Chapter Three
The Quidditch pitch at Hogwarts was buzzing with excitement as Gryffindor faced off against their sworn rival, Slytherin, in a crucial match. The sky above was a brilliant blue, with fluffy white clouds, a stark contrast to the fierce competition taking place below.
Harry, now the captain of the Gryffindor team, was determined to lead his team to victory, even through the ups and downs of his life. He had spent countless hours practicing and strategizing, and he knew that this match was one they couldn't afford to lose.
As the match began, the teams soared through the air on their broomsticks, chasing after the elusive Golden Snitch. Slytherin had a strong team, but Harry's leadership and skill were unmatched. He weaved through the air with precision, dodging Bludgers and narrowly avoiding a collision with the Slytherin Seeker.
The crowd in the stands cheered and roared, their voices echoing across the pitch. Gryffindor was known for its passionate supporters, and they were out in full force, waving scarlet and gold banners and chanting Harry's name. The game was intense, with both teams scoring goals and keeping the score close. But Harry's determination was unwavering. He spotted the glimmer of gold in the distance—the Golden Snitch. With a burst of speed, he accelerated toward it, his heart pounding with anticipation.
Malfoy, Slytherin's Seeker, was hot on Harry's tail, but Harry's superior flying skills and his deep understanding of the Snitch's behavior gave him the edge. He reached out, fingers stretching, and just when it seemed like Malfoy would catch up, Harry's hand closed around the tiny, fluttering ball.
The roar from the Gryffindor supporters was deafening. Harry had caught the Snitch, securing a stunning victory for his team. He descended to the ground, holding the Snitch high for all to see. The Gryffindor players rushed to him, hoisting him onto their shoulders in triumph.
In that moment, Harry felt that he could forget about his stressful and depressing life. He and his team had worked so hard to achieve this and it felt damn good to win it. Now, he had a Common room to return to and a party to start.
It was the day after Gryffindor's big win and Harry was walking to class. Ron and him were saying goodbye to Hermoine as they were about to head in separate directions. Harry turned to head towards his class when he spotted Malfoy.
His Hogwarts robes, the unmistakable green and silver of Slytherin, were always immaculate, a reflection of his unwavering commitment to maintaining an image of poise and control. His platinum-blond hair was impeccably styled, falling effortlessly into place, framing his sharp, aristocratic features.
As they passed each other, there was a brief moment of silence, and then Malfoy surprised everyone by speaking up, "Potter, congratulations on winning the quidditch match."
Harry blinked in surprise, not expecting such a civil remark from Malfoy in public, "Thank you, Malfoy. Your team put up a good fight too."
Malfoy's friends exchanged puzzled looks, clearly taken aback by the unexpected exchange. But they remained silent, allowing their leader to continue.
"Perhaps one day, we could have a friendly game," Malfoy suggested, a faint smile tugging at the corner of his lips.
Harry considered the proposal for a moment. It was a far cry from their school days when Quidditch matches between Gryffindor and Slytherin were fierce battles, "That might not be a bad idea, Malfoy. A bit of healthy competition."
Their friends watched in amazement as Harry and Malfoy continued to converse about Quidditch, with an air of civility that had rarely been seen between them. It was a small step, but it hinted at the possibility of a more peaceful coexistence of the two outside of the Room of Requirement. As they went their separate ways, Harry and Malfoy exchanged one last nod, a silent acknowledgement that this could become a thing. Being seen outside the Room together.
Weeks passed and, while Harry and Malfoy hadn't made explicit plans on meeting, they held conversations when they met in the hallways. Harry was starting to really look forward to each day. His focus was less on his crappy life and more on when the next time he would see Malfoy – which he wouldn't admit to himself. It was because of these conversations with his former rival that he found himself in his current situation with his two friends in the Gryffindor common room.
"Harry," Hermione began cautiously, "we've noticed that you've been spending a lot of time talking with Malfoy lately."
Harry turned to face them; his expression guarded, "What's wrong with that, Hermione? We're just getting along better these days."
Ron chimed in, his voice tinged with concern, "It's just that... it's Malfoy, Harry. We've been through so much with him. Can you trust him now?"
Harry's reaction was immediate, and it surprised Hermione and Ron. His face hardened, and his voice took on an edge they had rarely seen from him. "Can't you two just leave it alone? I don't need your constant suspicion. I can make my own decisions. You weren't worried about me before this. Why are you now?"
Hermione and Ron exchanged worried glances, taken aback by Harry's strong reaction, "Harry, we're sorry if you felt that way. We're not trying to tell you what to do," Hermione said softly. "We're just concerned about your safety and the safety of the others. We don't want to see you get hurt."
