Across the room, Draco had leaned closer to Harry and said something near his ear, just to watch his ears go pink. Harry swatted him, barely holding back a grin, and Draco looked positively smug.
"He's smiling," Pansy whispered. "Smiling. Like, not that bored-I'm-better-than-everyone smirk. An actual, happy smile. I don't like it."
"You mean you don't know how to handle it," Blaise said, lips twitching. "Relax, Pans. Maybe Potter's finally tamed the Malfoy menace."
"I refuse to call Potter cute. But… look at them!" Theo gestured dramatically. "It's like watching a Niffler and a Kneazle try to cuddle."
Draco finally glanced up and caught them all staring. He tilted his head and slowly raised a brow, as if daring them to comment.
Blaise raised his goblet in a mock toast. Pansy threw her hands up.
"You didn't even tell us?" she shouted across the table, earning a few looks. "You just suddenly show up all cuddly with Harry bloody Potter like it's not the biggest scandal since Snape wore pink?"
Draco gave a lazy shrug. "I figured if you were smart enough to breathe, you'd be smart enough to notice."
Harry turned slightly at the commotion. "Uh. Hi?"
"Hi?" Pansy blinked. "That's it? Hi?"
Draco stood, pulled Harry up by the wrist, and plopped him down between him and Theo. Harry's plate was promptly relocated. Draco didn't say a word, just acted as if this rearrangement of the universe was completely normal.
"Potter, blink twice if he's blackmailing you," Blaise said seriously.
"He's not," Harry muttered, cheeks slightly pink.
"Draco Malfoy," Pansy leaned across the table, "you absolute, conniving snake. I'm kind of proud of you."
"Thank you, darling," Draco said with a mock bow. "Now, if you're done gawking, we're going to eat lunch like normal people."
Pansy leaned toward Blaise. "Do normal people stroke their boyfriend's knuckles while cutting their roast beef?"
"No," Theo muttered, eyes wide. "But Draco never does anything half-way."
They sat, the group slightly more chaotic than usual, but for the first time in a long time, there wasn't venom or tension. There was something softer underneath the snark and disbelief. Even Pansy, still scandalized, found herself smiling when Harry passed her the salt with a polite nod, and Draco actually said thanks.
"Gods," Blaise sighed after a while. "If this ends in a dramatic breakup, we're all screwed."
"Oh it won't," Theo said confidently. "Potter's the only person who argues back and doesn't cry."
Draco smirked. "And the only one whose hair rivals mine in chaos."
"Don't flatter yourself," Harry muttered. "Mine's iconic."
Pansy groaned, but even she was grinning. "Great. Now we've got to deal with them being insufferably cute too."
And despite the teasing, not one of them moved away. They adjusted, bantered, and bickered — but they made room.
Like maybe, this wasn't such a catastrophe after all.
Just when things had barely settled and Harry thought maybe — maybe — he'd made it through lunch without further embarrassment, Ron's voice boomed across the Great Hall.
"Oy, mate! You didn't even save us a seat?"
Harry barely had time to turn before Ron plopped down beside him, Hermione sighing as she took the seat on his other side. Neville trailed in last, clutching a plate and looking mildly confused by the sudden crowd around the Slytherin table.
Ron immediately did a double take, eyes bouncing between Draco and Harry like a particularly janky Snitch.
"No way. No. No. Tell me I'm hallucinating."
Draco didn't even flinch. "You're not, Weasley. But I could slip something in your pumpkin juice if it would help."
Hermione groaned. "Oh Merlin, not at the lunch table."
Harry rubbed his face. "Can we not make this a thing right now?"
Neville blinked. "Wait… are you two… like… actually a thing?"
Draco turned to Harry with a dramatic flutter of lashes. "Are we, darling?"
Harry shoved him lightly in the ribs. "Shut up."
"That's a yes," Ron muttered, looking personally betrayed. "You're dating Malfoy?"
"He's not that bad," Harry mumbled.
"Not that bad? Harry, this is the bloke who once called Hermione a—"
"RONALD." Hermione hissed through her teeth. "It's fine. We've moved on."
Neville, bless his heart, looked like he was watching a dramatic stage play. "I mean, they do kind of look good together? Is that weird to say?"
"It's extremely weird," Ron said, stabbing his fork into a sausage like it was Draco's face.
"You're just mad because he's prettier than you," Blaise offered cheerfully.
Ron scoffed. "Please. No one's prettier than me."
"You and Malfoy have the same angry resting face," Hermione quipped.
"Oh god, it's true," Neville whispered. "They both look like they've smelled something foul."
"Thanks, Longbottom," Draco deadpanned. "Your opinion means the world to me."
Harry was snorting into his water now. "This is getting out of hand."
"It got out of hand when Malfoy called you darling like it was normal," Ron said with a shudder.
"I think it's kind of sweet," Hermione said thoughtfully. "Gross, but sweet."
"I'm going to vomit," Ron mumbled.
"You're just jealous because no one calls you darling," Draco said smugly.
"I'll call you darling if it makes you shut up," Blaise offered.
Ron gagged theatrically.
Pansy raised a brow. "Honestly, I give them a month."
Draco turned with a sharp smirk. "You gave us a week last time, Parkinson. You're losing your edge."
Neville leaned closer to Hermione. "Do we bet on how long they last or how long until Malfoy tries to kill someone who flirts with Harry?"
"Five galleons says he snaps the neck of the first bloke who calls him 'The Chosen One' again," she muttered.
