Falling Into Trouble
Harry should have worked on his part for the Potions essay — he really knew he should have done that.
Yet here he was, on the last day to finish the assignment, with the essay due tomorrow.
The week had gone by quickly; most of the time, he hadn’t thought about the essay at all. And on the few occasions when he did remember, there was always something else getting in the way. Quidditch practice, Neville asking him for help with a charm, his friends wanting to hang out… countless reasons.
Harry was chilling with Ron and Hermione in the common room, sitting on the couch with one knee pulled up, the other foot resting on the ground, staring into space — once again reminded of his task.
"To my surprise, I’m getting along quite well with Pansy. We finished our essay and I’m really satisfied with our result. She’s actually easy to work with," Hermione told her friends with a smile, clearly pleased with the progress of House Unity. "What about you guys? I assume you both already finished your assignment, right?" she added with an expectant look in her eyes.
"Don’t worry, Zabini finished most of the work because he didn’t trust my skills. We’re already done!" Ron answered with a proud smile, knowing he hadn’t really put much effort into it.
"Ron! Do you actually know what group projects are for?? You don’t learn anything like that! Next time you should really contribute more — and for Merlin’s sake, please apologize to Blaise." Hermione shook her head, visibly disappointed.
"What about you, Harry? How’s it going for you?" she then turned her attention to him.Harry was just sipping his tea when Hermione’s question made him choke on it a little.
"Uh… actually haven’t finished my part yet," he confessed, wearing a guilty expression.
Her eyes widened in surprise. "Harry, I hope that’s a joke. You know it’s due tomorrow."
"Yeah mate, I fear she’s right this time. Better not waste any time," Ron added.
"Okay Harry, go to your room now and finish your essay. We’ll finish this talk another time," Hermione demanded.
"You boys really are impossible," she sighed loudly.
♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡
Harry was sitting in his room, struggling to finish his part of the Potions essay.
"Arghhh, I really should have started earlier. Well, at least I remembered it again and am actually working on it now..." Harry thought, running a hand through his hair.
After some time, he finished writing his part, but he knew it wasn’t his best work. He knew Draco wouldn’t be satisfied with it.
On the other hand, Draco had been the one who suggested they work separately on the assignment, seemingly not wanting to meet up.
Still, Harry couldn’t hand this in without feeling guilty.
So he decided to do the only right thing in this kind of situation.
There Harry was, standing in front of Draco’s dorm room, struggling to knock, torn between emotions.
Just as he was about to raise his hand, leaning slightly forward, the door suddenly opened — and Harry stumbled, falling right into the arms of bloody Draco Malfoy.
His nose buried into the cheast of Draco, he smelled vanilla, green apple and a tint of lavender? Oh boy he really smelled good…
Wait, what the heck was he even thinking about??
Fuck fuck fuck, Harry thought, deeply embarrassed by the situation his indecisiveness had caused and the thoughts he was just having.
He quickly stepped back to create space between them.
"Didn’t know you had a thing for secret late-night visits, Potter," Draco said with a smirk. "Guess you couldn’t wait to show me your so-called skills," he added bluntly.
"Well — err, no, actually I’m here to discuss something with you. About our assignment," Harry said, a blush creeping onto his face as he tried to escape the awkward moment.
"I’m already afraid of your part," Draco replied. "Alright, come in. Let’s not waste any more time." He gestured for Harry to enter with a small wave of his hand.
♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡
The two boys sat on the floor in silence for a while, Harry leaning back against the foot of Draco’s bed.
Draco was tackling all of the mistakes in Harry’s essay. Sometimes he sighed, shook his head, and even face-palmed — all three things repeated in various orders.
But Draco actually took his time between the eye-rolls and corrections to explain Harry’s mistakes. There were quite a lot, and Harry — already tired and disinterested in the subject — struggled to stay awake.
Draco, noticing his tired gaze, said, "Potter, I hope you do realize I’m explaining all of this so that our future projects benefit from it."
"Yeah, yeah, don’t worry — I’m listening like a Niffler in a room full of gold," Harry answered, voice laced with irony.
Draco — shaking his head once again — chose to ignore the sarcasm and continued explaining.
Harry really tried to stay awake, but his eyelids were heavy. So instead of focusing on Draco’s words, he found himself listening to his voice — smooth, calming — and watching the concentration on his face.
