The Prank / Harry Potter

summary: Being Draco Malfoy’s sister offers significant advantages in Slytherin, with strong platonic ties to Mattheo and Theodore and a protective brother. Consequently, Harry's chance to make an impact might rely on an unfavored prank, providing him an unconventional path to disrupt the existing dynamics.

ps; english ins't my first mother tongue language if any grammar error is seeing through the story, it will be eventually corrected by me. enjoy!

Harry was all too aware of the weight his last name carried. His fame, a double-edged sword, had shaped much of his life and interactions with others. Among his classmates, it was a constant presence, a reminder of his place in their world. But there was one person who had caught his interest in a way no one else had—someone who saw past the fame and into the person behind it. That person was you.

But somehow, just looking at you wasn’t enough for Harry. He had become utterly fascinated by you—by your values, your independence, and, most intriguingly, the stark contrast within your own family name. Being a Malfoy had brought its privileges, but you had carved out your own identity, distinct from the expectations of your lineage. With a fiercely protective brother and a mother who showered you with care, you were surrounded by the trappings of tradition. Yet, you had found a way to stand apart, to be your own person. It was this strength that drew Harry in, making him feel both intrigued and conflicted.

He almost felt ashamed for even entertaining the thought—seeing himself with a Malfoy. It was a notion that seemed impossible, yet it lingered in the back of his mind, impossible to ignore.

It was during a rainy day, early in autumn, when most students sought shelter either in the Astronomy Tower or, like you, found solace in the quiet of the library before lunch. The sound of rain pattering against the windows created a soft background noise as you browsed the shelves, hoping to steal a few moments of peace. Your brother, Draco, and his ever-loyal group of friends had been abuzz with excitement about their latest scheme to alleviate their boredom. 

And, of course, in typical Draco fashion, he was predictably drawn to stirring trouble with Harry Potter. His lack of originality when it came to tormenting the Gryffindor had become almost a routine, a familiar dance between the two. You, however, found yourself growing tired of the same old rivalry, even if it was expected in the Malfoy name. Today, more than ever, you felt disconnected from it all, your mind wandering elsewhere.

As you finally located the book you’d been searching for, Theodore Nott appeared in the hallway, offering you an escort to the cafeteria. It was a small but thoughtful gesture, especially considering that Draco hadn’t even bothered to come get you himself. You smiled at Theo’s presence, appreciating the effort despite your brother’s predictability.

“Theo, you know I can make my way there alone. My brother doesn’t—” you began, but Theo quickly shook his head, cutting you off with a knowing look. His expression suggested that Draco’s insistence had been genuine, or perhaps it was just convenient timing.

“I must indulge you on the matter, Y/N,” he said, a hint of amusement in his voice. “But Draco insisted I pick you up. For subtle measures, of course. He wanted to make sure you weren’t... you know.” His words trailed off, but you knew exactly what he meant. Draco always had his protective streak, often imagining threats where there were none. Theo’s tone was light, but there was an underlying concern from Draco, no matter how overbearing it might seem.

Theodore didn’t need to sugarcoat it—the truth was clear. Draco didn’t want you crossing paths with Potter, and though you hadn’t, the underlying message was always there. “Fine,” you relented with a playful sigh. “And since you’re already here to escort me,” you added with a mischievous grin, “why don’t we intertwine arms and you can whisk me away to lunch? I can’t bear to hear my stomach rumble in protest again.”

Theo mirrored your grin, clearly amused by your sudden shift in tone. Without missing a beat, he extended his arm. “I shall, My Lady,” he said with exaggerated formality, linking his arm with yours as you both made your way to the cafeteria, the earlier tension dissipating into shared humor.

Harry had already been in the cafeteria for a while, arriving before Draco as he slumped at the Gryffindor table. His disheveled appearance and tired eyes were telltale signs that he hadn’t slept well—likely out on one of his late-night excursions around the school. He had probably lost a few Gryffindor house points, for his lack of subtlety, but the consequences didn’t seem to bother him much.

Just as he was about to respond to Ron’s incessant complaints, his eyes shifted naturally, almost instinctively, from his untouched plate to where you entered. He didn’t quite understand how or why it happened. Chosen or not, it felt like a curse. The sight of you—so effortlessly poised—gnawed at something deep inside him, making him feel unsettled, even sick to his stomach. You, a Malfoy, represented everything he should stay away from. Yet, somehow, you always drew his gaze, an unwelcome and persistent distraction that pained him more than he cared to admit.

