the ripple effect

'coda
/ˈkəʊdə/

August 1995

The library was Draco’s second favourite hide away at Hogwarts – the Hufflepuff common room being his favourite. With bookshelves that reached higher than the tips of his fingers, three floors of twisting aisles, and the quiet humming of magic, whispers, and pages being turned – it always made Draco feel at home. It held a different sort of comfort to the Black library, which was a comfort for its familiarity to the library at Malfoy Manor. The Hogwarts library was warm and inviting, as if he was sitting next to the fireplace with a friend. 

The only way Draco could replicate this feeling in the Black Manor was to light a fire and huddle on the sofa by the mantle. 

This proved to be rather difficult. 

Not because Draco was unable to use magic (there was an upside to being in an untraceable house over the summer), but because Draco was worried he would accidentally set fire to the bookshelves. Harry insisted he would be fine, and hypothesised that the books were probably fireproof.

Draco wouldn't take that chance. 

Not that he was complaining, as it meant Harry would bring him a hot chocolate and sit with him whilst he rambled about the book he was reading. 

It was where he would hide away from his own emotions. He would stare out the window, sit by the flames, and remember his mother, or wonder about her safety. There were times when he would sit and compose letters he wasn’t able to send, or imagine what he would say if she was to arrive at Grimmauld Place tomorrow. Sometimes Harry would join him, other times Harry recognised the need to deal with your emotions by yourself. 

“Here,” Harry said, shoving a hot chocolate at Draco. “You’ve been in here all day, it’s freezing,” he shivered, sipping his own hot chocolate. 

Draco shrugged. “I didn’t notice,” he mumbled into his mug, turning the page of his book. He could feel Harry next to him, leaning over his shoulder to read the book. 

“That’s why I’m here,” Harry grinned. “There’s only so many games of chess I can play with Ron.”

Almost spilling his hot chocolate, Draco turned to Harry. “You’re speaking to them?” he asked. 

Harry shrugged. “I don’t like grudges,” he sighed. “Besides,” he added with a small smile. “If I play my cards right, I think Ron might purposefully lose at chess and Hermione might help me with the summer potions work.”

Draco rolled his eyes, smiling. “Your inner Slytherin is showing again,” he said, smiling when Harry laughed. 

“Thanks,” he grinned, making Draco’s stomach flip. 

He had almost come to terms with the idea of having a crush on Harry - almost.  

“Is it good?” Harry asked, directing his head towards the book on Draco’s lap. 

“I think it was written by the creator of this manor,” Draco explained, closing the book to look at the cover. “It goes on about how the house seems to have a mind of it’s own - the author called it the House Heart,” he continued, unable to make eye contact with Harry as he spoke. “It’s strange really,” he chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck. “You’d have thought the Malfoy Manor was similar, but it’s the opposite really, it sucks you in, like a void.”

Harry furrowed his eyebrows - Draco thought it was adorable. “A void?” he asked. 

“Not really a void,” Draco tried to explain, but it was more of a feeling than actual magical theory. “It’s as if it wants you to stay, but has no charm, so it pulls you in, like how Muggle magnets attract other magnets,” he said, hoping that would explain it. “It feels like a rope being tied around my magical core.” 

Harry nodded. “I think I get it,” he said, leaning on Draco’s shoulder. “What does this house feel like?” he asked. 

Draco paused, sipping his hot chocolate. “I guess it feels like a living being,” he said. “There's a small pulse, like a heartbeat, and a warmth in some rooms, but a bone-chilling coldness in others.”

“So we should avoid those rooms then,” Harry joked, making Draco snicker. 

“You probably do without even noticing,” Draco said. “Have you ever been to the third floor?” he asked, his breath catching in his throat when he turned to look at Harry and realised how close they were. 

“There’s a third floor?” Harry exclaimed, making Draco laugh. 

“Exactly,” he grinned. “No one goes there, I only knew it existed because Sirius asked me to help him move some things.” Draco noticed (much to his dismay) that his hot chocolate was now gone. He had finished it. “It’s as if the house has secrets, as if it knows something it doesn’t want others to just stumble upon.”

