Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

There are three kinds of people on the first day of university.

The first are the ones who arrive with color-coded binders, printed schedules, and enough enthusiasm to power a small city. Hermione Granger belongs in that category. She had mapped every lecture hall before we even moved into our dorms, highlighted the fastest walking routes between buildings, and informed Ron and me at least six times that if we somehow got lost, it would be because we had actively ignored her.

The second are the people who somehow glide through orientation looking as though they have attended university for years already. They know exactly where to stand, exactly when to smile, and somehow manage to make carrying a backpack look fashionable. I don't know how they do it, but I resent them for it.

The third kind are Ron and me.

"I swear this is the right building."

Ron squinted at the map on his phone before rotating it upside down.

Then sideways.

Then upside down again.

Hermione pinched the bridge of her nose.

"For someone who claims to have excellent spatial awareness," she said patiently, "you have somehow managed to rotate the map instead of yourself."

"I know where north is."

"You are currently walking south."

"That's... subjective."

"It isn't."

"I think directions are more of a suggestion."

"They are absolutely not."

I laughed, mostly because Ron looked so deeply offended by the concept of cardinal directions.

"I told you we should've left earlier," Hermione continued as she stepped in front of us and confidently turned toward another pathway. "The welcome address starts in fifteen minutes."

"We're fine."

"We're lost."

"Temporarily."

"We've walked past the same fountain three times."

"It looked different every time."

"Because you approached it from three different directions."

Ron sighed dramatically.

"I liked school better when all the buildings were attached."

The university campus was beautiful in the sort of way architects probably dreamed about. Red brick buildings climbed gentle hills beneath enormous oak trees that hadn't quite decided whether summer was over. Students filled every pathway, hauling boxes into dormitories, greeting old friends, introducing themselves to strangers they might end up sitting beside for the next four years. Everywhere I looked, there was movement. Laughter echoed between buildings. Someone carried an acoustic guitar over one shoulder while another student struggled beneath an absurdly large potted plant. Parents hugged children who insisted they were fine before crying the second those parents drove away.

Everything felt enormous, exciting, and terrifying all at once.

I couldn't remember the last time I'd stood somewhere surrounded by so many people who didn't already know exactly who I was.

Back home I was Harry: Soccer captain, the goalkeeper who broke the regional save record, the boy every coach expected to fix impossible matches.

Here...

I was just another first-year trying not to get lost. It was strangely comforting.

Hermione finally stopped outside a large stone building with banners hanging from every column.

"There."

Ron looked up.

"Oh."

"Yes, oh."

"So... we weren't close."

"We were nearly on the opposite side of campus."

"I was testing you."

"You failed your own test."

"I still think the map was wrong."

Hermione rolled her eyes so dramatically I worried they might stay there.

The auditorium was already filling when we stepped inside. Hundreds of students spread across rows of seats, conversations overlapping until they became little more than pleasant background noise. Faculty members crossed the stage, arranging microphones while volunteers handed out orientation packets thick enough to qualify as textbooks.

Ron immediately leaned toward me.

"Race you to the back row."

"Hermione will kill us."

"Probably."

"But she'd be right."

"...Yeah."

We followed her instead. I wasn't paying much attention while we found seats. Honestly, I wasn't paying attention to much of anything. There were too many faces. Too many names being thrown around. Too many possibilities to think about.

Everyone around us seemed to have already found someone to talk to. A girl in front of us compared class schedules with two people she'd apparently met five minutes earlier. Someone behind us enthusiastically explained the merits of mechanical engineering to a visibly overwhelmed philosophy major. Across the aisle, a professor laughed loudly enough to startle half the room.

It all blurred together.

Until movement near the front caught my eye.

A student stepped into the aisle carrying a long cardboard tube tucked beneath one arm and a stack of books balanced against his chest.

Blond hair. Dark green jumper despite the warm weather. His backpack looked heavy enough to pull them sideways. Someone several rows ahead accidentally clipped the edge of their books while squeezing past. I watched as everything fell.

Folders scattered across the floor. Loose papers drifted between chairs. A notebook slid nearly to the stage.

"Oh, no," the other student blurted, already crouching.

The blond student knelt immediately.

"It's alright."

"No, seriously, I'm so sorry."

"It was an accident."

"But your notes..."

"They're only notes."

He smiled.

Not politely. Not the practiced customer service smile people wore when he wanted conversations to end. It was quiet. Easy.

The sort of smile that seemed completely unconcerned with whether anyone noticed it. The blond gathered every page before the other student could reach half of them. Then, and this was the part that stuck with me far longer than it should have, he apologized.

"I'm sorry."

The other student blinked.

"You don't have anything to apologize for."

"I know."

The smile became just slightly sheepish.

"I still feel bad."

Hermione watched the exchange over the edge of her orientation packet.

"That was kind."

"Hm?"

"The blond one."

"Oh."

"He seems nice."

I nodded automatically.

"He does."

The student tucked the recovered papers back into his folder, thanked the other person for helping despite having done most of the work themselves, and disappeared farther down the aisle before I had a chance to think anything more of it.

I didn't know his name. Didn't know what he studied. Didn't even get a proper look at his face.

Just pale hair catching morning sunlight through the tall auditorium windows. Just an armful of astronomy charts disappearing into the crowd. Just someone who apologized for an accident that wasn't theirs.

The dean eventually stepped onto the stage. The lights dimmed. Orientation officially began.

I wish I could tell you I paid attention. I really do. I'm sure the dean said something inspirational about opportunity and academic excellence. There were probably important announcements about campus safety. Someone definitely explained where to find student services.

Ron nudged me halfway through because I'd apparently stopped turning pages in the orientation booklet.

"What?"

"You've been staring into space for like five minutes."

"I have not."

"You absolutely have."

Hermione didn't even look away from her notes.

"He has."

"I was listening."

"You were looking at the ceiling."

"There were... lights."

Ron frowned.

"They're lights, mate."

"I know what lights are."

"You seemed pretty fascinated."

I opened the booklet to a random page.

"I was thinking."

"Dangerous hobby."

"I do it occasionally."

Hermione smiled without looking up.

"We've noticed."

The applause at the end of the speech startled me enough that I clapped half a beat late. Students immediately began standing. The auditorium dissolved into organized chaos as hundreds of first-years tried leaving through doors clearly designed for far fewer people.

Ron disappeared almost instantly.

Hermione sighed.

"I'm going to lose him before lunch, aren't I?"

"Definitely."

"We've been here less than two hours."

"He has impressive consistency."

We followed the crowd outside into brilliant September sunshine. The campus seemed even louder now. Music drifted from somewhere near the student union. Clubs advertised themselves from folding tables lining the pathways. Someone in a mascot costume attempted to high-five every passing student. It should have been impossible to notice one person among thousands.

It should have been. Yet somehow... Across the quad, I caught sight of pale blond hair disappearing behind the science building.

Just for a second. Just long enough for something quietly unfamiliar to settle beneath my ribs.

It was just curiosity. After all... It wasn't like I'd ever see him again.

I smiled to myself as we crossed the quad toward the student union, though I couldn't have explained why. Maybe it was relief that orientation was finally over. Maybe it was the excitement of finally being here after spending months wondering whether university would feel any different from school. Or maybe it was because, despite the overwhelming sea of unfamiliar faces, one stranger had managed to stand out for reasons I couldn't quite put into words.

Ron, of course, had no interest in philosophical reflection.

"I'm starving."

Hermione looked at him.

"You had breakfast."

"I had an early breakfast."

"You had two breakfasts."

"Exactly."

"How does that support your argument?"

"It proves I need a third."

She laughed, shaking her head. "You're unbelievable."

"It's a gift."

The student union had transformed into something resembling organized chaos. Booths stretched across the lawn advertising every club imaginable. Sports teams shouted over one another in an attempt to recruit new members. Someone wearing a bee costume handed out flyers for the environmental society while a group of musicians played near the fountain, competing with the chatter of hundreds of first-years.

A girl intercepted us before we'd even taken ten steps.

"Hi! Are any of you interested in volunteering with local schools?"

Hermione accepted the flyer immediately.

"I might be."

Ron politely declined.

I smiled apologetically. "Maybe after I figure out where all my classes are."

She laughed.

"Fair enough. Good luck."

"Thanks."

We continued weaving through the crowd until Ron abruptly stopped walking.

"There."

He pointed toward a stand with a giant banner reading UNIVERSITY SOCCER CLUB.

"I'll be five minutes."

Hermione snorted.

"You mean forty."

"Maybe."

"You've abandoned us already."

"I prefer the phrase 'temporarily pursuing my dreams.'"

"You've known these people for approximately three seconds."

"They seem lovely."

Before either of us could answer, he'd disappeared into a cluster of students wearing training jackets.

Hermione watched him go with the weary affection of someone who had expected exactly this outcome.

"I give him until tomorrow before he forgets his timetable."

"Tomorrow?"

"I'm feeling optimistic."

