sighed deeply and shifted his gaze from the window back to his friend. “Good morning,” he said.

“Good morning,” Ron replied, studying Harry’s face intently. “You didn’t sleep, did you?”

Harry shook his head and turned back to the window.

“You should stay here today,” Ron suggested. “The professors won’t mind if I tell them you’re unwell. In fact, maybe we should go to the hospital wing. They might have something to help—”

“There’s no need,” Harry interrupted. “I’ll get ready in a bit.”

Ron wanted to argue but decided against pushing his friend. Unsure of what else to do, he began getting ready himself.

Harry had no sense of how much time had passed while he stared out the window. When he finally emerged from his thoughts, he noticed Ron was already dressed. Holding his bag, Ron looked at Harry with an expression he couldn’t hide—a mix of concern and guilt.

“Listen,” Ron began, “class is about to start, and you won’t make it even if you get ready now. Just stay here, alright? Hermione and I can stop by the hospital wing and get you something.”

Harry opened his mouth to respond, but there was a knock at the door. It must be Hermione.

“Come in, love,” Ron called, turning back to Harry. “So, do we have a deal?”

“Sorry, my heart belongs to someone else, Weasley.”

Ron and Harry turned toward the door to see Draco standing there. Ron immediately looked at Harry, observing his reaction. But there was nothing to observe—Harry didn’t react at all. His lifeless gaze shifted from Draco to the window as if he hadn’t even registered his presence.

“If you’ll excuse us,” Draco said, stepping into the room, “I’d like to talk to Potter for a bit.”

Ron hesitated for a moment before reluctantly saying, “Alright.” He left the room, closing the door behind him.

Draco stood in the middle of the room for a while, silently observing Harry. Then he walked over and sat down across from him by the large window, his eyes roaming over Harry’s face.

“You didn’t sleep.”

Harry nodded slightly, still gazing out the window.

“You’d have slept if I were with you.”

Harry didn’t respond, though his gaze shifted slightly to another spot outside. He couldn’t make sense of Draco’s behaviour. He had confessed to killing him, given him his memories, and yet Draco was acting as if nothing had happened. This was not the reaction Harry had expected.

“I watched the memories, Potter.”

Harry instinctively turned to Draco, his startled gaze locking onto his. He held his breath, swallowed, and tried to collect his thoughts.

“I told you it wouldn’t be a problem.”

“What?” Harry asked, shocked. “You really think it’s not a problem?”

Draco nodded calmly. “It’s not a problem,” he said. “It happened. It’s over. I’m here now.”

"After your death, them declaring that you tried to kill me… Announcing you as a Death Eater, accusing you of countless things- are those not problems?” Harry asked, his voice rising.

Draco paused for a moment before replying, “They’re not.”

Harry exhaled slowly and said, “You didn’t watch.”

“What?”

“It didn’t happen the way I said it did,” Harry explained. “You didn’t watch.”

Draco cursed himself inwardly for slipping up and took a deep breath. He really hadn’t watched them. The night he’d come closest, he had left the dormitory, walked all the way to Professor McGonagall’s office, and turned back at the last second.

“Alright, I didn’t watch them,” he admitted. “But that doesn’t change the fact that I think it won’t be a problem.”

“That’s not enough for me,” Harry said. “Why didn’t you watch them?”

“Because I didn’t need to.”

Harry smiled bitterly, the proximity of Draco making it painful. “You didn’t watch because you’re afraid.”

“Why would I be afraid?” Draco asked, defensive.

“That I’m right,” Harry said. “That you’ll hate me. That you won’t be able to forgive me. That you’ll be caught in the middle because you can’t erase how you feel about me.”

Draco remained silent, considering the truth in Harry’s words. Then, speaking softly, he admitted, “I am afraid—but not of hating you. I’m afraid that if I watch them, it will make everything more real for you. I don’t want you to feel worse.”

“No,” Harry said, shaking his head. “You’re afraid to watch, and you just can’t admit it to yourself.”

“Let’s say I am,” Draco said stubbornly. “What difference does it make? What happens if I don’t watch them? I just want to be here for you,” he added, reaching out to take Harry’s hand. “I want to be good for your soul. I want to see you smile.”

“It’s true that you’ve completed my soul,” Harry said, offering a faint, bittersweet smile. “But you’re forgetting something important, Malfoy.”

“And what’s that?”

“Even people with whole souls can feel pain, regret, and sorrow,” Harry explained. “Just because my soul is intact doesn’t mean I’ll suddenly be happy. You have to understand that.”

“Potter—”

“I need to face my mistakes,” Harry said, cutting him off. “I’ve been avoiding it for so long, but now I have to. And if you don’t know everything, I’ll never fully face it.”

When Harry’s voice cracked, Draco noticed the glint of unshed tears in his eyes. Without hesitation, Draco shifted closer and wrapped his arms around Harry.

As Harry struggled to keep from crying, he murmured, “Please. Please help me, Draco.”

Draco tightened his embrace and whispered, “Alright. I’ll watch them. Just… give me a little more time. I’ll do it when I’m ready.”

Harry pulled back slightly, putting some distance between them. “Thank you,” he said. He didn’t want Draco close. He didn’t want to allow himself to feel better because of him. Well, he did want it… but he didn’t.

Draco reluctantly slid back to give him space. Though he had agreed to watch the memories, the decision left him feeling unsettled. The anxiety he had been trying to suppress became more apparent. Still, he tried not to dwell on it.

“I don’t know if this is the right time to say this,” Draco began, looking directly into Harry’s eyes, “but I never imagined I’d like hearing you call me by my name so much.”

When Harry couldn’t hold back his tears any longer, he quickly stood and turned away, moving to the middle of the room as he wiped his face.

“Hey,” Draco called, standing up as well. “That was supposed to be a good thing!”

“I know,” Harry muttered, putting on his glasses and turning back to Draco. Avoiding eye contact, he added, “I’ll see you later—after you’ve watched the memories.”

Draco remained silent for a few seconds before sighing. “I suppose this is my cue to leave,” he said, half-questioningly.

Harry nodded.

“Alright, I’m going. Please, try to rest.”

Harry nodded again, and Draco left without another word.

-

Two days passed. Harry forced himself to attend classes during that time, but his exhaustion and sleeplessness only worsened, leaving him feeling increasingly miserable. He was scared—terrified, even. Ever since Draco had agreed to watch the memories, Harry had been consumed by fear. The longer Draco delayed; the more Harry’s anxiety grew. If Draco truly believed it wouldn’t be a problem, he would have watched them by now, wouldn’t he? But he hadn’t. Because Harry was right. Watching the memories would change everything. The thought of it made Harry’s chest ache with fear and regret.

Draco, meanwhile, spent the two days grappling with his own thoughts. He tried to convince himself to watch the memories but couldn’t bring himself to do it. It felt as though he needed time to fully understand how much he cared for Harry—to anchor himself in that knowledge, so he could hold onto it if the memories upset him. Deep down, he had known he was afraid since the moment he left Harry’s room. Normally, the idea of watching his own death wouldn’t bother him so much. But now, in a time when he had grown to love living, the thought unnerved him.

On the second evening, during a Duelling Club meeting, Draco saw Harry again. He looked as he had for days—exhausted, hollow, lifeless. Draco should have been used to it by now, but seeing Harry like this each day only hurt him more. And knowing he could stop Harry’s suffering but hadn’t because of his fear only added to his frustration.

The first match was between a Hufflepuff and a Slytherin, but Draco was too preoccupied with his thoughts to pay attention. The second match featured a Hufflepuff and a Ravenclaw. It wasn’t until the third match that Draco’s focus sharpened—because Harry was on the platform.

Harry’s opponent was an unremarkable Ravenclaw, and Draco assumed the duel would end quickly. Given Harry’s mood, he’d probably incapacitate his opponent swiftly and leave the platform without much fuss. At least, that’s what Draco thought.

But nothing went as Draco had expected.

Though Harry managed to deflect the first attack, his counterspell was feeble. The next spell from his opponent nearly overwhelmed him. He looked as though he could barely stand. The duel didn’t last long. The Ravenclaw cast a powerful spell, and Harry, seemingly unaware of the incoming attack, was struck in the chest and thrown to the edge of the platform.

Draco was stunned.

Ron, Hermione, Nathaniel, and the other students were stunned.

Even the Ravenclaw seemed stunned.

Harry, however, paid no attention to the shocked faces around him. He got to his feet, struggling to steady himself, and raised his hand to signal that he was fine. It was over so quickly that no one knew what to make of it. Everyone seemed to expect the duel to continue. Realising this, Harry turned to his opponent, hesitating before lifting his wand.

The second round went no better. The Ravenclaw’s next spell sent Harry flying off the platform entirely. This time, his friends rushed to his side while Draco stood frozen. This was his fault. Days of avoiding the memories—of refusing to face a past he didn’t even remember—had left Harry this drained.

Draco knew what he had to do.

No more delays. He would watch the memories.

Chapter Text

Draco left the Great Hall without waiting for the club meeting to end. He retrieved the memory vial from his room and headed straight for the office that once belonged to Professor Dumbledore, now used by Professor McGonagall. When Harry had explained the protective spell he’d cast on Draco, he’d mentioned that Draco might need to use the Pensieve one day and asked the professor for permission.

When Draco entered the office, he froze, unsure what to do or say. He didn’t want to risk saying the wrong thing, especially since he didn’t know how much Harry had told the professor.

Before the silence stretched too long, McGonagall spoke. “I’ll leave you alone,” she said. Then, gesturing toward the Pensieve in the corner of the room, she added, “Use it carefully,” before exiting.

Even alone in the office, Draco seemed unsure of what to do. A part of him still hesitated about viewing the memories. But another part of him couldn’t forget the state Harry had been in earlier. He knew he had to do this.

Draco took a steadying breath and let his gaze wander around the room. His eyes soon landed on the large portrait of Professor Dumbledore. It was empty. Most of the other portraits were occupied, yet the room felt unnervingly silent. The quiet only made Draco feel more tense.

Finally, he turned his focus to the Pensieve, remembering why he was here. He walked over to the ornate, stone basin. Standing before it, he raised the vial he’d been clutching tightly. Knowing there was no escape now, he uncorked it and poured Harry’s memories into the swirling surface of the Pensieve. Without giving himself more time to hesitate, Draco leaned in and entered the memories he’d been avoiding.

-

The scene began with Harry entering the bathroom. Their brief dialogue quickly escalated into a duel. At first, everything unfolded just as Draco had expected. Then, both wizards raised their wands simultaneously.

“Cruc—”

“Sectumsempra!”

As Harry cast the spell he didn’t fully understand, Draco saw his own body collapse onto the wet floor. His trembling legs carried him closer to the memory of himself, and a sharp, phantom pain pierced him, as if he’d been the one struck by the spell. Draco lay motionless, his eyes closed. Blood poured from the wounds Harry had caused, mixing with the water on the bathroom floor, staining everything red.

“No—”

The first word Harry uttered was “no.” He seemed unaware that his voice wasn’t coming out properly. He was in shock, too numb even to hear Myrtle’s frantic screams.

“Malfoy—”

All the sounds around Harry reached him as muffled echoes and ringing. Even the clatter of his wand hitting the floor was lost in the cacophony. To Draco, it seemed like hours, but only seconds had passed before Harry was on his knees beside his fallen opponent.

“Help—someone help… Malfoy—”

Harry didn’t know what to do. Desperately, he pressed his hands against the largest wound on Draco’s chest, trying to staunch the bleeding. His vision was blurred, and he couldn’t tell if his efforts were making any difference.

“SOMEONE HELP!”

Harry’s scream reverberated through the corridor, loud enough to shake the walls. He didn’t realize how loud he was—he couldn’t hear his own voice. But no one came. The hallway was empty. No help was coming.

“NO—MALFOY, NO, YOU’RE GOING TO BE OKAY—OPEN YOUR EYES!”

One hand pressed against Draco’s wound, Harry used his other to gently caress his face, as if the touch alone could wake him.

“Don’t die—please open your eyes, I’m begging you—Malfoy—please…”

For just a moment, Draco’s labored breathing stilled, and his eyelids fluttered open. Harry’s tears, which he’d tried and failed to suppress, spilled freely. He noticed Draco was trying to say something. Even through the ringing in his ears, Draco’s faint words reached him clearly.

“I knew you were…”

“… a bad person…”

“Not a hero…”

“…you- you’re a killer-”

“Potter…”

And then Draco’s eyes closed again. His chest, which had been rising and falling with shallow breaths, went still.

“NO… NO!”

Harry screamed as he lifted Draco’s head into his lap. He couldn’t accept it. He wouldn’t accept it.

“Wake up—please wake up… You’re right, I’m not a hero—Malfoy, please wake up!”

His bloody hands cupped Draco’s cheeks, caressing them as if it might bring him back.

“Please—”

When the bathroom door burst open, Harry’s head snapped toward it with desperate hope. Professor Dumbledore entered, followed by Professors Snape and McGonagall.

“Help him! He’s—not okay—I—”

Snape immediately knelt on Draco’s other side, checking for signs of life. McGonagall looked horrified, while Dumbledore simply waited for Snape’s verdict.

“I—I didn’t know, Professor—”

“He’s dead.”

Snape’s single sentence brought a deathly silence to the room. For a brief moment, no one spoke. Harry, unwilling to believe it, looked at the professors with tear-filled eyes, hoping they would tell him Snape was wrong.

“No—he can’t be dead! He can’t be! Check again, do something!”

“Harry—”

“NO!”

“I’m afraid there’s nothing we can do, Potter.”

“There has to be!” Harry shouted, clutching Draco tighter in his arms.

“Minerva, seal the corridor. We can’t let anyone know what’s happened here.”

“PROFESSOR! NO—LOOK AT HIM! DO SOMETHING!”

McGonagall nodded grimly and left the bathroom. Snape stood and joined Dumbledore, speaking to him in hushed tones.

“DO SOMETHING! SAVE HIM!”

Dumbledore approached Harry slowly. “I’m sorry, Harry,” he said, his voice calm. “It’s too late.”

“No,” Harry whispered. “You’re powerful! You can—you can do something—please… Professor, I’m begging you…”

Harry’s pleas were no longer directed at the professors. He clung tightly to Draco’s lifeless body, speaking as if to himself.

“This is my fault… because of me…”

Harry clung to Draco’s lifeless body, sobbing. He barely registered Snape and Dumbledore’s continued conversation. But then their words cut through his haze of grief, crystal clear.

“We can’t let anyone hear this,” Snape said. “What do you plan to do?”

“I’m thinking, Severus. I’m thinking…”

“Well, think faster. If we delay, it will all fall apart.”

There was a brief pause.

“I have something in my mind,” Dumbledore finally said. “First, we must remove him from here without anyone seeing,” he added, gesturing to Draco’s body.

Harry bowed his head, pressing his forehead against Draco’s, his eyes squeezed shut. His sobs came in gasps as he clung to the boy’s lifeless form.

Then a hand touched his shoulder.

“Harry, we have to take him. Please—let us—”

“No.”

“Harry…”

“NO!” Harry cried, his voice desperate and pleading. “You can’t take him—you can’t! I won’t let you…” He lifted his tear-streaked face to Dumbledore, his voice breaking as he begged.

“Please, Harry…”

The bathroom door opened again, and Snape returned, carrying a white sheet. When Harry turned to look, he saw that Snape had also brought a stretcher.

“No,” Harry said reflexively, tightening his grip on Draco. “There has to be a way—we can find a way—there’s a book—I saw it in a book… Maybe it has a cure—please, don’t take him.”

Despite Harry’s desperate words, Snape leaned down, reaching for Draco’s body.

“NO! Don’t touch him!”

Dumbledore tightened his hold on Harry’s shoulders, pulling him back. He then placed both hands firmly on Harry’s shoulders, his grip steady but not harsh. Harry, emotionally and physically drained, struggled weakly. Snape pulled Draco’s body from Harry’s arms, and Harry reached out instinctively, but his hands grasped only air.

“No, please…”

Snape placed Draco’s lifeless body on the stretcher, then covered it with the white sheet. Harry refused to believe what was happening. He clung to the hope that Draco might still be alive—that there might still be a way to save him. He wished with all his heart that he hadn’t killed him, that he hadn’t killed the boy he loved. But as Snape carried Draco’s body away, all of Harry’s hope and denial went with him.

Left alone with Dumbledore, Harry continued to cry silently. The bathroom no longer resembled a crime scene; the blood and water were gone. It was as if Draco had never been there. As if Harry hadn’t killed him.

“You didn’t do it intentionally.”

Dumbledore’s attempt at consolation only made Harry sob harder. “You didn’t do it intentionally” had never sounded so hollow. Yes, he hadn’t done it intentionally. But how could that excuse what he had done? How could it justify the death he had caused?

“Harry, come now. Let’s go to my office and talk.”

Harry didn’t move. He didn’t speak. His gaze remained fixed on the spot where Draco had lain.

And he cried.

He cried for minutes, perhaps hours, without moving. Professors came and went, but Harry barely noticed. He heard footsteps and faint murmurs but couldn’t make out what was being said. Everything felt empty and meaningless. He was ready to die right there.

When they tried to move him again, Harry resisted. On the third attempt, he felt his vision blur and fade. Dumbledore had cast a spell to render him unconscious.

When Harry awoke, he was in Dumbledore’s office, sitting in a single armchair. He heard voices and turned his head to see Dumbledore speaking with Snape. After a moment, Snape nodded and left the room.

Dumbledore noticed Harry was awake and approached him, sitting in the armchair opposite. He gestured to a cup on the table between them.

“Drink this. It will help.”

“Malfoy,” Harry said, his voice trembling, hoping that everything he remembered had been a nightmare. “Where is he?”

Dumbledore sighed softly. “Ah, Harry… We’ll talk about that. But please, drink first.”

Harry’s eyes burned with fresh tears. “Professor—I—” His voice broke, and he couldn’t continue.

Dumbledore waited in silence, giving Harry time. But when it became clear that waiting was futile, he spoke again.

“No one can know what happened there,” he said firmly. “Not even your friends. Do you understand?”

Harry stared at him in shock. “What?” he asked, his voice cracking. “I—I can’t keep this a secret… I… killed him. There has to be a—I mean—”

“Harry,” Dumbledore interrupted, his tone gentle but resolute. “You must understand. Please listen to me carefully. I know you’re in pain; I know how much this has hurt you. But there are more important matters at hand. We have priorities—”

Harry’s face twisted in horror. “What are you trying to say?” he demanded. “You can’t just pretend this didn’t happen!”

“News of Draco Malfoy switching sides will spread,” Dumbledore explained. “Severus is already working on it. No one will know what truly happened. The story will be that he was caught trying to kill me, that I confronted him, and that he agreed to switch sides in exchange for protection. That’s all anyone will know. No one will know where he is.”

Harry struggled to make sense of what he was hearing. He couldn’t believe Dumbledore was serious. He couldn’t believe that Dumbledore would treat Draco as if he were nothing—as if Harry hadn’t just ended his life.

“Harry, do you understand?”

Harry’s voice rose in anger. “No!” he shouted. “I don’t understand! This—this is madness!”

“Listen to me, my boy, please—”

“I killed him! I couldn’t even cast Cruciatus on Bellatrix, but I killed Malfoy! And now you’re making it seem like this was his fault, like he was the one to blame! I did this! I’m the killer!”

“I’m sorry, but the fate of the wizarding world—even the Muggle world—is in your hands,” Dumbledore said solemnly. “I cannot allow you to face punishment for this. You know I must protect you.”

“It seems like you need to protect others, Professor, from me.”

Harry’s self-loathing and anguish were so palpable that even Dumbledore hesitated, unsure of how to approach him.

“I’m talking about thousands of lives, Harry—perhaps more. Think. Please try to think rationally.”

Harry, struggling to breathe through his frustration, collapsed into the chair behind him. Wiping his tears with the back of his hand, he muttered, “I think… I’m no good to anyone anymore, Professor.”

The scene shifted.

Harry now stood on the Astronomy Tower, leaning against the railing, his vacant gaze fixed on the grounds below. The weight of what had happened in the bathroom grew heavier with every passing moment. Everything had lost its meaning two days ago. For two days, he had felt entirely disconnected, and he couldn’t imagine ever feeling whole again.

Dumbledore’s voice broke the silence. “I hope you’re not thinking about death, Harry.”

Harry turned his head slightly, glancing back at Dumbledore as he approached. Then he looked away, waiting until Dumbledore was beside him.

“I’m certainly not thinking about life, Professor.”

“You’re in pain, and that’s natural, my boy. You feel like you’ve lost all your strength, like you’ll never recover. But that’s not true. Our pain makes us stronger. Believe in that, and you’ll see it’s real. Don’t let your pain diminish you; let it build you up.”

“I’d love to believe in your wise words, but I’m sorry to say that some things don’t lighten with a few pretty sentences.”

“Stop blaming yourself,” Dumbledore said, placing a hand on Harry’s shoulder. “You didn’t do it intentionally—”

“Stop saying that!” Harry shouted, shrugging off Dumbledore’s hand. “Not doing it intentionally doesn’t bring him back! He’s dead! But no problem, right? I didn’t mean it! He’s not alive anymore, but that’s fine, because I didn’t mean it! No one even knows he’s dead! They think he’s hiding like a coward! Because of me!”

“Harry—”

“BUT I DIDN’T MEAN IT!”

Harry’s anger exploded, and his voice echoed across the tower as he struggled to catch his breath. Dumbledore stood silently, understanding Harry’s grief but acutely aware of the urgency of the situation. Voldemort’s power was growing, and Harry needed to recover quickly. He had considered several ways to help him, including altering his memories, but that was a last resort. He believed in Harry’s resilience and wanted to give him a chance.

