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Harsh rain poured outside the open corridors of hogwarts. The grass on the courtyard turning brown from liquid soil. There, outside by the wooden bridge stood Draco.
The wind blew the rain behind his back, platinum blond hair wet as he looked down the valley. It was cold, his skin craving for the warmth he'd find in the comfort of his dorm or the great hall.
Yet he stayed, feeling himself slowly give into his weak knees from standing and fighting against the forces of nature. Maybe if he fell, he'd feel the pain. Maybe the pain might ignite whatever left over human emotion he had left and the tears would fall.
He saw how others cried in moments of burden. The relief they spoke of after it all, he craved it. Draco wanted to feel the emotions he'd locked into a safe when his father told his nine year old self it was weak.
And Draco to this day doesn't want to be weak, but thus proven by his failed attempts to satisfy anyone showed that he was weak.
He felt the heels of his feet give in, body leaning back. A single gush of the wind and Draco would be one with the ground. Maybe then he'd be grounded, a better person, someone who didn't crave for the simple validation of his fath-
Just when Draco thought he was finally falling, loud thumps on the wooden bridge were heard. Soon after that a couple of warm hands grasped at his sides. Stopping him from falling. "Malfoy?"
Was the voice in his head or was it really the one person Draco had least expected to be here. He felt himself being pushed to balance before the arms wrapped around his shoulders and lead him to a safer place. A warmer place.
"Malfoy sit here," Harry said, rushing him to the steps of the clock tower. Draco gave in, leaning forward as he adjusted on the uncomfortable stone steps but it was better.
Better than the cold, "What were you doing there?"
A question, one that he has to answer. Draco pulled his mind back together, blinking to regain himself before he spoke in the usual posh manner he always carried, "Might ask you the same thing Potter."
"Oh, so you wanna play that game. Okay, I was at Hagrid hut with slughorn. Your turn Malfoy."
He answered, not before coughing out a few batches of cough saliva. "Enjoying the rain."
Harry scoffed, "Seemed to me you were fighting it."
"Right well I lost." The boy said, voice more of a whisper.
The other took a sharp breath, looking at the state of Draco, the guy who would be caught dead rather than look like a drenched clothing rack. Harry softly took two steps forward, confidence spiked more than usual. Maybe the liquid luck still didn't run out his body.
"You almost fell. Did you plan on it?" He asked, trying to figure out how he could look at Malfoy’s face when all he did was stare at the ground or Harry's feet.
Draco only chuckled. It was heart felt though, felt more like a mock, "Would've been better if I did. But I failed at that too."
The brunette made a few expressions, a soft gulp of saliva before leaning forward to kneel against the step below Draco.
"Why?"
"Potter I know you've been stalking me, you should know."
Right, "Is it....that?"
Malfoy merely nodded, lips tight as he avoided eye contact. "You don't have to worry. I've given up now."
Harry, with all the left over courage, lifted his hands to guide Malfoy’s face by his jaw to look at him back, "As much as I hate you, there's more to life than the games set by him. You can escape it."
"Can my mother?" He replied in a heartbeat, "Can she stop listening and following the stupid orders of the man my father so carelessly worships?"
He could only blink in reply, Draco's words sharp. All odds seemed against him. "I can...help you." He spoke, the only promise he could name right now.
"Dumbledore can, he's...he won't care what you've done. There's countless ways to escape the arms of him without your family being harmed. If you let us...help you."
"Potter you don't understand, I have to do this. I'll have to kill him, or he'll kill me."
"Right, to hell with it. I know now don't I? Not the most powerful wizard," he'd heard a scoff, "but I can promise you protection."
Draco finally looked at Harry. Eyes searching the others for anything, any sign of hesitation or false pretenses. "Please...,"
Harry only scrunched his eyebrows in question,
"Go ahead, just know I'm a losing bet."
"I can afford it. To lose," the Gryffindor said. Eyes scanning Draco. The small droplets of water dried and no longer disguising the tears Draco so impatiently wanted. "You can let go...I'm here."
Draco just paused. His blinks louder that the rain pouring outside.
Soon he felt the facade he'd spent days building, maybe months, maybe years, crack. "I'm scared," he spoke. His voice watered down to that of a young boy. Not the Prince of Slytherin or the Death Eater his father expected him to be. Just a boy. "Scared of taking a wrong step and him knowing. Knowing and then harming my mother, my father. Me. Knowing I've failed-"
"You haven-"
"I have! I have and I can't do anything to change it. I failed at repaired the cabinet, failed at poisoning Dumbledore. Failed at cursing him, I..." he took in a long, shaky breath. "I even managed to fail at falling off a bridge."
"Maybe you keep failing because it's not something you want to do."
"I-"
"I've known you Malfoy. We're not exactly thick and thin but you are the same stubborn boy who managed to make badges against me in a night's time. You...you've done so many things. It's not that you can't, it just the small bit of human left here,"
Harry pointed to his heart, "knows not to."
"Harry, I can't just change. You're....you are someone everyone expects to be the hero. They see you and see hope but all they see when they look at me and expect hands filled with blood."
"Then prove them wrong."