We wandered more slowly now, collecting maps, schedules, and enough free pens to last several lifetimes. Hermione paused at nearly every academic society table, asking thoughtful questions about research opportunities while I mostly admired her ability to sound like she'd been attending university for years instead of hours.

"What are you thinking of joining?" she asked eventually.

"I don't know yet."

"No?"

"I figured I'd wait until classes start."

"That's sensible."

"I've been called worse."

"You've also been called reckless."

"Usually by you."

"For good reason."

I grinned.

"You love me really."

She rolled her eyes.

"Unfortunately."

We reached the science faculty display where telescopes stood pointed toward the bright afternoon sky. It seemed counterproductive until one of the volunteers explained they were fitted with solar filters.

A small crowd had gathered around one of the telescopes.

Someone was speaking.

"...you obviously can't observe stars during the day," a calm voice explained, "but solar observation is surprisingly interesting if you've never tried it before."

I froze.

It was him.

The blond student from the auditorium.

He stood beside the telescope with one hand resting lightly against the tripod, speaking with an ease I hadn't expected. Gone was the slight uncertainty I'd noticed when he'd dropped his books. Here, talking about something he clearly loved, he looked completely different.

He was comfortable now. Maybe animated even.

"...the sun's surface isn't actually smooth," he continued. "Most people never think about it because they only ever see it from a distance."

Someone asked a question I couldn't hear.

He smiled.

"It does feel a bit unfair that the most interesting thing in our solar system is also the one you're specifically told never to look at."

A few students laughed.

Hermione nudged my arm.

"Oh."

"What?"

"I think that's the student from orientation."

"It is?"

She looked at me strangely.

"You noticed."

"I..." I cleared my throat. "Yeah."

"He seems knowledgeable."

"He does."

I wasn't listening to the facts anymore.

Or rather, I was trying to.

I genuinely wanted to know what he was saying.

But every time he smiled at someone's question, my brain seemed to forget how information worked.

He spoke with his hands. Not dramatically. Just enough that every explanation felt like a conversation instead of a lecture.

He never interrupted anyone. When another student gave a wrong answer, he didn't correct them immediately. Instead, he asked another question until they reached the conclusion themselves.

It was... nice. That was the word. Nice. Not the sort of person who wanted everyone to know how clever he was. Just someone who genuinely liked sharing something he cared about.

A professor approached from behind him carrying another telescope.

"There you are."

The blond student looked over.

"Sorry, Professor Vector."

"No need to apologize. You're doing wonderfully."

"I hope so."

"You've convinced three prospective physics majors already."

He laughed quietly.

"I think they were already convinced."

"Perhaps."

The professor smiled before turning toward the growing crowd.

"Ladies and gentlemen, if you haven't met him already, this is one of our astronomy department ambassadors."

That explained it. He'd done this before. Maybe for forever. No wonder he seemed so comfortable.

"And your name?" someone in the crowd asked.

The professor gestured toward him.

"This is Draco Malfoy."

Draco.

It fit. I had absolutely no idea why. It simply did.

Draco thanked the professor with a slight shake of his head, almost embarrassed by the introduction, before returning to the telescope as though being the center of attention made him uncomfortable.

"Would anyone like to have a look?" he asked.

A line immediately formed.

Hermione stepped forward.

"I've actually never used a telescope before."

"Really?" Draco smiled warmly. "Then today is as good a day as any."

He adjusted the eyepiece before stepping aside.

"Go ahead."

Hermione leaned down.

"Oh."

She sounded genuinely awed.

"I wasn't expecting..."

"I know."

His smile softened.

"Pictures don't really compare."

I watched the interaction more than the telescope.

Draco waited patiently while Hermione looked, asking whether she could see the darker sunspots before making tiny adjustments without taking over. He seemed incapable of making someone feel foolish. When Hermione stepped away, she looked delighted.

"That was incredible."

"I'm glad."

She glanced back toward me.

"Harry, you should try."

Before I could answer, Draco looked up. Our eyes met for the first time. They were grey. A bright startling grey. Like rainclouds before a storm that never quite arrived.

"Oh," he said with an easy smile. "Would you like a look?"

For one deeply embarrassing second, my brain stopped functioning.

"Er..."

Brilliant. Absolutely brilliant, Harry. He was going to think I'd forgotten how words worked.

"I've never..." I managed eventually. "I've never looked through one before."

"Then you definitely should."

He stepped aside, giving me room.

"Don't worry if it's blurry at first. Most people instinctively blink because they expect it to work like binoculars."

I laughed nervously.

"That's oddly specific."

"It happens more often than you'd think."

His voice was gentler in conversation than it had sounded while speaking to the crowd. Less practiced-customer service and more… him. I bent to the eyepiece. At first all I saw was brilliant white.

Then Draco reached over.

"May I?"

"Oh."

I stepped back quickly.

"Sorry."

"No, you're alright."

He adjusted one of the focus knobs with practiced precision.

"There."

I leaned in again. This time... I saw it. The surface of the sun.

Not flat. Not featureless. It looked alive.

Swirling. Textured. Beautiful.

"Wow," I breathed.

Beside me, Draco smiled.

"I know."

There wasn't an ounce of smugness in his voice. Just quiet happiness that someone else could see what he saw. And for reasons I couldn't explain, I found myself smiling too. Not because of the telescope. Not entirely.

But because Draco Malfoy looked happiest when he was helping someone discover something wonderful for the first time.

I had the strange feeling that if he loved astronomy half as much as it seemed he did, then somewhere inside that endlessly curious mind was an entire universe he hadn't yet shared with anyone.

For the first time that day, I found myself hoping our paths might cross again.

Not because he was beautiful. Although he undeniably was.

Not because he seemed brilliant. Although that was becoming increasingly obvious.

But because, in the span of ten minutes, Draco Malfoy had made the sun feel personal. And somehow, impossibly, I wanted to know what else he could make the world look like.

People liked to say university was where you found yourself.

Personally, I thought it was where you lost things.

Within the first forty-eight hours, Ron had misplaced his student ID twice, Hermione had somehow acquired three different planners because each one served a slightly different purpose, and I'd spent twenty minutes searching for a lecture hall only to realize I'd been standing outside it the entire time.

It wasn't the smooth beginning I'd imagined, but it was ours.

By Wednesday morning, the campus already felt smaller than it had on orientation day. The crowds still filled every path between lectures, but they no longer looked like an endless sea of strangers. Faces had started repeating themselves. The girl with bright pink headphones who always read while she walked. The economics student who insisted on riding a skateboard over cobblestones despite looking seconds away from breaking every bone in his body. The elderly groundskeeper who greeted everyone as though he'd known them for years.

The unfamiliar was beginning to feel familiar.

That was comforting.

My timetable, however, remained determined to humble me.

"Probability and Statistics," I muttered, staring at the map on my phone. "How difficult can one class be to find?"

Hermione looked up from her coffee.

"You're standing in front of the arts building."

"I know."

"Your lecture is in the mathematics building."

"I also know that."

"They're different buildings."

"I'm aware."

"They're on opposite sides of campus."

I sighed.

"You're enjoying this."

"A little."

Ron took another bite of his breakfast sandwich before speaking around a mouthful of food.

"Turn left at the fountain."

I blinked.

"You know where it is?"

"I got lost yesterday."

"So?"

"I accidentally found it."

Hermione laughed into her coffee.

"That is somehow the most Ron explanation imaginable."

He looked smug.

"See? My mistakes are educational."

"I'll remember that the next time you walk into traffic."

"That happened once."

"It happened twice."

"The second time wasn't my fault."

"You were following a pigeon."

"It looked confident."

I left them still arguing over whether pigeons possessed directional intelligence and hurried across campus, checking my watch every few minutes. The professor's email had very clearly stated that punctuality mattered, and I'd already decided I wasn't going to become the student who turned up late during the first week.

The mathematics building sat tucked between the engineering department and the library, its tall windows reflecting the brilliant September sky. Students drifted through the entrance carrying laptops, calculators, and expressions ranging from mild curiosity to absolute terror.

I suspected the terror belonged to the calculus students.

Probability couldn't be that bad.

Could it?

The lecture theatre was only half full when I arrived, giving me enough time to choose a seat without the awkward dance of climbing over someone's knees.

I settled near the middle.

Close enough to hear.

Far enough from the front that I wouldn't accidentally become part of a demonstration.

Perfect.

I was digging through my bag for a notebook when someone slid into the seat beside me.

"Excuse me."

The voice was familiar. Far too familiar.

I looked up. Draco Malfoy smiled politely.

"Is anyone sitting here?"

Every coherent thought immediately abandoned me.

"No."

Excellent. One word. I'd managed one word.

"Thank you."

He placed his bag beneath the desk before carefully pulling out a laptop covered in tiny astronomy stickers. Constellations stretched across the back of it in neat silver lines, interrupted only by a small sticker of Saturn wearing what appeared to be sunglasses.