“But I didn’t mean it,” Harry repeated softly, his voice now trembling with desperation. “I was supposed to protect him,” he said, locking eyes with Dumbledore. “I was supposed to protect him, Professor. I was going to help him. Show him there were other ways. When the time was right—when I had the chance—I was going to help him.”

“I know, Harry.”

“I was supposed to protect him! Show him the right path! And what did I do? I killed him! And now you’re asking me to forget it!”

Harry paced furiously, his frustration mounting until he found himself back at the railing. Gripping the cold metal tightly, he leaned forward, his head hanging low as he took deep, shuddering breaths.

“I love—I loved him,” he admitted, his voice barely audible. “Love is supposed to heal, isn’t it? That’s what you taught me.” He turned his tear-filled eyes to Dumbledore. “But my love destroys. My love kills. What am I supposed to do?”

“Sometimes, events spiral out of our control, and things don’t go the way we want them to,” Dumbledore said. “We must adapt. Your pain won’t disappear entirely, Harry… But it will ease. Over time, you’ll notice it fading, even if just a little. You’ll learn to live with it. You’ll grow stronger. And perhaps, one day, you’ll endure even greater pain and emerge stronger still. Time. What you need is time.”

“Headmaster.”

Both Harry and Dumbledore turned toward the voice to see Snape approaching. Harry couldn’t read the expression on his face.

“May I have a word?”

Dumbledore glanced at Harry. “You should rest—”

“Actually, Potter should hear this too,” Snape interrupted. “He’ll find out sooner or later. Better that he hears it here.”

Dumbledore studied Snape for a moment before nodding. “Go on.”

“It seems the Dark Lord has received word about Draco,” Snape began. “Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy… They’ve been killed.”

-

Draco stumbled out of the memories, gasping for air. His trembling hands clutched at his neck as he loosened his tie and unbuttoned his collar. Taking deep, shuddering breaths, he backed into a column and slumped against it, his body sliding down until he was sitting on the floor. His mind raced, and he couldn’t stop the tears that welled in his eyes.

He had willingly entered the memories, knowing what he might see—but he hadn’t been prepared for this. Watching his own death was one thing, but learning about his parents’ deaths was far more than he could bear.

As he struggled to process everything, his breathing became shallow and laboured. He felt as though the weight of the memories would crush him.

“Some things we learn can be far heavier than we ever anticipated, Draco.”

Draco flinched at the sound of the voice, his head snapping up. The voice had come from the largest portrait in the room—Dumbledore’s.

“Did you… Do you know—what I saw?” Draco asked, his voice unsteady.

Dumbledore smiled faintly. “I knew this day would come.”

Chapter Text

Draco, overwhelmed by his thoughts and emotions, couldn’t decide how to respond to Dumbledore. He remained silent. Both his mother and father were alive—he knew that. Yet, Harry’s memories from an alternate reality had shaken him deeply. And that wasn’t the only thing he needed to process.

He thought about what he had said to Harry right before dying. It didn’t feel like it had been him who had spoken those words. Especially knowing how much he cared for Harry—how much he loved him—it hurt deeply to see himself calling Harry a “killer”. When Harry had said, “You’ll hate me,” Draco was now sure those words had been lingering in the back of his mind. He understood why. Draco in the memory was truly cruel. What unsettled Draco most was how possible that scenario felt, how close it hit to home. Yes, in his current reality, it hadn’t happened… but what if Harry had approached him back then? What if Draco had had the opportunity before Snape arrived? Wouldn’t he have said the same things? Despite his current feelings for Harry, Draco couldn’t ignore the possibility that he might have spoken those words if given the chance. And it tore him apart because deep down, he knew he would have. Even though he had wanted to die back then, it didn’t mean he would have been okay with Harry being the one to do it. At the time, the part of him that hated Harry had been dominant, and in his final moments, he might have said the same cruel things.

Moreover, the fact that no one knew of his death and that it was framed as him switching sides was infuriating. It was a move so significant it had cost his family their lives. While he understood why it was done—for the war’s course, for Harry’s safety—that didn’t mean he accepted it. In that reality, Draco had been nothing more than an insignificant loss to them.

As Draco tried to process everything, his breathing began to stabilize. The burst of anger subsided, replaced by a deep, unfamiliar ache. This didn’t happen, he reminded himself. This didn’t happen. You didn’t live through this.

But Harry had. Draco already knew the Harry in this reality was struggling, but seeing the Harry from the memories, feeling his pain—it was undeniable, profound, and searing.

“For you,” Draco finally said, lifting his gaze back to Dumbledore’s portrait, “was I nothing more than an insignificant piece of rubbish?”

“You were far from insignificant,” Dumbledore replied. “I was simply trying to make the best decisions I could.”

“So, I wasn’t that important either. I’m sure—if you’d known I was going to bring them into the school—you wouldn’t have even bothered saving me.”

Dumbledore smiled faintly. “I believe there are still more memories for you to view,” he said with his usual calm demeanour.

Draco’s gaze shifted back to the Pensieve. He hesitated for a moment but knew Dumbledore was right. There were still more memories to watch. Feeling like he’d regained enough composure, he stepped forward again and resumed his journey through the memories.

This time, he found himself in a different day.

-

Harry was in Dumbledore’s office again. His mood hadn’t improved, nor did it seem likely to. He still wasn’t allowed to meet with anyone else. While Dumbledore clung to the belief that time would heal Harry, he had already begun considering alternative solutions.

When the door opened, and Dumbledore entered, Harry stood up from his seat. Despite his sadness and pain, anger radiated off him.

“I want to leave, Professor,” he said.

“You cannot.”

“It’s been a week,” Harry said. “You’ve kept me here for a week.”

“And if I let you leave, will you behave?” Dumbledore asked calmly. “Or will you start talking to your friends and try to find a way?”

Harry didn’t answer.

After studying Harry’s face for a moment, Dumbledore walked to his desk, sat down, and began shuffling through some parchments.

“Are we sure they’re dead?”

Harry’s sudden question didn’t surprise Dumbledore. Without looking up, he asked, “Do you think they’re not?”

“I mean—it could have been staged to draw Malfoy out,” Harry replied. “Voldemort could have planned it.”

Dumbledore lifted his head and looked at Harry. “I wish that were the case,” he said. “But you must know that the reports are true, Harry.”

Harry didn’t like the answer. He didn’t want to believe it. Draco was dead—he was dead, wasn’t he? Turning his back on Dumbledore, Harry walked to the other side of the room. His tears came more easily now than ever before. He couldn’t stop them. He didn’t even try.

Though he heard Dumbledore’s approaching footsteps, Harry didn’t move. When the professor reached him, Harry murmured, “I can’t do this anymore. I’ll keep losing people, and Voldemort won’t even have to lift a finger, Professor. I’m destroying myself. Who’s next? Ron? Hermione?”

Dumbledore placed his hands on Harry’s shoulders, gently turning him to face him. His piercing blue eyes met Harry’s emerald green ones.

“I understand, my boy. I want to help you—”

“But you’re not.”

For a moment, Dumbledore didn’t reply. He looked into Harry’s eyes, reflecting on the despair he saw there, before finally saying, “Give me a few hours.” He paused. “Alright? Just a few hours.”

Harry nodded reluctantly. Dumbledore placed a hand on Harry’s hair, lightly ruffling it. He knew Harry needed more—deserved more—but the distance between them had to remain. That had to suffice. Dumbledore stepped back and left the room.

For Harry, the wait felt endless. Time crawled. He had no idea what kind of “help” Dumbledore was planning to bring. He wanted to trust him. He had no other choice.

When Dumbledore returned a few hours later, Harry immediately stood, anticipation etched on his face. He couldn’t bring himself to ask any questions, but he was desperate to hear what Dumbledore had to say. The headmaster walked over with slow, deliberate steps, holding Harry’s gaze.

“I will give you two options,” Dumbledore said. “The choice will be yours.”

“Alright.”

Remaining calm, Dumbledore said, “I could erase your memory.” He anticipated Harry’s protest and quickly added, “I could ease your pain. If you forget, everything might be easier for you. All I ask is that you think about it before dismissing it.”

Harry didn’t need to think. He shook his head immediately. “No,” he said. “I can’t allow that. It’s not even an option, Professor.”

Dumbledore nodded slightly. “I thought you might say that.”

“What’s the other option?”

Dumbledore raised his hand. Harry followed the motion with his eyes, initially confused. Then his gaze snapped back to Dumbledore’s face, stunned.

“A Time-Turner?” he asked, his voice filled with a mix of disbelief and hope. “You’re letting me—go back? Can I fix everything? Professor—are you really going to let me?”

“Yes, but you must understand how dangerous this is,” Dumbledore cautioned. “Normally, you shouldn’t go back more than five hours. Even that, as I explained to you and Miss Granger, is risky.”

“But… we’re talking about five days… how?”

“These objects have been studied extensively for a long time and kept secret by the Ministry. I must tell you that their use is prohibited and that they are monitored. But as you know, the Ministry can’t always track every object. That’s not your concern. What you need to understand is how dangerous this could be. As you said, we’re talking about five days. You could become trapped in time.”

“How likely is that?”

“If the risk were too high, I wouldn’t be offering it to you,” Dumbledore replied. “Still, the possibility exists. Do you understand? You must also know how significant the consequences of five days could be. If you encounter any issues, you are to find the version of me in the past. Don’t give me too many details—just show me the Time-Turner. I’ll understand.”

“I understand.”

“Then I will give this to you,” Dumbledore said, lifting the Time-Turner.

Harry reached for it immediately, but Dumbledore pulled his hand back, stopping him.

“But first, I have a condition,” Dumbledore said. “You must promise me.”

“A promise—anything you want—I promise, Professor. Just let me save him.”

“You must understand how dangerous it is to meddle with time. Even the smallest decision, a tiny change… it can have massive repercussions. Do you understand?”

Harry nodded, signalling that he did. He didn’t care.

“If you save him, the future might change in ways you can’t imagine. You must take responsibility for that.”

“Alright.”

“No matter what happens, no matter what changes, even if the future holds things you don’t like because of this decision, you must not blame yourself.”

“Professor, you’re confusing me. I just—I just want to bring him back.”

Dumbledore smiled faintly. “I know. And if you can, you will.”

“There’s a chance I might not be able to, isn’t there?”

“Of course. You must be careful. Make sure you’re not seen. Choose the time and place precisely. Don’t overlook even the smallest details. Do you understand? No one can know. You must return to the moment closest to the event you wish to change.”

“Alright,” Harry said. “I understand.”

“Do you fully understand what I’ve said?”

“Yes, Professor.”

“Now promise me: no matter what happens in the future, you won’t blame yourself. Promise me.”

Harry hesitated. “Do you know something?” he asked.

“There’s always a chance things won’t turn out the way you’d like, my boy. I don’t need to know anything specific,” Dumbledore replied. “Now promise me. You’ll save him and continue living as if none of this ever happened. You’ll tell no one.”

Part of Harry felt uneasy, but when it came to saving Draco, he didn’t hesitate. “I promise,” he said. “I’ll do whatever you say,” he added, extending his hand.

Dumbledore smiled and placed the Time-Turner in Harry’s hand. “Plan carefully,” he said. “You might need your Invisibility Cloak. Don’t forget.”

“Alright.”

“I wasn’t in my office at that time.”

“You mean—oh… I see, alright.”

Dumbledore turned and walked toward the door.

“Professor?”

“Yes, Harry?” he said, turning back.

“If I can—if I do it, will you remember?”

Dumbledore smiled. “I don’t know.”

Harry nodded, his eyes glistening with unshed tears. “If you don’t remember… thank you,” he said, holding up the Time-Turner. Though his vision was blurred, a bittersweet smile found its way to his face. “Thank you.”

Dumbledore smiled at him for a moment longer. Then he raised his hand, miming the action of turning the Time-Turner. “Good luck.”

After Dumbledore left, Harry saw the Invisibility Cloak draped over the back of a chair. Dumbledore must have considered this option earlier. Harry grabbed the cloak immediately and stared at the Time-Turner in his hand, lost in thought. A good plan…

He knew he needed to make a good plan, but his impatience was difficult to control. He thought of something simple: he would go back, make noise at the bathroom door during their argument, and stop the fight from escalating. Being invisible, he wouldn’t get caught. Past Draco and Harry would leave the bathroom, and that would be that. Simple but effective, Harry thought. No matter what, he would save Draco. That was his primary goal.

After going over his simple plan multiple times, he placed the Time-Turner around his neck and began turning it. He went back five days, setting it to eight minutes before the incident. Dumbledore had said to choose a time as close as possible, and Harry had settled on eight minutes.

Arriving in the past, Harry threw the Invisibility Cloak over himself and hurried out of Dumbledore’s office. Navigating the corridors carefully, he made his way to the boys’ bathroom on the sixth floor, avoiding bumping into anyone. His heart pounded wildly. The thought of saving Draco filled him with excitement, but it also terrified him. He struggled to control his emotions, afraid of failing.

When Harry finally reached the bathroom door, he thought his timing was perfect. As he considered how to intervene, he cracked the door open—and came face-to-face with the truth: he was too late.

“Sectumsempra!”

Through the gap in the door, Harry saw Draco’s body collapse to the floor. Then he watched himself kneel beside Draco, pleading desperately. Witnessing his own actions from an outside perspective—seeing himself as the murderer—tore Harry apart all over again. He had been too late. He’d had one chance, and he had failed.

Hearing footsteps in the corridor, Harry turned to see the professors approaching. On instinct, he stepped back a few paces. He was barely able to stand. He can’t… I can’t accept this… I can’t lose this chance like this.

He wouldn’t.

Harry turned the Time-Turner again, returning to what he thought was the right time. Then he turned it once more, going back a few minutes earlier this time. He ran faster through the corridors, positioning himself in a spot he thought would work better. Cracking the bathroom door open, Harry raised his wand and cast a spell at a random spot inside. The noise, meant to disrupt the argument, had no effect. Undeterred, Harry cast another spell, which shattered one of the sinks. Yet again, the tension between past Harry and Draco was too high for them to notice.

“Sectumsempra!”

And so, Draco died again before Harry’s eyes.

Unwilling to accept this outcome, Harry retreated to an obscure corner and returned to the future. He knew his chances were dwindling. With two versions of himself at the bathroom, he realized that staying there wasn’t the solution. He decided to try a different approach and went back to a point before Draco and Harry entered the bathroom.

Running through the corridors, he racked his brain for a new plan. Then he saw himself heading toward the bathroom corridor. Moments later, he spotted Snape. Harry, hidden under the Invisibility Cloak, froze in place. Snape…

In a split-second decision, Harry pulled back, removed the cloak, and stepped into the corridor. He stared directly at Snape. When Snape’s gaze locked onto Harry’s, he paused momentarily. Then Harry averted his eyes and turned away, walking off as if he were hiding something. Given that he was hiding something, it wasn’t hard to draw Snape’s suspicion.

When Harry disappeared from view, he threw the cloak back on and waited. As expected, Snape had followed him. Looking around carefully, Snape seemed to be questioning how Harry had vanished so quickly. Eventually, he continued walking down the corridor toward the bathroom. Harry thought he was about to fail again when Snape suddenly stopped, turned, and entered the bathroom.

Harry didn’t know what to expect and waited anxiously. Finally, Snape emerged, carrying Draco out of the bathroom. Harry held his breath.

Had it worked?

He needed to be sure. Without wasting time, Harry rushed back to Dumbledore’s office and returned to the future. After waiting a few minutes, he watched the version of himself from the past use the Time-Turner and leave. Then he removed his cloak, put the Time-Turner in his pocket, and left the office, running.

It was dinnertime, and Harry figured the Great Hall was where he needed to be.

As he ran frantically, he misjudged his speed while rounding a corner and collided hard with someone. He instinctively began to apologize but froze when he looked up and saw who it was: Draco.

“You’re alive…” Harry blurted out reflexively, causing Draco to frown. He looked at Harry with what seemed like genuine hatred.

“You sound disappointed, Potter. You must be upset you didn’t succeed last time.”

Harry didn’t care about Draco’s words. He struggled to exhale as tears threatened to spill. “You’re really alive,” he repeated, unable to stop himself.

“Yes,” Draco replied, his tone challenging as he glared at Harry. “But I don’t think the same will be true for you for much longer.”

Draco brushed past Harry, his shoulder hitting his as he walked away. When Draco was far enough away, the tears Harry had been holding back finally fell. He leaned against the wall, taking deep breaths, overwhelmed by a flood of emotions. He didn’t even notice his friends running toward him.

He had done it.

-

When Draco emerged from the memory again, he felt utterly drained. Witnessing Harry’s overwhelming emotions and reliving everything with him, from his perspective, had been far more intense than Draco had anticipated. It felt so much more vivid… and painful.

Until now, Draco had never fully understood Harry’s reaction in the corridor—the way he had said “You’re alive” with such disbelief. He hadn’t thought much of it. But now, he understood. He understood why Harry had seemed so shocked when they had met in the corridor, why he hadn’t lashed out despite Draco’s antagonistic remarks.

Draco understood Harry better now.

Chapter Text

Draco had far too much to think about, to process, and likely to never fully digest. His mind was a whirlwind of questions, curiosities, and conversations he needed to have with Harry. Everything had piled onto him at once, leaving him unable to focus on any one thing. A part of him wanted to scream and rage, to vent his frustration. Another part wanted to retreat to a corner and cry uncontrollably. He was trapped between a past he didn’t remember and the present day. Trying to make sense of the events from his perspective while simultaneously thinking of Harry was overwhelming for Draco. It felt as though he was carrying the weight of three people’s grief—past Harry’s, present Harry’s, and his own.

He needed time to sort through it all. He needed to talk to Harry. But for now, there was only one thing he wanted to do in this office—something he needed to learn. Lifting his head, he looked up at Dumbledore’s portrait.

“Ask away,” the portrait said.

“Did you know?”

Dumbledore smiled. “I’ve known many things, my boy. Which one are you referring to?”

“That you would die if I didn’t. I mean… was it because of me?”

“Oh, my dear child… I was already dying.”

Draco blinked in surprise. “I don’t understand,” he admitted.

“I’ve always been fond of thinking through possibilities and making plans for every eventuality. But, Draco, my death was never unexpected. Everything unfolded as it was meant to.”

“So, you knew,” Draco said, seeking confirmation. “That I was supposed to kill you, that I would…”

“No, I would never have let you kill me. I suspect you’ve seen for yourself what happens to an innocent child when they take a life. Carrying that weight is never easy, Draco. It takes a part of you.”

“Well… I couldn’t do it anyway. Professor Snape had to.”

“As I said,” Dumbledore replied, “everything unfolded as it was meant to.”

Draco’s face reflected a sudden realization, and he couldn’t mask his shock. Collecting himself, he swallowed and asked a new question that had risen in his mind.

“Does he know? I mean, does Harry know you were already dying? Or did he think… it was because of me?”

“He knows.”

Draco turned toward the new voice, his gaze landing on another portrait—Snape’s.

“Professor—”

“Hello, Draco.”

Draco hesitated, unsure what to say. Snape’s composure in the memories he had seen had unsettled him.

“When I gave him my memories before I died, he must have learned everything,” Snape explained.

“But that means…” Draco trailed off, piecing it together. “For a while, he didn’t know. He thought it was because of me.”

“Correct,” Dumbledore said. “He likely blamed himself for nearly a year.”

Draco closed his eyes and sighed deeply. When he opened them again, he turned to Snape’s portrait.

“Did you… Did you not care at all? When I—when I died…”

“I don’t remember that reality,” Snape replied. “But I must have cared, Draco—”

“Really? Because from what I saw, you treated me like an insect—”

“I probably acted as the situation demanded,” Snape cut in.

“Severus has his own unique way of showing his feelings,” Dumbledore interjected.

"And you're one to talk."

“I, too, have my unique ways-”

Their exchange was interrupted by the sharp sound of the door opening. Draco didn’t stay to listen; he left the room without a word.

-

After collapsing from exhaustion during the Duelling Club meeting, Harry had been dragged to the hospital wing by his friends. Madam Pomfrey had only let him leave on the condition that he drink a restorative potion. Draco hadn’t attended the meeting, and Harry, unable to find him in the common room or at dinner, felt uneasy. Overwhelmed by the stifling atmosphere indoors, he escaped outside immediately after eating, heading for his usual spot by the lake despite the cold weather.

Leaning against the tree, Harry stared out at the lake, a strange restlessness gnawing at him. The emptiness in his soul felt sharper than ever, and he didn’t know how much longer he could endure it.

Lost in thought, he heard footsteps approaching and turned toward the castle. For a moment, he held his breath as he saw Draco walking quickly toward him. Their eyes met, and Draco stopped a short distance away, hesitation written all over his face. He seemed unsure whether to approach, his uncertainty plain in his expression. Then Harry noticed Draco’s eyes glistening with unshed tears.

“You’ve seen it,” Harry said, unable to hide the anxiety in his voice. As the words left his mouth, Harry’s own eyes filled with tears. Fear gripped him, but he forced himself not to cry. The moment of truth had come.

Draco nodded slowly, the ache in his chest intensifying with every passing second. He didn’t know how to ease the pain in his heart or silence the memories in his mind. He didn’t even know what to say to Harry. He knew nothing. So, in that moment, Draco followed his instincts. He approached Harry, sat down beside him, and wrapped his arms tightly around him. The tears he’d been holding back spilled over, and he began to sob uncontrollably.

Harry was stunned. This wasn’t the reaction he had expected. He’d thought Draco would yell, scream, and pour out his hatred. He’d expected Draco to call him a murderer to his face. But instead, Draco held him tightly, as if he needed nothing more than this embrace.

