Chapter Text
Harry was tired.
Not the kind of tired that a good night’s sleep could fix, but the type that settled deep in his bones, an exhaustion that had nothing to do with the long day of classes. It was the weight of expectations, the constant pressure of being watched, of being needed.
Harry wasn’t sure when he’d last slept through the night.
It wasn’t just the nightmares, though they were getting worse. Some nights, it was Cedric. Some nights, it was the graveyard, the flash of green light, the cold laughter that followed him even after he woke up. Other nights, it was just noise. Whispers he couldn’t make out, hands grabbing at him, the press of something heavy against his chest.
But lately, it wasn’t even the nightmares keeping him up.
Hogwarts was suffocating this year. The Gryffindor common room, which had always been his safe place, felt too loud, too crowded. Even Quidditch practice, usually his escape, had turned into another battle, this time, though, against the rules instead of Bludgers attacking him or dementors.
And then there was Umbridge.
Her presence turned every class into a slow, unbearable slog. Defense Against the Dark Arts had become a joke, a dull recitation of theory while they all sat in stiff-backed chairs, pretending not to notice the pink monstrosity at the front of the room. Harry’s hand still ached from the last detention. I must not tell lies carved into his skin over and over.
So, when Ron and Hermione started whispering about the DA, Harry let them take charge of the planning. He wanted to fight back, but he was too tired to be the one making the decisions. He barely listened when they talked about finding a secret meeting space. He nodded along when they argued about what spells to start with. He agreed to everything just to keep them from looking at him with those careful, worried eyes.
He didn’t want to be worried about. He just wanted to breathe.
So, when the lights dimmed in Gryffindor Tower, when the castle fell into its eerie late-night silence, Harry didn’t sleep.
Instead, he walked.
The halls at night were different – cooler, emptier, safe in a way that daylight never was. He wasn’t sure where he was going, only that he needed out. Away from expectations, away from prying eyes. His feet carried him up, up past the seventh floor, until the air thinned and the world stretched wide before him.
The Astronomy Tower.
He exhaled. The night was crisp, the sky a deep, endless black, speckled with stars. It was the first time all day that he felt like he could breathe.
He barely had a moment to take it in before he realized he wasn’t alone.
A shadow leaned against the stone railing, pale hair catching in the moonlight.
Malfoy.
Harry froze. He wasn’t sure why. There was no reason to be nervous. It was just Malfoy. His rival, his constant source of irritation, his –
His what?
Malfoy wasn’t sneering at him. He wasn’t smirking, wasn’t flanked by Crabbe and Goyle. He was just… standing there, staring out over the castle grounds, hands shoved into the pockets of his robes. His shoulders were tense, as if he was holding something back.
Harry had never seen him like this.
Malfoy turned slightly at the sound of footsteps, and the usual flicker of disdain crossed his face when he saw who it was.
"Following me, Potter?" Malfoy’s voice broke the silence, but it lacked its usual sharpness.
Harry snorted, stepping forward. "Hardly. Didn’t realize you had a claim on the Astronomy Tower."
Malfoy rolled his eyes, but it was slower, less practiced. He turned back to the view, his grip tightening on the railing.
There was a long pause.
Then, without looking at him, Malfoy muttered, "Can’t sleep either?"
Harry hesitated. He wasn’t sure what he had expected. Some sharp insult, a remark about his messy hair or his scar or his pathetic existence. Not this.
Not something so… normal.
For a second, he thought about lying. But the words slipped out before he could stop them.
"Something like that," he admitted.
Malfoy didn’t react right away. He just kept staring out into the night, his jaw tight.
Harry stepped closer, keeping his movements slow, as if he were afraid of startling whatever fragile truce was happening between them. The castle stretched out below them, the windows glowing like tiny stars in the distance. It felt peaceful up here. Removed.
And then, because the silence was too much, Harry said, "What’s your excuse?"
Malfoy let out a short, humorless laugh. "You wouldn’t believe me if I told you."
"Try me."
Malfoy turned then, really looking at him. His expression was unreadable, something guarded behind his sharp grey eyes. For a second, Harry thought he might actually answer.
But then, just as quickly, the moment was gone. Malfoy’s face shuttered, and he turned back toward the night.
"Forget it, Potter."
Harry could have left it there. He should have.
But something about Malfoy’s posture, stiff, restless, like he was barely holding himself together. It felt too familiar.
So, instead of leaving, Harry leaned against the railing beside him. Not too close. Not enough to touch. But enough that they stood side by side, silent, staring out at the stars like two boys who didn’t hate each other for just a little while.
And for tonight, that was enough.