And there you were, moving with effortless grace, your hair catching the cool autumn breeze that slipped in through the slightly open windows. It swept through the room in a comforting way, though it seemed to stir something far less peaceful in Harry. As you made your way toward the Slytherin table, Pansy’s voice called out, greeting you from afar, but Harry’s gaze had already found you—unbidden, magnetic.

Your eyes met his across the room, and for a brief moment, something like understanding passed between you. His heart clenched at the sight of your slight smile. It was nothing more than a fleeting, innocent gesture, but to him, it felt like a wound. Oh, how he longed to just stand up, walk over, and close the distance between you. Like Draco would. Like Theodore, or any of your friends, could without a second thought. But he couldn't. He was Harry Potter, the Gryffindor hero, and you were a Malfoy. The invisible line between you felt impossible to cross, even as every fiber of his being ached to do just that.

“Y/N,” Draco’s voice rang through the air, sharp and authoritative, instantly pulling you—and Harry—back to reality. Harry’s heart sank as he turned, catching the familiar sneer on Draco’s face. Your brother had a talent for making himself impossible to ignore, and judging by the look he shot Harry, it was clear he wasn’t just here to fetch you. He was delivering a warning.

“You look absolutely ridiculous sitting there,” Draco continued, his voice dripping with irritation as he strode up to you, arms crossed. “People will start to think there’s something going on between you and Potter, and you know what Father would say about that.”

His words carried the weight of the Malfoy legacy, a burden you had carried for as long as you could remember. The invisible chains of expectation wrapped around you, tightening as Draco’s cold eyes bore into yours. Harry clenched his fists under the table, resisting the urge to say something, do something. But he knew better—Draco was already spoiling for a fight, and Harry wasn’t about to give him an excuse. Not here. Not now. Even though his chest burned with frustration, he simply sat there, watching, waiting, and silently hoping you'd choose to defy your brother’s words.

“I know,” you murmured quietly, your words barely audible as you approached the table, your sigh lingering in the cold air. The weight of Draco’s presence pressed down on you, but as you sat, your gaze lingered on Harry for a fleeting moment, catching his eyes once more. It wasn’t just his gaze this time—both Ron and Hermione were watching too, their faces clouded with concern. They knew, just as well as you did, the unspoken rules of your world. A love like this, between you and Harry, was forbidden, as if the mere thought was destined for tragedy.

As you settled in, you caught Harry’s lips moving, his quiet whisper to Ron barely reaching you. "There’s no way I can. Just look at her brother. He wants me dead. I’m not worthy of her love.”

The words stabbed at you, even from across the room. You saw the doubt, the resignation in Harry’s eyes, and it mirrored your own inner turmoil. The weight of your family’s name, the constant scrutiny, and Draco’s looming presence—it all made the idea of being with Harry seem impossible. And yet, the connection between you both felt undeniable, as if the universe had pulled you together in defiance of the very forces trying to tear you apart.

"Not worthy." The words repeated in your mind like a slow, haunting echo. Even as your friends chattered loudly about their next cruel prank on Potter, you could barely register their voices. Your fork hovered over the plate, numbing your movements as your thoughts spiraled. You were barely present, your focus lingering on Harry, on his defeated gaze, on the hopelessness you read in his lips. That was until Draco’s voice slithered in, dripping with arrogance and disdain. “Sister,” he muttered as he leaned in beside you, fingers boldly stealing food from your plate. He didn’t care to mask his smugness as he licked the remnants of the sauce from his fingers, his eyes drifting towards Harry’s table, locking in for a brief moment. His gaze then slid back to you, sharp and accusing.

“A little bird told me it was wrong to stare,” Draco said, his voice taunting, as if daring you to deny it. His smirk deepened as though he had caught you in some hidden act of treason.You quickly turned your head, breaking the invisible connection between you and Harry. Your heart raced with the silent understanding that Draco had seen it—the shared glances, the tension neither you nor Harry could fully conceal.

Draco leaned in closer, his voice lowering to a dangerous whisper, “What’s going on, Y/N? Don’t tell me you've taken a liking to Potter. You know what Father would say. What I’d say.” His tone dripped with malice, a quiet threat laced in every word.

“Especially— when they stare back at us.” 

You rolled your eyes, fixing Draco with your signature glare. His snarky smirk only deepened, clearly enjoying the discomfort he was causing. “Don’t fret, Y/N,” he said, his tone laced with mockery. Theo’s voice cut in, carrying a darker edge. He held his glass with an almost possessive grip, his eyes never shifting towards Harry’s table. “It’s not as if it’s not obvious who he’s obsessed with,” Theo said, his voice filled with disdain. “I don’t like it one bit.”