I stared. Because of course plants wore sunglasses. It somehow suited him.

He caught me looking.

"Oh."

He glanced down at the laptop.

"My cousin gave me that one."

"The sunglasses?"

He nodded, looking faintly embarrassed.

"He insists every serious piece of equipment needs at least one ridiculous sticker."

I laughed.

"I think he's right."

"Unfortunately, so do I."

There it was again. That quiet smile. The one that always seemed surprised to find itself on his face.

"I'm Harry," I said before I could overthink it.

"I know."

The words landed so unexpectedly that I simply blinked.

Draco's eyes widened slightly.

"I mean..."

He laughed softly, rubbing the back of his neck.

"That sounded stranger than I intended."

"It did a little."

"We were both at the orientation welcome."

"Oh."

"And you're on the soccer team."

"I haven't decided to play yet."

"The sports society has been very enthusiastic about you."

I couldn't help smiling.

"They have, haven't they?"

"A table covered in life-sized photographs was difficult to miss."

"I wish you hadn't told me that."

He laughed again.

"I apologise."

"No, don't. I'd rather know."

"I'll pretend I never mentioned it."

"I appreciate that."

The professor entered before either of us could say anything else.

Conversations quieted. Laptops opened. Pens clicked. For the next hour, I genuinely tried to pay attention.

I really did.

Probability wasn't actually as intimidating as I'd feared. The lecturer had an engaging way of explaining concepts, drawing diagrams that somehow made statistics feel almost logical.

Almost. Every now and then, though, my attention wandered. Not because the lecture was boring. Because Draco took notes in different coloured pens.

Not highlighters. Pens.

Blue for definitions.

Black for equations.

Green for examples.

He wrote remarkably quickly, occasionally pausing to tap the end of his pen against his lower lip while thinking before continuing.

Halfway through the lecture, he frowned at one of the equations.

Not dramatically. Just enough for a tiny crease to appear between his eyebrows.

For reasons I couldn't explain, I wanted to know what he'd missed. Then he nodded to himself, erased two lines, rewrote them, and the crease disappeared.

Problem solved.

It was absurd how interesting I found that. By the end of the lecture, I couldn't remember half of what the professor had said about probability distributions. I could, however, tell you that Draco dotted his i's with unnecessary precision and chewed the inside of his cheek whenever he concentrated.

That didn't seem like useful information. Yet somehow my brain had filed it away anyway.

Students began packing their bags as the lecture ended. I reached for my notebook at exactly the same moment Draco reached for his. Our hands collided.

"Oh."

"Sorry."

We spoke simultaneously. Then looked at each other. Then laughed.

"I'm beginning to think apologizing is contagious," I said.

His ears turned slightly pink.

"I've been told I do it too often."

"I don't mind."

He smiled.

"I'm glad."

The crowd slowly filtered toward the door.

Draco zipped his backpack closed before glancing at his timetable.

"What have you got next?"

"Sports psychology."

His expression brightened.

"That actually sounds interesting."

"I hope so."

"What about you?"

"Astrophysics."

I raised an eyebrow.

"Only slightly on brand."

"I've been accused of worse."

"I imagine by the cousin who bought the Saturn sticker."

"You'd be correct."

We stepped into the hallway together, immediately swallowed by students moving in every direction.

"Well," Draco said, adjusting the strap of his backpack. "I'll see you around."

"Yeah."

He offered another small smile. Then disappeared into the crowd. I stood there for a moment longer than necessary.

"Harry!"

I turned to find Ron waving from the opposite end of the corridor.

"There you are!"

He jogged over, slightly out of breath.

"I've been looking everywhere."

"I was in class."

"I know that now."

He frowned.

"Were you talking to someone?"

I glanced toward the hallway Draco had vanished down.

"Oh."

"Just someone from Probability."

Ron looked over my shoulder.

"Blond bloke?"

"Yeah."

"He seemed nice."

"He is."

Ron grinned.

"You've known him for an hour."

"I know."

"You sound very certain."

I shrugged, hoping I looked casual.

"I've got a good feeling."

Ron accepted that answer far more easily than I did.

Because as we headed toward lunch, I caught myself scanning the crowds without thinking.

Grey jumper. Blond hair. Astronomy department lanyard.

I wasn't looking for Draco. Not really. It was simply... A large campus. With a lot of people. And somehow, despite all those people, I found myself wondering if I'd run into him again before the end of the day.

It wasn't an obsession. Absolutely not. It was just curiosity.

At least, that was what I told myself. As it turned out, I was about to become a very convincing liar.

But that was yet to come. I actually did decide to join the soccer club. And no, it was not because of Draco.

My soccer schedule quickly settled into a rhythm. Morning lectures, afternoon training three days a week, evenings spent pretending I understood statistics while Ron complained about coursework and Hermione somehow finished assignments that hadn't technically been assigned yet. It was comfortable in the sort of way routines always were. Days blurred together until the walk between buildings became automatic, and I stopped needing the campus map tucked inside his backpack.

I also stopped needing to wonder whether I’d see Draco Malfoy again.

Not because I went looking. Because Draco simply... appeared.

Not in the dramatic, cinematic sense. I wasn't waiting around corners or somehow present in every room I entered. The university was far too large for that. Yet every few days I would catch sight of him almost by accident, like spotting the same bird on different mornings without realizing it had built a nest nearby.

Sometimes Draco was crossing the quad with two other students, his hands moving animatedly as he explained something that had the dark-haired boy beside him laughing hard enough to nearly trip over his own feet.

Sometimes he was tucked into a quiet corner of the library with headphones on, completely oblivious to the world around him, surrounded by books whose titles I couldn't begin to understand.

Once, while I jogged laps around the athletics field during conditioning drills, I noticed someone sitting on the hill beyond the running track with a notebook balanced across their knees.

Pale blond hair. Green jumper. I nearly missed Coach McLaggen's whistle.

"Potter!"

I blinked.

"What are you looking at?"

"Nothing."

"Funny."

Coach folded his arms.

"You've just run thirty metres in the wrong direction."

The rest of the team burst into laughter.

I rubbed the back of my neck.

"My mistake."

"It had better stay your only one."

"Yes, Coach."

As punishment, I ran another lap.

Ron caught up beside me halfway around the track, breathing harder than I despite insisting he was in excellent shape.

"You alright?"

"Yeah."

"You looked distracted."

"I was."

Ron glanced toward the hill.

"What was over there?"

I looked too.

The spot was empty now.

"I don't know."

Ron frowned for a second before shrugging.

"Fair enough."

A week later, I discovered Draco had an odd habit.

He apologized to vending machines.

I hadn't meant to overhear.

I stopped in the science building after training because Hermione wanted to borrow one of my notebooks, and the vending machine outside the lecture hall had decided to eat Draco's coins.

"Oh."

Draco frowned at the display.

"I think I've confused you."

The machine remained stubbornly silent.

He tried another coin.

Nothing.

"I'm sorry."

I actually looked around to see who Draco was talking to.

Draco sighed.

"I know it isn't your fault."

The machine, perhaps sensing it had already embarrassed itself enough for one afternoon, finally dropped the chocolate bar.

"There we are."

Draco smiled.

"Thank you."

He picked up the chocolate and walked away.

I stared at the vending machine.

"...Did he just thank you?"

The machine offered no opinion.

At dinner that evening, I made the mistake of mentioning it.

"He apologized to a vending machine."

Ron looked up from his chips.

"Who did?"

"Draco."

Hermione paused halfway through opening a yoghurt.

"The astronomy student?"

I nodded.

"He thanked the vending machine after it worked."

Ron blinked.

"...Why?"

"I don't know."

"Maybe he was joking."

"He looked serious."

Hermione smiled to herself.

"That's rather sweet."

Ron pointed a chip at me.

"Hold on."

I looked up.

"What?"

"Why do you know that?"

"What do you mean?"

"You've described this bloke to us... several times now."

"I have not."

"You absolutely have."

Hermione thoughtfully took a bite of her yoghurt.

"You've also mentioned he helped someone during orientation."

Harry frowned.

"So?"

"And that he runs the astronomy demonstrations."

"I was just telling you about them. Plus, you also saw those events happen!"

"You know what subjects he studies."

"Not really… It’s a guess."

"You know he uses different coloured pens."

Harry froze.

Ron slowly lowered the chip.

"...Mate."

Harry felt warmth creeping into his face.

"I sit next to him in Probability."

"One class."

"So?"

Hermione exchanged a glance with Ron.

Neither of them said anything.

That was somehow worse.

"What?"

Hermione smiled innocently.

"Nothing."

"You're doing the thing."

"What thing?"

"The judging thing."

"I haven't judged you."

"You looked at Ron."

"I did."

"You communicated."

"I don't know what you're talking about."

Ron nodded solemnly.

"They communicated."

I groaned.

"Oh, don't start."

"We're just saying..."

Ron leaned back in his chair with entirely too much satisfaction.

