Stay Away
**Harry**
The common room was warmer than usual.
Golden sunlight filtered through the tall windows, dancing across books and parchment. Ron was scribbling notes (badly), and Hermione was pacing behind him, muttering about something due next week.
Harry wasn’t listening.
His mind was still with Draco.
The way his hands had trembled. The way he’d held that letter like it might break him. The way he hadn’t pulled away from Harry’s touch.
You’re still here. That’s what he’d said.
God. What the hell was happening to him?
“Earth to Harry,” Ron said, waving a quill in front of his face.
Harry blinked. “Huh?”
“You’ve been spaced out for ten minutes,” Hermione said, frowning. “Everything okay?”
“Yeah,” Harry lied. “Just tired.”
Ron exchanged a look with her — the kind of look that made Harry’s stomach twist.
“What?” he asked.
Hermione bit her lip. “Harry… we need to talk.”
Uh-oh.
**Ron**
“I know you think he’s changed,” Ron started, “but it’s still Malfoy.”
Harry leaned back in his chair, arms crossed. “So?”
“So we saw what he did. What his family did. You don’t just come back from that and act like nothing happened.”
“He’s not acting like nothing happened,” Harry shot back. “He’s barely holding it together.”
Hermione sat down beside him. “That’s exactly why it’s dangerous. You’re always the one trying to fix people, Harry. But you can’t fix Malfoy.”
Harry’s jaw clenched. “I’m not trying to fix him.”
“Then what are you doing?” Ron asked. “Because you’re not just tolerating him anymore. You’re protecting him.”
Harry looked away.
That was the problem, wasn’t it? He didn’t want to protect Draco. It just… happened.
And it wasn’t just guilt. Or pity. It was something else entirely.
Something messier. Something more dangerous.
**Hermione**
She saw it first.
The softness in Harry’s voice whenever he mentioned Draco. The tension in his shoulders whenever someone insulted him. The way he lingered when Malfoy passed by — not with suspicion, but with… curiosity.
She understood better than Ron did. But that didn’t mean she wasn’t worried.
“Harry,” she said gently, “whatever this is… just be careful.”
Harry finally met her eyes.
“I don’t think I can stay away from him,” he said quietly.
Hermione’s face softened with concern. “Then just don’t lose yourself trying to save him.”
**Harry**
He left the common room without another word.
He needed air. Space. Something to clear his head.
But he didn’t end up outside. His feet moved on their own, familiar and reckless, until he was standing in front of their door.
He knocked.
Draco opened it a few seconds later, shirt wrinkled, hair messy, eyes tired.
Harry stared at him for a moment.
“You look awful,” he said.
Draco rolled his eyes. “Hello to you, too.”
Harry stepped inside. Closed the door behind him.
Neither of them spoke for a while.
Then Draco asked, “You okay?”
Harry nodded.
Then lied. “Yeah.”
**Draco**
Harry didn’t look okay.
He looked like someone who was trying to outrun a storm he couldn’t see.
So Draco didn’t push. He just handed him a blanket, sat beside him on the bed, and let the silence stretch between them like a thread.
Finally, Harry whispered, “Ron and Hermione told me to stay away from you.”
Draco’s heart twisted. He looked down at his hands. “Of course they did.”
Harry was quiet.
Then, softly: “But I didn’t.”
Draco turned his head slowly. “Why not?”
Harry looked at him — really looked at him — and said, “Because I can’t.”