For the long run

They stood there, pressed close, not saying a word, each lost in their thoughts. Harry could feel the warm weight of Draco’s hand on his back, the slight pressure of Draco’s chest against his own, and despite everything, despite the ridiculousness of the situation, he couldn’t quite bring himself to let go. There was comfort in it, a strange, almost magnetic comfort.
Yet, despite the unexpected peace of the moment, an uncomfortable tension lingered in the air—something about the silence felt almost too loud. The sound of footsteps passing outside the compartment made Harry tense slightly. He could sense Draco do the same, stiffening just a fraction, the air between them thick with the understanding that anyone could barge in at any moment.
"Do you think they'll figure it out?" Harry murmured quietly, though his voice was sharp, not wanting to sound too vulnerable. "Someone will burst in here and ruin the moment."
Draco glanced towards the door, his jaw setting slightly, but his voice was as calm as ever. “If they do, they’ll be making a very big mistake. I wouldn’t worry about it, Potter. Not everyone has the privilege of barging into this.”
Harry raised an eyebrow, his lips twitching into a faint smirk. “Right. I’m sure they’re all trembling at the thought.”
“They should be,” Draco replied nonchalantly, “but if anyone does decide to poke their nose in here, they’ll be reminded that I’m not someone you walk over.”
Harry let out a quiet laugh. “Yeah, because that’s totally how people react when you threaten them.”
Draco’s lips curled up slightly at the corners, a glint of amusement in his eyes. “I can be very persuasive when I need to be, Potter.”
“Right,” Harry shot back with a grin, “You’ve got a real way with words.”
Draco gave a mock bow, all too aware of his own self-assuredness. “I do try.”
Before the banter could continue, a sharp knock on the door interrupted them. Both froze, instantly aware of how exposed they were in that moment. Harry could feel his heart rate pick up, and though Draco didn’t move, there was a subtle change in his posture, as though he were preparing for whatever was on the other side of the door.
“Don’t let them ruin this,” Draco muttered quietly, his hand tightening around Harry’s waist just a fraction. “No one’s coming in here without my say-so.”
Harry felt a strange comfort in the cool assurance of Draco’s words, his earlier anxiety slowly easing. “You sure? I’m not exactly looking forward to explaining this to anyone.”
“Trust me, Potter,” Draco said smoothly, his tone bordering on dismissive. “I’m the one with the power here. You’ve got nothing to worry about.”
The door handle rattled, but neither of them moved, their bodies still pressed together as the outside noise seemed to grow louder. Despite Draco’s coolness, Harry felt the tension creeping back in—he wasn’t sure if he was ready for anyone to see them like this. Not yet.
The handle turned, but the door didn’t open. For a long moment, they stood there in silence, the sound of the train’s movement seeming to pulse louder than ever.
Draco broke the quiet first, his voice low but confident. “It’s just a door. A wordless spell easily did the charm.”
Harry’s lips twitched, the tension between them easing slightly as he met Draco’s eyes. “You’ve got a real flair for being dramatic, haven’t you?”
Draco smirked, looking entirely unbothered. “You’ll get used to it.”
The footsteps outside faded, and the handle stopped rattling. Harry could feel a small, relieved sigh escape his chest as the moment passed. The train kept on its course.
Draco shifted slightly, resting his chin on Harry’s shoulder, his voice dropping to a more serious tone. “We’re not exactly… prepared for this, Potter,” he said, his usual cockiness softened just enough to sound thoughtful.
Harry’s hand moved up to Draco’s arm, fingers curling around the fabric of his robes. “Yeah, I got that. You’re not thrilled about it either, are you?”
Draco’s smirk returned, but it was more teasing now, his fingers tracing light circles on Harry’s back. “Don’t mistake me, Potter. I’m not rejecting it. But we’re hardly at the point where I’m ready to start fawning over you.”