"...you seem awfully interested in this Draco bloke."

"I'm not interested."

Hermione raised an eyebrow.

"No?"

"No."

"So if he walked through the dining hall right now..."

I instinctively glanced toward the entrance, realized what I'd done, then slowly looked back at them. Ron burst into laughter so loud that several nearby tables turned to stare. Hermione tried very hard not to join him. She failed almost immediately.

I buried his face in my hands.

"I hate both of you."

Ron could barely breathe.

"You didn't even think!"

"I did think."

"You looked before you denied it!"

"I..."

I stopped.

Because...

I had.

And somehow, despite only speaking to Draco once or twice, despite knowing almost nothing about him beyond astronomy and colourful pens and an inexplicable tendency to apologize to inanimate objects...

I had started looking for him without even realizing it.

That couldn't be good.

Could it?

University had a peculiar way of making every day feel simultaneously identical and completely different. By the second week, the novelty of carrying a student ID had worn off, lectures no longer felt like elaborate orientation exercises, and the campus had settled into a rhythm that everyone seemed to understand except the first-years.

I was beginning to understand it too.

The rush outside lecture halls five minutes before class.

The unspoken rule that the coffee queue in the student union moved twice as fast as the one in the library.

The professor who insisted every email begin with "Dear Esteemed Scholars," despite nobody having earned the title.

It wasn't home.

But it was beginning to feel like somewhere I belonged.

Soccer training helped.

Coach McLaggen believed the best cure for homesickness was physical exhaustion, and after two-hour training sessions filled with sprint drills, passing exercises, and enough conditioning to make everyone's legs feel like jelly, I found I rarely had enough energy left to dwell on missing home.

I appreciated that.

The team had welcomed me quicker than I'd expected.

Dean Thomas, a second-year midfielder, had taken it upon himself to introduce me to everyone within approximately thirty seconds of meeting me.

"That's Seamus."

A hand appeared in front of me.

"Ignore Dean."

Dean looked offended.

"I'm literally helping."

"You never stop talking."

"I contain multitudes."

"No," Seamus replied. "You contain noise."

Laughter erupted around the changing room.

I found myself smiling. It reminded me a little of home.

Not exactly. Nothing could replace the years I'd spent with Ron and the others.

But there was something reassuring about stepping into another group where teasing seemed to be the preferred love language. By Friday, Dean had already decided I was incapable of surviving independently.

"You've got Probability this afternoon, right?"

I looked up from tying my boots.

"Yeah."

Dean nodded seriously.

"Don't fall asleep."

"I wasn't planning on it."

"The lecturer notices."

"Have you done that?"

Dean didn't answer. Seamus answered for him.

"Three times."

"It was one time."

"It was three."

"It was one memorable time."

Coach walked past.

"It was four."

The changing room dissolved into laughter again.

I shook my head.

"I've joined a circus."

Dean looked pleased.

"Best decision you'll ever make."

Probability had become my favourite lecture.

I refused to examine that statement too closely.

It certainly wasn't because Draco sat beside me every Tuesday and Friday.

That would have been ridiculous.

There were perfectly sensible reasons to enjoy Probability.

The lecturer was engaging. The coursework wasn't impossibly difficult. The room had comfortable chairs. Those reasons were entirely unrelated to the fact that Draco always arrived five minutes early carrying the same navy backpack.

I repeated those reasons to myself while climbing the stairs to the lecture theatre.

They sounded convincing. Mostly... I was surprisingly early for once, so Draco wasn't there yet.

I sat down anyway, placing my notebook on the desk before absentmindedly watching students file into the room. A pair of engineering students argued about an assignment. Someone further down the row was already asleep. Another student had somehow brought an entire takeaway pizza into the lecture theatre.

University really did have fewer rules than secondary school.

"Morning."

I looked up. Draco slipped into the seat beside me, balancing a coffee in one hand and a notebook in the other.

"Morning."

"You look tired."

I rubbed at one eye.

"Training."

"Soccer?"

"Unfortunately."

Draco laughed.

"I thought you liked soccer."

"I do."

"I don't usually hear people describe things they enjoy as unfortunate."

"I enjoy playing."

"I don't enjoy Coach deciding we should run until we discover new forms of suffering."

Draco smiled into his cup.

"That sounds unpleasant."

"It builds character."

"Does it?"

"No."

Draco laughed softly.

"I appreciate the honesty."

The professor walked in before the conversation could continue.

I was oddly disappointed.

After class, the hallway filled with students trying to leave all at once.

I lost sight of Draco almost immediately. Not unusual. Draco always seemed to disappear into crowds with surprising ease.

I adjusted the strap of my bag before heading toward the library to meet Hermione. She'd claimed one of the corner tables hours earlier, judging by the growing stack of books surrounding her.

"You look happy," she observed without looking up.

"I do?"

"You've been smiling since you sat down."

I blinked.

"I have not."

Hermione finally looked over the edge of her textbook.

"You have."

"Huh."

"What happened?"

"Nothing."

"You don't usually smile because of nothing."

I thought for a moment. Probability had been... nice.

We'd spoken for perhaps three minutes before class. Draco had laughed at one of my jokes. That was all. Surely that wasn't enough to explain the stupid grin Hermione had apparently noticed.

"I had a good lecture."

Hermione narrowed her eyes.

"Probability?"

"...Maybe."

"I see."

"You don't."

"I think I do."

I quickly changed the subject.

"How's your essay?"

She sighed dramatically.

"I've spent twelve hundred words explaining why a philosopher contradicted himself."

"Sounds thrilling."

"It isn't."

We stayed until the library announced it would be closing. Outside, the evening air had turned pleasantly cool. Students wandered between buildings in small groups, their conversations carrying across the quiet campus. As Hermione and I crossed the central courtyard, laughter echoed from somewhere ahead.

A familiar laugh. My eyes lifted almost instinctively. Across the lawn, a group of four students walked toward the science building.

Draco was in the middle. Beside him was the dark-haired boy I'd seen during orientation, gesturing wildly while telling a story. A girl with short dark hair shoved him lightly in the shoulder.

Draco laughed again, ducking his head as though embarrassed by whatever had just been said. The girl shoved Draco then stole the dark-haired boy’s drink.

"Oi!"

The boy lunged after her.

The entire group dissolved into chaos. Draco was laughing so hard he nearly dropped the folder tucked beneath his arm. I couldn't hear what they'd said. I didn't need to.

For the first time, I wasn't seeing Draco explaining astronomy or answering questions from strangers.

He was just... A university student. Messing around with friends.

Hermione followed my gaze.

"Is that your Probability friend?"

I nodded.

"He seems to have nice friends."

"He does."

The group disappeared into the science building, still arguing about the stolen drink.

I watched the doors swing shut behind them.

"What?" Hermione asked.

"Nothing."

"You've got that look again."

"What look?"

"The one where you're thinking too hard."

I smiled faintly.

"I think..."

I hesitated.

"I've only ever seen him being nice."

Hermione looked thoughtful.

"That's not a bad first impression."

"No."

I looked toward the now-quiet science building one last time.

"I suppose it isn't."

As we continued toward the dorms, I found myself smiling again.

Not because Draco had spoken to me. We hadn't exchanged a single word all afternoon. But because, somehow, seeing Draco laughing with his friends felt just as good.

It was a strange realization. I wasn't just curious about Draco anymore. I was beginning to enjoy simply knowing that somewhere on campus, Draco Malfoy was having a good day.

The next few weeks settled into something that almost resembled routine.

Almost.

I stopped getting lost between lectures, Ron finally accepted that the mathematics building wasn't going to relocate itself to a more convenient part of campus, and Hermione somehow found enough spare time to become involved in three academic societies while still insisting she wasn't particularly busy.

Meanwhile, I was beginning to notice something else.

Or rather... Someone else.

Well. Three someone elses.

Draco was rarely alone. Once I realized that, I couldn't seem to stop noticing the people around him.

The first was the girl.

She had dark hair cut into a neat bob and carried herself with the sort of confidence that suggested she'd never once questioned whether she belonged somewhere. She dressed impeccably, even at eight in the morning, and had a habit of looping her arm through Draco's whenever they walked across campus. From a distance, she looked intimidating.

Then I watched her steal Draco's coffee.

He stopped walking.

"...Pansy."

She took a deliberately slow sip.

"Mmm."

"That's mine."

"I know."

"You have your own."

"I wanted yours."

"You ordered the exact same thing."

"I know."

Draco sighed with the long-suffering patience of someone who'd had this exact conversation a hundred times before.

"You are unbelievable."

"So I've been told."

She handed the cup back with a grin that looked far too pleased with itself.

Draco accepted it without complaint. He didn't even check whether she'd drunk half of it. He simply thanked her when she passed it back.

Thanked her. For stealing his coffee.

I shook my head to myself. That couldn't possibly be a healthy friendship.

The second was impossible to miss. Tall. Dark-haired. Always laughing.