“Hold me,” Draco murmured between sobs. “I saw it—I saw it all… Just hold me, Harry. Please—”

When Harry’s arms encircled him, Draco fell silent. He clung to Harry, wishing desperately to shed all the weight that had fallen onto him in a single evening. All of it. He knew what had happened, knew everything, but as he had told Harry, that reality wasn’t his. It felt like a nightmare—a haunting one, but a nightmare nonetheless. At least, for Draco.

What hurt Draco the most was not his own death but the burden Harry had carried because of it. It was the weight of the cruel words Draco had flung at him in his final moments, the lengths Harry had gone to fix things, and the sacrifice he had made.

Without pulling away, Draco whispered, “I’m sorry. I’m sorry for what you had to go through.”

“No,” Harry said. “Don’t apologize to me. I’m the one who should apologize. You… you didn’t do anything wrong—”

“I did. I was so—so cruel. The things I said—”

“No,” Harry interrupted again. “You were right. I wasn’t a hero. I was terrible.”

Summoning his courage, Draco pulled back slightly and looked into Harry’s eyes. Neither pair of eyes was entirely clear, both filled with unshed tears, but Draco didn’t care.

“I love you, Harry,” he said. “I love you. What I saw doesn’t change that. It didn’t.”

Hearing those words, the tears Harry had been holding back flowed freely. For so long, he’d believed that Draco would hate him, that he could never deserve his love, that he could never earn it. If Draco hadn’t seen the memories, Harry would have continued believing that. But the Draco in front of him—the one who had seen everything, who knew everything—still loved him.

“You really saw it,” Harry said through his tears.

Draco nodded.

“You saw it, and you don’t hate me.”

Draco shook his head.

Harry leaned forward and hugged Draco tightly, resting his forehead on Draco’s shoulder as he closed his eyes. “I never wanted to hurt you,” he whispered, guilt evident in his voice. “I loved you. I just wanted to find a way to help you. I loved you so much. I still do—”

“I know,” Draco said. “Though I don’t think I’ll ever fully understand why. What you saw in me—why you love me—”

Harry leaned back slightly, and for the first time in what felt like forever, he did something for himself. He kissed Draco.

When Draco felt Harry’s lips on his, he closed his eyes and kissed back without hesitation. His hand moved to the back of Harry’s neck as if to ensure he wouldn’t pull away. But Harry had no intention of doing so. Instead, he parted his lips, letting the kiss deepen.

Their lips and breaths intermingled as if their very souls were merging. It felt like Draco’s soul completed Harry’s. For the first time since losing a part of his own soul, Harry felt whole—entirely, utterly whole.

When the kiss ended, Draco rested his forehead against Harry’s. Harry, unaware that he was smiling, felt warmth blooming inside him. A part of him still wanted to cry, but he was smiling—because, for once, he could. Because this smile wasn’t forced or fake. For the first time in ages, Harry felt truly happy.

Seeing Harry’s smile, Draco couldn’t help but smile in return. “I’ll make sure you always smile like that,” he murmured. Then, placing his hands on Harry’s cheeks, he added, “I won’t let you hate yourself. And if there’s a way—no, don’t interrupt—if there’s a way to return your soul—”

Harry, wanting to preserve the moment, nodded instead of arguing. He knew Draco would eventually accept that there was no way to undo what had been done. If searching for a solution gave him peace, Harry would let him. As long as Draco didn’t hate him, Harry could endure feeling incomplete for the rest of his life.

Draco let out a deep sigh. “We have a lot to talk about,” he said. “The spell you cast wasn’t in the memories.”

“I didn’t think it was necessary,” Harry replied.

“I still want to see it,” Draco said. “But not now. Right now, I just want to stay here with you.”

“Alright,” Harry agreed, though he still felt a little unsure. Part of him worried Draco might lash out at any moment.

Draco shifted to lie down, resting his head on Harry’s lap. Harry stared down at him, swallowing hard. The last time he had seen Draco like this was in the bathroom—and Draco had been dead.

“I know what you’re thinking,” Draco said with a small smile. “Don’t.”

It wasn’t easy, but Harry nodded slowly. He understood what Draco was trying to do. Thinking about that time was hard for him, but he had to try. Draco was alive, not dead. There was no problem now.

Breaking the silence, Draco said, “Just to clarify…” He trailed off. “So- you love me?”

Harry smiled faintly and nodded. “Guessless,” he said softly.

Draco, recalling his own confession, found himself grinning. Then his expression turned serious. “So I have a place in your heart?”

This time, Harry grew serious too. He took a deep breath and said, “If I had to give my heart in place of my soul—”

“Stop,” Draco interrupted. “Don’t go there, or I’ll get angry.”

Silence fell between them, only occasionally interrupted by their soft breathing.

“You look tired,” Draco eventually said, reaching up to touch Harry’s face. “I’m sorry. It’s my fault you lost that duel indirectly…”

“It’s fine. I can’t win every time.”

“How long has it been since you slept?”

Harry shrugged. “I sleep,” he said nonchalantly.

“Is that why you look like this?”

“I’m fine, really. I’ve just been… worried.”

“About my reaction,” Draco said knowingly, looking at him expectantly. Harry nodded.

“Was it what you expected?”

“Not really,” Harry admitted. “I’m still expecting you to get angry. I’m still scared.”

Draco understood why Harry felt that way and gave him a small smile. Then, without saying anything, he sat up. “Let’s go. You need to sleep. And besides, my arse is freezing out here. Come on.”

Draco stood, brushing off his robes, but Harry didn’t move. Draco waited for a moment, but nothing happened.

“I’m talking to you, Potter.”

Harry seemed lost, staring out at the lake in thought.

“Potter. Harry.”

Harry blinked and looked up at Draco. “Usually, we use the name first, but whatever works for you,” he joked, attempting to stand. When Draco offered his hand, Harry took it, using it for support as he got to his feet.

“If you’d left me hanging again, it would’ve been bad.”

“What?”

“My hand,” Draco clarified. “If you’d left it hanging again—what? Why are you laughing?”

Harry chuckled. “Nothing,” he said as he started walking. Unconsciously, he continued holding Draco’s hand. Draco didn’t say anything about it.

They walked silently back to the castle, entering the building as Draco noticed Harry sighing quietly.

“What?” Draco asked.

“Nothing, it’s fine.”

Draco narrowed his eyes. “It’s the ‘I killed you’ thing again, isn’t it?”

Harry didn’t reply, but his expression gave him away.

“Do I look dead to you?” Draco asked, spreading one arm wide. He kept the other arm by his side, as Harry still hadn’t let go of his hand. “Besides, if we’re talking about half-souled people, you’re more dead than I am. Do I complain?”

Harry raised an eyebrow questioningly.

“Okay, maybe I complained once or twice.”

Harry laughed.

“Let’s just be ‘reunited lovers’ tonight, please,” Draco said, resuming their walk. “We can talk about whatever you want tomorrow. I’ll convince you of anything you need convincing of.”

-

When they entered the common room, all eyes turned to them, and a sudden hush fell over the room. Even their friends—Ron, Hermione, Blaise, and Pansy—looked shocked, though their expressions leaned more toward wondering how they’d resolved the ‘murder problem.’ The others, however, were focused on the fact that Harry and Draco had entered holding hands.

“Save your questions for later,” Draco said, ignoring the stares. “Someone needs to rest.”

Harry didn’t argue because Draco was right—he did need rest. He felt drained, exhausted, and sleep-deprived. So, he followed Draco’s lead toward the dormitories.

“Um… the game tomorrow…” Dean began hesitantly, but a warning glance from Ron silenced him.

Harry stopped, turning back to his friends with a confused look. “The game?” he asked.

“The one against Hufflepuff,” Ron explained. “But I don’t think you need to worry about it, mate. You don’t have to play. Just focus on recovering. We can manage one game without you—”

“No, it’s fine. I’ll play.”

“Are you sure—”

“Don’t worry, I’m fine.” Harry smiled, hoping to reassure them. “I’m not planning on missing the game.”

Ron hesitated, then said, “Alright.”

“Unless you think I won’t be able to catch the Snitch—”

“Don’t be ridiculous!”

Harry chuckled at Ron’s sudden outburst. “Goodnight,” he said, turning back and walking off with Draco.

As they headed toward the dormitories, Draco muttered sarcastically, “Oh no, don’t miss it. Hufflepuff, of all teams—don’t miss that.”

Instead of responding, Harry rolled his eyes. Draco’s ability to hold onto certain grudges might outlast even Harry’s own guilt about the past. It was hard to predict what Draco might fixate on next.

When they reached the door to the room Harry shared with Ron, Draco said, “I’ll be there in a bit, after I change.”

“Alright,” Harry replied. He let go of Draco’s hand and opened the door.

But before Harry could enter, Draco grabbed his hand again, pulled him back, and kissed him lightly on the lips. “I’ll be there,” he said.

Harry, startled, smiled faintly. “Okay,” he repeated.

Draco smirked. “Okay to you,” he said, finally letting go of Harry’s hand and heading toward his own room.

Despite returning to his soulless state, Harry’s smile lingered. Knowing Draco loved him seemed to fill the void left by his lost soul. At least psychologically. Otherwise, death still whispered to him, calling him softly. But aside from that, everything seemed too good to be true.

Draco didn’t hate him.

-

Later that night, Ron returned to the room, carefully cracking the door open and peeking inside. When he looked at Harry’s bed, he was torn between shock and horror. Draco was clinging to Harry like a koala, his head resting on Harry’s chest, holding onto him tightly as if to prevent him from escaping. Harry’s arm was draped over Draco’s back, and he appeared to be sleeping peacefully.

Ron was about to retreat when Hermione nudged past him, peeking into the room herself. Unlike Ron, Hermione was pleased with the sight and smiled immediately.

As Ron and Hermione quietly observed through the small gap, Pansy pushed past them, eager to see what they were looking at. “Move over,” she whispered. “I can’t see!”

“Shh!” Hermione hissed, warning her to stay quiet. But Hermione was forced to take a step forward, giving Pansy room.

When Pansy finally saw Harry and Draco, she froze. Unsure how to react, she turned and grabbed Blaise by the arm, pulling him over.

“How are we supposed to react to this?” she whispered.

Blaise glanced at the sleeping pair. “I’m pretty sure we’re not supposed to be watching like creeps,” he replied.

“Be quiet!” Ron snapped in a whisper. “I don’t think I want to see them awake!”

Their hushed argument devolved into jostling, and they ended up so close together that they lost their balance. In the ensuing scuffle, all three of them fell to the floor in a heap, with Hermione narrowly avoiding joining them.

“I’ll curse all of you unless you quietly leave. Now.”

The voice that broke the silence belonged to Draco. The group froze, feeling like thieves caught in the act.

Draco’s quiet yet sharp “Now!” snapped them into action, and they quickly scrambled to their feet, bumping into each other as they retreated from the room. Once outside, they exchanged awkward looks, unsure what to do next.

Hermione was the first to break the silence. “Goodnight,” she said, walking away.

“As good as it can be,” Pansy muttered before leaving as well.

“Well, goodnight, Weasley,” Blaise said, turning to leave.

Before Blaise could walk away, Ron hesitated and called out, “Zabini… uh…”

Blaise, realizing what Ron wanted to ask, chuckled. “You can come with me,” he said, sparing Ron the need to ask outright.

“Thanks,” Ron said. “I don’t think I want to see more of that.” He followed Blaise down the hall.

-

The Quidditch match began rather uneventfully—at least for everyone except Draco. Hufflepuff’s Seeker was Nathaniel, which put Draco in a foul mood. Sitting with Blaise and Pansy, his scowl was so severe that it amused his friends.

Meanwhile, Harry flew around the pitch, searching for the Snitch. Occasionally, he crossed paths with Nathaniel, exchanging a few words before refocusing on the game. This went on for about ten minutes.

When the Snitch finally appeared, Harry was the first to spot it and gave chase, with Nathaniel not far behind. The spectators erupted as they noticed the sudden activity from the Seekers.

The Snitch seemed intent on evading capture, but Harry was determined not to lose it. His focus was unwavering as he pursued the elusive golden ball.

For the first time, Draco found himself rooting for Harry to catch the Snitch—quickly. The sooner the match ended, the better. He couldn’t stand watching Nathaniel for much longer.

Finally, Draco got his wish. With a swift move, Harry caught the Snitch, prompting an uproar from the crowd. Draco’s scowl turned into a satisfied smirk.

But then…

Harry suddenly hovered mid-air on his broomstick, swaying unsteadily before tilting to the side and falling.

Nathaniel, who had been nearby during the Snitch chase, reacted immediately. He dived after Harry, grabbing him by the arm and continuing to descend until he could safely lower him onto the grass.

When Nathaniel realized Harry was unconscious, the other players quickly gathered around them. The first to arrive was a frantic Ron.

Everything had happened so fast that Draco, unsure what to do, rushed onto the pitch. He pushed through the crowd and ran to Harry’s side. Dropping to his knees, he tried to assess Harry’s condition.

He felt a surge of anger rising within him and looked up, scanning the crowd. Someone must have hexed Harry—just like last time. His eyes locked onto Ron’s, and he saw the same suspicion mirrored there.

But their immediate priority was Harry’s safety. They needed to get him to the hospital wing as quickly as possible.

-

In the hospital wing, Harry remained unconscious as Madam Pomfrey tended to him. Everyone else was asked to wait outside, leaving the group standing anxiously by the door.

“Who could’ve done this?” Ron asked.

Draco turned to him. “I don’t know, but when I find out, they’ll regret it.”

“I didn’t see anyone,” Hermione said. “As soon as Harry started falling, I was watching the crowd around you.”

“Maybe—”

“Children.”

Ron’s sentence was cut off by Professor McGonagall, who stood at the end of the corridor. She hadn’t approached them but motioned for them to follow.

“Come with me, all of you.”

“But Harry—”

“Madam Pomfrey is taking care of him,” McGonagall said, turning to walk away. The group had no choice but to follow.

When they entered the headmistress’s office, the air was thick with tension. They all wanted to be by Harry’s side and felt uneasy being away from him. But none of them dared say anything that might anger McGonagall.

“I’ve been conducting extensive research ever since Potter told me about the spell he cast,” McGonagall began. “With the support of Minister Shacklebolt, I’ve accessed Ministry and St. Mungo’s records.”

A brief silence followed.

“I know what’s happening to Potter.”

The room grew even quieter as they awaited her explanation. McGonagall’s face betrayed her worry, and it was clear she was struggling with what she had to say.

Finally, breaking the heavy silence, she revealed the truth.

“He’s dying.”

Chapter Text

McGonagall’s single-word explanation was followed by an utter, deathly silence. Ron, Hermione, and Draco hadn’t yet fully processed what they had just heard. None of them could truly fathom the possibility that Harry might actually be dying. Perhaps that was why they remained silent for a short while, waiting for McGonagall to say something else.

Finally, Ron broke the silence. “I believe that a slip of the tongue has crept in here,” he said, his voice tinged with disbelief.

McGonagall didn’t feel the need to respond. She understood their shock and knew it would take time for them to grasp the seriousness of the situation.

“The person who will provide you with the details is on his way,” she said calmly. “He’ll be here shortly—”

“You’re asking us to just sit here quietly after saying something like that?” Draco interrupted. “You’re telling us that Harry is dying, Professor.”

“You might be joking, right?” Ron asked, his tone almost desperate. “I mean, we’re talking about Harry. Harry doesn’t die—unless, of course, he’s going to come back again…”

“There must be something we can do, right?” Hermione interjected. “I mean, his condition might be worsening, but surely there’s a solution. That’s why you’ve brought us here, isn’t it?”

Harry Potter is dying.

To those in the room, the sentence felt utterly meaningless. It was as if Harry Potter couldn’t die—as if it was simply impossible. This belief was so deeply ingrained in their minds that they still couldn’t fully react. One thought it must be a joke, another that there had to be a solution if it was real, while the third refused to even entertain the thought without all the details.

“Children—”

McGonagall’s words were cut short by the opening of the office door. An older man entered, his white hair and trimmed beard giving him an air of wisdom and charisma despite his age, which appeared to be in his mid-sixties.

“Ah—Healer Mercurius! Please, come in.”

The man stepped into the centre of the room. “Headmistress,” he greeted McGonagall with a handshake. “I apologize for being late. When I heard that Mr. Potter’s condition had worsened, I stopped by the hospital wing first.”

McGonagall nodded approvingly before turning to the students. “This is Healer Mercurius, the grandfather of your classmate Aetius and the new Chief Healer at St. Mungo’s,” she introduced quickly.

“Are you finally going to explain what’s happening?” Draco asked, clearly unimpressed by formalities.

“I’m afraid the situation is bad,” Healer Mercurius said bluntly. “The spell Mr. Potter cast is one of the long-banned spells, and all books containing it were confiscated long ago. I’m certain it has caused many deaths, though we only have records of three cases linked to it at St. Mungo’s. In one case, the caster died as soon as the person they were trying to protect faced death. The other two people’s death were slower—gradual…”

He paused briefly.

“I encountered one of these cases early in my career. The patient died within a few years of casting the spell. According to our records, the initial symptoms include soullessness: coldness, joylessness, and an inability to find pleasure in anything. Then, the records say, they began talking to themselves. That’s one of the signs they’ve begun crossing over to the other side. They start hearing the voices of deceased family members and friends, experiencing brief moments of otherworldly connection. Over time, they grow weaker and weaker until… Until they die,” he finished gravely.

“Rubbish.”

All eyes immediately turned to Draco, whose expression made it clear that he wasn’t satisfied with what he’d heard.

“This is complete rubbish,” he repeated. “You’re saying he’s getting weaker, and yet there’s no way to heal him? That’s nonsense.”

“Yes—exactly,” Ron chimed in. “Let’s do something! Let’s fix this! He felt better when Malfoy was around—”

“I won’t leave his side,” Draco interrupted firmly. “If that’s what it takes, I’ll stay with him until we find a real solution.”

Hermione said nothing. Unlike the other two, she fully grasped the gravity of the situation and couldn’t bring herself to speak. The idea that Harry was truly going to die echoed in her mind, and she could feel tears threatening to spill.

Healer Mercurius took a deep breath, exhaling slowly before turning to McGonagall. He understood that the students would struggle to accept the reality of the situation. Carefully choosing his words, he began speaking in the calmest tone he could manage.

“Listen to me, children,” he said. “Some spells, especially ones as powerful as this, come with severe consequences. Understanding them, and even more so controlling them, isn’t as straightforward as you might think. Spells like these often have complexities that can’t be fully explained on parchment because they’re unpredictable, boundless, and subject to change depending on circumstances. Some spells, like certain objects or oaths, possess their own souls.”

He paused briefly.

“This spell that Mr. Potter cast might appear on paper as a powerful protective spell. Put simply, a part of his soul now acts as a shield around Mr. Malfoy, protecting him. When you think about it like that, it seems simple. And the idea that Mr. Potter has to die may seem absurd. After all, he’s managed to live this long with half a soul. We even know that bodiless souls can exist for years—so why not Mr. Potter, right? I know that’s what you’re thinking.”

Healer Mercurius spoke slowly, giving them time to process each word.

“But this spell, while it is an act of sacrifice, is at its core a pact with death itself. To protect someone by giving up a part of your soul requires immense strength of character and spirit. And death never says no to such a soul. By casting this spell, Mr. Potter not only gave a piece of his soul to Mr. Malfoy but also essentially promised the rest to death. Death, in turn, agreed to spare Mr. Malfoy and protect him in times of danger. But when the time comes, it will claim the soul that was promised. Death does not hesitate to take what is owed.”

“Why now?” Hermione asked, her voice trembling. “Why is it happening now? What’s changed?”

“Mr. Malfoy is no longer in danger, is he? Mr. Potter no longer feels the need to protect him. While the spell was active, Mr. Potter paid its price by constantly feeling death’s presence and enduring pain. But now, he’s no longer paying that price. Now, he’s happy—despite the spell, he’s happy. Which means death has fulfilled its side of the bargain. Mr. Potter no longer has a reason strong enough to fight off death, and death knows it. It’s come to collect what it’s owed.”

Hermione was already crying. Ron was too shocked to speak. And Draco…

“It’s because of me…”

“Malfoy—”

“It’s all because of me,” Draco repeated, pacing the room as the truth sank in. “He’s dying because of me. Damn it! This is—this is complete nonsense!” He shouted in anger, his gaze fixed on the Healer. “Nonsense! Do you understand me?! I won’t just accept this!”

Draco turned sharply and headed for the door, but Ron stepped in front of him at the last second.

“Get a grip—”

“Get out of my way, Weasley!”

Draco tried to push past him, but Ron shoved him back with both hands, forcing him to stumble a few steps. Ron, barely holding back tears himself, started shouting.

“Enough! Yes, he’s in this situation because he wanted to protect you, but we can’t change that! We need to focus on finding a solution, and if there’s a way, we’ll find it together!”

Draco, breathing heavily with anger, locked eyes with Ron. He was clearly fighting to keep his composure.

“You might love him, Malfoy. You might be upset, but I’m just as upset as you are. He’s my brother, and I’ll do whatever it takes to save him. We need to think clearly. We need to work together. Do you understand me? We’ll figure it out together.”

“Ron’s right,” Hermione said, wiping her tears on her sleeve. She turned to Healer Mercurius. “You said spells like this have complexities. It doesn’t have to end like the others. There has to be a way—there has to.”

“We’ve been through so much,” Ron added. “Harry’s been through so much. If anyone can get through this, it’s Harry.”

Though Healer Mercurius didn’t look hopeful, he said, “I’ll continue researching on Mr. Potter’s behalf.”

A heavy silence fell over the room. All eyes were on Draco. He seemed to be fighting to suppress his emotions, his anger overshadowing his sadness. He wasn’t crying—he was far from it. The cold weight of helplessness hadn’t yet settled in.

“Harry won’t know,” Draco finally said, breaking the silence. “He’s been unhappy enough, suffered enough. Whatever we do, we’ll do it without telling him.”

