Strength in silence
Strength in Silence
The castle was quiet as dawn broke, the only sounds a few birds calling from the frosty branches outside. Harry sat by Draco’s bedside in the Hogwarts infirmary, his head resting in his hands as he watched Draco sleep. He hadn’t planned to stay all night, but leaving hadn’t felt right, not after Draco had finally let down his walls—if only for a moment.
Draco had been withdrawn for months now, his sharp edges softened into a silence that worried Harry more than their past rivalries ever had. Harry had noticed it, of course. He’d seen the way Draco would push food around his plate, how his robes had grown looser on his frame, how he’d stay back during meals as if the noise and chatter were too much. But Draco had always brushed it off with a dismissive wave, insisting he was just fine, and Harry didn’t know how to ask the questions he needed to without risking Draco’s already fragile trust.
But when Draco collapsed outside the Potions classroom, pale and trembling, Harry’s worry had turned into action. He’d been the one to carry him here, his mind racing with fear, anger, and a strange protectiveness he hadn’t anticipated.
As Draco began to stir, Harry straightened, pushing his messy hair out of his face and trying to look casual, though his heart was pounding. Draco’s eyes opened slowly, unfocused, before they found Harry sitting beside him. A hint of surprise crossed his face, but then it softened.
“You’re still here,” Draco mumbled, his voice hoarse.
“Couldn’t just leave you, could I?” Harry replied, managing a small smile. “Figured someone should keep you company.”
Draco let out a soft, tired chuckle, though his gaze remained distant. “Not like anyone else is lining up for that.”
Harry’s heart ached at the vulnerability in Draco’s words. There was an unspoken sadness that weighed heavy between them, one that Draco tried to mask with forced indifference. But Harry saw through it now—saw the way Draco’s hands shook, the way his shoulders tensed as if bracing for rejection.
He reached out, hesitating for a moment before placing his hand over Draco’s. “You don’t have to do this alone, you know.”
Draco’s gaze flicked to their joined hands, and he swallowed, his eyes darkening with something like shame. “It’s not… it’s not your problem, Potter,” he whispered, his voice brittle. “I can handle it.”
Harry shook his head. “Draco, you don’t have to ‘handle’ everything by yourself. I know… I know it’s hard to believe, but people want to help you. I want to help you.”
Draco’s jaw tightened, and for a moment, Harry thought he was going to pull away, to retreat back into the silence he’d wrapped himself in for so long. But then Draco exhaled shakily, his hand gripping Harry’s a little tighter.
“I don’t even know where to start,” he admitted, his voice barely audible.
“Then let’s start with today,” Harry said softly, giving Draco’s hand a reassuring squeeze. “One day at a time, yeah? We don’t have to figure everything out all at once.”
A faint, hesitant smile flickered across Draco’s face, and he nodded, though the tension in his posture didn’t completely fade. “You make it sound easy,” he said, a hint of bitterness creeping into his tone. “It’s not, you know. I’ve… I’ve tried.”
Harry’s gaze softened. “I know it’s not easy. And I know it doesn’t just… go away.” He took a deep breath, steadying himself. “But you don’t have to keep fighting this alone. If you let me, I’ll be here. However long it takes.”
They sat in silence, the morning light filtering through the infirmary windows, casting a gentle glow around them. Harry could feel the weight of Draco’s struggle, the years of pain and expectation that had shaped him into someone who felt he had to carry it all on his own. But Harry was determined to show him he didn’t have to.
As the days passed, Harry made it a habit to sit with Draco during meals in the Great Hall, sometimes talking, sometimes just keeping him company in comfortable silence. Draco would eat in small, careful bites, often with his shoulders tense, as if he were bracing for judgment. But Harry’s presence helped, a quiet assurance that he wasn’t alone.
One evening, as they sat by the lake under the stars, Draco turned to Harry, his face illuminated by the moonlight. “Do you ever feel like… like you’re not enough?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.
Harry looked at him, his heart aching at the vulnerability in Draco’s gaze. “All the time,” he admitted. “But I think… sometimes it’s about learning to believe that we’re enough, even when we don’t feel like it.”
Draco looked away, his lips pressing together. “It’s hard to believe that when you’ve spent years… trying to be something you’re not. Trying to live up to something you can never be.”
Harry’s hand found Draco’s, intertwining their fingers. “You don’t have to be anyone but yourself. Not for me. Not for anyone.”
Draco glanced down at their joined hands, a small, almost grateful smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “You make it sound so simple,” he whispered.
“It’s not,” Harry replied, squeezing his hand. “But we can figure it out together.”
Over time, Harry became Draco’s quiet anchor, offering steady support without pushing, a presence that was always there when Draco needed him. And slowly, Draco began to trust himself again, learning to see his body not as something he had to control, but as a part of himself he could accept, even on the difficult days.
Their relationship grew in the quiet moments—the shared glances, the gentle touches, the way Draco would lean into Harry when he needed reassurance, and the way Harry would offer it without hesitation.
One evening, as they sat together by the common room fire, Draco leaned against Harry’s shoulder, his voice soft. “Thank you, for… for seeing me,” he murmured.
Harry wrapped his arm around Draco, pulling him close. “You don’t have to thank me,” he replied. “I’m just glad you’re letting me.”
And as the fire crackled beside them, filling the room with warmth, Draco closed his eyes, a sense of peace settling over him. He wasn’t healed completely; he still had days that were difficult, moments where doubt and fear crept back in. But with Harry by his side, he was learning that he didn’t have to face those days alone—and that, maybe, he was stronger than he’d ever believed.