He walked like every path across campus belonged to him, usually with one hand shoved into the pocket of an expensive coat while the other gestured wildly through whatever story he happened to be telling.

I had no idea what his name was. I privately started calling him The Loud One. He was almost always responsible for Draco laughing. Sometimes it was an exaggerated impression of a professor. Sometimes he dramatically reenacted something that had happened in one of their lectures, complete with sound effects.

Once I watched him balance an apple on his head before bowing dramatically to an audience of exactly three people.

Draco laughed so hard he had to lean against a bench.

The girl, Pansy apparently, looked completely unimpressed. She was smiling anyway. It occurred to me then that they fit together in a way only long-time friends really could. The sort of people who had probably spent years collecting inside jokes nobody else understood.

I found myself wondering how long they'd known each other.

School?

Childhood?

Long enough that stealing coffee didn't even warrant an argument.

"You've been staring for a while."

Hermione's voice pulled me back to reality.

I blinked.

"What?"

She looked over the top of her textbook.

"The science courtyard."

I looked down at my notes.

"I wasn't."

"You were."

"I was thinking."

"You've started saying that every time I catch you."

"I'm a thoughtful person."

She hummed skeptically.

"I see."

"I am."

"Mhm."

I refused to look back toward the courtyard.

Not because Hermione was right. Because she wasn't. Mostly.

"...They're funny," I admitted after a moment.

Hermione glanced over before following my gaze.

"Oh."

"The astronomy group."

"I don't know if they're all astronomy."

"They seem close."

"They do."

We watched as the tall one threw an arm around Draco's shoulders. Draco immediately shoved him away. The taller boy stumbled backward with exaggerated offence, clutching dramatically at his chest while Pansy looked one second away from laughing.

Draco rolled his eyes. Then smiled.

Hermione closed her textbook.

"I like watching people who have that."

"What?"

"History."

I frowned.

"What do you mean?"

"They don't have to think about being friends."

She nodded toward them.

"They already know each other."

I watched as Pansy reached over and quietly straightened Draco's collar without interrupting whatever conversation they were having.

He didn't even react. Didn't flinch. Didn't thank her. She simply did it. He simply let her. It was such a small thing.

The kind of thing you only did when you'd known someone long enough that personal space became less important than fixing a crooked collar.

"I suppose," I said quietly.

Hermione smiled.

"You miss everyone back home."

It wasn't really a question.

"...Yeah."

"I do too."

For a few moments, neither of us spoke.

Across the courtyard, Draco's group finally began walking again, disappearing into the science building in a burst of laughter after the tall one nearly walked into a signpost while talking with his hands.

Hermione gathered her books.

"Come on."

"I know."

I slung my bag over my shoulder, though I couldn't help smiling to myself. It was strange. I still barely knew Draco. We'd spoken for less than ten minutes altogether. Yet every time I happened to see him, he seemed... consistent.

Kind to strangers. Patient with classmates. Quietly affectionate with his friends in the small, unconscious ways that only appeared when someone wasn't trying to impress anyone.

Maybe that was why I kept noticing him. Not because he was mysterious. But because every accidental glimpse seemed to confirm the impression I'd formed on the very first day.

Draco Malfoy wasn't pretending to be nice. He simply was.

By the end of September, I knew exactly two things for certain.

The first was that university coffee somehow managed to taste burnt regardless of where you bought it.

The second was that I had become alarmingly good at recognizing Draco Malfoy from the back of his head.

I wasn't proud of either fact.

The coffee was unavoidable.

The other one... Well. That felt slightly more concerning.

"You've done it again."

I looked up from my sandwich.

"Hm?"

Ron pointed across the dining hall with the corner of his fork.

"Blond bloke."

My stomach dropped.

"What?"

"You looked."

"I didn't."

"You absolutely did."

"I was looking at the clock."

"The clock is behind him."

"I..."

I frowned.

"...That's poor architectural planning."

Dean burst out laughing.

"You walked right into that one."

The soccer team had gradually claimed one corner of the dining hall as their unofficial territory. Between training sessions and shared lectures, we'd all fallen into the habit of eating together whenever our schedules aligned. It reminded me of secondary school lunches, only louder and with significantly more complaints about coursework.

Across from me, Seamus leaned forward with obvious interest.

"Who's blond bloke?"

Ron looked delighted.

"Oh, you'll like this."

"I don't like where this is going."

"Our Harry has developed a tiny little academic crush."

"I have not."

Dean's eyebrows shot upward.

"Academic crush?"

"It's not a crush."

Ron shrugged.

"I don't know. He keeps talking about this astronomy student."

"I do not."

"You told us he apologised to a vending machine."

"Because it was funny."

"You told us he colour-codes his notes."

"I sit next to him."

"You told us he thanked a coffee machine."

"It was the same vending machine."

Dean blinked.

"...You've memorised which machine it was?"

"I..."

I stopped. Because I had. Without meaning to.

Seamus looked positively thrilled.

"Oh, this is brilliant."

"It's not."

Dean rested his chin in his hand.

"So what's his name?"

Harry, don't answer.

"Draco."

Damn it.

Ron slapped the table triumphantly.

"See?"

"I walked into that."

"You sprinted into it."

"I don't fancy him."

Dean nodded thoughtfully.

"Of course."

"I don't."

"Naturally."

"I'm serious."

Seamus grinned.

"So you've got no objection if we look over there?"

"I don't care."

"You won't."

"I won't."

Dean turned around in his seat. Seamus followed. Ron made no effort whatsoever to be subtle. Hermione sighed into her tea.

"You are all impossible."

Dean turned back first.

"Expensive jumper."

Ron nodded.

"Always."

"Looks posh."

"I think he is."

"He's smiling."

I looked up before I could stop myself.

Draco sat with the same two friends I'd noticed over the last couple of weeks. Pansy was reading something on her phone while Blaise, whose name I'd finally learned thanks to overhearing someone call after him outside the science building, was in the middle of what looked like an extremely dramatic story.

Even from halfway across the dining hall, his hands never stopped moving.

Theo Nott sat opposite them, quietly eating while occasionally throwing in a comment that made Blaise look personally offended.

Draco laughed so hard he nearly dropped his fork.

"There."

Ron pointed without shame.

"You looked again."

"I hate you."

"I know."

Hermione finally closed her textbook.

"For what it's worth, I don't think it's a crush."

I looked at her gratefully.

"Thank you."

"I think you're fascinated."

Dean frowned.

"Difference?"

"A crush starts with attraction."

She glanced across the hall before looking back at me.

"Harry doesn't seem interested in how Draco looks."

Four pairs of eyes landed on me.

"He notices how Draco treats people."

Nobody spoke.

Hermione continued.

"Every story he's told us has been about Draco being kind."

I blinked. Had it?

I tried to think back.

Orientation. Helping someone pick up their books.

The telescope. The vending machine. Laughing with his friends. Sharing his coffee with Pansy even after she'd stolen half of it.

Every memory... Every single one... Had nothing to do with Draco's appearance.

Dean leaned back in his chair.

"Huh."

Ron scratched the back of his neck.

"I never thought about it like that."

Hermione smiled softly.

"Harry always notices people first."

I looked down at my lunch.

"I suppose I do."

No one teased me after that.

The conversation drifted toward soccer practice and an upcoming statistics assignment, but Hermione's words stayed with me long after everyone else had forgotten them.

Maybe she was right. Maybe I wasn't fascinated by Draco. Maybe I was fascinated by the sort of person he seemed to be.

That felt... Better. Safer. Far less embarrassing. I almost convinced myself of it.

Then, as we stood to leave the dining hall, Blaise said something that made Draco throw his head back laughing.

I smiled without thinking.

Ron saw. He didn't say a word. He simply looked at Hermione. Hermione looked back at Ron. Then they both smiled in exactly the same way. I had a horrible feeling I was becoming predictable.

There was a comfort in routine that I hadn't appreciated until university.

At school, every day had been dictated by bells and timetables. Lessons happened when they happened, lunch arrived at exactly the same time every afternoon, and if you forgot where you were meant to be, there was usually a teacher nearby to point you in the right direction.

University expected you to figure it out yourself.

It had taken me nearly a month, but I finally had. Monday mornings began with Sports Psychology, followed by two hours in the gym. Tuesday meant Probability with Draco before soccer training left my legs aching until Thursday.

Wednesday afternoons belonged to the library because Hermione refused to let Ron or me use the phrase, "I'll do it later." Fridays usually ended with takeaway food, bad films, and Ron insisting he was going to start his assignments over the weekend.

He never did. Life settled into a comfortable rhythm. So naturally, I didn't notice when Draco became part of it. Not at first.

It started with little things. Every Tuesday morning, he arrived at Probability carrying a coffee from the café beside the science building.

Always in the same dark green reusable cup. He always reached the lecture room before I did.

Not by much. Usually two or three minutes. Just enough time to unpack his laptop before class started.

He always sat beside me. Not because we had assigned seats. We didn't. It just... happened.