He glanced at Ron and Hermione before lifting his head slightly to look at Dumbledore’s portrait. Dumbledore cast Draco a sorrowful glance before lowering his head and silently leaving the frame.

Draco didn’t say another word. Ignoring anyone who might try to stop him, he left the office and walked swiftly down the corridors toward the hospital wing. In the hallway outside, a group of students—including Blaise, Pansy, and Nathaniel—were gathered, waiting for Madam Pomfrey to allow them inside. But Draco paid them no mind as he headed straight for the large doors at the end of the corridor.

“Draco,” Pansy called out. “Madam Pomfrey won’t—”

Draco pushed open the doors and entered, closing them behind him.

“Finally,” Harry said, sitting up in bed. When he saw Draco, he stood immediately. “Madam Pomfrey kept telling me to wait. I tried to convince her that I’m fine, but—”

Draco’s sudden embrace cut Harry off mid-sentence. Not that he minded. With his soul restored, Harry’s face lit up with a broad smile.

“I’m fine—”

“I know,” Draco said, pulling back slightly to look at Harry’s face. “I suppose Madam Pomfrey is still upset that you didn’t rest properly last time,” he added with a small smile before hugging Harry again.

As they stood in the middle of the room, the door opened once more. Harry stepped back slightly to see who had entered. It was Ron and Hermione, both trying their best to appear normal.

“Oh, you’re alright, mate!”

“Why are you standing? You should be resting.”

“There’s nothing wrong with me,” Harry said, chuckling. “What’s with the faces?” His tone shifted to seriousness. “Wait—did we lose the match?”

“Oh, no, you caught the Snitch just before you fainted,” Ron explained.

“Good. I’d have been devastated if you lost to Hufflepuff.”

Draco’s comment made everyone laugh. He had to ensure Harry didn’t sense any tension in the room.

“Speaking of Hufflepuff,” Hermione said, “Nathaniel’s outside. He wants to see you.”

“Oh, let him in,” Harry said, grinning. “He must be worried.”

Draco rolled his eyes and shot Harry a pointed look. “Are you testing me?”

“No, I just—” Harry’s voice faltered as he swayed slightly. Unaware he was losing his balance, he was caught by Draco and Ron at the same time.

“What happened?” Ron asked worriedly.

“Nothing—I’m fine. Just got dizzy for a second.”

“Here,” Draco said, guiding him back to the bed. “Lie down for a bit.”

“I’m fine—”

“Why on earth are you standing?!”

Madam Pomfrey’s voice made them all turn. She approached, carrying a bottle of potion.

“Do you even realize how close you were to danger last time? You left too early, and then you went straight to a Quidditch match—utter madness!”

Unwilling to argue with her, Harry lay back on the bed and allowed her to administer the potion.

“You’ll stay here tonight,” she said firmly, then turned to the others. “And none of you will tire him out. Whoever’s outside can come in, but everyone must leave in five minutes. Understood?”

As instructed, the students waiting outside were allowed in. They chatted, cracked jokes, and asked after Harry’s well-being. Madam Pomfrey then promptly ushered them out, leaving only Ron, Hermione, and Draco.

They had dinner together in the hospital wing and stayed up talking late into the night. At one point, Harry became convinced that someone had hexed him and that his friends were hiding it from him. It took a long time to persuade him otherwise. Around midnight, they left so Harry could rest.

On the way to the dormitory, Draco separated from Ron and Hermione, taking a different route. He wanted to be alone. He needed to think.

But he had chosen the worst possible place. His feet had taken him to the boys’ bathroom on the sixth floor—the very place he had seen himself die just the night before.

As soon as he stepped inside, an eerie feeling swept over him, and he began to shiver. He thought about Harry’s memories, the events of that day, what they had led to, Harry’s journey back in time, and the sacrifices he had made.

And then he began to cry. The tears he had held back all day, so Harry wouldn’t see, finally broke free, falling uncontrollably.

Chapter Text

Draco looked around, unable to stop his tears. Despite his blurred vision, the events of the past came alive vividly in his mind. Harry’s memories were still fresh, too raw to ignore.

This was the place where he had died.

And, for a fleeting moment, he wished he had stayed dead.

His lifeless body lay just a step away in his mind’s eye, and Harry’s desperate cries for help echoed in his ears. Remembering his own final words before his death hurt Draco perhaps even more than it hurt Harry. The sight of his body being carried away, Harry’s refusal to leave his side, and everything that had happened afterward…

He turned his head slightly, glancing toward the door. He imagined Harry’s past versions there, desperately trying to save him.

If only they had failed.

Was there something selfish about that thought? Perhaps if Harry hadn’t managed to save him, things would have been worse. Yet even without knowing this for certain, Draco was ready to berate himself for wishing he had died. Harry’s impending death was enough for Draco to blame himself for everything—for causing all of it, for failing to protect him, and for being unable to find a way to save him now.

His gaze wandered until it caught his reflection in the mirror. Draco held his breath, pausing for a few seconds before walking to the sink. Staring at his reflection, he gripped the edges of the sink tightly for support, just as he had that day.

“Would you like to talk about it?”

Draco jumped at the voice, turning around sharply. “Myrtle.”

Moaning Myrtle floated around the bathroom, eventually stopping in front of him. “It’s been so long since you’ve come by,” she said, sounding as though she’d missed him. “How are you?”

Draco wiped his tears on his sleeve and averted his gaze. Normally, talking to Myrtle might have helped, but in his current state, the only thing that could truly help him was for Harry to be alright.

“He comes here from time to time,” Myrtle added, remaining where she was.

Draco frowned in confusion. “Who?”

“Harry Potter,” Myrtle explained, floating near the sinks again. “Since that incident, he comes here every now and then.”

Draco swallowed hard, his eyes following Myrtle as she moved. “What does he do?”

“He cries,” she replied with a shrug. “Just like you…” Then she floated to a corner of the bathroom, stopping at the spot where Harry had sat after Draco’s body was taken away. “He sits here and cries. Then he leaves.”

Draco didn’t respond. Slowly, he walked to the spot Myrtle had pointed to, sat down, and leaned against the wall. Tears began streaming down his face once more, unchecked.

He was starting to understand why Harry had gone to the Forbidden Forest that night. The helplessness surrounding death—it must take you back to the time when you felt most powerless.

-

Harry was still fast asleep when a wave of emotions stirred him awake. Opening his eyes, he realized he was still in the hospital wing, though he wasn’t alone. Draco was sitting on a chair by the bed, leaning forward with his head bowed, eyes closed. One of his hands rested on Harry’s leg.

What had woken Harry wasn’t noise but a sense of completeness in his soul—just like the night he had awoken in the hospital wing after Burke’s attack. Back then, Draco holding his hand had begun to restore his fragmented soul, pulling him out of unconsciousness.

Harry didn’t know how much time was left until sunrise or when exactly Draco had arrived. While he’d have preferred Draco to be resting comfortably in his own bed, a part of him couldn’t help feeling happy to see him there. Harry decided he could wait a little longer before waking Draco and sending him off.

Minutes passed in a heavy silence before Draco stirred. Slowly, he lifted his head and blinked as his eyes met Harry’s awake gaze. A smile immediately spread across his face.

“Good morning, Malfoy.”

“Good morning, Potter.”

“What are you doing here? I thought you left with the others.”

Draco shrugged. “I did,” he admitted. “Then I came back.”

Harry chuckled. “I can see that. How about you go back to bed now? I’m fine—you’ll see me in the morning.”

“No.”

“But—”

“Before you start insisting, let me make it clear: I have no intention of leaving.”

Harry sighed deeply. “In that case,” he said, “there’s only one thing to do.”

Draco raised his eyebrows, curious.

Harry gestured toward the empty bed beside his. “You’re going to lie down and sleep.”

Draco looked at the bed, then back at Harry. “I’ve got a better idea,” he said as he stood, pulling the blanket off Harry. “Move over.”

A surprised smile spread across Harry’s face, but he didn’t feel like arguing. Without hesitation, he shifted to one side, making room for Draco. As Draco lay down beside him, Harry watched his face closely.

“What’s wrong?”

Draco replied calmly, “Nothing.”

“Really? You look like you’re about to cry.”

Draco instinctively averted his gaze. “You’re imagining things,” he said, though he turned onto his back and stared at the ceiling, hoping Harry wouldn’t notice his watery eyes.

Harry propped himself up on his elbow, leaning over Draco for a better look. “Are you sure?”

“I’m sure,” Draco said firmly. But after a moment, he exhaled deeply. “Maybe I’m just… emotional or something. I don’t know.”

Harry gave him a soft smile, placing a hand on Draco’s cheek before leaning down to kiss him. The kiss was long and tender, with Draco responding without hesitation. When Harry pulled away, he noticed tears streaming down Draco’s face.

“You’re crying while I’m finally able to smile,” Harry whispered, still smiling. “At least tell me they’re happy tears.”

Draco let out a quiet laugh, nodding through his tears. “They are.”

Relieved, Harry rested his head back on the pillow. Draco turned to face him, this time not avoiding his gaze.

“You look like you have something to ask,” Harry said.

Draco hesitated briefly before speaking. “Did I hurt you?” he asked quietly. “That night here when you told me it was you who cast the spell…”

Harry smiled. “No.”

“Are you sure? I mean, I was shocked. I wasn’t expecting it, and—”

“I wasn’t hurt, and I wasn’t angry.”

“Why not?”

“Because I had no right to be,” Harry said simply. “I was upset, yes, but whatever your reaction had been, I would’ve had to accept it.”

Draco nodded slightly; his understanding evident. “Still,” he murmured, “I’m sorry for upsetting you.”

“Don’t be,” Harry replied, running his fingers through Draco’s hair. “You didn’t do anything worth apologizing for.”

Draco didn’t respond with words. Instead, he leaned in to kiss Harry. With his mind full of tumultuous thoughts and the looming shadow of Harry’s mortality messing with his emotions, the kiss offered Draco a moment of peace—a brief escape from the darkness.

When their lips parted, Draco could still feel Harry’s warm breath against his own. “I love you, Potter,” he whispered.

Harry smiled without opening his eyes. “I love you too, Malfoy.” After a brief pause, his smile widened. “Guessless.”

Draco chuckled, settling his head on the pillow as he pulled Harry into his arms. Closing his eyes, he murmured, “Goodnight, Harry.”

“Goodnight, Draco.” A moment of silence followed before Harry added, “If you cry, I’ll hear it.”

“You’re stealing my lines tonight; don’t think I haven’t noticed.”

-

The following morning, Ron and Hermione arrived at the hospital wing early, looking exhausted from a sleepless night. As they entered, they found Harry and Draco still asleep. Unsure of what to do, they stood awkwardly for a moment before deciding to leave and come back later.

However, as they turned toward the door, Harry’s voice stopped them.

“Where are you sneaking off to?”

Seeing Harry awake and in good spirits brought immediate smiles to their faces.

“We thought we’d come back later,” Ron replied.

“That would’ve been great,” Draco muttered without opening his eyes, pressing a kiss to Harry’s cheek. “Good morning.”

Ron, who would have normally looked away or made a sarcastic remark, said nothing this time. Instead, he seemed surprisingly composed.

Hermione asked, “Are you feeling better?”

Harry, still grinning from Draco’s affectionate gesture, replied, “I’m perfectly fine. I just need Madam Pomfrey to release me.”

Draco yawned as he opened his eyes, stretching leisurely before getting out of bed. “Don’t get your hopes up just yet. She might make you stay longer.”

Harry frowned, sitting up. “No one can keep me here for another night.”

“Was it such a boring night?” Draco teased, a mischievous glint in his eye.

“What? No! I didn’t mean it like that-”

“It sounded like that to me.”

Unsure how to respond to Draco’s feigned seriousness, Harry stammered, “I just meant I don’t want to be stuck in the hospital wing anymore.”

Unable to keep a straight face, Draco laughed. “I know.”

Harry grabbed a pillow and hurled it at him. “You—”

“Children! Is this a playground?”

Madam Pomfrey’s arrival cut off their playful banter. Draco placed the pillow back on the bed, trying to suppress a smirk. “Sorry.”

“Good timing,” Harry said, turning to Madam Pomfrey. “Since you’re here, can I leave now?”

Hermione chimed in, “We’ll wait outside,” before heading for the door with Ron. Draco hesitated for a moment but ultimately followed them out.

Alone with Harry, Madam Pomfrey conducted a thorough examination. After a few minutes, she handed him a small potion bottle. “Take one sip before bed tonight. Otherwise, you’re free to go.”

Harry accepted the bottle. “What’s this for?”

“It’s just to restore your energy. It seems the effects of the spell are still lingering. This will help.”

“Thank you,” Harry said as he got up. “Finally. Let’s go.”

“Do me a favour and try not to end up back here anytime soon,” Madam Pomfrey said, a hint of exasperation in her tone. “You have a habit of making this place your second home, you know.”

Harry laughed lightly. “I’ll do my best.”

-

When Draco joined Ron and Hermione in the corridor, he found them deep in conversation. Ron noticed Draco and gestured for him to come closer.

“What’s the plan?” Draco asked.

“We don’t know yet,” Ron admitted. “We spent the whole night thinking and researching, but… nothing.”

“I have an idea,” Hermione said hesitantly. “It’s not a guarantee, but…”

“Just say it,” Draco urged.

“Nathaniel’s grandfather,” Hermione explained. “He has an extensive library and invaluable resources. Nathaniel once told me they’ve been collecting rare books for generations. He’s even lent me a few ancient texts. I was thinking… maybe we could ask him?”

Ron glanced at Draco, gauging his reaction. He was well aware of Draco’s attitude toward Nathaniel.

To everyone’s surprise, Draco nodded. “Good idea.” Seeing Ron’s astonished expression, he scowled. “Do you think I’d cause problems when Harry’s life is on the line, Weasley?”

“Alright, alright, I didn’t say anything.”

Draco sighed, turning to Hermione. “But you two should talk to him. It’ll go smoother that way.”

“Fine, I’ll speak with him today,” Hermione agreed.

“I’ll head to the Restricted Section tonight,” Draco said. “I’ll look for the book where I found the spell. Maybe I missed something.”

“Professor McGonagall probably removed it,” Hermione pointed out.

“Then we’ll ask her for it,” Ron said.

“Quiet—he’s coming,” Hermione warned.

Harry emerged from the hospital wing, freshly dressed. The usual seriousness had returned to his face, a sign of how being away from Draco affected him.

“Finally free.”

“It was just one night,” Hermione teased with a laugh.

Draco draped an arm over Harry’s shoulders. “And I was with you, after all,” he added.

“Still,” Ron interjected enthusiastically, “I say we celebrate your freedom, mate!”

All eyes turned to Ron, surprised by his sudden suggestion. Knowing they wouldn’t have much time for detailed research during the day, he thought they might as well lift Harry’s spirits.

“How about a game of Quidditch?” he proposed, looking at Draco. “Malfoy can play too. He’s probably missed losing to you.”

“Ha-ha, very funny, Weasley,” Draco retorted.

Harry chuckled. “I’m not sure they’d let me play, considering I passed out the last time I was on a broom.”

“When have we ever followed the rules?” Hermione asked, her tone both serious and playful.

“Good point,” Harry said, turning to Draco. “Are you in?”

Draco paused for a moment before replying, “On one condition.”

“What’s that?”

Ron smirked. “I bet he wants you to throw the match for him.”

Draco rolled his eyes. “No, I want to be on the same team as Harry this time.”

Harry blinked in surprise. “What?”

“Competing against you all the time is exhausting—especially in Quidditch. I’d rather be on the winning side for once.”

Draco’s comment had everyone laughing. As the group walked leisurely down the corridor, their cheerful banter drew the attention of passing students, who found the sight of Draco joking with Ron, Hermione, and Harry oddly fascinating.

“Just one problem,” Hermione said.

“Oh no, I can’t handle any more problems.”

“Who’s playing? I mean, you’re not planning to play three-on-three, are you?”

“We’ll ask others,” Ron suggested. “You can call your friends too,” he added, looking at Draco.

Draco considered this. “Sure. Pansy won’t play, but Blaise will.”

“Perfect,” Harry said. “We’ll sort out the teams somehow.”

After a moment of silence, Hermione said, “You know, I think I want to play this time.”

Ron stared at her in shock. “What did you just say?”

“Did I hear that right?” Harry asked, equally astonished.

“You can even invite Joyce,” Draco added nonchalantly.

Now all the stunned gazes turned toward him. Harry’s shocked expression briefly flickered toward Ron before settling back on Draco.

“I must be dying,” Harry muttered in disbelief. “I can’t believe what I’m hearing.”

His words hit the group like a slap. None of them knew how to respond, and an uneasy silence settled over them. Luckily, Harry, still reeling from his surprise, didn’t notice the impact of his comment. Draco was the first to recover.

“What’s so surprising?” he asked calmly. “I can tolerate him for an hour. He’s your friend, isn’t he?”

“Well, yes,” Harry said.

“Then stop talking and move along.”

-

After breakfast, they returned to the common room, where Ron enthusiastically started recruiting players for the match. Realizing that a small group wouldn’t be as fun, they decided to fill out the teams.

“Nate and Ginny are definitely in,” Ron announced.

“Does this mean we’ll get to witness another Malfoy-Potter showdown before the end of term?” Neville asked excitedly.

“No, Malfoy said he wants to be on Harry’s team this time,” Ron explained.

Harry and Draco, seated side by side on the couch, exchanged knowing smirks. Their closeness, while still odd to some, seemed to be accepted—if not welcomed—by most of the group.

“Of course, I’m sticking with Harry,” Ron continued, “and Hermione’s with us—”

“What?” Pansy cut in, looking incredulous. “Granger’s playing?”

“Uh… I thought it might be fun,” Hermione said, her lack of confidence evident.

“Definitely,” Harry said with an encouraging smile.

Draco, unusually serious, turned to Pansy. “You should play too.”

“No, thanks.”

“Afraid of embarrassing yourself?” Blaise teased, turning to Ron. “Count me in.”

“Great,” Ron replied.

Pansy glared at Blaise. “Fine, I’m in too—but only if I’m not on his team.”

Ron, amused, said, “We can arrange that. Dean, you’re in, right?”

“Of course!” Dean said eagerly.

“Alright,” Ron said, scanning the common room for more recruits.

“Well, if girls are playing, count us in,” Padma said, speaking for herself and her twin, Parvati.

“That leaves us needing three more,” Ron calculated.

“I can join,” Seamus volunteered.

“Two more,” Ron corrected. “Who else?”

“I’m not very good, but I’ll play if you need me,” Ernest offered.

“Alright, just one more. Who wants to be our final lucky player?”

Silence fell over the common room.

Harry broke it by saying, “Neville?”

“M-me?” Neville stammered. “I mean, I’d like to, but if I mess up—”

“Perfect, we’re all set.”

The room erupted into laughter and applause, and Ron began dividing the players into teams.

“So, it’ll be me, Harry, Malfoy, Hermione, Parkinson, Ernie, and Padma on one team. Nate, Ginny, Dean, Blaise, Parvati, Neville, and Seamus on the other. That way, the number of inexperienced players is balanced.”

“Like you can win against Potter…”

Pansy looked at Draco, surprised… “Did you just compliment Potter’s Quidditch skills?”

Draco shrugged. “Let the opposing team worry about that.”

“What if Madam Hooch or Professor McGonagall gets mad?” Neville asked nervously.

Hermione grinned. “Actually, I spoke to Professor McGonagall. She thought it sounded fun and gave us permission.”

“Brilliant,” Dean said.

“One more thing,” Harry added. “What if Luna commentates?”

Everyone who remembered Luna’s unique match commentary burst into laughter.

“She’d love that,” Hermione said.

“Alright then,” Ron declared. “The big showdown is tonight—get ready!”

Pansy approached Blaise with slow, deliberate steps and stood directly in front of him. “Watch yourself,” she said.

Feigning fear, Blaise replied, “Terrified already.”

“You should be.”

As the group laughed and chatted, Draco’s attention lingered on Harry. A soft smile played on his lips as he held Harry’s hand.

“You know what will happen if you don’t catch the Snitch today?” Draco asked with mock seriousness. “I’ll make you regret it, Potter.”

Harry tried not to laugh. “Well, you never know,” he said. “Nate’s not a bad Seeker.”

“Potter.”

“Malfoy.”

Draco smiled. Harry smiled back. Everything felt right—at least for now.

Chapter Text

By the time the evening match began, the Quidditch pitch was far more crowded than expected. Hogwarts students filled the spectator towers with enthusiasm, treating this friendly match with as much excitement as an official game—perhaps even more. While the players took their positions on the field, still surprised by the unexpectedly large audience, a familiar, dreamy voice echoed through the air.

“Hello, everyone, and welcome! Tonight—oh, Sue, you’re here too! How lovely!”

Luna’s whimsical tangents elicited chuckles from the crowd. Normally, Professor McGonagall might have intervened, but she had decided not to interfere with anything tonight.

“What a beautiful evening, isn’t it? I thought this match would only be between the players, but it seems Professor McGonagall thought a friendly game would be good for everyone. Wonderful!”

While the players took their positions, it was clear that not all of them were fully focused on the game. Some who thought it would just be a casual match among themselves were now visibly tense—like Hermione, Pansy, and Neville.

“But I think we have a little problem,” Luna remarked thoughtfully. “Since the teams are mixed, they should have proper names, don’t you think?”

As the players waited for Madam Hooch, they listened to Luna’s commentary while talking amongst themselves.

“Is it too late to back out?” Hermione asked nervously.

“It’s going to be great!” Ron said with a grin. “Trust me, you’ll love it!”

“I’ll think about enjoying it if I don’t fall,” Hermione muttered anxiously.

Meanwhile, Pansy glared daggers at Blaise. “You’d better hope I fall off,” she snapped.