Draco, without missing a beat, said, "Ten galleons says I enjoy it."
"Okay," Harry interrupted, hands up. "This isn't lunch anymore, this is an intervention disguised as a roast."
Draco leaned in with a wicked grin. "Feeling roasted, darling?"
"Don't darling me in front of them."
"Oh, he does it in private too," Pansy gasped, fanning herself dramatically.
"Every time Harry blushes, Malfoy levels up," Ron muttered. "He's like an evil, smug Pokémon."
Draco tilted his head, not at all denying it.
"Look," Harry said loudly, "We're dating, yes. It's weird. It's unexpected. And I don't know how the hell it happened either but—" He looked at Draco, who looked very pleased with himself, "—it is what it is."
"'It is what it is,'" Draco repeated flatly. "My boyfriend, everyone. A poet."
"Shut it."
Ron leaned over, staring Draco down. "If you hurt him—"
"Oh, save it, Weasley," Draco drawled. "If I even look at him wrong, Granger will hex me, Longbottom will feed me to a plant, and Blaise will write a sonnet about the drama. I'm well aware of the risk."
Harry let out a helpless laugh. "Yeah, I'm not exactly short on backup."
"I'm only here for the chaos," Blaise said proudly.
"You lot are insane," Pansy muttered, but she was smiling.
As they dug back into lunch — still teasing, still loud — Harry leaned into Draco just a little, their shoulders brushing. And though everyone was still making jabs, no one moved away.
Not Ron. Not Hermione. Not even Pansy.
And Draco didn't stop smirking the whole time.
It was later in the afternoon, and most students had returned to their common rooms or the library, leaving the castle corridors pleasantly empty. The usual hum of voices was gone, replaced by the echo of their footsteps and the gentle creak of the old floor beneath them.
Harry and Draco walked side by side, their shoulders occasionally brushing as if pulled together by an invisible string. There was a silence between them — not awkward, but comfortable, like the space didn't need filling anymore.
Draco's hand, which had been swinging casually by his side, brushed Harry's fingers.
Harry caught them, interlaced them gently, and Draco didn't even flinch this time.
"Finally no audience," Harry murmured with a grin.
Draco scoffed, though it lacked his usual bite. "You say that like you didn't enjoy the chaos."
"I enjoyed Ron nearly choking on his food, if that's what you mean," Harry replied, smirking.
Draco snorted, his thumb grazing over Harry's knuckles in slow, absent strokes. "Granger looked like she aged five years."
"She's used to my life giving her wrinkles."
They rounded a corner slowly, their pace lazy, as if neither wanted the walk to end. The sunlight from the tall windows spilled across the corridor, golden and warm, catching in Draco's pale hair like firelight. Harry glanced at him — not just looked, but watched — and the corners of Draco's lips tugged into a smile when he caught it.
"What?"
Harry shrugged. "You look… really peaceful when you're not insulting someone."
Draco lifted a brow. "That's just because I'm choosing to focus my attention elsewhere."
"Oh yeah?" Harry asked, a little too breathless.
Draco leaned in ever so slightly, voice dropping to a whisper. "Yeah. Right now, I'm deciding if I want to kiss you here — in this ridiculously public hallway — or drag you into the nearest alcove."
Harry flushed instantly, his hand tightening around Draco's.
"That's—very specific."
"I'm very decisive," Draco said, all silk.
"You're full of it," Harry muttered, but he was smiling, wide and hopelessly smitten.
They stopped near one of the large window sills, and Harry leaned against it, looking out at the grounds. Draco turned to face him, arms crossed but eyes soft. His gaze lingered on Harry's face, the slope of his jaw, the curve of his lips.
"Funny, isn't it?" Draco said quietly.
"What is?"
"That we ended up here. Like this."
Harry didn't look at him — he kept his eyes on the sun-drenched trees — but he nodded. "Yeah. It's weird… but kind of makes sense now, doesn't it?"
Draco stepped closer, their hands still linked between them. "I don't know what this is going to look like once we're back home. Outside these walls."
"I do," Harry said, turning finally to meet his eyes. "It'll be different. Complicated. Probably messy."
Draco's smirk returned, but softer this time. "Messy's my specialty."
"I know," Harry whispered.
There was a pause, long and thick with things unspoken.
Then Draco leaned in, forehead gently resting against Harry's. His hand brushed along Harry's side, grounding, calm.
"You know, you still blush," Draco murmured.
Harry groaned. "Can we not bring that up again?"
"I like it."
"Of course you do."
"I like you, Potter."
Harry blinked. The words hit harder than he expected. He didn't reply immediately — not because he didn't feel the same, but because it suddenly mattered too much to say the right thing.
So instead, he pulled Draco closer by the front of his robes and said softly, "Good."
Draco chuckled under his breath and tilted his head, just enough to brush their noses. "You're lucky I'm letting you be taller right now."
"I am taller."
"Only because I'm not wearing boots."
"You're so full of—"
Draco silenced him with a soft kiss — not urgent or possessive, just warm. Familiar. The kind that whispered, I see you. I'm here.
When they pulled back, Draco looked… relaxed. Unarmored. And Harry, for the first time in a long time, felt like he wasn't holding his breath.
The corridor remained still, echoing faint sounds from faraway students, but for now, it was theirs.
And in that quiet space, between light and shadow, laughter and breath, Harry knew this wasn't the end.
It was just the beginning.