A new light
A New Light
The Gryffindor common room was unusually quiet, bathed in the amber glow of dying embers in the fireplace. Harry leaned back against the arm of the sofa, his gaze fixed on the boy across the room. Draco sat in the armchair, legs tucked under him, his arms crossed tightly. They were alone—rare, but Harry had asked Hermione to give them some space tonight, knowing that Draco’s request to meet like this wasn’t for show.
The firelight flickered, catching the silver glint in Draco’s gaze as he stared at the ground, his expression distant, almost defeated.
“Do you mind if I…” Draco’s voice trailed off, barely a whisper. He tugged at the sleeve of his oversized sweater, pulling it down over his hand until only his fingertips showed.
Harry shook his head, offering a soft, reassuring smile as he patted the cushion beside him. “Of course not. Sit with me?”
Draco hesitated, his fingers gripping the edges of his sleeves as he slowly crossed the room, finally taking the seat Harry offered. He glanced away as he sat, one hand pressing anxiously against his forearm.
Harry’s gaze flicked downward. He’d seen it before—the scars, faint and healing, peeking out from Draco’s sleeve. He knew better than to bring it up unless Draco was ready to talk, but the way Draco’s fingers trembled as he clutched his wrist told him that tonight, maybe, he was.
Harry reached out slowly, lightly resting his hand over Draco’s. “You don’t have to hide,” he said, voice soft, gentle. “Not with me.”
For a long moment, Draco didn’t move. His eyes remained fixed on the fire, his shoulders tense as if bracing himself for the world’s judgment. But Harry didn’t pull away. He simply waited, offering Draco the quiet warmth he so rarely allowed himself to feel.
Finally, Draco took a deep, shaky breath. “It’s… it’s not easy to talk about,” he admitted, voice barely a whisper. “There’s so much. And it’s—God, it’s pathetic, really. I’m pathetic.”
Harry’s heart clenched. He wished Draco could see himself the way he did—a survivor, resilient in ways few others could understand. But he knew this wasn’t his battle to fight for Draco. It had to come from him, and all Harry could do was stand by him.
“You’re not pathetic,” Harry replied, voice soft but firm. “You’re just… human. And that’s okay.”
Draco’s lips twisted into a sad smile, the ghost of his usual smirk, but laced with pain. “After everything I did, after everything I believed… sometimes I think it’s the only thing I deserve.” His voice trembled, breaking Harry’s heart with each syllable. “Like… punishing myself is the only way to make up for all the pain I caused. To you… to everyone.”
Harry’s fingers tightened slightly around Draco’s hand. “I know what it’s like to carry that kind of guilt. But you’re trying, Draco. You’re here, and you’re letting me be here, too.” He leaned forward, catching Draco’s gaze. “That means something. You don’t have to punish yourself for things that weren’t entirely your fault. The war… it took so much from all of us.”
Draco’s shoulders sagged, and he looked down at their intertwined hands, his expression torn. “But it’s like… I can’t stop the thoughts. When it gets quiet… they’re just there, like ghosts. Telling me all the things I should have done differently.”
Harry paused, unsure if his next words would help or harm. But he decided to risk it. “Maybe… maybe healing isn’t about erasing those ghosts. Maybe it’s just about learning to live with them and giving them less power over you.”
Draco blinked, as though the idea had never crossed his mind. “How do you even do that?”
“It’s not easy,” Harry said, honesty in his eyes. “But… you don’t have to do it alone.”
Draco looked at him, really looked at him, and for a second, Harry could see the hope hiding beneath his fear. It was fragile, barely there, but it was something.
Taking a shaky breath, Draco pulled his sleeve back slightly, exposing the faint silver scars that traced his wrist. “I’m trying,” he murmured, voice thick with emotion. “I want to be… better. I want to be someone who can stand beside you without all of this.”
Harry reached over, gently running his thumb over the scars. He didn’t say anything, just letting Draco feel the quiet acceptance in his touch.
“You’re already enough, Draco,” he said finally. “You don’t have to be anything more than who you are. I’m… I’m here, and I want to be here for you. However long it takes.”
The weight of Harry’s words seemed to hit Draco like a wave, and for the first time in a long time, he allowed himself to lean into it, to let someone else bear the weight with him. He rested his head on Harry’s shoulder, his eyes closing as a single tear slipped down his cheek, glistening in the firelight.
Harry wrapped his arm around Draco’s shoulders, pulling him closer until they were curled together on the sofa, warmth and softness radiating between them. Draco’s fingers clung to Harry’s shirt, as though afraid this moment might disappear if he didn’t hold on tight enough. But Harry only tightened his grip, letting Draco know he wasn’t going anywhere.
They stayed that way for a while, in a silence that felt more comforting than any words. Harry could feel the steady rise and fall of Draco’s breathing, a reminder that for now, they had each other.
Draco shifted slightly, his face tilting up, eyes catching Harry’s with a quiet intensity. For a moment, neither of them moved, both caught in the fragile, unspoken promise hanging between them.
And then, without another word, Harry leaned down, brushing his lips gently against Draco’s. The kiss was soft, tentative, as if he were afraid to shatter the delicate trust they had built. But Draco melted into it, his fingers tracing the edge of Harry’s jaw, pulling him closer.
When they finally broke apart, Draco’s face was flushed, a faint smile tugging at the corners of his lips. He looked at Harry, eyes shining with something he’d never dared to show anyone before.
“I love you,” Draco whispered, the words trembling but real.
Harry felt his heart swell, a warmth spreading through him that he’d never felt with anyone else. He brushed a hand through Draco’s hair, his own smile breaking free.
“I love you too, Draco. I’m here. For all of it.”
Draco closed his eyes, letting himself sink into Harry’s embrace. For the first time, he allowed himself to believe he might be worthy of love—and that maybe, with Harry by his side, he could find the strength to truly heal.