Chapter 3
**The Malfoy Manor, Late Evening**
*The quiet of the house seemed to hum with a different kind of tension as the day wound down. Narcissa and James were still discussing their plans for the future, leaving Draco and Harry alone in the large sitting room. The flickering fire cast warm light across the room, but the air between them was colder than ever.*
Draco sat on the edge of a plush armchair, his elbows resting on his knees, staring into the fire. Harry, still standing by the mantle, wasn’t sure what to say. The tension was thick, but there was something different in the way Draco looked tonight—more tired, less combative.
Harry took a step forward, his voice low. “I didn’t mean what I said earlier. About your family. I… I was just angry.”
Draco didn’t turn around, but his shoulders stiffened slightly. "And I was angry too," he replied, his tone quieter now. “This whole thing... it’s just hard to accept.”
Harry nodded, unsure how to bridge the gap between them. “I get it. It’s not easy for me either. Seeing my dad with your mum... it’s not what I imagined. But...” Harry hesitated, not sure if he should continue.
“But?” Draco finally turned his head, his silver-blue eyes glinting softly in the firelight.
“But we can’t keep doing this,” Harry said, stepping closer, the words coming out more earnestly than he expected. “We can’t keep pretending we’re enemies when... I don’t know, when we’re both just trying to survive this mess.”
Draco’s expression faltered for a brief moment, the icy front he usually kept up slipping just a little. He stood and turned toward Harry, his voice quiet. “What do you want from me, Potter?”
Harry paused, his heart beating faster as he looked into Draco’s eyes, seeing a flicker of uncertainty behind the usual pride and coldness. “I don’t want to fight. Not anymore. I just...” He stepped a little closer, the space between them narrowing. “I think we could... make this work. Not as friends, maybe, but as allies.”
Draco seemed to consider this for a moment, his eyes scanning Harry’s face, trying to read him. Then, with a sigh, he closed the space between them, standing just a few inches away now. “I don’t know how to be an ally, Potter. I’ve never done it before.”
Harry gave a small, crooked smile. “Neither have I,” he admitted. “But maybe we can figure it out together.”
For a moment, the two of them stood there, a strange sense of understanding hanging between them. It was as though the world outside had quieted, and all that mattered was this—this moment where everything else seemed to fade away.
Then, almost imperceptibly, Draco reached out, his hand brushing against Harry’s, tentative at first. Harry’s breath hitched slightly at the touch, but he didn’t pull away. Instead, he let his fingers gently curl around Draco’s, the warmth of their hands igniting something deep inside him that he hadn’t been expecting.
Draco looked down at their joined hands, a hint of vulnerability flickering across his features. “I don’t know how this will work,” he murmured, his voice soft. “But I don’t want to fight anymore. Not with you.”
Harry swallowed, his heart racing in his chest. “I don’t want to fight either. Not with you.”
They stood there for a long moment, the world outside seemingly forgotten as they held onto each other, silently making a pact. Their lives had been marked by battles, by family expectations, by their history. But in this quiet space, in the warmth of the firelight and the softness of the touch they shared, something new began to form.
It wasn’t perfect. It wasn’t easy. But it was real.
And for once, that felt like enough.