Mattheo joined in, his presence bustling with energy as he, along with Blaise, added their two cents. He leaned in to peck your cheek, his lips brushing against your skin. “Tell me about it,” he said, his voice low and conspiratorial. “He’s been murmuring your name during Snape’s class. Creepy, if you ask me.”

Their words washed over you, adding to the already heavy tension you felt. You could almost feel the weight of their disapproval pressing down on you, mixing with your own swirling emotions. The combined voices of your friends were a harsh reminder of the precarious position you found yourself in—caught between the expectations of your family, the harsh judgments of your peers, and the undeniable pull you felt towards Harry.

You took a deep breath, trying to steady yourself amidst the growing chaos. “I appreciate the concern,” you said, your voice steady despite the turmoil inside. “But can we focus on something else for now? I’d rather not have the entire cafeteria knowing my business.” The conversation shifted as your friends begrudgingly complied, their murmurs fading into the background. But the feeling of being scrutinized, of having your every move and emotion laid bare, lingered, reminding you of the impossible choices you faced.

The realization hit you like a jolt, a spark igniting your curiosity despite the swirling chaos around you. The way Harry’s gaze seemed to follow you with a mixture of longing and helplessness, even in the face of Draco’s and your friends’ disdain, piqued your interest further. His eyes, intense and unwavering, betrayed an emotion that went beyond mere admiration. 

The peck on your cheek from Mattheo, once a simple gesture of camaraderie, now felt like a stark contrast to Harry’s silent, persistent gaze. It was a reminder of the stark divide between what was expected and what was truly felt. The starkness of Harry’s unspoken affection contrasted sharply with the superficial gestures you were accustomed to, like Mattheo’s fleeting touch. You found yourself wrestling with conflicting thoughts. Could Harry’s feelings be genuine, despite the walls and barriers that surrounded both of you? Could he truly harbor something deeper than the casual affection you had seen from others, akin to what you had seen with Riddle’s more manipulative displays?

As the cafeteria noise buzzed around you, you forced yourself to refocus on the present. The day’s events had revealed more than you’d anticipated, challenging your assumptions and stirring a storm of emotions you’d rather not face. In the midst of the laughter and conversations, you felt a renewed determination to understand the depth of Harry’s feelings, and why, despite everything, he continued to look at you with such unwavering intensity. The path ahead was murky, filled with shadows and uncertainties, but you were now more resolved than ever to uncover the truth behind those haunted, hopeful eyes.

Hermione’s nudge seemed to snap Ron out of his distasteful reverie, his eyes shifting to her with a mix of confusion and curiosity. “What was that for?” he asked, his tone laced with irritation but tinged with curiosity.

Hermione, ever the mediator, shot Ron a look that was both reproachful and sympathetic. “It’s just that,” she began, choosing her words carefully, “Y/N’s been dealing with a lot lately. And,” she hesitated for a moment, glancing over at you, who were now engrossed in a quiet conversation with Theodore and Mattheo, “she might not show it, but it’s clear there’s more going on than meets the eye. Harry’s not the only one with feelings here.”

Ron’s expression softened, though his brow remained furrowed. “You think we should—” “—I think we should be supportive,” Hermione cut him off gently. “We don’t know what’s really going on with Y/N and Harry. And honestly, with everything that’s happened, maybe it’s time we gave them the benefit of the doubt. Besides, the last thing we want is to make things worse by adding to the drama.”

Ron nodded, albeit reluctantly. “Alright, fine. But if things get out of hand—” Hermione cut him off again with a reassuring smile. “We’ll handle it. For now, let’s just be here for Y/N and not add more fuel to the fire.”  The conversation shifted as the two of them turned their attention back to their meal, while Hermione’s words lingered in the air, a subtle reminder of the complexities of emotions and the importance of empathy in a world full of uncertainties.

Hermione’s recollection of the party was like a wave of nostalgia mixed with a hint of envy, and her eyes softened as she continued. “You were stunning that night, Y/N. The way the dress accentuated your every move, it was like you were meant to be the center of attention.”

Ron, still blushing, shifted awkwardly in his seat. “And what’s that got to do with anything?” Hermione gave him an understanding look. “Harry’s been thinking about you a lot, Ron. That night, especially. He couldn’t take his eyes off you. It was as if he was caught between admiration and frustration, because he couldn’t get close to you the way he wanted.”