Harry's anger flared, and he pushed himself away from the window, facing them with a fierce determination, "I can handle myself, Hermione. I've faced much worse than Malfoy. I thought you two would understand that."
Ron tried to defuse the tension, "Harry, we do understand. We just want what's best for you."
But Harry wasn't listening. He stormed out of the common room, leaving Hermione and Ron behind, their worry deepening. What was best for me was my two best friends listening to me when I asked them for help! Harry scowled to himself as he stalked down the stairs of the corridor.
Harry couldn't shake the feeling that his friends' suspicion was unfounded. He believed in the change he had seen in Malfoy, the shared moments of camaraderie and laughter, and he resented their doubts. It was a reaction fueled by frustration and bitterness, but it also left a rift between him and his longest friends
The raven-haired boy found himself on a path towards the Room of Requirement. He had become very familiar with the path from the tower to the seventh floor over these past months. He found the corridor and waited for the door to slowly appear. As it did, he stepped inside and the room transformed, revealing itself as a quiet and peaceful library. Rows of bookshelves lined the walls, filled with dusty tomes and ancient texts. Soft candlelight bathed the room in a warm glow, and a cozy armchair sat by a small table piled with books and parchment. Hidden behind a book, sitting in one of the armchairs, was the platinum hair Harry knew very well.
Harry made his way over to the other armchair in the area, picked up a book on charms, and basked in the silence. It went on like this for a while before Malfoy shifted to face Harry.
"Potter," Malfoy began, his voice barely above a whisper and sounding vulnerable.
Harry looked up, his eyes meeting Malfoy's, and he could sense that something grave had happened, "Malfoy, what's wrong?"
Malfoy took a deep breath, his hesitation palpable, "I have to tell you something, Potter. Something that could change everything for us."
Harry's brow furrowed, concern deepening in his eyes, "Go on, Draco. I'm listening."
Mal – Draco glanced up at Harry at the use of his first name, and then continued, "Over Christmas break, my father... he's going to try to force me to receive the Dark Mark."
Harry's eyes widened in shock. He had known that Draco was likely to be forced to receive the Mark, but not this soon.
"Why so soon?" Harry asked, his voice filled with a mixture of confusion and concern.
Draco's gaze dropped to the floor, unable to meet Harry's eyes, "It's a demand from Voldemort himself. He wants me to prove my loyalty, to ensure that my family remains in his good graces."
Harry's heart ached for Draco, who was trapped between a rock and a hard place, torn between his family's dark legacy and his own desire to break free from it.
"What are you going to do, Draco?" Harry asked quietly.
Draco looked up, his eyes filled with a complex mix of emotions and his voice trembled, "I don't want this life, Harry. I don't want to be a Death Eater."
Harry reached out and hesitantly hugged the blonde, "Draco, you're not alone in this. We'll find a way to help you, to protect you. Do you want me to stay?"
Before Draco could answer, the floodgates of his emotions burst open. Tears welled up in his eyes, and he crumpled in on himself, burying his face in the crook of Harry's neck. All the pent-up anguish, fear, and regret that he had been carrying for so long spilled out in uncontrollable sobs.
Harry, understanding the depth of Draco's despair, placed a comforting hand on his trembling back, offering a silent presence of support. There were no words that could ease the pain Draco was feeling, but Harry was determined to be there for him in this moment of vulnerability.
Draco clung to Harry as if he were a lifeline, his tears soaking into Harry's clothes. He muttered incoherent phrases between sobs, his voice broken and filled with remorse for the choices he had made and the path his parents were trying to force him down.
Harry held Draco tightly, offering the only solace he could provide—the assurance that he was not alone in his suffering.
Time seemed to stand still as they sat together in the Room, Harry offering silent comfort and Draco slowly regaining his composure. Eventually, Draco's sobs subsided into shaky breaths, and he pulled away from Harry, wiping his tear-streaked face with the back of his hand.
"Sorry," Draco whispered, his voice hoarse. "I didn't mean to..."
Harry shook his head, his eyes filled with empathy, "You don't have to apologize, Draco. We're all going through this together, in our own ways."
Awkward silence seemed to fill the space as Draco avoided eye contact and Harry was worrying about his friend. The two hadn't even realized that they were holding hands after pulling away from the hug. So, when Draco finally looked, he cleared his throat to get Harry's attention while motioning to their hands.
Harry looked down and quickly pulled his hand away with a blush, "Uh, sorry…" This time Harry looked away and didn't see the amusement in Draco's eyes.
"Why don't we fly?"
Harry looked at Draco, "Right now? We wouldn't be able to see."
"Are you a wizard or not?" A roll of the eyes was enough of a challenge for Harry.