Harry tilted his head. “So what you’re saying,” he began. “Is this house has skeletons in the closet?” he joked, giggling as Draco groaned. 

“ Merlin’s sake,” Draco complained, thwacking Harry on the arm. “But I suppose in plebian terms, yes.”

“Did you insult me? I feel like I've been insulted,” Harry said, almost making Draco’s heart jump from his chest as he linked his finger’s with Draco’s. 

Draco felt his face turn pink. “I - er - I’m sure - yes ,” he replied, trying his best to act as if he hadn’t noticed. 

Harry chuckled. “Sorry,” he said, lifting their linked hands. “I forget I do it sometimes,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck. “I’ll let go if-”

“No!” Draco said quickly, holding their hands tighter. “I- I like holding your hand, it’s nice,” he said, his voice getting quieter as he spoke. His face grew hot. 

“Okay,” Harry hummed, turning away slightly. Draco could still see him blush a little. “By the way, I saw Remus in the kitchen.”

“Really?” 

Harry nodded. “I think he’s mad at Dumbledore.”

“When isn’t he?” Draco asked jokingly, making Harry chuckle. “So is this a warning for an angry Lupin or concerned Sirius?”

“Both?” Harry shrugged. “I think he’s trying to find a way to make Sirius a freeman, but…” he trailed off, an expression Draco couldn't quite place, edging its way onto his face. He shook his head. “He told me once, Remus, that he would find a way for Sirius to keep his promise, so I could live with him.”

“You wanted to live with Sirius?” Draco asked, trying to remember if Harry had mentioned that before and he had forgotten. 

Harry laughed, leaning into Draco. “I did,” he said, with a smile of an old man fondly looking back on his life, not a fifteen year old condoning it. 

Draco wanted to ask why he didn’t wish to live with his Aunt and Uncle, but thought that would be a little invasive. There was usually something left unsaid in a conversation, and Draco had learnt that asking a question about it, usually didn’t answer the question. 

“Do you ever think about life after this oncoming war?” Harry asked, leaning back into the sofa, staring at the ceiling. 

“What do you mean?” Draco asked, joining Harry in staring at the ceiling. 

“Who will survive, what about life will change,” Harry elaborated, squeezing Draco’s hand. 

Draco brought his thumb to his mouth, chewing at his nail before sighing. “It’s difficult not to, isn’t it?” he asked. “I mean, it might not even happen, but to dwell on that idea would be foolish,” he continued, sitting up straight. “ I might die, you might die, we all might die. Life won’t be the same after.”

Harry chuckled, and Draco snapped his head back to Harry, blinking repeatedly as if that would change Harry’s smile. “Aren’t we cheerful?” he giggled, making Draco smile fondly. “ Merlin, it’s all a mess.”

“Tell me about it,” Draco smirked. “My Mother can’t talk to me, I’ve been disowned, I’m living with my estranged, fugitive cousin and a band of merry misfits.” That made Harry snort. “And all I thought I’d do with my time is sit in a library.”

“ In your defence,” Harry began, turning to look at Draco. “That is a lot to deal with - also, I bring you hot chocolate and watch you read, so we’re both avoiding reality a little bit,” he grinned. Draco rolled his eyes, wondering if he could return his crush to a shop of some kind. 

“Yes, you do bring me hot chocolate,” Draco said, smiling at Harry. “And I appreciate your efforts immensely.” 

As Harry blushed, Draco suppressed a grin, biting his lip. “No problem,” he mumbled, running a hand through his hair. “I suppose we should face the reality of it all at some point.”

Draco shrugged. “We’re fifteen, we can be reckless and naive if we want to - for a little bit anyway,” he muttered, as Harry couldn’t help but laugh. “Besides, when you want to face reality, I’ll still be here for you,” he said, glancing at Harry in the corner of his eye. 

Harry was watching him, with a slightly bemused, amused expression. “We’ll face it together then,” he nodded, his voice filled with a certainty Draco wished he could feel about everything. 

Turning to truly look at Harry, Draco noticed the fiery green eyes, the eyes that intrigued Draco when they were eleven. 

He grinned. “We’ll always face it together.”