“I hope I’m not the first to fall…” Neville muttered.

Harry turned to him with an encouraging smile. “Don’t say that, mate. You’ll do great!”

“Maybe you should worry about yourself,” Draco said calmly.

Harry raised an eyebrow. “We’re on the same team, Malfoy. Don’t forget that.”

After a moment’s pause, Draco smirked. “True.”

His response earned laughter from the players.

“You’d better be careful, though,” Ginny said. “As a team, you’re about to face utter humiliation. Get ready.”

Harry laughed at Ginny’s confident tone. “Bold words.”

“Sorry, sister, but you won’t outdo me today,” he teased.

Nate joined the banter. “You might not even need to, Ginny. Once I catch the Snitch, it won’t matter.”

Nate’s bold declaration sparked an enthusiastic “ooo” from the players, followed by more laughter.

Draco raised an eyebrow. “Did I look this pathetic when I challenged Potter?” he asked aloud, drawing attention.

“Glad you’ve realized,” Ron quipped.

“Don’t you start, Weasley. We’re on the same team.”

Just then, Luna’s voice broke through. “Madam Hooch is here, so I believe the match is about to start!”

As the players dispersed to their positions, Draco leaned in close to Harry. “If you let that Snitch slip away, I’m warning you now—I’ll cause a scene.”

Harry just laughed and moved away without responding. As Draco headed to his position, Ron caught him and leaned in.

“Don’t forget to watch your back,” Ron whispered. “I wouldn’t trust our Beater duo too much,” he added, glancing at Hermione and Pansy.

“I know, Weasley. Don’t worry.”

Seconds later, everyone was in place, and Madam Hooch’s whistle signalled the start of the match.

“And the match has begun!” Luna announced cheerfully. “By the way, I’ve come up with names for the teams. One side will be… the Unicorns!”

Draco abruptly stopped mid-flight and called out to Harry nearby. “She’s not talking about us, is she? I have no desire to be a unicorn!”

“It’s for Seeker Nathaniel’s team,” Luna clarified.

Draco exhaled in relief.

“And the other team… the Hippogriffs!”

As Harry sped past Draco, he shouted, “I hope you’re happy being an ugly chicken!”

“By the way, the Unicorns just scored. Ginny Weasley got one past Ron—oh, actually, I didn’t see it. I was busy watching to see if Hermione would fall off her broom, but I trust Ginny!”

Despite the cheerful crowd, many of the players felt far from okay. Ron, Draco, and Hermione struggled to concentrate, knowing Harry was dying. Nate, still shaken from Harry’s collapse in the previous match, kept a cautious eye on him while chasing the Snitch.

For his part, Harry felt utterly drained but did his best to hide it. He didn’t want to dampen his friends’ spirits. When else would he see Hermione playing Quidditch? And the idea of a friendly match with mixed teams gave him a good reason to push through his exhaustion.

“The Unicorns score ten more points,” Luna announced. “I think they’re already thirty points ahead. Ginny Weasley, Blaise Zabini, and Dean Thomas seem to make a strong trio.”

Harry forced himself to stay cheerful, offering encouragement and banter as the match went on.

“The Hippogriffs finally seem to be on the attack,” Luna continued. “The Quaffle is with Ernie—oh, now he’s passed it to Malfoy. Malfoy’s heading for the goalposts, but something is flying toward him—ah, it’s a Bludger. Aren’t the Beaters supposed to protect him? Hermione Granger and Pansy Parkinson appear to be just standing there.”

“I think we should do something, Parkinson,” Hermione said nervously.

“You look like you’re about to fall off, Granger. How can you be good at everything else and so bad at this?”

“This might not be the best time to discuss that—”

“Malfoy narrowly avoids the Bludger and scores the first points for the Hippogriffs! Oh—what’s this? The Bludger is heading straight for Granger and Parkinson. Oh, Parkinson manages to hit it away—wait, no, she’s hit it straight into Ernie. He’s fine, though—no harm done.”

“Brilliant, Pans! Keep helping us win!” Blaise called out teasingly as he sped past her.

“You’ll see!” Pansy snapped.

“Where are you going, Parkinson?”

Fuelled by indignation, Pansy flew determinedly into the centre of the pitch. Hermione, still unsure of herself, remained frozen in place.

“It seems the rival Beaters are bonding—how nice! Perfect for a friendly match, don’t you think? Neville and Hermione are having a little chat on the side, for instance.”

“And Seamus Finnigan looks quite relaxed by the goalposts. The Hippogriffs haven’t managed to get near the hoops, so he’s got nothing to do.”

Draco struggled to reach the goalposts, fending off Bludger and the opposing team’s coordinated attacks. Ginny, meanwhile, played as if she could dismantle the entire Hippogriff team on her own. It was becoming a tough match.

“Parkinson appears to have forgotten which ball she’s holding. That’s the Quaffle in her hands, and she’s certainly not flying toward the hoops. Where is she going—oh, she’s thrown the Quaffle at Blaise Zabini’s head…”

“What are you doing?!” Blaise shouted, clutching his head in shock as the ball bounced off and began to fall. Draco swooped in to catch it mid-air.

“Thanks, Pansy! That’s the spirit!” Draco shouted as he sped toward the hoops.

“Does it hurt?” Pansy smirked. “Good—”

“Look out!”

Before Pansy could process what was happening, Blaise flew into her, pushing her aside just in time to avoid an oncoming Bludger. An awkward silence lingered between them before Luna’s voice cut through the tension.

“Hermione Granger has hit the Bludger—congratulations, Hermione! I knew you could do it.”

“AH!”

The Bludger Hermione had hit collided with Blaise’s head. For a moment, Blaise felt like the world had disappeared. As Pansy looked toward the direction it had come from, she saw Hermione’s horrified expression.

“Sorry!” Hermione shouted.

Pansy, despite herself, grinned. “I loved that! I want to try it!” she declared, flying toward Hermione.

“Are you going to rejoin the game, Zabini?” Ginny shouted as she sped past him.

Blaise shook his head to clear it. “Once the spinning stops, maybe.”

“Oh- Neville is avoiding the Bludger, in case anyone’s wondering… His job is to hit it away, but… Ah, Parvati Patil has come to his aid—don’t worry! Meanwhile, the Unicorns are now sixty points ahead, and—oh, seventy. Ginny Weasley just scored another easy goal, as Ron Weasley isn’t guarding the hoops… I don’t know where he is—oh, there he is! He’s gone over to Hermione Granger. How sweet…”

“Are you alright?!”

“I’m fine! Go back to the hoops!”

“I saw you wobbling!” Ron explained, flustered.

“I’m fine, Ron, I promise!” Hermione insisted.

Satisfied but still worried, Ron leaned closer and kissed her cheek before speeding back to the hoops.

“By the way, Harry Potter hasn’t moved for a while. He’s just hovering mid-air—I hope he doesn’t fall again.”

Draco immediately looked up at Luna’s words. He handed the Quaffle to Padma, who looked bewildered as she caught it, then flew straight toward Harry.

“Harry,” he called as he reached him, “are you alright?”

Harry smiled at Draco. “I’m great.”

“Are you sure?” Draco asked, reaching out his hand. “If you’re feeling unwell, we can stop.”

“Why would I feel unwell?” Harry asked, taking Draco’s hand. He sighed deeply, his soul once again feeling complete. “You know I’m fully healed. I’m fine.”

Draco hesitated, unsure what to say. “Right,” he murmured, swallowing the wave of emotions that threatened to overwhelm him. “No sign of the Snitch, then?”

“Honestly? I haven’t really been looking… Everything else down there is more interesting,” Harry said, grinning. “I doubt we’ll see this again.”

“You do realize we’re getting completely destroyed, don’t you?”

Harry chuckled and shrugged. “Who cares?”

“I mean, winning would be nice, but Weasley’s team-building skills left us at a serious disadvantage…”

“Hey, don’t insult our team,” Harry protested, laughing.

Draco rolled his eyes. “A Beater who’s solely focused on annoying Blaise, another trying not to fall off her broom, a Keeper too distracted by his girlfriend, two players who don’t seem to know what they’re doing, and a Seeker who isn’t even seeking…”

Harry grinned. “Aren’t you forgetting someone?”

“Ah, of course… The team’s only hope, Draco Malfoy.”

“Is that so?”

“It is, though he seems a bit distracted…”

Harry asked again with a grin, “Oh? Why’s that?”

“Love has thrown him off balance—he’s not himself anymore.”

As Harry smiled in surprise, Luna’s voice drifted to them. “The difference is now one hundred and ten points… I don’t know how the Hippogriffs will recover from this.”

Harry sighed deeply. “I suppose I’d better start chasing the Snitch now,” he said.

Draco shook his head. “You can sit here for hours if you want, Potter. As long as you’re enjoying yourself, that’s enough.”

“There’s something strange about you,” Harry said with a laugh. “Actually, everyone’s acting odd today. Anyway, go on and try to score a few goals, ugly chicken!”

“Ha-ha, very funny, Potter!” Draco retorted, laughing as he turned and flew downward. But as soon as he turned away, his smile faded. The thought ran through his mind again: Harry’s dying. Harry’s dying… He’s going to die.

“Ron Weasley has failed to block another easy goal. He was looking up at something else. Oh—Harry Potter is finally moving. Nathaniel Joyce is following him. The Snitch must’ve appeared!”

Harry and Nate pursued the Snitch for a while, but when it disappeared from sight, they broke off in separate directions. Harry veered toward Ron, intercepting the Quaffle with a quick reflex just as it was about to go through the hoop.

“Hey there, mate!”

“Not your best day, huh?” Harry teased with a laugh. “Could it be that Hermione’s distracting you?”

Ron tried to smile. “You could say that,” he admitted.

Harry laughed again as he flew away from Ron, though the sincerity of his laughter was debatable. He was aware of moments when he wanted to laugh or smile, but the emptiness in his soul prevented him from truly feeling joy. It felt like he was wearing a mask—one he put on to keep his friends’ spirits high.

After leaving Ron, Harry circled around Hermione before stopping beside her. As soon as Hermione noticed him, she smiled warmly.

“You’re doing great, Hermione! I saw that Bludger you hit at Blaise.”

Hermione blushed, laughing nervously. “It was an accident…”

“It was brilliant,” Harry said with a wink. “No one needs to know it wasn’t on purpose.”

Harry continued flying around the pitch, exchanging words of encouragement and banter with everyone he passed.

“You’re doing great, Neville—keep it up!”

“Thanks, Harry!”

“Ginny! Do you really need to go that hard on us? How about easing up a bit?”

“Give up a chance to crush Ron? Never!”

“The Unicorns are now at 230 points, and the Hippogriffs are at 90,” Luna reported. “The Hippogriffs’ only hope is for Harry Potter to catch the Snitch—but Harry is still chatting with the players. At least he seems happy again. He’s been looking so glum lately. Oh—wait, Harry seems to have spotted the Snitch! Nathaniel is heading there too.”

The crowd erupted as Harry and Nathaniel raced neck and neck after the Snitch.

“The Seekers are chasing the Snitch!” Luna announced excitedly. “Meanwhile, something’s happening down below—Parkinson just hit Zabini’s arm with her bat. Seems like there’s no foul… Oh, Neville, watch out! There’s a Bludger heading your way!”

With the Snitch making its appearance, the crowd’s excitement grew, and the cheers became louder.

“And now, the Unicorns have two hundred and fifty points, while the Hippogriffs are at one hundred—and… Harry Potter has caught the Snitch, I think… Wait a moment… Everyone is cheering but… Yes, he’s caught it! THE WINNER… Well—actually, I think it’s a draw. Perfect for a friendly match, isn’t it?”

As Harry caught the Snitch, the crowd erupted into a deafening roar. Everyone clapped enthusiastically because there was no loser in this match. Cheers mingled with laughter and applause as the players gathered in the centre of the field.

Draco dismounted his broom and headed straight for Harry, pulling him into a hug without hesitation. “Waiting until the score difference was 150 points before catching it is such a you thing to do,” he said.

Harry laughed more genuinely as Draco embraced him. “Where did you get that idea? I had no such intention.”

Draco pulled back slightly but didn’t let go. “Of course you didn’t,” he replied, resting his forehead against Harry’s. A deep breath escaped him as his expression grew more serious. “You’re alright, aren’t you?”

“Are you ever going to stop asking that?”

“Alright, fine, pretend I didn’t ask. You’re amazing.”

Harry smiled, tilting his chin slightly to meet Draco’s lips in a kiss. Draco returned it without hesitation, neither of them paying attention to what was happening around them. Though some onlookers reacted with a mix of shock and surprise, no one said anything.

Meanwhile, in another corner of the field, Pansy approached Blaise. Blaise instinctively stepped back, putting a couple of feet between them.

“Are you running away from me?” Pansy asked.

“Who knows what you’re planning, you crazy witch?” Blaise asked, taking a cautious step back. “And you’re still holding the bat…”

Pansy laughed, lifting the bat slightly. “Are you scared?” she asked.

“Well, I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t after today,” Blaise replied. “At this point, I’m sure you hate me.”

Pansy lowered the bat, her expression suddenly turning serious. “You’re such an idiot,” she muttered, letting the bat fall to the ground.

“You’d make anyone feel like an idiot,” Blaise said, touching the bump on his forehead.

“Are you alright?” Pansy asked, taking a step closer and reaching for his forehead.

Blaise instinctively pulled his head back. “Maybe it’s better if you don’t touch, huh?” he asked in his usual snarky tone.

"You’re asking for it now—I’ll deal with you!"

“Go on then—touch it if you dare!”

Pansy had reached her limit. She stepped right up to Blaise, standing on her toes, grabbed the back of his neck, and pressed her lips to his. The kiss happened suddenly and lasted only a few seconds, but when Pansy pulled away, Blaise looked completely stunned.

“I can’t believe you made me do that,” Pansy said, sounding almost annoyed.

“Neither can I…” Blaise replied.

Pansy rolled her eyes, not knowing what else to do. She stepped back, turned around, and made to leave.

“Pans—wait,” Blaise called, making a quick move to grab her arm and stop her. Then he kissed her again.

“I think the real winners of this match are Zabini and Parkinson—they’re kissing…” Luna’s voice came through the speakers. No one found it strange that she was still at the microphone; everyone’s attention was focused on Blaise and Pansy.

Draco suddenly shouted, “Finally!” and began clapping, triggering a louder round of applause from the others.

In the minutes that followed, everyone showered, changed clothes, ate their fill, and settled into the common room. The cheerful atmosphere from the match lingered. Ron, however, was grateful that his sister slept in a separate dormitory; he was sure Ginny wouldn’t stop bragging about her goals, doing everything she could to annoy him.

“I think we Hippogriffs held our own pretty well,” Ernie said.

“Held your own? Your only chance was having Potter on your team,” Blaise retorted. “Without him, you’d have been crushed.”

“That’s true,” Draco said without hesitation, prompting laughter from everyone—except Harry. Harry seemed oblivious to the conversation, his gaze fixed on the fireplace, lost in thought.

Noticing Harry’s state, Ron glanced at Hermione and Draco, then cleared his throat. “I’ll just head to the dorm—uh… needed to grab some Chocolate Frogs…”

“I’ll get them, mate.”

Harry, snapping out of his daze, offered to go instead, standing up before Ron could object. He walked away from the group, heading toward the dorms. With each step, he felt a weight pressing down on him. Once inside the room, he paused to catch his breath and began searching for the Chocolate Frogs. Sitting on Ron’s bed, he rifled through one of the bedside drawers when a voice broke the silence.

“My son… You’re going to be alright…”

“What?” Harry asked, looking around. There was no one there, but he was certain he’d heard his mother’s voice.

“Everything will be okay.”

“D-dad?”

“Don’t be afraid.”

Harry closed his eyes, taking a deep breath and trying to steady himself.

“Calm down, Harry.”

Hearing Sirius’s voice, Harry shook his head vigorously, then opened his eyes to scan the room. The sound of the door opening made him flinch, and he turned sharply toward it.

“Mate, are you okay?” Ron asked.

“I’m fine—you just startled me, that’s all.”

Ron, trying not to show his concern, gestured to the drawer. “It should be toward the back. I thought you might not find it.”

Harry turned back to the drawer, reaching further in to retrieve the packets of Chocolate Frogs. “Here they are,” he said, handing them to Ron. “You go ahead—I’ll follow in a bit.”

Ron hesitated, moving toward the door before changing his mind and sitting beside Harry. “You’re sure you’re alright?”

“I’m fine,” Harry said, forcing a smile. “You know… the whole soul thing. Same as always—don’t worry.”

Ron smiled, slinging an arm around Harry’s shoulders in a show of support. “Alright, I’ll head back then,” he said, standing up and leaving the room.

Harry’s fake smile vanished the moment Ron walked out. He took a few deep breaths before rising from the bed and heading for the door. As he made his way down the corridor, he saw Draco approaching from the other end and smiled.

“If you’re going to ask if I’m alright—”

“Nope, not at all,” Draco interrupted, pulling Harry into a hug. “I was just coming to see you because I missed you.”

Harry chuckled softly. “That’s an answer I can accept,” he replied, leaning into Draco and wrapping his arms around him. Closing his eyes, he took deep, steady breaths, letting the tension drain away.

Draco chose to stay silent, giving Harry time to recover. He knew Harry wasn’t okay, no matter what he said. After a while, Draco murmured, “Don’t leave my side. Let your soul have a little party.”

“Will he be okay?”

“He has to be, James.”

“Deal, Potter?”

There was a brief silence before Harry replied softly, “Deal.” Even as he hugged Draco, Harry couldn’t ignore the strange sensation of his soul being drawn out. Yet, he said nothing. He just wanted to savour the simple joy of being able to hold Draco and knowing that Draco loved him."

Absolutely guessless.

Chapter Text

The next few days were emotionally draining for everyone. Ron, Hermione, and Draco were constantly engaged in research. Balancing the emotional weight of their situation with the need to seize every opportunity to find answers was a monumental challenge. Their greatest struggle, however, was desperately ensuring Harry remained unaware...

There was still no news from Nathaniel’s grandfather’s library. The day before, they had met with Chief Healer Mercurius, but he too had found nothing significant. Professor McGonagall had informed them that she was consulting some of her old contacts and was awaiting responses. Meanwhile, Draco, Ron, and Hermione continued to comb through the Restricted Section of the library with mounting despair.

They had managed to uncover a few more details about the spell Harry had used. Chief Healer Mercurius had located another source beyond the book where Harry had first discovered it. However, this source, like the original, did not describe a way to prevent death. Death seemed to be the inevitable conclusion of this dark magic.

For Harry, the situation was entirely different. He felt like he was trapped in an emotional void. Ever since performing the spell, he had grown accustomed to the soulless feeling, but now, for the first time, he felt utterly cornered. He couldn’t help but think that the remnants of his soul in this world were being crushed bit by bit, and that when the walls holding him here finally collapsed, he would be free. Death was no longer breathing down his neck; it was standing right in front of him, waiting for him to embrace it.

Physically, too, the effects had become more pronounced. Regardless of how warm the room was, he was always cold. Each day left him more exhausted than the last, and sometimes he didn’t even want to open his eyes. The most challenging aspect, however, was the voices. It felt as though his family were nearby, speaking to one another. Sometimes, the voices were so vivid that Harry felt he could call out to them and receive a response.

Just as his friends were trying to keep the truth of the situation from him, Harry was doing his best to hide his condition from them. He didn’t want to worry, upset, or burden them. But deep down, he knew something was wrong. A voice within told him these were the good days.

Another week passed. The Harry who had chased the Snitch on the Quidditch pitch just ten days ago was now a shadow of himself. He felt far worse—far more lost. Yet his acting had improved. Perhaps because he was beginning to believe his own performance, he was able to behave more normally around his friends and Draco.

After the next week’s Duelling Club meeting (which he stubbornly continued to attend), Harry didn’t question Draco and Ron’s decision to stay in the Great Hall to play chess. Instead, he chose to go back to the common room with Hermione. Sitting by the fire in a group, Harry eventually sighed deeply and turned to Hermione.

“I’m heading to my room,” he said calmly.

“Are you alright?” Hermione asked reflexively. “Is something wrong?”

Harry shook his head. “It’s just too noisy,” he explained with a small smile. “Want to come with me? We can talk.”

“Sure,” Hermione agreed, standing up and following him to his room.

Once Harry sat down on his bed, he gestured to the chair across from him. “Have a seat.”

Hermione did as he said, sitting in the chair. When her gaze landed on a piece of parchment on the desk, she picked it up. “Wait… did you do homework?” she asked in surprise.

Harry chuckled softly. “Tried to would be more accurate.”

“It’s not bad at all. I can look it over later if you’d like.”

“You’re amazing,” Harry said with a nod.

“Let's not exaggerate,” Hermione replied with a smile, setting the parchment back on the desk.

“I mean it,” Harry insisted, his expression softening. “You really are. You’ve always been. I don’t know what I’d do—what any of us would do—without you.”

Hermione blinked in surprise. “Why are you saying this now?” she asked.

“I’m just saying what’s on my mind,” Harry said with a shrug. “I don’t know how to express how much you mean to me or how to thank you for everything you’ve done.”

Hermione’s heartbeat quickened with worry. The way Harry was speaking filled her with dread.

“Harry, please don’t say things like that—”

“I’m just being honest,” Harry interrupted. “Thank you for everything. I’m grateful you’ve always been by my side.”

Hermione couldn’t stop her eyes from welling up. “Harry,” she whispered helplessly. “You… you know, don’t you?”

Harry smiled faintly. “That I’m dying?” he asked. Then he nodded. “I know.”

Hermione didn’t know what to do. She stood up abruptly. “No—no—that’s not going to happen. We’ll—we’ll find a way, Harry—”

“Hermione,” Harry said gently, reaching out to take her hand. “Calm down. Please, sit.”

