The castle halls were quieter than usual, the drizzle outside making everything feel slow and heavy. Harry found himself lingering at the edge of the courtyard after lunch, his fingers curling around the strap of his bag, eyes distant.
He hadn't seen Draco all day.
Not in Potions, not in the corridor. Not even one of those fleeting, stolen glances they'd somehow grown used to exchanging.
He hated how much he noticed.
"You're waiting for him, aren't you?"
Harry turned. Ron stood with his arms crossed, his face unreadable.
"I'm not—" Harry started.
Ron raised a hand. "Don't lie, mate."
Harry looked away.
"I'm not angry," Ron continued, his voice quieter now. "I'm just… confused. You used to hate him. He used to hate you."
"I don't think he does anymore."
"That's what worries me," Ron muttered.
Harry frowned. "Why?"
Ron looked down at the slick stone path. "Because if he's serious… if he really does feel something… what if he's just as confused as you are? What if neither of you knows what you're doing?"
"We don't," Harry admitted. "But that doesn't mean it's nothing."
Ron hesitated, then nodded. "I'm still your friend. I just don't want you getting hurt. That's all."
Harry gave a small smile. "Thanks."
Just then, a familiar blond figure passed under the covered walkway across the courtyard.
Harry's breath caught.
Draco.
His eyes met Harry's for only a moment before flicking away. He didn't stop walking.
But his pace slowed.
It was something.
Harry stepped forward—only for Ron to grab his sleeve.
"Just… think about it, yeah?"
Harry nodded, then slipped from Ron's grip and started across the courtyard.
Meanwhile – The Library
Hermione sat at a far table, books spread around her like a protective shield. She'd noticed how distracted Harry had become. How quiet Ron was when he wasn't teasing. How tense Draco looked, even from a distance.
She sighed, flipping another page.
It was like everyone was holding their breath.
They were tiptoeing toward something—and she wasn't sure what it would look like when it finally broke.
The Dungeons
Draco leaned against the wall just outside the Slytherin common room. His heart was still pounding from that accidental meeting in the courtyard. He hadn't meant to walk that way. Hadn't meant to look at Harry.
But he had.
And Harry had looked back like—
Like he wasn't afraid.
Draco let his head rest against the cold stone.
He didn't know what scared him more: that he might be wrong about Harry… or that he might be right.
Just then, Snape's voice echoed down the corridor.
"You're late."
Draco jerked upright.
Snape stood at the corridor's mouth, arms folded, gaze sharp.
"For what?" Draco asked, trying to sound bored.
"For the truth," Snape said coolly. "And you're running out of time to lie to yourself."
Then he turned and vanished into the shadows.
Draco stood frozen in place, heart racing.
He wasn't ready.
But maybe he would have to be.