Chapter 4
The morning air was crisp and fresh, sunlight spilling through the tall windows of the manor as Harry pulled on his sneakers. His mind was buzzing with an idea—one he hadn’t fully thought through but couldn’t shake. Draco’s wistful longing for adventure from the day before still lingered in Harry’s thoughts, and for some reason, he felt determined to show him something special.
Sirius had left early to visit a nearby wizarding town, and Narcissa was busy in her potions lab. That left Harry and Draco to their own devices. It was the perfect opportunity.
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Draco was seated in the garden when Harry found him, perched on a stone bench under a blooming wisteria tree. His pale lavender robes from the day before had been replaced with a soft, flowing ensemble in pastel blue, cinched at the waist with a silver belt. His hair, perfectly brushed, caught the sunlight and seemed almost too perfect to belong to someone Harry’s age.
Draco looked up as Harry approached, his silver eyes slightly wide with curiosity. “Good morning,” he said softly, his voice as smooth as the breeze.
“Morning,” Harry replied, feeling a little awkward. “I was thinking... do you want to go somewhere? Maybe... explore a bit?”
Draco blinked, his lips parting in surprise. “Explore?”
“Yeah,” Harry said, scratching the back of his neck. “Like an adventure. There’s this path I noticed yesterday near the forest. I thought we could see where it leads.”
For a moment, Draco hesitated, his gaze flickering toward the manor as if he expected Narcissa to appear and forbid it. But then a faint smile tugged at his lips, and he stood, smoothing his robes. “All right,” he said softly. “Lead the way.”
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The path was overgrown and winding, leading them deeper into the woods than they had ventured before. Draco walked carefully, his delicate steps avoiding roots and uneven ground.
“This is hardly glamorous,” Draco said after a while, glancing down at his now-dusty shoes.
Harry grinned. “Adventure rarely is.”
Draco sighed, but there was no real irritation in his expression. If anything, he seemed intrigued, his gaze darting around at the unfamiliar scenery.
After about twenty minutes of walking, they stumbled upon a small clearing where the sunlight broke through the canopy, illuminating a narrow stream of water that shimmered unnaturally in the light. It was unlike anything Harry had ever seen. The water wasn’t just clear; it sparkled with flecks of gold, and the air around it hummed with magic.
Draco gasped softly, his eyes widening as he stepped closer. “What is this?”
Harry shrugged, equally mesmerized. “No idea. But it’s amazing.”
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The river seemed to pulse with life, its gentle current carrying faint, glowing particles downstream. Draco knelt at the edge, his robes pooling around him like a soft cloud. He reached out, his slender fingers brushing the surface.
“It’s warm,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. “It feels... alive.”
Harry crouched beside him, dipping his hand into the water. He felt it too—a strange, almost electric warmth that sent a shiver up his arm.
Draco glanced at Harry, his expression softer than Harry had ever seen it. “Thank you,” he said suddenly.
“For what?”
Draco’s gaze dropped to the water. “For bringing me here. I’ve never seen anything like this.”
Harry smiled, a little embarrassed. “I just thought you’d like it. You seemed... I don’t know. Like you needed something different.”
Draco didn’t reply, but the faint flush on his cheeks said enough.
They fell into an easy rhythm after that, their conversation flowing like the river they’d left behind. Harry told Draco about Hogwarts, his friends, and the many adventures that had somehow found him over the years. Draco listened intently, his delicate features lighting up with interest at Harry’s stories.
In turn, Draco shared glimpses of his life at Beauxbatons, describing the elegant halls of the academy, the serene gardens, and the strict but fair professors. He spoke with a quiet pride, though there was an undercurrent of longing in his voice—an unspoken wish that his life could be simpler, freer.
“I don’t think I’ve ever had a real friend,” Draco confessed at one point, his voice barely audible.
Harry frowned. “What about at Beauxbatons? Surely there are people there who like you.”
Draco gave a small, rueful smile. “People like me, yes. But for the wrong reasons. Because I’m a Malfoy. Because I have influence. Not because they actually care about me.”
Harry hesitated, then said, “I care.”
Draco’s eyes widened, his gaze snapping to Harry’s. For a moment, he looked like he didn’t know how to respond.
“You do?” he asked softly.
Harry nodded. “Yeah. You’re... different from what I expected. In a good way.”
Draco’s cheeks turned faintly pink, and he looked away, a small, shy smile playing on his lips. “Thank you,” he murmured.
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They spent the next hour exploring the area around the river. Draco found a patch of wildflowers that sparkled faintly, their petals glowing when touched, and Harry discovered a small hollow tree filled with tiny, glowing insects.
At one point, Draco sat on a large rock by the riverbank, the sunlight casting an ethereal glow around him. His robes caught the light, shimmering faintly, and his delicate features seemed almost unreal against the backdrop of the enchanted forest.
“You look like you belong here,” Harry said before he could stop himself.
Draco looked at him, startled. “What?”
Harry flushed, scratching the back of his neck. “I just mean... you look like something out of a storybook. Like you’re part of the magic.”
Draco blinked, his expression unreadable for a moment. Then, slowly, he smiled. “That’s the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever heard.”
Harry laughed, relieved. “Maybe. But it’s true.”
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As the sun began to dip lower in the sky, they made their way back toward the manor, the memory of the enchanted river lingering between them. Draco seemed lighter somehow, his usual reserve softened by the day’s discoveries.
“I suppose that qualifies as an adventure,” Draco said as they reached the garden gate.
Harry grinned. “See? Told you it’d be worth it.”
Draco shook his head, but there was a small, genuine smile on his lips. “Perhaps you’re not as hopeless as I thought, Potter.”
Harry laughed, his chest feeling oddly warm at the sound of Draco’s teasing. For the first time since arriving in France, he felt like he’d done something right. And as they stepped inside, the manor’s golden light welcoming them back, spending time in the glowing light of the fire in the library.
The hours slipped by unnoticed, the fire burning low as they continued to talk. By the time the clock struck midnight, Harry felt a strange sense of closeness to Draco—a connection he hadn’t expected but found himself grateful for.
As they stood to leave, Draco paused by the doorway, his pale hand resting on the frame. “Harry?”
“Yeah?”
Draco hesitated, then said, “I’m glad you’re here.”
Harry felt his chest tighten, warmth spreading through him at the sincerity in Draco’s voice. “Me too,” he said quietly.
And as they went their separate ways for the night, Harry couldn’t help but feel that something had shifted between them—something that felt a lot like the beginning of an adventure neither of them had anticipated.