Hermione sat beside him, sniffling, but it was clear she couldn’t hold back her tears any longer. Within seconds, they were streaming down her cheeks.

“How did you find out?” she managed to ask.

“You’ve all been acting strange,” Harry explained. “Ron and Draco are playing chess right now, aren’t they?”

“Harry—”

“It’s not just them,” Harry interjected. “I can feel it, Hermione. I don’t know what you know or what you’re looking for, but I can feel it. I can feel death.”

Hermione shook her head in denial. “There has to be a way,” she insisted. “We’ll find it, you—we—please…”

Hermione couldn’t finish her sentence. Harry reached out and placed his hands on her cheeks, wiping away her tears. He didn’t even realise his own eyes had begun to water.

“I’d tell you not to cry, but I know that won’t work,” he said helplessly. “I’m sorry. I truly am.”

Hermione couldn’t respond.

“There are things I need to talk about,” Harry said, pulling his hands back and quickly wiping his own tears. “After I’m gone—”

“Harry, no—you can’t say that—”

“Hermione, please,” Harry murmured. “It’ll be easier if we accept it.”

“We’re not alone in this, Professor McGonagall is helping. Chief Healer Mercurius—”

“I’m dying,” Harry interrupted. “I know I’m dying. I haven’t truly been living for a long time—you know that. Please—just listen.”

Hermione had no response.

“After I’m gone, I want all my money in Gringotts to go to Teddy,” Harry began, his tone becoming more serious. Despite Hermione’s uncontrollable sobbing, he was doing his best to stay strong. “I wanted to make sure he never goes through the kind of hardships I did—or his dad did,” he added bitterly. “But clearly, I won’t be able to do that. Still, I know he won’t be alone. I know you’ll look after him.”

“Harry—”

“Let me finish,” Harry interrupted again, knowing he wouldn’t have the strength to continue if he stopped now.

Hermione nodded, wiping her tears with her sleeve.

“He should have the Invisibility Cloak and the Marauder’s Map, too. You’ll know when the time is right—I trust you.”

Wiping her tears was futile; they kept flowing without pause.

“I didn’t get the chance to create a legacy of my own yet,” Harry continued, letting his tears fall freely. “So I don’t know what else I can leave you. I’m sorry.”

Unable to hold herself back any longer, Hermione threw her arms around Harry’s neck and hugged him tightly. “We’ll find a way,” she murmured. “We’ve been through so much, we’ll get through this too.”

As Harry hugged her back, he exhaled slowly. He had known for days and had tried to prepare himself for this moment. Perhaps it was the lack of a soul that made it slightly easier to cope than he had anticipated. Yet knowing he would die—knowing he would leave his friends behind—still reached the tiny fragment of his soul that remained alive. That was why he cried.

“Maybe we will,” he said softly, wanting to comfort her. “But you have to be prepared for everything, Hermione. I… don’t feel like I’m going to make it. I can hear them—my family.”

Hearing this, Hermione clung to Harry even tighter and cried even harder.

“I’m sorry,” Harry whispered helplessly. “Thank you for everything. From the troll incident to every adventure we’ve been on since… I’m so grateful you’ve been by my side. I love you.”

Chapter Text

Following their conversation, Hermione couldn’t bear the emotional weight any longer and fled the room. Harry, of course, understood. He knew Hermione’s emotional side well. Despite how strong a witch she normally was, the situation they were in was far beyond what she could easily handle.

Harry also anticipated that Hermione would tell Ron and Draco at the first opportunity. If she didn’t, Harry would have told them himself. He didn’t know how much time he had left, and he needed to say his goodbyes. For someone his age, it shouldn’t have been easy—knowing he was going to die, saying goodbye to his loved ones, and accepting death. But Harry had experience in this regard. The painful part was that this experience did nothing to ease the situation or his feelings. If anything, it made him feel worse than ever before.

Sitting on his bed, lost in thought, Harry’s expression was blank. He felt as though he was in the final stages of disappearing. It was as if a massive black hole was slowly swallowing him, and soon, all the unease he felt would be replaced with eternal peace. Harry didn’t know how much longer he could delay the inevitable, but he knew he needed just a little more time.

When the door opened and Ron entered, Harry wasn’t surprised. Judging by Ron’s expression, Hermione had told him that Harry knew.

“How was the game?” Harry asked calmly. “How many moves did it take you to destroy Malfoy?”

Ron didn’t respond. He swallowed hard, shut the door, and stepped into the middle of the room. His gaze lingered on Harry’s face, and it was clear he was struggling to remain composed.

“So, you’ve found out,” Ron said firmly. “Good, that’s good. We can join forces. You can tell us what you know and feel—it’ll help.”

Harry smiled faintly. “I’m sure you gained a solid advantage in the first ten moves. You know, no one’s as good as you at chess.”

“I know what you’re doing, mate, and I’m not letting it happen.”

“I’m dying, mate,” Harry said, standing up from the bed. He focused on the helpless look in his friend’s eyes. “I’m going to die.”

Ron swallowed hard and nodded resolutely. “Yeah,” he said seriously. “You’re going to die. If you keep talking this hopelessly, I’ll be the one to kill you myself. Got it?”

Despite himself, Harry smiled.

“We’ll find a way. Together. Like we always do. You, me, Hermione… and now, even Malfoy, who you’ve been in love with for years. So you’d better pull yourself together.”

“You don’t understand, mate—”

“No,” Ron interrupted. “It’s you who doesn’t understand! You can’t just stand there and try to say goodbye to me like this is normal! That’s so—so cruel! So selfish!”

“I’m sorry, I truly am—”

The anger in Ron’s voice was starting to give way to raw emotion. Tears filled his eyes despite his efforts to stay strong.

“Let me speak.”

“If you’re going to say something reasonable, then go ahead.”

“From the day we met until now—”

“No,” Ron said, raising his hand as if to silence him. “Don’t.”

“You’ve been the brother I never had,” Harry continued, ignoring Ron’s protest. “You became my family.”

At that, Ron’s tears finally spilled over, streaming down his face. He shook his head as if trying to stop Harry from continuing.

“When I was locked away, you were there to rescue me. When I had no family to go to, you stayed with me. When I didn’t have a home, you opened yours to me. You were always ready to share whatever you had with me, and I don’t know if I can ever explain how much that meant to me. Thank you. Thank you for never letting me feel alone, for always being there… for everything.”

“You don’t understand,” Ron said, stepping closer and gripping Harry’s arms. “You’re my brother, Harry.” Tears continued to fall freely down his cheeks. “I’ve already lost one brother,” he said, pausing to collect himself. “I can’t lose you too.”

“Ron—”

“Don’t expect me to accept this,” Ron said, cutting him off again. “I’ll do whatever it takes to stop it.”

Harry nodded understandingly. “I know.”

Ron let go of Harry’s arms and turned away for a moment, quickly wiping his tears on his sleeve. After a few deep breaths, he turned back to Harry.

“If I thought it would work,” he said, his voice heavy with desperation, “I’d perform the same spell you did for Malfoy. I really would. But I don’t know if my soul… is valuable enough to convince death.”

The tiny fragment of Harry’s soul that remained alive ached so intensely that he too began to cry. Even he couldn’t stay strong any longer.

“But we’ll find another way, okay? You’re the Boy Who Lived. You’ve already died once and come back. You… you don’t die. If anyone can defy death’s rules, it’s you. So don’t you dare expect me to just accept this and say goodbye.”

“Mate, like you said—I know death. This time… I feel it—”

“Don’t start with that ‘I feel it’ nonsense! Stop talking like that! You’re Harry Potter, and you’re going to live!”

Harry didn’t respond. He didn’t want to upset or anger Ron any further. Being insistent wouldn’t change his mind. But eventually, Ron would have to accept it.

“You’re going to live,” Ron repeated, pulling Harry into a hug.

“I’ll do my best,” Harry said, trying to reassure him. “But you know… if someone else rides my Firebolt—”

“Cut it out.”

After a brief silence, Ron pulled away. Wiping his face with his sleeve, he tried to speak calmly (or as calmly as he could).

“Here’s what’s going to happen. We’re going to find a way, everything’s going to be fine, and you’re going to live a life where death isn’t even a possibility. Whether you spend it with that git Malfoy or not is up to you.”

Harry laughed softly at that.

“I promise, once we sort this out, I’ll start treating Malfoy properly. Really, I promise. No snarky comments, no interfering.”

Harry’s eyes filled with tears again. Knowing he was going to die despite Ron’s unwavering belief in his survival was unbearably painful.

“For you, I’ll put up with him. And not just pretend to put up with him—properly, I swear.”

Chapter Text

Living with the knowledge that you’re going to die should be easy, right? Harry had been here before. This wasn’t new to him. Fear, the thought of escape, or cursing his fate—it was all meaningless. He knew this well, yet he was still afraid. He wished he could escape, to break free... To avoid the weight of the destruction he’d leave behind, the heaviness it created in his heart. He wished he could run. He wished none of this had ever happened. He wished he could find a way to fix it. So many wishes…

He wished he hadn’t let Draco love him.

This was one of the regrets that hurt Harry the most. He had added yet another person to the list of those who would grieve and suffer because of him. Worse, he had left Draco in a position where he would blame himself. How cruel… How selfish of him. While Draco’s presence brought a semblance of peace to his fractured soul, Harry’s absence would carve deep wounds into Draco’s. And Harry knew exactly how that felt. He had lived it.

As someone who had spent his life losing loved ones, Harry was no stranger to this kind of pain. In fact, he was familiar with almost every kind of pain. How strange… As he approached the end of a life full of suffering, he was suffering now because he knew he would become another source of pain in the lives of those left behind.

On top of this emotional collapse, the physical pain was growing too. There were moments when Harry could barely stay on his feet. He had been forced to leave the Duelling Club. Even those who didn’t know the full extent of his condition could tell that something was terribly wrong. Professor McGonagall and Chief Healer Mercurius were still pursuing their research. Ron, Hermione, and Draco were tirelessly searching for a solution as well, but Harry was convinced their efforts would ultimately be in vain.

Now, it was time to say goodbye to Draco. For two days after his talk with Ron, Harry had been trying to find the right moment to speak to him. But Draco, knowing what was coming, was making it impossible. He ensured they were never alone, diverted the conversation to other topics, and disappeared for parts of the day. While Draco desperately wanted to spend every moment with Harry, he believed finding a way to save him was more urgent. Once Harry was safe, they would have plenty of time together, right?

On the second night of avoiding Harry’s intentions, Draco woke to the sound of Harry talking in his sleep. It took him a few seconds to realize what was happening.

“Not long now… It’s so close…”

“I don’t want this…”

Draco sat up, his heart sinking. “Harry,” he called, trying to wake him.

“I’m sorry.”

“Harry, please…” Draco placed a hand on Harry’s cheek, hoping the touch might help. He gently stroked his face and kept calling his name. “Wake up. It’s just a dream… You’re fine…”

“I’m sorry… I’ll be there soon.”

Draco spoke louder this time. “Harry!” His voice was firm, but his heart was breaking. Harry’s cheeks were ice-cold.

“Soon, Mum.”

“Harry—”

With a sharp gasp, Harry’s eyes flew open. He bolted upright, his eyes darting around the room. When he saw Draco, he relaxed slightly and shifted into a seated position, trying to steady his breaths.

“It’s okay,” Draco said softly, pulling him into a gentle hug. “It was just a dream, nothing more.”

Harry didn’t respond, his eyes remaining open as he tried to calm himself. It was as if he needed to keep them open to confirm he was still in this world.

Draco gave him a moment before asking, “Are you alright?”

Harry pulled back slightly, nodding faintly. He adjusted his pillow and leaned back against the headboard. Draco turned to pour a glass of water, handed it to Harry, and waited as he drank. Once Harry finished, Draco set the glass on the nightstand and leaned back as well, taking Harry’s hand in his. He gently ran his thumb over Harry’s knuckles, letting the silence of the moonlit room settle around them.

After a while, Harry murmured, “I’m sorry.”

Draco, unsure what he meant, asked, “For waking me? Don’t worry about it.”

Harry shook his head. “For everything—”

Draco shifted immediately, cutting him off. “No. We’re not having this conversation, and you’re going to sleep now.”

“I want to talk.”

“I don’t.”

“We’re going to talk.”

“No, we’re not. I don’t want to talk.”

“You can just listen.”

“No.” Draco wasn’t sure how much longer he could keep up this back-and-forth. So, in a split-second decision, he made a move to get out of bed.

“Draco,” Harry said, reaching out and grabbing his arm. “Don’t.”

Draco looked at Harry for just a moment before gently freeing his arm and standing up. “I’m going to the bathroom. We’ll talk later.”

As Draco moved away, Harry swung his legs over the side of the bed but didn’t stand. “What if we don’t have a later?” he called after him. Draco froze in place. “What if there’s no next time?” Harry added.

Draco stood still, his back to Harry, for several seconds. “Stop talking nonsense,” he said finally, before resuming his steps.

“You’re all doing the same thing,” Harry said, his voice carrying a tinge of frustration. “Couldn’t you think about me for just a moment? I want to talk. I need to talk. And you’re running away. What if I die before you have the chance to hear me, Draco?”

Draco stood motionless, each breath feeling like a dagger to his chest. He fought the tears threatening to spill, but he didn’t run. Slowly, he turned to face Harry, his tear-filled eyes meeting Harry’s patient gaze.

“I understand you,” Draco said, his voice trembling. “But that’s not going to happen. You don’t need to worry about that. I just… I don’t want you to upset yourself, that’s all.”

“It wasn’t just a dream,” Harry said quietly. “I was talking to them—really talking to them.”

Draco shook his head, denying it. “It just felt that way because you’re not well—”

Harry grabbed his glasses from the nightstand, got out of bed, and walked over to Draco. He stopped right in front of him, looking into his eyes with a soft smile.

“Don’t look at me like that,” Draco muttered.

“Like what?”

“Like it’s the last time.”

Harry’s smile turned bitter. “It might be,” he replied.

“Harry—”

“I love you, Malfoy.”

Draco’s fragile composure shattered as tears spilled down his cheeks. Unable to hold himself together, he stumbled back until his back hit the wall, and then slid down to the floor. He sat there, just as he had the day he first confronted Harry.

Harry knelt in front of him, gently placing his hands on Draco’s cheeks to wipe away his tears. He hadn’t done it before, but now he could.

“Just as I told you here: I love you so much, and you were worth every ounce of pain I’ll endure,” Harry said softly. “Please don’t blame yourself. None of this is your fault. I’m living the consequences of my own choices.”

Draco began to protest, “But it’s because of me—”

“You couldn’t have known,” Harry interrupted. “You didn’t know. I didn’t know. I’m sorry. I truly am.”

“Don’t apologise,” Draco said through his tears.

“Then don’t blame yourself,” Harry replied, his own tears falling.

Draco didn’t respond. He blamed himself, and he always would. Even if Harry had made his own choices, they had been for Draco’s sake. Because Harry loved him enough to put Draco’s safety above his own.

Harry broke the silence. “I hate having this conversation as much as you do,” he said. “But I have to.”

Draco sniffled. “What if we didn’t?”

Harry ignored him. “Thank you,” he said. “Thank you for trying so hard to be here for me since you found out. For forgiving me… Thank you for loving me when I didn’t deserve it.”

“Harry—”

“No, I didn’t deserve it. But you chose to forgive me. You chose to love me. Thank you. I wish I’d been strong enough to stop you from loving me—no, don’t say anything. I’m not done.”

Draco stayed silent.

“If I’d been able to stop you from loving me, none of this would have happened. I wouldn’t leave you with this pain. I wouldn’t hurt you. Maybe—maybe you’d even be glad I was gone—”

“You’re being ridiculous,” Draco interrupted. “When you tell me I was worth all the pain, can’t you understand I feel the same way?”

This time, it was Harry who fell silent. Tears he’d briefly managed to stop began streaming down his face again.

“I wish I’d known sooner,” Draco said, no longer trying to stop his own tears. “I wish I’d loved you sooner. Maybe I could’ve made you happy for longer—”

“Even a single day with you was worth it,” Harry interrupted.

Draco said nothing. The more they talked, the more it felt like Harry was coming to terms with dying, and it unsettled Draco deeply.

Harry rested his arms on Draco’s knees and laid his chin on them, looking up at him with a soft smile. “Can you promise me something?”

“What kind of promise?” Draco asked hesitantly.

“That you’ll live your life to the fullest.”

Draco didn’t respond.

“I know what it’s like to lose someone you love,” Harry explained, his voice trembling as memories brought fresh tears to his eyes. “You’ll feel hollow. No matter how much I wish otherwise, you’ll blame yourself. You won’t want to talk to anyone. The pain will be so intense that there’ll be moments when you won’t want to live. You won’t want to sleep. And when you do, waking up- will feel unbearable. You’ll probably cry a lot.”

Silence…

“But it will pass.”

Draco shook his head, his tears blurring his vision. “How—how could it? You came back for me. You brought me back. But you won’t come back—”

Harry didn’t know how to respond.

“If you die,” Draco said, “you won’t come back. I have to stop this. Don’t you understand? You spent all this time protecting me, loving me, expecting nothing in return… You only wanted the best for me. And all I ever did was hurt you.”

“No—”

“I listened to you; now, you’re going to listen to me,” Draco said, sniffing as he tried to steady himself. “You suffered in my place, and like that wasn’t enough, I hurt you. I blamed you. When you gave me memories, I was too much of a fool to watch them right away. And now… now I would do anything just for a few more days. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be,” Harry replied. “Just knowing that you loved me, even for a moment, is enough to erase the bad memories.”

“It shouldn’t be,” Draco said. “We should’ve had more time. It shouldn’t have been like this.”

Harry gave a bittersweet smile. “I’m happy,” he said. “My soul might not realise it, but my heart is happy, Draco. Thank you.”

Draco didn’t reply, and Harry leaned forward, their lips meeting in a lingering kiss. He tasted the salt of Draco’s tears but didn’t pull away until the kiss was over. He smiled gently as he leaned back.

“Now promise me: you’ll live your life to the fullest.”

“Don’t ask me to do that.”

“I am.”

“I don’t know if I can promise—”

“At least promise me you’ll try.”

Draco stayed silent for a long moment, then finally nodded. “Okay.”

Harry decided not to push further and smiled, content with that. “Thank you.”

Sliding down to sit beside Draco, Harry leaned against the wall and rested his head on Draco’s shoulder. Draco held his hand but remained silent.

“By the way,” Harry said, breaking the silence, “I want you to have Sirius’s house.”

“What?” Draco asked in surprise. “I don’t want it—”

Harry didn’t respond. Whether Draco wanted it or not didn’t matter; Harry had already arranged it. All that remained was for Harry to die for it to take effect.

Even as the silence stretched on, Draco felt the weight in his chest grow heavier. He didn’t know how to process this conversation. He hadn’t given up on Harry, but somehow, he found himself thinking more and more about the possibility of losing him.

“Harry,” Draco whispered.

“Yes?”

“I love you so much.”

Harry smiled. “I know,” he replied. “And it’s guessless.”

Chapter Text

Despair.

That was the word that best summarized the last two weeks. Nothing was going right for anyone. Everyone who knew about Harry’s condition continued their research with all their resources, but no tangible results had been achieved. Over time, their sources diminished, and their desperation grew. Meanwhile, Harry was… slowly dying.

The fragmentation of his soul was visible even in Harry’s gaze. He was drifting away from this world more and more often, and no matter how hard he tried to hide it from those around him, he couldn’t succeed. Moreover, he couldn’t bring himself to tell anyone that dying, in some strange way, brought him a sense of peace. He didn’t want to die, but at the same time, he longed for it. Even in his thoughts, he was stuck in limbo.

Watching Harry quietly say goodbye to someone new each day was breaking Draco, Ron, and Hermione. There was nothing they could do to stop him. If there’s a way, we’ll find it, Harry would say, but if not, I don’t want to leave without saying goodbye to anyone. What could they say to that? How could they change his mind? Harry had started with them, wanting them to accept it first. He wanted to prepare them for the worst. Their unwillingness to accept it didn’t change the harsh reality.

Since he couldn’t say goodbye to everyone in person, Harry decided to write letters to some people. Andromeda, Molly, George… Of course, the tone of these letters didn’t carry any sense of farewell. He wrote casually, asking about their well-being, chatting about trivial things. He didn’t want to upset more people or drag them into an emotional conversation.

For the past few days, Harry hadn’t had the energy to leave his room, so Draco had taken it upon himself to send the letters. After delivering the envelopes to the Owlery, Draco left with a thoughtful expression. Outside, snow was falling, and the grounds were filled with younger students enjoying the weather. They were throwing snowballs at each other or casting spells to hurl one another into snowbanks.

With his hands in his pockets, Draco walked slowly toward the castle. Suddenly, he felt a force hit his stomach, causing him to lose balance slightly—but it wasn’t strong enough to make him fall. He looked up to see two Hufflepuff students staring at him apologetically.

“Sorry!” one of them said hurriedly.

“It wasn’t on purpose,” said the other. “I was aiming for my friend.”

Draco looked at the students for a moment before giving a dismissive nod. “Be careful,” he warned, turning to walk away. He took a few steps before coming to a halt as a chilling realization hit him.

He had felt the spell.

The moment he understood what that could mean, a wave of panic washed over him so intensely that he nearly collapsed on the spot. His legs felt like they were about to give out, and he was sure he couldn’t take another step—yet he began to run. Summoning every ounce of strength, he sprinted toward the castle, shoving aside anyone who got in his way.

