Threads of Silver and Gold
Draco didn’t meet his gaze immediately. Instead, he stared down at the parchment in front of him, tapping his fingers against the edge. “It means that I’m not who I was, Potter. I know that. But I’m not asking you to forget what I’ve done. Just... understand that I don’t want to be that person anymore. I don’t want to be the person who... who hurt people.”
For a moment, Harry didn’t know how to respond. The words felt too raw, too personal, but there was a sincerity in Draco’s voice that made Harry’s heart ache. It was the first time Draco had said anything so open—so vulnerable.
“I don’t know what you want me to say,” Harry muttered, his voice soft, almost uncertain.
“I don’t want you to say anything,” Draco replied quickly, though his voice was quieter now. “I just wanted you to know. In case you’re still thinking of me as an arrogant prat. Because I’m not.”
Harry felt the weight of Draco’s words settle heavily between them. He could see the sincerity in Draco’s eyes now, the truth of it. For the first time, Harry truly believed that Draco was trying to change. That he was, somehow, trying to make up for the things he had done.
And that, more than anything, shook Harry to his core. Because the Draco Malfoy he had known—the one who had mocked him, who had been his enemy in every way—was gone. In his place was someone who was trying, struggling, to be better.
Later that evening, when the paper was finished and handed in, Harry found himself walking beside Draco in the empty hallways. The corridor was dim, lit only by the soft glow of torches lining the stone walls. There was an unusual silence between them, a quiet that felt strangely comfortable.
Draco shoved his hands into his pockets, his steps slow as they walked side by side. Harry glanced at him, trying to read the subtle shift in his posture—the way Draco didn’t seem to be in any rush to break the silence.
For the first time in a long time, Harry felt... safe. Not in the way he usually did around his friends, but in a way that felt new, unsettling, and yet oddly reassuring.
“Hey,” Harry began after a long pause, “why do you want to be a healer?”
Draco didn’t answer immediately. He just kept walking, his gaze forward. Then, after a beat, he spoke. “Because... because I want to help people. I’ve spent too much time being selfish,Potter. I want to do something good with my life”
Harry’s chest tightened at Draco’s words. He knew what Draco meant—he could feel the weight of the confession, the rawness of it. And it made Harry’s heart ache in a way that wasn’t painful, but full of longing. For the first time in a long time, Harry wanted to believe that Draco could be someone worth caring about.
He couldn’t help it. He had to ask.
“What about you? Why do you keep coming back to me, even after everything?”
Draco turned his head to look at him then, his silver eyes piercing through the dim light. The way he looked at Harry now was different—softer, almost searching.
“Because,” Draco said quietly, “I’m not finished with you yet, Potter. Not by a long shot.”
Harry felt the air shift, the tension between them thickening, but it wasn’t a bad kind of tension. It was the kind that made his chest tighten in anticipation, like the promise of something more just within reach.
But for the first time, Harry wasn’t sure he was ready to run away from it.
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