Harry, who had been silently listening, shifted uncomfortably in his seat. “You don’t have to bring up the party, Hermione. It’s... embarrassing.” Hermione smiled gently, her tone soothing. “It’s not about making anyone uncomfortable. It’s about understanding that there’s more going on beneath the surface. Harry’s not just pining away; he’s been genuinely affected by you.”

Ron, still flushed but now a bit more thoughtful, glanced at Harry. “So, you really do care about her, huh?” Harry nodded, his gaze earnest. “Yeah, I do. I don’t know how to make it right, but I do care.” Hermione’s expression softened further, and she patted Ron’s arm reassuringly. “See? It’s not all about giving advice or judging. Sometimes it’s about recognizing when someone’s struggling and just being there for them.”

Ron nodded, a hint of understanding dawning on his face. “Alright, I get it. Maybe we should just let things play out and support Y/N, and Harry too.” Hermione gave him a grateful smile. “Exactly. Sometimes the best thing we can do is to just be there for each other and let things unfold naturally.” As the conversation drifted back to other topics, the air was lighter, and the underlying tension seemed to ease. For now, the focus was on navigating the complexities of emotions with a bit more empathy and understanding.

Hermione’s teasing tone was gentle but persistent. “She mentioned you often, Harry. It wasn’t just idle chatter. That night, she was so taken with you that she couldn’t stop talking about how you caught her attention. Even when she tried to play it cool, it was clear she was struggling with her feelings.”

Harry shifted uncomfortably, but a small, genuine smile tugged at his lips. “Really? I didn’t realize I made that much of an impression.”Hermione nodded, her gaze thoughtful. “She tried to keep it hidden, but it was obvious. She spoke about how conflicted she felt, especially with Draco hovering around and her own feelings about the Malfoy name. It’s not just about admiration; it’s deeper than that. She was worried about what people would think, especially considering your past with Draco.”

Harry's eyes widened slightly, realizing the depth of your struggle. “So, she’s been dealing with a lot more than just—” Hermione interrupted gently, “Yes. It’s not just about you being ‘handsome’ or whatever. It’s about her own internal battles and the fear of being judged for her feelings. That night, she was quite a mess. And despite her attempts to hide it, her vulnerability was apparent.”

Harry felt a pang of regret and concern. “I wish I had known. Maybe I could have helped her through it.” Hermione placed a reassuring hand on his arm. “It’s never too late. Understanding what she’s been through is the first step. She needs to know that someone cares, without judgment. And right now, she needs to see that you’re not just someone she’s worried about but someone who genuinely wants to be there for her.”

Harry nodded, his resolve firming. “I’ll find a way to show her that. I don’t want her to feel like she’s alone in this.” As the conversation wrapped up, the mood shifted to one of mutual understanding and determination. Harry’s newfound clarity about your feelings and struggles gave him the motivation he needed to approach the situation with sensitivity and care.

Draco’s plan was set with his usual confidence, and though you felt a twinge of unease, you knew better than to question him openly. “Tonight at dawn, then,” you agreed, your voice soft but resolute. The instructions were clear, and Draco’s expression was one of satisfaction as he dismissed the others, leaving you with your thoughts and preparations.

As the evening approached, you couldn’t help but feel a mix of apprehension and resolve. Draco’s scheme was typical—using you as bait to catch Harry Potter in a moment of vulnerability. It wasn’t the first time you’d been used in one of Draco’s schemes, but the stakes felt higher this time. There was something more personal about this plan, especially considering how your feelings for Harry had been evolving.

The hours ticked by slowly, and as midnight approached, you found yourself pacing in your room. You had to remind yourself that your role was to lure Harry into a situation where Draco could confront him. It wasn’t about your own feelings or the growing empathy you felt for Harry. It was about following orders, maintaining your loyalty to your brother, and not causing any more trouble than necessary.

When the clock struck midnight, you slipped out of your room, carefully making your way to the library. The corridors were eerily quiet, the only sounds being the faint echoes of your footsteps and the distant creak of the castle. As you approached the library, you spotted Harry in the dimly lit space, hunched over a stack of books. He was absorbed in his reading, his focus evident. You took a deep breath, steeling yourself for the task ahead. The plan was simple: engage Harry in conversation, lead him into a situation where Draco could confront him, and hope that everything would go according to plan. As you made your presence known, Harry looked up, his expression a mixture of surprise and curiosity.

Harry’s initial surprise quickly turned to curiosity as he looked up from the book he was studying. The dim light of the library cast a soft glow on your face, highlighting the delicate features and the genuine concern in your eyes. As you bumped into him, the contact was fleeting, but it left an impression—one that made Harry's heart race.