-

Harry sat cross-legged on his bed, looking at the Daily Prophet. At least, that’s how it appeared from the outside. In reality, he could no longer make out the letters. Reading was impossible; he couldn’t focus on the words for more than a few seconds. His head felt like it was constantly spinning. It could have been because of the voices he was hearing nonstop. The voices of the dead echoed endlessly in his mind. Harry could no longer distinguish who was speaking—he could have sworn he was hearing people he didn’t even know.

His family, however, was trying to keep him calm. They dominated his mind, speaking gently to drown out the other voices. Occasionally, Harry would hear Dumbledore’s voice. In those moments, he felt a little safer. It wasn’t that his family didn’t comfort him, but talking to Dumbledore in death felt more “normal” to Harry. After all, the last time he had died, it had been Dumbledore he’d spoken to… And if all of this was happening inside his head, why on earth should that mean that was not real?

“Anything interesting, mate?” Ron asked.

Harry looked up from the newspaper and shrugged. “Same old stuff,” he said, folding it and tossing it aside.

Ron nodded in understanding and offered Harry a Chocolate Frog. “Want one?”

“No, thanks.”

“He’d do well to eat healthier,” Hermione remarked, glancing at them from her chair, where she had been reading a book.

Harry wanted to protest but didn’t. He didn’t want to argue with his friends about their care for him. After all, how much time did he have left? It wasn’t worth spending it arguing. In fact, he felt like he didn’t even have the time to think about such things.

He sighed deeply and began glancing around the room. He checked under his pillow and blanket as Ron watched him curiously.

“What are you looking for?” Ron asked.

“My glasses,” Harry explained. “They should be around here somewhere.”

Ron exchanged a worried glance with Hermione before turning back to Harry. “Mate,” he said gently, “your glasses are on your face.”

Harry looked at Ron in surprise, then raised his hand to his face. His glasses were indeed there. So why was everything so blurry?

“Oh, right. Just distracted,” Harry said with a sheepish smile. He swallowed nervously, trying to keep the smile on his face. His vision was growing blurrier by the second, and the voices in his head were getting louder.

“Not long now, son.”

“Hold on a little longer, my boy…”

“Think of it as a short journey.”

“Harry, are you alright?”

“It’ll be fine.”

“I know,” Harry replied.

“What do you know?” Ron asked. “I asked if you were alright, mate.”

“You’re alright.”

“Yes… I know…”

“Harry?”

Harry looked up, focusing on Ron’s face. For a moment, he thought he saw Sirius instead, but he quickly dismissed the thought. Everything was blurry—his friend’s face was still so blurry.

“I’m fine,” Harry said as he swung his legs over the side of the bed. “Where’s Draco?”

“He went to the Owlery. He should be back soon,” Hermione explained.

Harry nodded, standing up. However, the moment his feet hit the floor, he felt it shift beneath him, and he lost his balance. Ron caught him just before he fell, guiding him back onto the bed. Hermione immediately moved to his other side.

“Draco,” Harry repeated. “Where is he?”

The glance Ron and Hermione exchanged was filled with fear, worry, and sorrow. They had never seen Harry like this before and didn’t know what to do.

“He’s at the Owlery,” Ron explained again. “He was sending your letters.”

“Ah, right…”

Harry closed his eyes and began taking deep breaths.

“We should call Madam Pomfrey,” Hermione said.

Ron jumped up, ran out of the room, and returned seconds later. “Neville went to get her,” he explained, taking his place beside Harry once more.

“Mate, are you alright? How are you feeling?”

Harry opened his eyes and looked around. “Where are my glasses?” he asked before wincing. “It’s too noisy, too loud.”

Hermione didn’t respond, tears filling her eyes as she struggled not to cry. Ron, meanwhile, held onto Harry with all the desperation he could muster.

“I want to lie down,” Harry said, leaning back.

“Alright, wait, we’ll help…”

Ron and Hermione helped Harry lie back on the bed, then positioned themselves on either side of him. Hermione anxiously checked his temperature; his skin felt icy, but he was beginning to sweat. Ron, meanwhile, sat on the floor, clutching Harry’s hand tightly.

“Where’s Malfoy? I know, Mum, I know. Just give me a second, please… Where’s Malfoy, you said? Ron?”

Ron, his voice trembling, said, “He’s coming. He’ll be here soon.”

Harry nodded and opened his eyes a moment later. First, he looked at Hermione, then focused on Ron. A sudden wave of clarity brought tears to his eyes. Gripping Ron’s hand tightly, Harry’s tears fell freely.

“I think I’m leaving,” he said weakly.

“No, Harry…”

“No, mate, please—Madam Pomfrey is coming. Just hold on—”

Harry smiled faintly. “It’s gone,” he replied. “I can’t feel my soul anymore.”

“Harry…”

“Don’t let Draco—please don’t let him get lost…”

Ron, now crying uncontrollably like Hermione, could only hold Harry’s hand tighter, as though it might keep him tethered to this world.

Harry, however, seemed to know he was at the end of the road. He stopped resisting, closed his eyes, and took one last slow breath, a small smile gracing his face.

When Harry’s chest stilled, Hermione covered her face with both hands, sobbing uncontrollably. Ron buried his face against Harry’s hand, trying to muffle his anguished cries.

Then…

Harry’s chest rose as his lungs filled with air.

“Harry? Harry!”

“Wait—he’s alive—he’s alive! Ron!”

When Harry’s eyes opened, his gaze was sharper than it had been just minutes before. He looked… more aware.

“What’s going on?” he asked, confused. “Didn’t I die? I was dead—what’s happening?”

As Harry sat up in alarm, Ron wrapped him in such a tight hug that Harry might have suffocated if he hadn’t already been breathing. Hermione, meanwhile, stood beside the bed, laughing through her tears.

“YOU’RE ALIVE, YOU DIDN’T DIE! YOU’RE ALIVE!”

“But how?” Harry asked, bewildered. “I saw my family, I was there…”

When Ron finally released him, Harry looked around and calmly got out of bed. He felt strange—definitely not normal. He could have sworn he’d been on the brink of death. He knew death so well that he could tell he had been inches away from it, yet now he felt so far from it.

“Something’s off,” he said, examining himself. “I feel strange. Something happened, something’s happening.”

“Like what?” Hermione asked.

“Whatever it is, it’s good,” Ron said. “Whatever it is, it’s better than you dying, Harry. Let’s just let it be.”

Harry shook his head. “This isn’t normal,” he muttered as if talking to himself. “It’s like my soul is here… but incomplete… I don’t know.”

“How exactly do you feel?” Hermione asked. “What’s different?”

Harry touched his arms and stomach absentmindedly. “I don’t know,” he replied. “The voices are gone. Death—it’s gone. And the sadness… it’s disappeared. I feel… too normal, and that’s not normal.”

Ron, astonished, asked, “Isn’t that… a good thing?”

As Harry looked around, he asked, “Where’s Draco? Draco—”

The sound of the door opening cut him off. It was Draco.

“Harry!” Draco exclaimed, rushing into the room. “Are you alright?” He hurried to Harry’s side, grasping his arms in concern. “You’re alright, aren’t you?” he repeated, his hands moving to Harry’s cheeks as he examined his face.

“I’m fine, I’m fine—wait—I’m fine, but…”

“Thank Merlin,” Draco said, pulling Harry into a tight hug. “You’re alive…”

When Draco embraced Harry, an odd feeling enveloped them both. For Harry, it was both familiar and foreign. For Draco, it was entirely different.

“You…” Harry murmured. “What did you do?”

Draco didn’t answer, continuing to hold him tightly.

“Draco,” Harry said, pulling back. “You did it—you repeated the spell, didn’t you?”

Draco nodded, looking almost pleased. There was even a smile on his face. “It worked,” he said. “Thank Merlin, it worked.”

For a moment, there was silence. Hermione and Ron were stunned. Harry, on the other hand, was both shocked and angry.

“Are you saying… you gave up your soul?”

Draco looked startled for a moment but quickly composed himself. “I don’t think you have the right to talk about that, Harry.”

“How could you?” Harry asked, his voice full of worry. “Knowing what it means—how could you? Did you think I’d let you die? I’ve already—”

“No,” Draco interrupted firmly. “No, nothing is because of you. Listen to me. This was my last resort. I had no other choice, Harry. Don’t you understand?”

“Draco—”

“I had to try, Harry.”

Harry didn’t know how to feel or what to think. He should have been happy he was alive, but the guilt weighed heavily on him. He was the only one who truly knew what it felt like to live without a soul. The mere possibility of Draco enduring the same was enough to strip away any joy Harry might have felt.

“We don’t know what the consequences of this will be,” he said helplessly. “What if—what if you have to go through the same things I did? I don’t even understand what’s happening to me right now. Something feels off, and I can’t figure it out. Draco… How could you do this without knowing the consequences?”

“You were already… dying, weren’t you? At worst, I’d die too, but look—you’re here, I’m here… Please, please don’t feel bad about this.”

Harry knew he didn’t have the right to be angry at Draco for making the same decision he had once made for him. Still, part of him was furious that Draco had taken a step that could lead to his death. After everything Harry had done to protect him, Draco had willingly risked his life.

“Look,” Draco began, “it wasn’t just my idea, alright? In fact, it was Mr. Mercurius’s suggestion. When he mentioned it in passing, I knew I had to give it a chance.”

“Draco, what if—”

“Harry…” Draco said, cupping Harry’s face in his hands once more. He rested his forehead against Harry’s, his voice soft and his smile faint despite the tears in his eyes. “You understand me better than anyone,” he whispered. “You know exactly how I feel and why I did it. The answers to your questions—they’re in you. You know that, don’t you?”

After a moment of silence, Harry murmured, “I know.” He did. He probably understood it better than Draco himself.

“I’d rather die with you than live without you,” Draco whispered. “You, who have risked so much for love, can’t be angry with me for this.”

As Harry exhaled slowly, he brought a hand to the back of Draco’s neck, threading his fingers through his hair. “I know.”

“Then what’s the problem?”

“I don’t want you to get hurt.”

“I’m here,” Draco said. He pulled back slightly and wiped his tears with the back of his hand. “And so are you,” he added. “You’re alright.”

Harry nodded. “I’m more than alright, and that scares me,” he replied. “It feels like something’s wrong.”

“No—”

The sound of the door opening interrupted their conversation, drawing everyone’s attention. Madam Pomfrey entered first, followed by Professor McGonagall and Chief Healer Mercurius.

“Harry,” McGonagall said anxiously. “For Merlin’s sake, you’re alright, thank heavens…”

Madam Pomfrey wasted no time examining Harry, trying to make sense of what had happened. Meanwhile, Mercurius and Draco exchanged a look.

Draco wasted no time either. “I repeated the same spell,” he explained.

Mercurius looked a little surprised. “So you took seriously the idea I mentioned in passing?”

Draco nodded, his expression calm. “It seems to have worked.”

Harry interjected, “Still, something feels off.”

“What happens now?” Ron asked. “Does this mean their souls are protecting each other? Are they both untouchable?”

Mercurius calmly asked, “Can you describe exactly how you feel? What’s different from before?”

Harry thought for a moment. “The negative feelings are gone,” he said. “It feels like that soullessness has disappeared… I don’t feel incomplete anymore. But still, something’s off. I feel things I’m not used to. There’s something unfamiliar.”

“I feel almost the same,” Draco said. “I’m not sure how to explain it. When I performed the spell, I felt my soul break apart. For a while, I was truly unhappy. I wanted to die.”

“Draco—” Harry tried to interject, panicked.

“But it didn’t last long,” Draco continued. “It passed quickly.”

Professor McGonagall asked, “Do you have any idea what’s going on, Mr. Mercurius?”

“I’m not certain, but I have a theory,” Mercurius explained. “This was what I had in mind when I brought up the idea, but I wasn’t sure if it would work. Mr. Malfoy took a risk.”

Mercurius paused for a few seconds to gather his thoughts, carefully choosing his words to provide a logical explanation.

“Previously, Mr. Potter’s soul acted as a protective shield around Mr. Malfoy, correct? Now, Mr. Malfoy has done the same. This means a piece of Mr. Malfoy’s soul must have wrapped around Mr. Potter for protection. However, it seems that Mr. Malfoy’s soul identified a void in Mr. Potter’s soul and chose to fill it because that was what would protect Mr. Potter. Similarly, when Mr. Malfoy’s soul developed its own void, Mr. Potter’s soul likely filled it. The primary purpose of this spell is ‘protection,’ and just as it protects the mind or body, it also protects the soul.”

After a brief pause, he added, “Mr. Potter didn’t die because his soul is now whole. Even if part of it belongs to Mr. Malfoy, it was enough to pull Harry’s soul back from death.”

“So you’re saying Harry won’t die?” Hermione asked.

“I can’t guarantee that,” Mercurius said. “But for now, it seems there’s no reason to worry about either of them. It’s perfectly natural for them to feel strange. You’re both carrying pieces of someone else’s soul as if it were your own. Those ‘foreign’ feelings you’re experiencing must be the influence of each other’s souls. I don’t know how this will affect you when exposed to external magic; that would need to be tested. But for now, it seems you complete each other. Like—”

“Like puzzle pieces,” Draco interjected.

Mercurius smiled. “Yes,” he said. “Like puzzle pieces… Imagine your souls are puzzles made up of many pieces. It’s as if a piece from each puzzle has swapped places.”

Healer Mercurius’s explanation was clear and sufficient. At the very least, they now understood why they felt so strange, why hugging each other had felt odd. Over time, these feelings might become clearer, and new situations might arise, but both of them were too exhausted to think about the future.

“In that case, there’s only one thing left to check,” said Professor McGonagall. “Let’s see if you can still sense spells. Mr. Weasley, would you like to give it a try?”

Ron was so elated that he didn’t protest as he pulled out his wand. However, he hesitated, unsure whom to aim at. “Wait a minute,” he said uncertainly. “If I cast it on Malfoy but Harry feels it, I don’t want to hurt him… And if I cast it on Harry but it doesn’t rebound onto Malfoy?”

“Stupefy!”

Hermione’s spell hit Harry, sending him flying onto Ron’s bed. “For God’s sake… Hermione…”

Smiling, Hermione explained, “It seems there’s no external protection left.”

“Well, let’s be sure,” Ron said, pointing his wand at Draco. “Stupefy!”

This time, Draco found himself sprawled on the bed Harry had just vacated. “Merlin’s beard, Weasley! Wasn’t it obvious enough?”

As brief laughter echoed through the room, Professor McGonagall asked, “Does everything feel more normal now, would you say?”

It definitely did. Everything seemed more normal, smoother, and simpler. Whatever the future held didn’t matter; for Draco, nothing was more important than the fact that Harry was alive at this very moment.

Harry was alive.

And he no longer felt the heavy burden he once did. He was truly alive.

-

That evening, Harry spent time in the common room, laughing and having fun with all his friends. For the first time in a long while, he felt—truly felt—far from death. And he was happy to remember what that felt like. The sense of completion he felt when touching Draco’s soul was different. This was pure joy. Free of worries, troubles, and negative thoughts.

Later that night, Draco pulled Harry away from the crowd for a walk outside the castle. After strolling by the lake for a while, they settled under their usual tree. Though they had plenty to talk about, they weren’t in a rush to break the peaceful silence. As they watched the lake, Draco’s fingers idly traced patterns on the back of Harry’s hand. Harry, for his part, was perfectly content.

After a few minutes of quiet, Harry asked, “What are you thinking about?” He’d noticed a fleeting sadness cross Draco’s face earlier.

Draco took a deep breath. He knew Harry would press him, even if he didn’t want to answer. “About why I didn’t cast that spell sooner,” he admitted.

Harry smiled. “You thought there might be another solution,” he said.

“But there wasn’t. And if I’d done it earlier, you wouldn’t have had to suffer so much—”

“Draco,” Harry interrupted. “What’s the point of regretting the past? Feeling bad won’t change anything. We’re fine now.”

Draco nodded, a smile forming on his face. “We’re fine, aren’t we? You’re really alright, aren’t you? You’re not hiding anything? If there’s even the slightest—”

“There’s nothing,” Harry said, cutting him off. “I’m really fine. There’s nothing to worry about.”

“You’re happy?”

“I’m happy,” Harry said before turning to glance at the lake. “Mostly, I’m happy you didn’t have to see me die. I don’t know if it’s selfish to say, but I really am.”

Draco chuckled softly. “I’m even happier I didn’t have to see it,” he replied. “It’s alright. We’re alright.”

Harry leaned in, placing a small kiss on Draco’s lips. “We’re alright,” he murmured before kissing him again.

-

Draco hurried down the corridor, heading for the stairs. His urgency was evident in every step as he rushed through the dark hallways late at night. Finally reaching his destination, he paused for a few seconds to catch his breath, then knocked on the door.

“Come in.”

Draco opened the door, stepped inside, and closed it quietly behind him before moving toward the centre of the room.

“Ah, I wasn’t expecting you at this hour, Mr. Malfoy.”

“I came to thank you, Professor.”

Professor McGonagall smiled from behind her desk. “You’ve done well.”

Draco nodded with a small smile and stepped closer to her desk. Reaching into his robe pocket, he pulled out the Time-Turner and held it out to her.

“Thank you, truly, Professor.”

Professor McGonagall said, “And I thank you.”

“Well then… good night.”

“Good night, Mr. Malfoy.”

Draco gave a respectful nod before his gaze landed on the large portrait at the back of the room. For a moment, he locked eyes with Professor Dumbledore’s smiling face and gave him a nod as well. Then he turned and headed for the door. Just as he was about to leave, he paused and looked back at Professor McGonagall.

“Professor?”

“Yes?”

“Harry must never know.”

Professor McGonagall nodded solemnly. “He won’t.”

Chapter Text

He had felt the spell.

The moment he realised what it could mean, an overwhelming wave of panic surged through him, leaving him on the verge of collapsing. His legs felt weak, as though they could give out at any moment, yet he started running. Summoning every ounce of strength he had, he pushed past everyone in his way and dashed toward the castle.

As he sped through the corridors like the wind, his heart felt as though it were pounding not in his chest but in his throat. Each cold breath he took cut through him like sharp blades, shredding him from the inside. The mere thought of losing Harry tossed Draco into a storm of emotions he had never experienced before. It was like navigating in total darkness, searching for a way through an endless void. Lost in his thoughts, fears, and the many grim possibilities, he made his way to the dormitory.

The moment Draco stepped into the common room, he shouted without slowing his pace, “Call for help! Get Madam Pomfrey, tell Professor McGonagall!”

Those present watched him in stunned silence, unsure of what to do. Then, a wave of panic overtook the room. Blaise and Neville, snapping out of their shock, bolted for the exit to carry out Draco’s orders.

Draco threw the door open and his gaze immediately landed on Harry’s bed. Time seemed to stop for a moment. Hermione stood at the bedside, tears streaming down her face. Ron was trying desperately to talk to Harry, while Harry, barely conscious, stared blankly at the ceiling.

Draco took all of this in within a single second before rushing to Harry’s side.

“Harry,” he said, his voice trembling with fear, as if he had poured all his terror into that one word.

“No, no, this can’t be happening. No…”

When Harry realised Draco was there, a faint smile appeared on his face. Perhaps the only reason he had held on this long was his desire not to leave without saying goodbye to Draco. He couldn’t stop the pain he would leave behind, the weight Draco would carry for the rest of his life. Knowing that, he still wondered if it was selfish to want Draco’s face to be the last thing he saw.

“Draco,” Harry said, his smile unwavering. “You’re here.”

“I’m here. Don’t worry, you’re going to be alright.”

Draco sat down beside him, clutching Harry’s hand tightly in his own. With his other hand, he pushed Harry’s sweat-soaked hair back from his forehead, checking his temperature and gently caressing his face. His touch was tender, as though he could soothe Harry’s soul with it.

With great effort, Harry managed to say, “I already feel fine. Don’t worry.”

When Harry’s face twisted in pain and his eyes closed, Draco swallowed hard, his anxiety mounting.

“Stay with me, Harry. Stay here. Can you hear me?”

Harry gave a faint nod and cracked his eyes open. “I need you to promise me something—”

“No, don’t push yourself. You’re going to recover—”

“You’re a good person. I want you to—”

“Stop, Harry. Please…”

“—remember that. And—”

“Harry, don’t…” Draco’s desperate protests were now accompanied by tears.

“You won’t blame yourself.”

Draco could no longer argue. Across the bed, Ron had collapsed to the floor, gripping Harry’s other hand tightly. Hermione, meanwhile, cried quietly behind Ron as if she wanted to disappear altogether.

Harry could barely make out Draco’s face now, but knowing he was there made him smile.

“I’m sorry… for putting you through this…”

“…Draco.”

As Harry’s last, shallow breath escaped him and his eyes closed, a silence heavier than death itself fell over the room. It lasted only a few seconds before the weight of the situation hit, and sobs of despair began to fill the air.

“Harry—no!”

“Mate—brother—please, please wake up…”

Unlike Ron and Hermione, Draco had fallen into a deep, quiet stillness. He stared at Harry’s face, his body frozen in place. He felt cold. The weight of truly feeling the absence of Harry’s soul crushed him.

Harry’s soul had completely vanished. Draco could feel its absence as if it were a tangible thing, something that had been taken from him with an almost physical force. The part of Harry’s soul that had shielded and protected Draco for years was now gone, leaving a gaping void.

For a moment, he noticed movement in the room—people coming and going, the shuffle of footsteps, muffled voices—but none of it registered. Draco didn’t see them, didn’t hear them. All he could see was the stillness of Harry’s face, devoid of its usual warmth and life.

Amid the chaos, the only sound Draco could truly hear was his own ragged breathing. Death hadn’t just claimed Harry’s soul; it had taken a piece of Draco’s own soul along with it, leaving behind an overwhelming emptiness. In that moment, Draco realised what it truly meant to be a living dead. He hadn’t sacrificed his soul for Harry in the same way Harry once had for him, but now he understood how life could feel like death—how breathing could feel like suffocating.