One Tuesday I arrived early enough to wonder whether he'd choose somewhere else. He didn't.

He smiled when he saw me, slid into the seat beside mine as though it had been the obvious choice all along, and immediately began digging through his bag for a calculator.

I smiled back before I could think better of it. That was becoming a habit too.

"Morning."

"Morning."

"How was training?"

I groaned dramatically.

"I think Coach's life goal is to see how many creative ways he can make us run."

Draco laughed.

"I'm beginning to think he enjoys it."

"He definitely enjoys it."

"I'll keep you in my thoughts."

"Much appreciated."

The lecturer walked in. The conversation ended. That was it. Barely thirty seconds. Yet somehow, I left the lecture in a better mood than I'd entered it.

It was ridiculous.

The observations kept happening anyway. Draco always read while waiting for lectures to begin.

Not textbooks. Actual novels. He tucked receipts between the pages instead of using proper bookmarks. He drank tea whenever the weather turned cold. Coffee when he looked tired. Hot chocolate when Pansy dragged him to the café near the library. I only knew that because Pansy complained loudly enough for half the queue to hear.

"You are twenty years old."

"I'm aware."

"You can order coffee."

"I don't want coffee."

"You've got a deadline."

"I know."

"Caffeine would help."

"I want hot chocolate."

Blaise appeared behind them carrying three sandwiches.

"Leave him alone."

"I'm trying to help."

"You're trying to bully him."

"I am encouraging good decision-making."

Theo, who had somehow materialized beside the till without Harry noticing, looked at the menu.

"He'll drink the hot chocolate."

Pansy sighed.

"I know."

"So why are we still having this conversation?"

"Because someone has to pretend to be responsible."

Draco smiled into his sleeve, looking suspiciously pleased that the argument had shifted away from him. In the end, he got the hot chocolate. Pansy stole two marshmallows from the top.

He complained. Weakly. Then let her have them.

I watched the exchange from the opposite end of the café while pretending to read over a training schedule.

"You've been on the same page for ten minutes."

Hermione didn't even look up from her laptop.

"I have?"

"Mhm."

"I was thinking."

"You've said that sentence so many times recently that it's beginning to lose all meaning."

I glanced down.

Sure enough, I hadn't absorbed a single word.

"...Right."

She finally looked at me.

"Harry."

"What?"

"You know I'm going to ask."

"I know."

"So?"

I sighed.

"They're just..."

I searched for the right word.

"...comfortable."

Hermione glanced toward the group gathered by the counter.

"They are."

"They make being friends look easy."

She smiled knowingly.

"I think you're a little homesick."

"I don't think so."

"No?"

I watched Blaise throw an arm around Theo's shoulders. Theo immediately shoved him away without looking up from his phone. Blaise looked personally offended. Pansy ignored all of them. Draco laughed.

"I miss that."

Hermione's expression softened.

"I know."

She reached across the table and squeezed my wrist.

"We'll make friends here too."

"I know."

"And you've already started."

I looked around the café. Dean waved from another table. Seamus shouted something incomprehensible across the room. Ron was somehow convincing two strangers to help him settle an argument about whether cereal counted as soup.

I laughed.

"I suppose we have."

Hermione smiled.

"I'd say we're doing alright."

Later that afternoon, soccer training ran long.

Coach had apparently decided endurance was more important than happiness.

By the time I finally left the athletics centre, the sun had begun sinking behind the older buildings, bathing the campus in warm orange light.

Students drifted between evening lectures. Others stretched out on the grass with laptops balanced on their knees. The entire university seemed to slow down.

I cut across the central lawn on my way back to the dorms. Halfway across, familiar laughter caught my attention. Draco sat beneath one of the enormous oak trees with Pansy, Blaise, and Theo.

Books lay open around them, though very little studying appeared to be happening. Blaise was enthusiastically telling another story. Theo looked thoroughly unconvinced. Pansy occasionally interjected with dry comments that somehow made everyone laugh even harder.

Draco leaned back against the trunk, smiling so openly that it looked completely different from the polite smile he wore during lectures.

It was brighter. Unrestrained.

For a brief moment, I considered walking over. Just to say hello. We were classmates. It wouldn't have been strange. I took exactly one step.

Then Blaise threw a grape at Draco. Draco caught it without looking. Pansy applauded sarcastically. Theo muttered something that made all three of them laugh.

I stopped walking. Not because they would have minded. Because I suddenly realized I would have been interrupting something.

Whatever invisible language existed between the four of them had been built over years. Inside jokes. Shared memories. The sort of friendship that didn't need anyone else to complete it.

I smiled to myself. Then quietly continued walking. Somehow, simply knowing Draco was laughing beneath that old oak tree was enough. I didn't need to be part of the moment. Not yet.

University bureaucracy, I quickly discovered, had impeccable timing.

Unfortunately, its timing was almost always terrible.

I was halfway through soccer practice on a damp Monday afternoon when my phone buzzed from the bench. I ignored it until Coach finally called a water break, at which point I fished it out of my bag and found three missed notifications from Student Administration.

"That can't be good," Dean said, peering over my shoulder.

"What?"

"They never email unless they've forgotten something."

"They're emailing me."

"Exactly."

I opened the message with the sort of caution usually reserved for suspicious medical results.

Due to departmental restrictions, your Tuesday elective has been changed. Please see the updated timetable attached.

"...Huh."

Dean leaned closer.

"You've been promoted?"

"I don't think timetable changes count as promotions."

"So?"

I scrolled down.

"My English seminar's been moved."

"You have English?"

"It was one of my general education requirements."

"I forgot athletes had to study."

"We're a surprisingly literate bunch."

Dean looked unconvinced.

"I'll believe it when Seamus finishes reading a book."

Ron was delighted.

"This means we've finally got another class together."

"I thought we already had one."

"We've got History."

"I meant one that doesn't make me want to cry."

Hermione accepted the updated timetable from my hands and looked it over.

"Professor Lupin."

She smiled.

"Oh, you'll like him."

"You've had him?"

"He guest lectured one of my seminars last year."

"He isn't terrifying?"

"Not even slightly."

Ron visibly relaxed.

"Brilliant."

Hermione handed my phone back.

"And it looks like..."

She paused.

"What?"

"You've joined our seminar."

"Our?"

She nodded.

"Ron and I are already in that class."

"Well."

I shrugged.

"That'll be nice."

"It will."

Neither of us had any idea just how nice.

Wednesday morning arrived with the sort of persistent drizzle that convinced everyone umbrellas were more trouble than they were worth.

The humanities building was older than most of the campus, its ivy-covered stone walls giving it the appearance of having existed long before the university itself. The corridors smelled faintly of old books and polished wood, and every classroom door seemed to creak in exactly the same way.

"I forgot how much I like this building," Hermione said as we climbed the stairs.

Ron snorted.

"You've said that about every building."

"Because they're all interesting."

"The sports hall isn't."

"It has architectural merit."

"It has sweaty socks."

"I was trying to be optimistic."

We reached the seminar room a few minutes early.

Unlike the lecture theatres, this classroom was small enough that everyone would actually be expected to participate. Tables had been arranged in a wide horseshoe instead of neat rows, with windows overlooking the rain-soaked courtyard below.

I chose a seat beside Ron while Hermione settled on my other side.

Students drifted in one by one. Some I recognised. Most I didn't.

Professor Lupin stood at the front arranging a stack of novels into untidy piles, smiling at each student who walked through the door. He looked exactly like the sort of professor who remembered everyone's name by the second week.

"I hear this is your first seminar with us," he said as he passed our table.

"It is."

"Welcome."

His smile was warm enough to ease whatever nerves I hadn't realized I was carrying.

"We're not particularly formal here."

"I'll try not to ruin that."

"I doubt you could."

He moved on before I had a chance to answer. The room continued filling. Someone pulled out a packet of biscuits. Another student quietly offered one to the people nearby. Conversation rose into a pleasant hum.

Then the door opened again. Pansy walked in first. She was carrying two coffees. Blaise followed close behind, balancing an alarming number of books against his chest. Theo wandered in after them, looking as though he'd only just remembered he had class.

And behind all three of them...

Draco.

He paused just inside the doorway. His eyes swept across the room almost absently. Then stopped.

On me.

His eyebrows lifted ever so slightly.

"...Harry?"

I couldn't help smiling.

"Hi."

For a second he simply looked surprised. Then he smiled back. Not the polite smile I'd grown used to seeing across campus. A genuine one.

"I didn't know you were in this seminar."

"I didn't either. My timetable changed."

He laughed softly.

Blaise looked between us.

"You know each other?"

"We've got Probability together," Draco explained.

"Twice a week."

"Ah." Blaise nodded as though that explained everything.

Pansy, meanwhile, looked directly at Harry. Not rudely. Just... curiously. Her eyes flicked from Harry to Draco and back again before the smallest hint of a smile tugged at the corner of her mouth. She knew something Harry didn't. Or perhaps she simply enjoyed making people nervous. Without a word, she nudged Draco toward the empty seats opposite our table.

