A Bittersweet Taste: Drarry Fanfic

Harry sat in the common room later that evening, staring blankly at the fire. He had been trying to distract himself with homework, but it was no use—his mind kept drifting back to Potions class, back to Draco.

Draco’s words had been ringing in his ears all day. “You’re not as oblivious as you pretend to be… You feel it, too. Don’t you?”

Harry sighed and ran his hands through his messy hair, frustrated and confused. He didn’t want to think about it. About Draco. But no matter how hard he tried to focus on anything else, his thoughts kept spiraling back to those intense, piercing grey eyes. The way Draco’s hand had lingered on his arm. The way he had practically dared Harry to admit what was happening between them.

But how could he admit it when he wasn’t even sure himself?

"Oi, Harry!" Ron’s voice cut through his thoughts, dragging him back to the present. "You alright, mate? You’ve been staring into space for ages."

Harry blinked and turned to Ron, who was sitting across from him with a concerned look on his face. Hermione sat next to him, glancing up from her book with curiosity.
"Yeah, I’m fine," Harry muttered, though he could feel the weight of his lie.

Hermione raised an eyebrow. "You’ve been distracted all day. Did something happen?"

Harry hesitated. He couldn’t exactly tell them the truth—not yet, at least. Not until he could figure out what was going on in his own head. "Just tired," he said quickly. "Long day in Potions, that’s all."

Hermione’s expression softened. "I heard Snape paired you with Malfoy again. That’s enough to put anyone in a bad mood."

"Yeah," Harry said, forcing a smile. "Something like that."

Later that night, Harry lay in bed, staring up at the ceiling. The dormitory was quiet, with the soft snores of his classmates filling the room. But sleep wouldn’t come. His mind was too restless, too tangled in the events of the day.

Draco’s words. The tension. The way their eyes had lingered on each other just a little too long.

He hated how much space Draco was taking up in his mind. It was ridiculous, really. Draco Malfoy—the boy who had tormented him for years, who had made it his mission to make Harry’s life difficult. And yet now, Harry couldn’t stop thinking about him.

It wasn’t just anger anymore. And that terrified him.

DRACO'S POV: 🤍

Draco lay awake in his bed, staring at the dark ceiling of the Slytherin dormitory. His mind was spinning, running over everything that had happened in Potions class. He had confronted Potter—finally said what had been weighing on his mind for weeks now. But instead of feeling relief, Draco felt more unsettled than ever.

He had seen the confusion in Harry’s eyes, the way he had struggled to respond. And for a brief moment, Draco had wondered if he had made a mistake—if he had pushed too hard, too fast. But he couldn’t take it back now. The words were out there, and so was the truth.

Because it was the truth, wasn’t it? Draco wasn’t imagining things. He wasn’t the only one feeling this strange, magnetic pull between them. He had seen it in the way Harry had looked at him—the way his breath had hitched when Draco had leaned in close, the way his eyes had darkened just slightly.

But what did it mean?

Draco had spent so long hating Harry—so long pretending that their rivalry was all there was between them. But lately, something had shifted. The banter, the competition, the endless back-and-forth—it all felt like it was leading to something else, something neither of them wanted to admit.

Draco let out a frustrated sigh and turned over in his bed. He wasn’t used to feeling like this—uncertain, vulnerable. He didn’t like it. And yet, the thought of Harry—the thought of them—was becoming impossible to ignore.

He needed to figure this out. He needed to understand what was happening between them before it drove him mad.

The Next Day: 🧹

The next morning, Harry made his way to breakfast, still feeling the weight of the previous day hanging over him. He kept his head down as he entered the Great Hall, hoping to avoid any interaction with Draco. He wasn’t ready to face him again—not after the way things had been left between them.

But, as if fate had other plans, the moment Harry entered the hall, his eyes were immediately drawn to the Slytherin table. And there, sitting with his usual smug confidence, was Draco.

Their eyes met for the briefest second, and Harry’s heart skipped a beat. Draco’s expression was unreadable—calm and composed, as if nothing had happened. But Harry knew better. There was a storm brewing beneath that cool exterior, just as there was inside him.

"Harry?" Hermione’s voice pulled him out of his trance. "Are you coming?"

Harry blinked and nodded quickly, tearing his gaze away from Draco. He hurried over to the Gryffindor table and sat down next to Hermione and Ron, determined to act as if everything was normal.

But the moment he sat down, he could feel it—Draco’s eyes on him. He didn’t dare look up, but he knew. He could feel that strange, electric tension crackling in the air between them, even from across the room.

It was maddening.

Breakfast passed in a blur. Harry barely ate anything, too distracted by the weight of Draco’s gaze and the constant churning of his own thoughts. By the time he left the Great Hall, his mind was a mess of confusion and frustration.

And then, as if the universe were playing a cruel joke on him, he felt a hand grab his arm just as he exited the hall.

"Potter."

Harry’s heart skipped a beat at the sound of that familiar voice. He turned around slowly, already knowing who it was.

Draco stood there, his expression cool and composed as always. But there was something else in his eyes—something that made Harry’s stomach flip.

"We’re not done," Draco said quietly, his voice low and serious. "We need to talk."

Harry swallowed hard, his pulse quickening. He knew he couldn’t avoid this conversation forever. But that didn’t make it any less terrifying.

"Fine," he said, trying to keep his voice steady. "Let’s talk."

Draco glanced around, then nodded toward the corridor leading away from the Great Hall. "Not here."

Harry followed him, his heart pounding in his chest as they walked down the corridor in silence. The tension between them was thick, almost suffocating, and Harry could feel his palms sweating as they reached an empty classroom.

Draco closed the door behind them, and for a moment, they just stood there, staring at each other in the quiet room.

"What do you want, Malfoy?" Harry asked, his voice coming out harsher than he intended. "What is this about?"

Draco didn’t answer immediately. Instead, he took a step closer, his eyes locked onto Harry’s. "You know what this is about."

Harry felt his breath catch in his throat. "No, I don’t."

Draco’s gaze hardened slightly. "Don’t play dumb, Potter. You felt it yesterday. You’ve felt it for a while now."

Harry’s heart was pounding so loudly he was sure Draco could hear it. He wanted to deny it, to push Draco away and pretend this wasn’t happening. But he couldn’t. Because Draco was right. He had felt it. And the longer he stood there, the harder it was to ignore.

"Draco…" Harry began, his voice barely above a whisper. But he didn’t know what to say. He didn’t know how to explain the mess of emotions swirling inside him.

Draco took another step closer, his voice softening. "We can’t keep pretending, Potter. Not anymore."

The distance between them was almost nonexistent now, and Harry could feel the heat radiating from Draco’s body, and could hear the slight hitch in his breath, and as much as he wanted to pull away, to deny everything, he couldn’t.

Because Draco was right.