With trembling hands, Draco placed his palm on Harry’s chest and waited… waited for the rise and fall of his breath, for the beating of his heart. He waited for something, anything.

But there was nothing.

Death was alive—it breathed, it lingered—but Harry was gone. And without Harry, Draco felt as though he were no longer living either. Losing the part of Harry’s soul that had once anchored him felt no different from losing Harry himself.

“Don’t blame yourself,” Harry had said mere minutes ago. Yet Draco already did. He believed it should have been him who died. It should have been him in Harry’s place. When he had died before, he should have stayed dead. He never should have come back. If he’d had a choice, he would have chosen to remain dead. But Harry had never given him that choice. Harry had brought Draco back to life. Harry had risked his own life for him, and Draco had had no say in any of it.

And yet, Draco knew he hadn’t deserved any of it.

He didn’t deserve Harry’s love, his protection, or the fact that Harry had been willing to sacrifice his own life for him. Draco thought back to his darkest moments—how cruel he had been, how he had once called Harry a killer, and how he had wanted Harry to carry the weight of regret for the rest of his life.

And yet, even in his final moments, Harry had thought of Draco. Even as he faced death, Harry had apologised for the pain his passing would cause. Harry shouldn’t have died. He should never have been the one to go.

As the fire of grief burned hotter and brighter within Draco, he reached out and grasped Harry’s hand in both of his. He lifted it to his face, pressing his lips gently to the back of it. The small breath he exhaled against Harry’s skin was tinged with shame—he felt unworthy even of this fragile, intimate gesture.

The faint taste of salt from his own tears lingered on his lips as he pressed the softest of kisses to Harry’s hand.

After releasing Harry’s hand, Draco leaned down and kissed the corner of his lips this time. Then, utterly drained, he stood up from the bed. He slipped through the crowd gathered around him and moved away. His gaze fell to the corner of the room—the spot where Harry had sat the night they had said their goodbyes. Draco paused, staring at the space for a few moments before walking over and sinking down against the wall. It was here, in this very spot, that he had learned Harry had once been in love with him.

“Because I was in love with you. Because I loved you so much, and all the pain was worth it for you, Malfoy,” Harry had said.

Draco leaned back against the wall, pulling his legs close to his chest and wrapping his arms around them. From where he sat, he could still see Harry’s face among the people gathered around the bed.

Harry was there. But Draco felt unbearably lonely.

Had he loved Harry enough?

“Just knowing that you loved me, even for a moment, is enough to erase the bad memories,” Harry had said that night.

Draco thought about the days he had spent loving Harry. They made up such a small part of his life—barely a fraction. Had it been enough? Enough to make Harry feel his love? Enough to erase the years of pain? Enough to truly know him?

How much more was there about Harry that Draco would now never get to know?

As Harry’s words from that night echoed in his mind, Draco felt himself sinking deeper into the void. Harry had even said this:

“I know what it’s like to lose someone you love. You’ll feel hollow. No matter how much I wish otherwise, you’ll blame yourself. You won’t want to talk to anyone. The pain will be so intense that there’ll be moments when you won’t want to live. You won’t want to sleep. And when you do, waking up- will feel unbearable. You’ll probably cry a lot.”

Harry had been right about nearly everything—everything except one thing.

“But it will pass,” he had said.

It wouldn’t.

The emptiness Draco felt inside was vast enough to last a hundred lifetimes, and the darkness that engulfed him was big enough to swallow an entire planet.

Most people drowned because they couldn’t breathe. Draco felt like he was drowning because he could breathe. He didn’t want to live. Harry was the one who deserved to live. And in that moment, Draco knew with painful clarity that he would do anything to bring Harry back.

Even if it meant going back in time to stop Harry from splitting his soul. If he could do that, Harry would never have had to endure the agony that had plagued him for years. They likely wouldn’t have grown close. There would have been no love between them, no intimacy. Draco would never have known how easy and beautiful it was to love Harry.

Living without Harry’s love—never having known it—would still have been better than living in a world where he had known it and then lost him.

More than that… if it came down to it, Draco would even undo the spell that had brought him back to life. He would have gladly remained dead if it meant Harry could live.

At that moment, Draco was willing to say yes to anything that would bring Harry back.

Amid the storm of thoughts swirling in his mind, a single idea emerged from the depths, sharp and clear. Draco froze, holding his breath. His heart skipped a beat, then began to race erratically as Healer Mercurius’s words replayed in his head.

The chaotic noise in the room seemed to fade as Draco sprang to his feet. Without hesitation, he made his way to Professor McGonagall, his urgency evident in every step.

“We need to talk,” he said firmly, his voice cutting through the din.

Professor McGonagall, still reeling from the shock of Harry’s death and quietly weeping, hesitated for a moment. She blinked up at Draco, torn between her own grief and his sudden request. But the intensity in Draco’s eyes left no room for doubt—she had to listen.

-

When the spell was complete, the seconds Draco spent waiting for something to happen felt like hours. He was praying it would work, caught between the fear of failure and the anxiety of not knowing Harry’s condition. The tension clawed at him, threatening to tip him into despair.

Until—

He felt it.

For the first time in his life, Draco truly felt his soul, and he felt it break.

The shattering of his soul plunged him into a void so profound that it was as though death itself was breathing against his face. His world darkened, and it seemed as though the sun would never rise again, as if his lips would never curve into a smile, and as though love would forever be out of reach. He felt like his existence was meaningless, like he was a burden to the world.

It was as if shards of his broken soul were cutting into him with every step, piercing him relentlessly.

He wanted to die.

Only a minute had passed, but the agony of those fleeting seconds felt as though they had drained years from Draco’s life. How had Harry endured this for two whole years? Draco couldn’t bear another moment of it.

Then he remembered why he had done it.

The possibility that this might keep Harry alive reignited his resolve. He clung to that thought, and to his surprise, it gave him the strength to endure.

But soon, he realised there was no need to endure.

A strange ripple coursed through his soul, followed by a series of unfamiliar sensations. The unbearable void began to change, as though something warm and protective were filling it. The pain eased, the darkness lifted, and a strange but sweet feeling took its place.

Harry’s soul—or at least a piece of it—had found the void in Draco’s own soul and filled it, wrapping around him like a shield. It had done exactly what the spell was meant to do: protect.

Draco didn’t stop to question what had happened. There was no time. All that mattered now was finding out if it had worked.

Without hesitation, he bolted from Professor McGonagall’s office and ran toward the eighth-year dormitory.

“Harry!” he shouted as he burst into the room.

And there he was.

Harry was there, alive.

“Harry!” Draco exclaimed, rushing into the room. “Are you alright?” He hurried to Harry’s side, grasping his arms in concern. “You’re alright, aren’t you?” he repeated, his hands moving to Harry’s cheeks as he examined his face.

Harry blinked at him in confusion, his breathing steady, his gaze sharp.

Draco cupped Harry’s face with both hands, his thumbs brushing his cheeks as he searched for any sign of distress. “Thank Merlin,” Draco said, pulling Harry into a tight hug. “You’re alive…”

-

“Harry must never know.”

Professor McGonagall nodded solemnly. “He won’t.”

Draco returned the nod, ready to leave the room. But before he could reach the door, Professor McGonagall’s voice stopped him.

“Malfoy?”

Draco turned back, curiosity evident in his expression. “Yes, Professor?”

“Are you certain you want this to remain a secret? Why do you want to hide it?”

Draco let out a deep sigh, collecting his thoughts. “I don’t like keeping it a secret either,” he admitted. “But it’s better this way.”

“Why?”

“Even before he died, he was worried about how his death would affect us,” Draco explained. “Knowing that I experienced his death—it won’t help him. It’ll only make him feel worse.”

There was a moment of silence between them.

“I know what it’s like to discover that you’ve died and been brought back this way,” Draco continued, his voice softer. “He doesn’t need to go through that. It would do nothing but hurt him.”

“I see,” McGonagall said after a pause.

“I just don’t want him to suffer any more than he already has, Professor. He’s been through enough.”

Professor McGonagall gave him a small, understanding smile. “Thank you for explaining. I’ll respect your decision.”

“Thank you.”

After leaving Professor McGonagall’s office, Draco walked through the castle’s silent halls, his steps lighter than they had been in what felt like years. For the first time in a long while, the weight on his chest had eased. He had returned the Time-Turner, and the spell was complete. The chaos and pain of the past were now left behind, tucked away in the folds of time.

In the present, there was nothing to fear. Nothing to grieve.

Harry was alive.

Draco smiled faintly at the thought. After experiencing the abyss for only a few minutes—a mere taste of the soulless existence Harry had endured for years—Draco now felt more resolute than ever. He was determined to make sure Harry’s days were filled with happiness. He would dedicate himself to ensuring that Harry never again had to suffer like that.

When Draco returned to the dormitory, he barely had time to process what happened next. The moment he stepped through the door, Harry’s hand grabbed the collar of his shirt, pulling him forward.

Harry’s lips met Draco’s in a searing kiss, catching him completely off guard.

Draco froze, the initial shock rendering him motionless, but Harry didn’t seem to care. Breaking the kiss only briefly, Harry’s eyes darted between Draco’s stunned gaze and his lips. “So… Did you get some air?” Harry murmured, a smirk playing at the corners of his mouth.

Draco stammered; his voice shaky. “What—uh, yeah, I did, but—what’s happening?” Or at least, he tried to say that.

Harry grinned, his smirk turning mischievous. “Nothing’s happening,” he replied, before gripping Draco by the back of his neck and pulling him into another kiss.

This time, Draco didn’t hesitate. He parted his lips, eagerly reciprocating Harry’s kiss. Their movements became more intense, the kiss deepening with every passing second. Harry’s hands worked deftly at Draco’s shirt, unbuttoning it one by one. Once the last button was undone, Draco pressed a trail of small kisses to Harry’s lips, allowing the shirt to slip off his shoulders and fall to the floor.

Harry’s hands found Draco’s neck and waist, gripping him tightly as he guided them both backward. Step by step, Harry pulled Draco closer to the bed. When they reached it, Harry turned them around, breaking the kiss briefly as he gently pushed Draco onto the bed.

Chapter Text

On an ordinary autumn evening, leaving behind a gentle breeze and the redness of the sunset, he stepped inside the house. As he tried to decipher the silence that greeted him, he removed his cloak, placed it where it belonged, and walked quietly inward. When he reached the entrance of the living room, he stopped and smiled at the scene before him. It wasn’t something he encountered often. After all, Draco wasn’t one to sleep during the day unless he was utterly exhausted. He was the type to stay up late and wake up early. He could talk endlessly about making good use of time and offer advice on the subject. Harry, however, would respond with laughter, making it clear he didn’t take him seriously. For Draco, making good use of time mostly meant reading plenty of books. At home? Read a book. Got free time? Read a book. Teddy is asleep? Read a book. Bored? Well, maybe… read a book? He had an excellent library filled with old books, most of which were about Potions—naturally, none of them interested Harry.

A light breeze, weather that was neither too hot nor too cold, and a gentle evening sun—it was such a beautiful day. On any other occasion, they might have sprawled across the lush green grass and enjoyed the endless view. Perhaps the whole family would have gathered for a picnic. They might have flown kites for Victoire and Teddy. Jokes would have flown around, words would have been lost amid laughter. They would have had fun, making up for every bad day and every moment of their past.

Maybe they would have talked about future plans. Maybe, in the middle of a long conversation, Ron and Draco would have had a disagreement and decided to settle it with a game of Quidditch. Teams would have been formed immediately. Having a large family had its perks; there were always enough people for a game.

In short, it was the kind of day where they would have enjoyed anything they did together. But today was different.

It was a special day…

All the family members and close friends were gathered in formal robes at a ceremony site set against an endless landscape. Just behind them was the home Harry and Draco had lived in for five years. After finishing school, they had spent most of their time there, filling it with countless happy memories. That’s why they had wanted the ceremony to be held there.

It seemed like all the guests had arrived. Scattered in small groups, they waited for the ceremony to begin.

When Hermione approached Ron and placed a hand on his arm, she said softly, “It’s time.”

Ron continued to watch the guests for a few seconds, then nodded slightly and looked at Hermione. “Does it have to be me?” he asked.

“This is what they wanted, you know… Even Draco wanted you to do it.”

Ron nodded, giving himself a bit more time, and turned his gaze toward the cliffside. Then, he walked slowly in that direction.

Two graves made of white marble stood at the very edge of the cliff. One belonged to Harry Potter, the other to Draco Malfoy. One headstone was white; the other was black. Designed like puzzle pieces, the headstones complemented each other—a detail Harry and Draco had planned with great joy just a few months before their deaths.

When Ron stood before the graves and turned to face the guests, all eyes were on him. Everyone was silent. They were waiting for Ron to speak, but Ron, like them, maintained his silence. He felt as though he would never find the right words if he started to speak.

Finally, when he felt ready, he began, “I’m not going to stand here and tell you about them.” He knew that the people who would speak after him would do just that. Besides, he thought it would be meaningless to talk about what kind of people they were when everyone here already knew. Ron believed Harry wouldn’t have wanted him to do that either.

“But… Harry was my brother. Most of what I know, I learned either with him or from him. Love, for instance… I learned that love can both nurture and destroy from Harry. This emotion is so powerful that it can disrupt the balance between life and death. It can be an unbreakable wall before death, yet also a knife that easily severs the ties keeping someone alive.”

A brief silence followed.

“I don’t know if it will always remain the key to everything, but I think we all need to hold on to love a little more—especially to our loved ones. We have to hold on tightly because we never know when we might lose them. We all know this too well.”

Another pause.

“I loved my brother very much. So much that I couldn’t be angry at him for leaving me. And, well, as I got to know Draco, I even came to love him too. But I never told him that. I wish I had.”

He paused once more, cleared his throat, and continued.

“When we first came to this house, Harry said this,” he began, pausing to clear his throat again. “‘It’s such a beautiful place to live… Such a beautiful place to grow old. I could spend my life looking at this view. And I wouldn’t even mind having that annoying git Malfoy by my side.’”

A faint, bittersweet smile spread across everyone’s faces.

“They may have only spent five years here, but now they’ll spend eternity here. Side by side. Continuing to complete each other, as they did for so many years. And I hope they’ll be very happy there—with Fred, Sirius, and everyone else…”

Ron knew he couldn’t hold back his tears any longer, so he ended his speech and returned to Hermione. The moment he hugged her, the tears he had held back throughout his speech finally broke free. Hermione was already crying.

After Ron, others continued to speak. Hermione, Pansy, Blaise, a few others, and finally Professor McGonagall…

After all the speeches and the calm ceremony—just as Harry and Draco would have wanted—the guests began to slowly leave. By the time the sun started to set, only a few people remained. One of them, of course, was Ron, who had been silently standing in front of Harry’s grave for a while.

After Draco had repeated the spell, everything had gone smoothly for three years. Then, things began to change. Harry and Draco started to experience the same things Harry had endured before, but this time, together. That’s how they realised they couldn’t escape death. They had dedicated their final two years to simply enjoying life. As death drew closer, the bad feelings that came with it seemed distant as long as they were together. In the end, they died side by side, peacefully.

The pain Ron felt was so overwhelming that, eventually, his legs gave out, and he collapsed to his knees on the ground. He tightly gripped the marble of Harry’s grave.

As his voice trembled, he asked, “What am I going to do without you? I have Hermione, my siblings, a big family, friends… But what am I going to do without you, Harry?”

He made no effort to wipe his tears and continued, sniffling.

“I thought we’d die together. No, more than that… I wanted us to die together.”

Silence…

“Hermione’s pregnant, and you didn’t even get to meet your niece, Harry. You didn’t get to meet our daughter.”

“Ron…”

He raised his head to look at Hermione. “He’s gone, Hermione, he’s gone…”

“Ron…”

“We can’t even name her after him—can we?”

“Ron? Ronald!”

When Ron opened his eyes, he was met with Hermione’s concerned gaze. He began looking around in confusion, his breaths coming fast and shallow. He was drenched in sweat.

“As much as I appreciate your love for Harry, I’m not sure how to feel about you calling his name in your sleep,” Hermione said, half-laughing. “Also, how can you even fall asleep here?”

“Sleep? Wait a minute, was it a dream? Harry?”

Ron sat up on the couch, where he’d been half-reclined, and placed his hands on Hermione’s round belly. Then, all at once, he jumped to his feet.

“Where’s Harry?”

“Everyone’s outside,” Hermione explained. “Are you sure you’re alright?”

When Ron rushed to the door leading to the garden, he was greeted by a lively, noisy scene. Everyone was there: the Weasley family, Luna, Dean, and the others… Pansy and Blaise… Nathaniel and Aetius, who had been together for the past two years… There were many more people Ron didn’t even notice in the moment. In one part of the garden, large cushions were scattered on the ground. In another, a massive table was set up. Enchanted balloons floated gracefully through the air.

And there he was…

Harry was there!

“Harry!”

After handing Teddy a glass of water, Harry looked up at Ron. “Hey, mate! Finally awake?”

Relieved beyond words, Ron ran to Harry and threw his arms around him. “Thank Merlin… I love you, you’re going to meet my kid, thank Merlin…”

Harry, bewildered, asked, “What’s going on?”

“You’d think he came to sleep, not visit—lazy Weasley. Leave my husband alone.”

Ron glanced at Draco, who was walking past while muttering. He was so happy to see him too that if he had voiced it, they would probably have thought he was joking.

Finally, Ron pulled back and placed his hands on Harry’s cheeks. “We’re dying together, just so you know.”

Before Harry could process what was happening, he asked, “Dying? What are you talking about, mate?”

“Nothing, just a bad dream…”

Harry laughed. “No dying, but there’s cake,” he said. “Now that you’re finally awake, we can cut it. Teddy’s been getting impatient.”

Ron nodded with a grin. As Harry went to get the cake, Hermione arrived. Ron, still bursting with happiness, hugged her as well.

“What did you dream about?” Hermione asked curiously. “You couldn’t have been asleep for more than three minutes. What could you have dreamed in that time?”

Ron pulled back, looking horrified. “Three minutes?!” he exclaimed. “Merlin, I lived through a lifetime of pain…”

“Well then,” Hermione said, gesturing toward the garden, “take a look over there and let it all go.”

In the centre of the garden, Teddy’s cake had arrived. Everyone was standing, gathering around it.

As the birthday song began, Ron and Hermione joined in, singing along as they made their way toward the crowd. Ron, however, seemed far more enthusiastic and cheerful than anyone else—though the others didn’t know why.

After Teddy’s birthday celebration, as the sun began to set, much of the crowd had dispersed. Only family members and closest friends remained—which still meant a rather large group. Most of them had gone inside by then.

Ron, however, had snuck out of the kitchen with a plate full of snacks and was making a great effort not to get caught. He emerged into the garden, where Harry, Draco, Hermione, Pansy, and Blaise were sitting near the cliff’s edge, facing the sunset. As he approached, he noticed Pansy pinching Blaise’s arm for some reason and Harry placing a soft kiss on Draco’s lips.

Hopeless romantics, Ron thought, though he couldn’t help the smile tugging at his lips.

When he reached them, he asked with mock irritation, “Do we have to sit here?” In his dream, the graves had been right where they were sitting.

Draco broke away from Harry to look up at Ron. “You don’t have to. You’re free to hang out inside.”

Ron narrowed his eyes. “Ha, ha, very funny,” he replied, before nudging Harry with his foot. “Move over,” he said, plopping himself down between Harry and Hermione.

Blaise leaned forward to peek at Ron’s plate. “Seriously? You’re not full yet?”

“I’m full,” Ron said, picking up a slice of cake. “But my lovely wife didn’t eat properly. She needs to eat well, you know, considering—”

Before Ron could finish his sentence, the rest of them chimed in like a chorus, “she’s eating for two...”

“Exactly, well done, you’re catching on,” Ron said, holding the cake out to Hermione.

Hermione laughed and shook her head. “I’m not hungry, love…”

“You’re hungry. Here, take it,” Ron insisted, pushing the cake toward her. “You can have more if you want,” he added, holding up the plate.

Hermione knew Ron wouldn’t stop until she ate, so she took a bite without protest, then held the slice as if she planned to continue. Satisfied, Ron smiled and kissed her cheek. It was then that he noticed the weight of the plate in his hand had vanished. He turned to see it being passed along to Blaise, who was already reaching for more snacks. Ron simply rolled his eyes and let it go.

The group fell into a comfortable silence, their attention shifting to the breathtaking view of the sunset. They had grown used to everything being fine, but moments like this still felt surreal sometimes—especially for Harry.

All his life, Harry had been forced to face enemies and constant danger. His time was consumed by fighting not to die, saving others, bringing people back from death, or returning from it himself. He had rarely been able to savour the beauty of life. Even after defeating his greatest enemy, his fractured soul had kept him from finding true peace. Despite having his friends, Hogwarts as his home, and trouble-free days, Harry had always been the soulless, restless, unhappy Harry.

He had forgotten what it meant to be happy. To find joy, to smile sincerely, to have fun… He had even forgotten how to love.

But then everything changed. He spent beautiful days with the man he loved, his friends, and the people he considered family. Days without troubles, without enemies, without death hanging over them. The fact that he hadn’t lost anyone in five years still amazed him. Sometimes, it all felt like a wonderful dream.

But it wasn’t a dream.

It was real.

Everything was fine.

“What a beautiful day,” Blaise said calmly.

“What a beautiful view,” Pansy added.

“This place is beautiful in every way,” Hermione chimed in.

And then Ron, smirking, said, “Yeah, though it wouldn’t make a great place for a grave, would it?” When he felt their stunned stares, he shrugged. “What? I’m just saying…”

Sighs and laughter followed, and only Harry and Draco remained silent, their focus on soaking in the moment and the view.

It truly was a beautiful day.