Malfoy is actually quite good-looking. And his voice sounds so soothing. Maybe that’s why I’m getting more tired. Why am I having these weird thoughts? I must be really tired. Or bored. Or both, Harry thought, doing anything but paying attention.
He blinked slowly, feeling his body grow heavier. Draco’s voice drifted further away.
"And that’s why you should never—"
Too late. Harry had already slipped into sleep.
♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡
Harry was sleeping soundly, once again lost in one of his nightmares.
He was running. The cold night air burned in his lungs, and every step echoed like thunder.
Shadows curled between the trees like smoke. Someone was screaming.
"Ron?"
No answer. Just cracking branches — closer, louder.
A flicker of light ahead. Then Hermione’s voice. A scream, sharp and terrified, cut short.
Harry skidded to a stop, heart pounding — and then the ground vanished beneath him.
He was falling.
Harry gasped awake, drenched in sweat, chest heaving like he’d run miles. His fists were clenched in Draco’s carpet, eyes wide and unfocused.
Draco had frozen mid-sentence, notes slipping from his lap.
"Potter…? What the hell—are you okay?" His voice was quiet but full of concern.
Harry didn’t answer right away. He was still remembering where he was — that he was safe, that Hermione wasn’t screaming, that Ron—
"Nightmare?" Draco asked again, softer this time.
Harry gave a small nod, still not meeting his eyes. "Sorry. Happens… sometimes."
Draco looked at him intensely, worry all over his face. But he seemed to understand not to push — Harry was already uncomfortable enough. So he didn’t ask further.
After a while, Harry calmed down. But once the fear and anxiety had faded, another feeling crept in: embarrassment.
It had been a very intimate moment, one he hadn’t meant to share — especially not with Draco.
They’d spent years avoiding any show of weakness in front of each other. And now Draco had seen him at one of his most vulnerable moments.
Harry hated being perceived as weak — especially by his former rival.
But maybe a moment like this had been long overdue.
Maybe it was the key to something new.
♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡
And in the blink of an eye, Monday arrived — time for another Potions lesson.
In the end, the two boys were able to hand in their revised work with a good conscience.
"Thank you everyone for submitting your assignments on time. I’ll review them, and in about two weeks you’ll receive your grades," Professor Slughorn announced.
"Today we’ll be attempting a particularly delicate potion... the Draught of Peace. Has anyone heard of it before?" he asked, eyes scanning the classroom.
Hermione’s hand shot into the air.
Slughorn noticed, but instead said, "Maybe someone else today?"
Hermione opened her mouth, then closed it again, clearly disappointed.
His gaze drifted across the room, landing on Draco.
"How about you, Mr. Malfoy? Care to tell us a bit about it?"
Draco answered calmly, "It’s a calming potion — used to relieve agitation, anxiety, and mild depressive episodes. Quite useful, really, for people who’ve had... restless nights.
"There was a seriousness in his voice that suggested he spoke from more than just textbook knowledge.
He added, "If brewed incorrectly, it can heighten restlessness. Or cause emotional instability. I’ve read cases of hallucinations, even hysteria."
"Excellent answer, Mr. Malfoy. Ten points to Slytherin. The Draught of Peace must be treated with the utmost care," Slughorn confirmed.
"Draco really knows what he’s talking about when it comes to Potions," Harry thought. He was slightly impressed — Draco was, indeed, talented.
But part of him also wondered if Draco might be struggling with sleep problems himself... or if he just had a deep interest in Potions theory.
After class, Draco said to Harry, "After what happened last time, I’ve decided it’s better if I supervise your work. Next time, let’s just meet up from the start. I don’t have the patience for that kind of mess again."
Arms crossed, eyes rolling slightly.
"Erm—yeah, sorry again," Harry said, nervously ruffling his hair. "Alright, let’s do that. So when should we meet up?"
"How about Friday? That way we have time for a second meeting if needed," Draco suggested.
Harry had imagined his final year at Hogwarts would be quieter. He thought he’d finally have time for himself — free of all the burdens he’d carried for so long.
And yet here he was.
Meeting with Draco a few times a week.
His former enemy — now the boy who had witnessed a part of his weakness. A part he never meant to share.
He really wondered how the rest of the school year would turn out.
"Oh Merlin, please… no more drama," Harry thought.
What he didn’t know was that his prayers would be answered.
Just not in the way he ever expected.