The Weight of Silence
**Draco**
It started with whispers.
They slithered through the hallways like snakes, quiet and cruel.
By lunch, they weren’t whispers anymore.
“Did you hear?”
“Apparently he hexed that Ravenclaw.”
“Typical, right? Slytherin trash.”
Draco barely had time to react before he was being dragged to McGonagall’s office, accused of cursing a fourth-year — a boy who was now in the Hospital Wing, unconscious and muttering nonsense.
They claimed the wand used matched Draco’s.
But Draco knew the truth.
“I didn’t do it,” he said, voice steady.
McGonagall frowned, not unkindly. “Then who did?”
“I don’t know.”
And that — that was the problem.
He had no one to vouch for him.
No one who’d seen him studying alone in the library.
No one to defend his name.
Not anymore.
**Harry**
He heard about it too late.
By the time he got to the courtyard, the rumors were wildfire.
Ron scoffed. “Bet he did it. Malfoy always snaps eventually.”
Harry stayed silent.
Hermione looked at him, concerned. “You don’t think he did it, do you?”
Harry didn’t answer.
He wasn’t sure if it was because he doubted Draco…
…or because Draco wouldn’t expect him to believe in him either way.
Either option felt awful.
**Draco**
They suspended him from classes pending investigation.
No duels. No common room. No wand.
He sat alone in the dungeons, cold and silent, staring at the empty space where his pride used to be.
The worst part wasn’t the accusation.
It was that no one came to ask if he was okay.
Not even Harry.
Especially not Harry.
**Pansy**
“You should’ve told them where you were,” she snapped, furious. “Why didn’t you say I saw you in the library?”
Draco gave a hollow laugh. “Because you didn’t. I lied about studying. I was walking. Alone.”
Pansy stared. “You did this to yourself, then?”
“No,” Draco said quietly. “But I made it easy for them to believe it.”
**Harry**
He went to McGonagall's office that night.
“I want to speak for him.”
She raised an eyebrow. “Mr. Potter?”
“I don’t think he did it. I think someone set him up.”
“Do you have proof?”
“No. Just… a feeling.”
McGonagall sighed. “Feelings don’t override facts.”
But she hesitated.
And Harry held onto that hesitation like it might save them both.
**Draco**
Two nights after the suspension, he sat by the Black Lake, alone, pulling blades of grass and tossing them into the water.
Footsteps crunched behind him.
“I didn’t know if I should come,” Harry said.
Draco didn’t look at him. “Yet here you are.”
“I wanted to say I believe you.”
Draco laughed — bitter and sharp. “Do you, though?”
“I do.”
“Not loudly enough,” Draco whispered.
Harry sat beside him. “I was scared. Not of the truth — of you. Of how much you mean to me.”
Draco blinked, throat tight.
“I don’t care about the others,” Harry continued. “I care about you. And I should’ve said it sooner.”
Silence stretched between them.
Then Draco said softly, “I needed someone.”
“I’m here now,” Harry said.
Draco didn’t answer.
But he didn’t move away either.
And maybe — for now — that was enough.