"I can't just-"
"No, you can."
Draco only looked away, "It's not easy."
"I never said it is. You just don't have to do it alone."
All Harry did was look at him. The way his lips quivered to utter another word. Knowing he'd break down if he said anything more.
He didn't want to push him further so he shuffled back, feet touching the ground before he felt Draco pull him by his hand.
"Stay."
And Harry did.
He stayed long after the rain stopped. Long after the steps grew cold. He stayed even when Draco finally let himself cry — silent, aching sobs into the shoulder of the one person he was supposed to hate. And Harry held him. Not because he had to. But because Draco let him.
______
The next day in the Great Hall. Filled with bodies of adolescents rushing in every direction and interacting with each other. Two eyes met each other when Harry walked in. Ron and Hermione a few steps ahead, ten arguments into an argument.
He spotted the gray-eyed boy, seated facing the Slytherin table to spot him. Spy on him as he would before, but now he was just worried.
Draco looked the same. Polished, perfect. His robes were immaculately pressed, not a single strand of platinum hair out of place. A calculated calm covered his face like war paint. As if the night before had never happened. As if he hadn’t sobbed into Harry’s shoulder with years of pent-up pain.
And maybe that’s what pissed Harry off the most.
Because it had happened. He’d held him. He’d felt Draco’s hands clutch at his back like it was the only lifeline he had. And now?
Now Draco wouldn’t even hold his gaze for longer than a second.
Harry stopped in the middle of the path. Ron noticed it first.
“Mate?” Ron asked, half chewing on a piece of toast.
Hermione looked up from her parchment and followed Harry’s line of sight. “Oh.”
“Don’t,” Harry said, stepping away from them before either could say more.
He weaved through the tables, ignoring the buzz of morning chatter, until he was standing right at the end of the Slytherin table, across from where Draco sat. Blaise raised an eyebrow. Pansy literally choked on her pumpkin juice. But Draco didn’t even flinch.
Of course he wouldn’t. That would be too human.
“Can we talk?” Harry asked, voice low. Just for him.
Draco peeled his eyes from the spoon in his hand and looked up with that infuriating, unreadable expression. “Now?” he said, tone smooth as silk. “I’m in the middle of breakfast.”
“Then you can finish it later.”
Harry’s voice was more forceful than intended. He wasn’t trying to make a scene, but he also wasn’t about to be dismissed.
“Is this about that detention I gave you in fifth year?” Draco asked, ever the actor. “Let it go, Potter. It’s been years.”
“Outside,” Harry repeated. The look in his eyes left no room for argument.
There was silence. A few whispers. Then Draco exhaled through his nose and pushed back his chair with a loud screech, standing tall. “Fine. Make it quick.”
They walked side by side, out the large doors of the hall and into the quieter corridor. Harry waited until they were far enough, until the sounds of plates and laughter faded into echoes.
Then he stopped. Turned. Faced him.
“You’re really gonna pretend last night didn’t happen?”
Draco looked past him, toward the stained glass windows. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Don’t do that,” Harry said, stepping closer. “Don’t shut me out. Not after everything.”
“You don’t know me.”
“I’m trying to.”
“And I didn’t ask you to.” Draco snapped, but it was too defensive. Too quick.
Harry’s brows furrowed. “You asked me to stay.”
Draco stilled.
“You said ‘stay.’ And I did,” Harry continued, quieter now. “And I would again, if you’d just stop pushing me away.”
For a long moment, neither of them moved. The space between them was just air, but it felt charged. Like one wrong breath and they’d shatter the silence with something irreversible.
“Last night…” Draco said slowly, “was a mistake. I was tired. I wasn’t thinking.”
“You were thinking more clearly than you ever have.”
Draco scoffed, looking away again. But Harry reached forward, hand brushing against his sleeve.
“Don’t look away. Look at me.”
Gray eyes met green, and it was all there. Every unspoken word. Every fear. Every question.
And then Harry stepped even closer, until there was barely a foot between them.
“You’re not a mistake,” he said, voice steady.
Draco swallowed.
“Say something.”
Draco blinked. “You’re exhausting.”
Harry cracked a dry smile. “Takes one to know one.”
Silence again. A different kind.
And maybe it was the leftover tension. Maybe it was everything unravelling. Or maybe it was just time.
But Draco didn’t pull back when Harry leaned in.
Didn’t stop him when their foreheads brushed. When their noses bumped. When their lips almost—
“Potter,” Draco whispered, a warning. Or maybe a plea.
Harry’s voice barely came out. “Tell me to stop.”
He didn’t.
So Harry kissed him.
And the world didn’t end. But something shifted. Something inevitable and quiet, like breath fogging up glass.
And for once, Draco kissed him back.
Not out of spite. Not out of games. But because he could. Because he wanted to. Because he was allowed to want something, even if just this once.
When they finally pulled apart, Draco’s expression was unreadable again. But this time, Harry could see the cracks. The warmth. The choice.
“Back to pretending?” Harry asked, a little breathless.
Draco took a second, then shook his head. “Back to breakfast.”
And as he walked away, Harry smiled.
Because he knew.
Draco would stay too.