The Library--Drarry

Chapter 1

DISCLAIMER: All characters are created and owned by JK Rowling.

The rain outside was relentless, pounding against the high windows of the Hogwarts library in a steady rhythm that made the air feel even colder. Harry hunched over his Potions textbook, scrawling notes that seemed to blur together on the parchment. He was alone tonight—Hermione was caught up in Prefect duties, and Ron had begged off early, no doubt sneaking back to the common room for a nap. Harry didn't mind; it gave him time to sit, to breathe in the quiet, and to lose himself in the echoing silence of the old stone walls.

He was almost grateful for the peace until he heard the familiar footsteps.

Draco Malfoy moved through the stacks with a languid ease that belied the tension in his shoulders. Harry had noticed that even Malfoy seemed haunted these days, with shadows under his eyes and an unreadable expression that made him look as if he'd aged years in just a few months. It was something that caught Harry off-guard every time, even though he wouldn't admit it.

"Potter," Draco acknowledged him, stopping at the table next to his, a pile of books balanced precariously in his arms.

"Malfoy," Harry replied, glancing up, his eyes catching Draco's. They held that look just a second too long, a look that held an unspoken understanding neither would acknowledge.

Draco sat down, and they returned to their respective books, neither acknowledging the presence of the other in words, but each very much aware of the other's movements. For a while, the only sounds were the scratching of quills, the rustle of parchment, and the relentless beat of rain against the windows.

After nearly half an hour, Draco broke the silence. "I suppose you're staying over the holidays, then?" His voice was barely more than a whisper, his tone oddly vulnerable.

Harry glanced up, surprised at the question. "Yeah," he said, uncertainly. "And you?"

"Mother insisted," Draco replied, his eyes skimming over his book without really reading. "Said it would be... safer here."

Harry paused, digesting the implications. It was a strange feeling to think that Malfoy—the boy who had been his enemy for years—was now here, seeking refuge in the same place.

"Does it ever get easier?" Harry found himself asking. The question had left his lips before he could think it through.

Draco looked at him, his face carefully blank. "I don't know. Maybe one day." He shrugged, a tired look crossing his face. "For now, I think we're just... surviving."

The vulnerability in Draco's voice threw Harry off-balance. It was as if they were seeing each other for the first time, as people instead of enemies.

The silence that followed was comfortable in a strange way, an unspoken understanding settling between them, as if they'd found a brief moment of peace in each other's company. 

The silence between them in the library stretched on, filled with an unexpected tension, like the calm before a storm. Harry found himself stealing glances at Draco every so often, catching moments of quiet concentration—the way his brow furrowed as he read, or the way his fingers traced lightly over the words as though searching for something hidden.

Draco shifted in his seat and cleared his throat, breaking Harry's thoughts. "Do you ever feel like you don't belong here anymore?" Draco asked, his voice low.

Harry looked at him, surprised by the question, and nodded slowly. "Yeah. Sometimes it feels like I'm... here, but not really part of it. Like I'm just going through the motions."

Draco smirked faintly. "Funny, isn't it? All those years we spent fighting each other, and now we're here, both feeling like strangers in this place."

Harry's lips twitched in a half-smile. "Maybe we weren't that different after all."

The admission felt raw, as though he'd exposed a wound he hadn't realized he'd been hiding. Draco seemed to notice, and for a moment, his expression softened.

"Maybe," Draco replied, his voice barely a whisper.

They returned to their books, but something had shifted. There was a tentative understanding between them now, a shared acknowledgment of everything they'd both lost. It felt strange, but somehow right.

A few minutes passed in comfortable silence before Draco spoke again. "You're not... going back to the Burrow for Christmas, then?"

Harry shook his head. "No. I just... needed some space. It's hard to explain."

Draco nodded, not pressing further. Instead, he simply said, "I know what you mean." And for the first time, Harry believed him.

As the hours ticked by, the tension between them eased, replaced by something softer, almost companionable. They didn't speak much more that night, but the silence held a warmth that neither had expected. By the time they left the library, they felt like they understood each other a little more, even if neither of them would admit it.

And as they walked their separate ways down the corridors, Harry found himself glancing back, just once, wondering if this was the start of something he hadn't anticipated.