Harry chuckled under his breath. “Wouldn’t dream of it, Malfoy. But I’m still waiting for that moment where you stop acting like you’re above everything.”
“I’m not acting, Potter. I am above everything.” Draco’s tone was teasing but carried that familiar edge of arrogance. “Besides, I’m doing us both a favour by not making a scene right now.”
After what felt like an eternity in each other’s arms, Malfoy reluctantly pulled away, though neither of them seemed eager to let go completely. The space between them suddenly felt too wide, too empty. He sat back exhaling like he’d just run a marathon, glancing at Potter with a sort of silent invitation to join him. Potter hesitated for a brief moment before sitting down beside him, shifting awkwardly as if trying to find a position that didn’t make him feel so damn vulnerable.
“So…” Malfoy started, his voice slightly hoarse as he glanced around the compartment, still not entirely comfortable with the strange tension lingering between them. “What do we do now, Potter? The bond, our conditions... we can’t just go back to normal, can we? I mean, where did all this animosity fled to?”
Potter exhaled, running a hand through his already-messy hair. “I don’t know, Malfoy. I’ve never had to deal with something like this. What are we supposed to tell the teachers? “Hello! Last year we were at each other's throats and now in each other's mouths!”?” Harry cheek flushed at the thought and Draco let out an almost inaudible cough to signify his uncomfort.
Malfoy scoffed. “Like they’d have a clue how to deal with this.” He smirked slightly. “What, are we supposed to waltz into McGonagall’s office and ask, ‘Professor, what happens when two Veela have an unbreakable soul connection that requires—’”
“Shut up, you’re enjoying this too much.” Harry muttered, cheeks heating.
Malfoy chuckled but then exhaled, his smirk fading. “I am serious, though. I don’t exactly want the entire school knowing, if anyone asks too many questions, I might just set the place on fire. And the dorms…” He trailed off.
Harry tensed. “Yeah. The dorms.”
They both knew what that meant. Separation. Nights spent apart. The discomfort, the anxiety, the way their Veela instincts would react to the distance.
Malfoy leaned back slightly, shifting his arm so that it rested across the back of the seat, his fingers barely brushing against Potter’s shoulder. The contact sent a strange, grounding warmth through both of them. Instinctively, Potter leaned into it, as if the touch alone reassured him.
“…We might have to talk to someone about it,” Malfoy admitted begrudgingly.
Harry nodded. “We might also be careful about who knows about it. It's not like I am targeted by Satan or something” He sarcastically said.
Malfoy shot him a curious look.
“You don’t know you Sata…” He looked at him incredulous. “You know the devil, he lives in hell, I was comparing him to the dark mage and you know… It might get dangerous if….” Harry tried sheepishly.
Malfoy’s grip on him tightened slightly. “We won’t let them.”
It was a promise. A quiet one.
Harry sighed, leaning into Malfoy’s warmth instinctively.
Malfoy’s arm shifted, draping lazily over Harry’s shoulder as if it was the most natural thing in the world. The tension melted slightly, and Harry felt himself relaxing—until Malfoy did something that completely caught him off guard.
They were still mid-conversation when Malfoy, without even thinking, dipped his head and pressed a soft, almost absent-minded kiss to Potter’s temple. In a way, that could only be seen as reassuring.
Harry froze.
It was barely anything—just a brush of lips, a butterfly touch. But it sent a shiver down his spine. His Veela instincts purred in approval.
Malfoy went rigid too, like he’d only just realised what he’d done.
They locked eyes.
Malfoy coughed, abruptly shifting away, clearing his throat like nothing had happened.
Potter exhaled, trying to ignore the way his skin still tingled from the contact.
“Right,” he muttered, forcing himself to look anywhere but at Malfoy. “So, uh… the dorms.”
Malfoy, ever composed, smirked—though there was the slightest hint of pink dusting his cheeks.
“Yes, Potter,” he drawled. “Let’s get back to that.”
But neither of them were really thinking about the dorms anymore.