Chapter Text
The chilly autumn evening wind brushed gently against reddened leaves in the courtyard under a blanket of ebony spotted with twinkling white stars. The lake rippled silently while clouds drifted gently across the ever-darkening sky, and the almost full-moon glowed radiantly. The dorms seemed cosy, warm lights flicked on in the common rooms as the students sipped on hot chocolate and chatted with each other. Outside, it was relatively quiet, besides the gentle constant sound of leaves and crickets, and the occasional hooting of an owl. The peacefulness was broken suddenly by the crunching of pebbles underfoot as Draco raced into the library. He had to find the History of Charms textbook before Professor Flitwick caught him cheating on his homework. Again.
The library, unsurprisingly, smelled like old books- centuries worth of knowledge stored in one highly flammable area because apparently the people who wrote it didn't like the idea of their work actually staying. The torches on the wall kept a steady, warm flow of light, flickering occasionally. No one was checking out any books at this late of an hour (some people- like Pansy Parkinson- were actually sane and didn't want to do anything after dinner, and some were tryhards- ahem, Granger- and did their homework early. Some- Crabbe and Goyle, Draco thought with an eyeroll- were just too lazy and weren't ever going to do their homework anyway. Draco was none and had decided that he would do it late at night so he could get some well-deserved peace and quiet), so it was silent, except for quiet sniffling from the far corner. Draco, somewhat surprised but nonetheless scornful, scoffed. Crying. What muggle behavior. What, Mummy's little boy got his feelings hurt? Rolling his eyes, he continued deeper into the library, desperately searching for the shelf that contained his damn charm book.
Finally, after ten minutes of looking in the strangest places, he found it wedged between a potions book and a book about all the different types of... Bertie Bott's Every Flavour Beans? Draco shrugged, grabbing History of Charms off the shelf and stuffing it into his bag. He had intended to leave the library immediately, but the sound of continuous sniffling was getting louder. Now curious, he followed the noise. It was from the romance section, and coming from the person he least expected.
“Potter?!” Draco exclaimed. Potter’s head snapped towards Draco, his eyes red and puffy, tears still streaming down his face.
“D-Draco? Why are you here?” He said shakily, hastily wiping away his tears. Draco faltered, Potter had never called him that before. Draco felt a laugh start bubbling up his throat, but for some reason, he didn’t let it out. Why am I not making fun of him? Something about seeing Potter in such a state made him falter, a strange feeling stirring in his chest—was this sympathy? He had never felt anything like this before.
“Why are you just staring at me?” Potter asked, snapping Draco out of his daze. His voice was raw from crying. Draco froze, his face flushing with embarrassment.
“Uh–-uh, I… Why are you crying?” Draco blurted out, silently cursing in his head for embarrassing himself. Potter hiccupped, looking down. It looked like he had the weight of the world on his shoulders.
“It’s nothing,” Potter told him.
“You and your muggle emotions,” Draco muttered under his breath out of habit. Potter inhaled sharply.
“Draco, what are you even doing here? If you have nothing to say, just leave. Please.” Draco let out a tired sigh as Potter quickly picked up his books, rushing past him.
“No, Potter, wait up! That’s not what I-” Draco exclaimed, stepping forward towards him. But before he could finish his sentence, Draco’s foot caught onto one of the stray books strewn on the ground, sending him crashing forward… towards Potter. Harry turned around, puzzled why that asshole was still talking, just in time to see Draco tumbling towards him. They crashed into the ground, Draco falling directly on top of him, his face slamming onto his chest. Potter could feel everything- Draco’s erratic breathing, Draco's head resting on his chest, his lean muscles…
“Potter,” Draco said, interrupting his forbidden thoughts, “Why is your heartbeat so…fast?” Harry hastily shoved him off, jumping up and brushing off his robes and mumbling something about tachycardia-it's-totally-normal, and quickly ran towards the exit.
“Wait, Potter! You never answered my question!” Draco yelled, grinning at his disappearing back, never one to miss a chance to make fun of others. I wonder what that was all about, Draco thought as he dusted himself off, shrugging and striding towards the same place Potter had gone just minutes ago.
Hours after, when Draco was long done with his homework (thank god for Flitwick's copied-straight-from-the-textbook answers) and in bed, his mind kept straying back to that moment: Potter's bright green eyes meeting his own icy blue ones, the way Potter's arms instinctively wrapped around Draco, the way Potter's heartbeat started racing. Draco groaned, trying to get the image out of his head. Why was it so... hot?
After that day, things were never the same. The two boys often stole glances at each other and constantly found themselves staring at the other. They never acted on it, though, until that day in Potions class.