"There."

Draco blinked.

"What?"

"You'll be able to see the board."

"I could see it from anywhere."

"I'm thinking about your eyesight."

"My eyesight is perfectly fine."

"Humour me."

Draco sighed with the unmistakable expression of someone who had long ago accepted that arguing with Pansy Parkinson was a waste of perfectly good oxygen.

"Fine."

He sat down opposite me. Blaise dropped into the chair beside him. Theo claimed the one next to Pansy. Just like that, our little corner of the classroom felt unexpectedly familiar.

Across the table, Draco was laughing at something Blaise had whispered. For the first time since orientation, I had the strange feeling that maybe... Just maybe... Draco Malfoy was about to become more than someone I happened to notice across campus.

By the time November arrived, the trees lining the main quad had surrendered the last of their autumn leaves.

The campus looked different now.

The excitement of the first semester had mellowed into routine. Students no longer wandered around clutching maps or introducing themselves to every unfamiliar face they passed. Deadlines replaced orientation events, the library became permanently overcrowded, and everyone developed a favourite place to study.

Mine was the third floor of the library, tucked beside a window overlooking the athletics field. Hermione preferred absolute silence. Ron preferred wherever Hermione happened to be. I preferred wherever I could convince the other two to sit.

Life had settled. Soccer was going well. Assignments were becoming increasingly difficult. Coach McLaggen had started referring to us as "surviving" rather than "training." Everything felt... normal.

Until English changed.

Professor Lupin arrived ten minutes late one Wednesday morning carrying an armful of papers and looking mildly apologetic.

"I'm afraid I've got a small announcement before we begin."

The room quieted.

"As some of you already know, several degree programmes have adjusted their module requirements following the curriculum review."

A collective groan spread through the classroom.

"Fortunately," Lupin continued with a smile, "it doesn't affect most of you."

Most. I glanced around the room. Pansy looked entirely uninterested. Blaise was doodling in the margin of his notebook. Theo appeared to be asleep with his eyes open.

"As a result," Lupin continued, "a handful of students will be transferring into different electives next week."

He glanced toward the back of the room.

"Mr. Zabini."

Blaise looked up.

"Hm?"

"Business Communications."

"Oh."

"No complaints?"

"I wasn't listening."

A few people laughed.

Professor Lupin smiled patiently.

"I gathered."

He looked further along the room.

"Miss Parkinson."

She sighed dramatically.

"I assumed this was coming."

"I'm afraid so."

"And Theo?"

"Afraid so."

Theo finally blinked himself awake.

"...Right."

By the end of the announcement, nearly a quarter of the seminar had been reassigned. Everyone seemed more annoyed than upset. People exchanged phone numbers, promised to meet for coffee, and joked about finally escaping Lupin's reading lists.

Draco remained unusually quiet. He sat beside Blaise while everyone packed their bags, listening more than speaking. Blaise nudged his shoulder.

"You'll survive."

"I know."

"We'll still see each other."

"I know."

"You look like someone's cancelled Christmas."

Draco smiled faintly.

"I'm just used to you lot talking through seminars."

Pansy snorted.

"Lupin calls it discussing."

"He calls everything discussing."

"He called your argument about Shakespeare discussing."

"It was."

"You accused Hamlet of being emotionally exhausting."

"He was emotionally exhausting."

Theo zipped his backpack closed.

"He's not wrong."

Despite myself, I laughed. Draco glanced over. Our eyes met briefly before he smiled. Just for a second. Then the moment disappeared as everyone filtered into the corridor.

The following Wednesday felt strangely quieter. The seminar room looked exactly the same. The horseshoe of desks hadn't changed. Neither had Professor Lupin's stack of novels. Only the people were different. Blaise's chair sat empty. So did Pansy's. Theo had vanished to whatever elective statistics had condemned him to.

Only Draco remained.

He arrived a few minutes before class, paused just inside the doorway, and instinctively looked toward the empty seats where his friends usually sat.

For a brief second...

He looked lost. He adjusted the strap of his bag before quietly taking a seat by himself on the opposite side of the room.

I frowned. Hermione noticed.

"What?"

"He shouldn't sit over there."

She looked across the room.

"Why not?"

"He's by himself."

Ron glanced over.

"So?"

I looked back at Draco. He'd already opened his novel. Reading. Pretending not to notice the conversations happening around him.

"He could sit with us."

"He could," Hermione agreed.

"But?"

"But he probably doesn't want to intrude."

She smiled.

"I imagine that's exactly what he's thinking."

The thought made something twist uncomfortably in my chest.

Because... She was probably right. If our positions were reversed, I'd have done the same thing. I'd have found an empty seat. Told myself I wasn't lonely. Pretended I preferred the quiet. Professor Lupin began the seminar before I could think any more about it.

It happened almost by accident. Halfway through class, Lupin divided us into pairs to discuss the week's reading.

"Different partners this week."

A chorus of groans answered him.

"You'll survive."

Everyone began moving around the room. Ron was immediately claimed by Dean, who'd somehow ended up in the same seminar after another timetable adjustment. Hermione disappeared into a discussion with a literature major she'd worked with before.

I looked around. Only one person remained without a partner.

Draco.

He noticed at exactly the same moment I did. For half a heartbeat we simply looked at each other. Then he smiled.

"Looks like we're paired together."

"Looks like it."

He gathered his notebook and moved across the room. He sat down opposite me.

"I promise I'm less terrifying than Shakespeare."

I laughed.

"I wasn't worried."

"Good."

He glanced down at the discussion questions.

"I wasn't entirely convinced."

Neither of us spoke for a moment. Then Draco looked up.

"So..."

He tapped the page.

"What do you think the author was trying to say here?"

I admitted the truth.

"I have absolutely no idea."

Instead of laughing... Instead of making me feel stupid... Draco's face lit up. Actually lit up.

"Oh!" He leaned forward slightly. "Can I show you?"

There was something unexpectedly earnest about the question. Like he genuinely hoped I'd say yes.

"Please."

His smile widened.

"Right."

He turned the novel around so we could both see it.

"Most people read this conversation as an argument."

He pointed toward a paragraph near the middle of the page.

"But I don't think that's what's happening."

He became animated in a way Harry had only seen during the astronomy demonstration. His hands moved as he spoke. His eyes brightened. He wasn't showing off. He wasn't lecturing. He was sharing something he found entertaining.

"Think about what isn't being said."

He tapped another line.

"They never answer each other's questions directly."

I frowned.

"They don't."

"Exactly."

His excitement grew.

"They're having completely different conversations without realizing it."

I looked back at the page. Somehow... Because Draco was explaining it...

It suddenly made sense.

"Oh."

His smile became impossibly pleased.

"I know."

For the next fifteen minutes, I barely spoke. Mostly because I was too busy watching Draco explain literature with the same enthusiasm he explained stars. He wasn't just intelligent. He loved helping people understand things.

Every time I followed his train of thought, his face brightened just a little more, as though my understanding mattered to him.

It was... ridiculously endearing. By the time Professor Lupin called the class back together, I had learned two things. The first was that I understood the novel far better than I had thirty minutes earlier.

The second... was significantly more dangerous. Draco Malfoy got excited when he explained things. And I could have listened to him talk for hours.

"Excellent discussion today," Lupin said as students packed their bags. "Next week we'll continue looking at unreliable narrators, so make sure you've finished chapters nine through twelve."

Books snapped shut around the room. Chairs scraped across the floor. Draco slid his notebook into his backpack before looking over at me.

"You understood it much quicker than you thought you would."

I laughed.

"No."

"You did."

"I understood it because you explained it."

He looked genuinely puzzled.

"That's still understanding it."

"I think that's more you being a good teacher."

A faint blush crept into his cheeks.

"I've never taught anyone."

"I think you'd be good at it."

His smile was small.

Almost shy.

"Thanks."

For some reason... That single word made my chest feel strangely light.

The problem began the following Wednesday.

I understood the reading. Perfectly. Hermione had even commented that my essay was noticeably better than usual. Which was unfortunate. Because it meant I had absolutely no reason to ask Draco for help. I stared at my notebook anyway. There had to be something.

One question. One confusing paragraph. One tiny excuse.

Ron looked over my shoulder.

"What are you doing?"

"I don't know what this note means."

He read the line.

"'Metaphor about isolation.'"

"...Yeah."

"You wrote that."

"I know."

"So?"

"I don't remember writing it."

Ron gave me a look.

"You wrote it six days ago."

"A lot has happened."

"It really hasn't."

I sighed dramatically.

"I think I need tutoring."

Hermione looked up immediately.

"No, you don't."

"I might."

"You got ninety-two percent on your last assignment."

"That could've been luck."

"It wasn't."

"I've been known to surprise people."

"Harry."

She folded her arms.

"What?"

"You don't need tutoring."

"I think I do."

"You absolutely do not."

I hesitated.

"...Hypothetically."

"There it is."

"Hypothetically," I repeated carefully, "if someone were particularly good at explaining literature..."

Hermione's smile grew.

"...Harry."

"...and hypothetically I wanted to understand it even better..."

Ron looked between the two of us.

"Oh."

Hermione nodded.

"Oh."

I frowned.

"What?"

Ron grinned.

"You don't want tutoring."

"I do."

"You want Draco."

"I..."

"I don't."

"You do."

"I don't."

"You've got ninety-two percent."

"I know."

"So why would you need tutoring?"

"...Further academic enrichment?"

Ron laughed so hard he nearly knocked over his drink.

Hermione pinched the bridge of her nose.

"I've never heard anyone say 'academic enrichment' with less sincerity."

"I resent that."

"I'm sure you do."

I slumped back in my chair.

"...Fine."

Ron looked far too pleased with himself.

"I knew it."

"I just..."

I searched for the words.

"I like listening to him explain things."

Neither of them laughed.

Hermione's expression softened.

"I know."

"He's just..."

I shook my head.

"He gets excited."

Ron blinked.

"Excited?"

"When he's talking about something."

I found myself smiling without meaning to.

"His whole face changes."

Neither of them interrupted.

"He starts talking with his hands."

I demonstrated unconsciously.

"And if you understand what he's saying..."

I laughed quietly.

"...he looks happier than you do."

Hermione watched me carefully.

"You really like that."

"I do."

"It makes you happy."

I looked down at the table.

"...Yeah."

Because it did. Watching Draco explain something wasn't impressive because he was clever. Plenty of clever people existed. It was the joy. The enthusiasm. The way he seemed genuinely delighted that someone else could love something simply because he'd shared it with them.

Harry thought that was the prettiest thing he'd ever seen.

That evening I made another mistake. It started innocently enough. Ron had gone to soccer practice to review videos. Hermione was attending a debate society meeting.

I was alone in my room.

Bored.

Which, in hindsight, was exactly where the trouble began. I opened my laptop.

I absolutely was not planning to Google Draco Malfoy.

The thought hadn't even crossed my mind. Not consciously. My fingers, however, seemed to have developed independent thought.

Draco Malfoy.

I stared at the search bar.

"...This is ridiculous."

I hit Enter anyway. The first result was a regional science competition from secondary school.

Second place.

Astrophysics.

I clicked it.

There was a photograph. Draco couldn't have been older than sixteen. His hair was slightly longer. His blazer looked a size too big. He was smiling awkwardly while holding a small trophy. Harry smiled before he could stop himself.

"...You look exactly the same."

Except he didn't. He looked younger. Softer.

There was another result. A local newspaper article.

Local Student Wins National Astronomy Scholarship.

I clicked that too. There wasn't much to it. Just a short interview.

"I've always liked looking at the night sky," Draco had said.

"The more you learn about it, the more you realise how much we still don't know."

Harry read the quote twice. Then a third time. It sounded exactly like him. There were more results.

A violin recital programme from several years ago.

Harry blinked.

"...You play violin?"

He clicked it.

Draco Malfoy. Solo performance. Harry leaned back in his chair.

"How many things are you quietly good at?"

His phone buzzed.

Ron: Training's over. Fancy pizza?

Harry looked guiltily at the search results still open on his laptop. He closed them immediately. Too immediately. As though Ron could somehow see his screen through text messages.

Harry: Yeah. Meet you downstairs in ten.

He shut the laptop. Stood up. Then sat back down. Opened it again.

Just for one more minute.

"...One more article."

Harry would later decide that was the exact moment he became a lost cause.

Harry did, in fact, meet Ron downstairs for pizza. He also spent the entire walk trying very hard not to think about the violin recital.

"So," Ron said through a mouthful of pepperoni, "what've you been up to all evening?"

"Nothing."

"Hm."

"I read."

Ron narrowed his eyes.

"You hate lying."

"I'm not lying."

"You hesitated."

"I was remembering."

"Remembering what?"

"...The book."

"The imaginary one?"

I sighed.

"There was a book."

"Right."

Ron didn't sound convinced. Thankfully, he let it go.

I did not Google Draco Malfoy the next night. Or the night after that. Or the one after that. I considered that a remarkable display of self-restraint.

Unfortunately, restraint apparently had an expiration date. The following Sunday, after three straight hours of reading for English, my concentration dissolved somewhere around page one hundred and twenty-seven.

I rubbed my eyes. Closed the novel. Stared out the window. Then...

Entirely against my better judgement... Opened my laptop.

"This is research," I muttered to the empty room.

Nobody was there to challenge me. Which was probably for the best.

The scholarship article was still open in my browser history. Beneath it sat another link I'd ignored before.

Northwest Regional Observatory Youth Lecture Series.

Curiosity won.

It was a grainy recording uploaded years ago by someone's parent. The camera quality was dreadful. The audio wasn't much better.

Draco couldn't have been more than seventeen. He stood in front of a projector with his sleeves rolled up, nervously adjusting the clicker in his hands.

"...Hi."

His voice cracked. He cleared his throat. A few people laughed kindly. Harry smiled immediately.

"Oh, thank God."

Draco looked impossibly human. He fumbled the first slide. Pressed the wrong button. Apologised to the projector. Actually apologised to the projector.

Harry laughed out loud.

"You've always done that."

The younger Draco recovered quickly. Within minutes, the nerves disappeared. His hands started moving. His eyes brightened. The words came easier. He pointed toward an image of a spiral galaxy.

"The interesting thing isn't how much we've discovered."

He smiled.

"It's how much we haven't."

Harry leaned closer to the screen.

"The universe isn't beautiful because it has all the answers."

Draco continued.

"It's beautiful because every answer gives us another question."

Harry forgot about the poor video quality. Forgot about the assignment waiting on his desk. Forgot what time it was. He simply listened. Draco wasn't trying to impress anyone. He wasn't speaking like a competition finalist desperate to win.

He sounded... happy. Genuinely, unapologetically happy. Harry watched the entire twenty-minute lecture. Then realised he'd reached the end.

"...That's it?"

He glanced hopefully at the sidebar. No second part. No longer recording. Just one twenty-minute video that someone had uploaded nearly four years ago. Harry stared at the empty screen for a long moment before quietly closing his laptop. He had developed a problem.

Tuesday's Probability lecture felt different after that. Not because anything had changed. Because Harry had.

Draco arrived carrying his usual green cup.

"Morning."

"Morning."

"You survived your essay?"

"Barely."

Draco smiled.

"I thought it was quite interesting."

"I thought chapter eleven was trying to kill me."

"It wasn't that bad."

"It absolutely was."

Draco laughed.

"I'll admit..."

He leaned closer conspiratorially.

"...I had to read that chapter twice."

"You?"

"I know."

"I don't believe you."

"It's true."

"You understood everything after the second read?"

"No."

Harry blinked.

"No?"

"I asked my old English teacher to explain it."

Harry couldn't help laughing.

"You ask people for help?"

"All the time."

Draco looked genuinely surprised by the question.

"Why wouldn't I?"

"I don't know."

"You thought I just... knew things?"

"...Maybe."

Draco smiled sheepishly.

"I wish."

Harry looked at him for a second. Then laughed again. Something about that answer settled quietly inside his chest.

It made Draco feel... reachable. Not the impossibly clever astronomy student Harry had built up in his mind. Just another university student who got confused by Victorian literature and occasionally needed someone else to explain it.

Harry liked that.

Perhaps more than he should have.

English rolled around the following afternoon. Professor Lupin dismissed everyone ten minutes early after announcing their next essay. Students immediately packed their bags.

Ron groaned dramatically.

"I already hate this assignment."

"You haven't read it yet," Hermione pointed out.

"I hate it pre-emptively."

"That's not how essays work."

"It is now."

The three of them stepped into the corridor together. Harry glanced over his shoulder. Draco remained in the classroom. His notebook was still open.

Professor Lupin had stopped beside his desk, and the two of them were quietly discussing something on the reading list.

Harry couldn't hear the conversation. He didn't need to. Draco was explaining something. His hands moved instinctively as he spoke.

Lupin smiled, occasionally asking another question, and Draco's entire face lit up as he answered.

There it was again. That look. The one Harry had first seen beside the telescope. The one he'd watched through a grainy lecture video recorded years earlier. The one that appeared whenever Draco was talking about something he loved.

Harry stood in the hallway far longer than necessary.

"Harry?"

Hermione had already reached the stairs.

"You coming?"

He blinked.

"Yeah."

He tore his eyes away from the classroom and hurried after them.

Ron frowned.

"What were you looking at?"

"...Nothing."

Hermione glanced back toward the classroom window. Then at Harry. A smile tugged at the corner of her mouth. She didn't say anything. She didn't have to.

Harry had finally accepted something that, deep down, he'd known for weeks. He didn't just enjoy talking to Draco. He liked watching Draco become excited.