He looked at you, taking in the way you seemed genuinely apologetic, a stark contrast to the usual icy demeanor of your family. “It’s alright,” he said softly, his voice betraying the same mix of surprise and unease that you displayed. He took a step back, his hand lingering a moment longer on yours before he released it. “I didn’t expect anyone else to be here this late.”

The library was a place of refuge for him, a sanctuary away from the prying eyes and expectations of the outside world. Seeing you here, and in such an unexpected way, felt like a strange twist of fate. The vulnerability in your voice was palpable, and it drew him in, compelling him to stay longer than he might have otherwise. “I didn’t mean to intrude,” you continued, your voice barely above a whisper. “I was just... getting a few more books before heading back.”

Harry nodded, his gaze not leaving you. “No, it’s fine. I’ve been spending a lot of time here lately. It’s peaceful.” There was a pause, the silence between you filled with the distant hum of the library’s quiet atmosphere. Harry could see the way your eyes darted around, perhaps anxious or simply uncomfortable. The contrast between your nervousness and his own hesitation created a quiet tension, one that seemed to draw them closer.

“So,” Harry began, trying to break the ice, “What are you reading? Or... studying, I guess?” The question was simple, but it opened the door for conversation, allowing both of you to escape the awkwardness of the moment. He hoped that, perhaps, talking about something more neutral might help bridge the gap between you and him.

Harry’s breath hitched as you closed the gap between you, your hand brushing against his chest and your fingers lightly gripping his tie. The proximity was electrifying, and he could feel the warmth of your body against his, a stark contrast to the cool air of the library. His heart raced, a mix of excitement and apprehension coursing through him. Your voice, soft and almost seductive, drew him in further. “You know...” He swallowed hard, his eyes locked onto yours, trying to make sense of the sudden shift in your demeanor. “What... what do you mean?” he asked, his voice barely more than a whisper. The library, once a haven of solitude, now seemed to pulse with a different kind of energy, one that was both thrilling and nerve-wracking.

The space between you was almost nonexistent, and Harry could feel the heat radiating from your body. His mind raced with questions and possibilities, unsure of what to expect but unable to pull away. The library’s shadows seemed to deepen, adding to the intensity of the moment. “What’s going on?” he managed to ask, his voice trembling slightly as he tried to keep his composure.

Harry’s eyes widened slightly at your confession, his mind racing to process your words. The pink flush on your cheeks was unmistakable, adding to the growing intensity between you. He could barely believe what he was hearing, especially considering the way you had approached him.

“I... I stare?” he managed to stammer, his voice cracking slightly with surprise. The vulnerability in your admission made his heart race even faster, and he struggled to find his voice amidst the whirlwind of emotions.

You could see the hesitation in his eyes, but also a glimmer of something deeper—a curiosity, perhaps, or a hint of hope. Your fingers, still lightly touching his tie, gently encouraged him to close the distance between you even further.

“Yes,” you said softly, your voice carrying a blend of shyness and determination. “I noticed. And honestly, I’ve been thinking about it. About you.” You took a deep breath, gathering the courage to continue. “It’s not just about the way you look at me. It’s more about how you make me feel when you do.” Harry’s gaze softened, the tension in his shoulders easing as he took in your words. The library, with its quiet and secluded atmosphere, seemed to wrap around you both, creating a cocoon of intimacy.

“Y/N, I...” He paused, his eyes searching yours for any sign of pretense. “I didn’t know you felt that way. I’ve always admired you from a distance, but... I didn’t think you’d feel the same.”

The uncertainty in his voice was palpable, but there was also a flicker of hope and longing. Your confession had clearly affected him, and he seemed to be grappling with his own feelings as he looked at you. The library’s shadows seemed to deepen, heightening the emotional weight of the moment. “Are you sure?” he asked, his voice barely more than a whisper, as if afraid to break the fragile connection between you. “Because... if you are, then maybe we should... talk about this more. Together.”

Until the sudden noise from the corridor startled both of you. The unmistakable sound of footsteps echoed through the library, breaking the intimate moment you were sharing. Harry’s hand froze beneath your chin, his eyes darting toward the source of the noise with a mix of concern and disappointment.

The library’s shadows seemed to dance around you as you both pulled away, the spell of the moment shattered by the intrusion. You exchanged a glance, your heart still racing, and Harry’s face reflected a blend of frustration and urgency. “We have to... we should—” Harry began, his voice hurried as he glanced back at the approaching footsteps. He reached for your hand, giving it a reassuring squeeze before letting go. “We can’t be seen here.”

You nodded, feeling the weight of the interrupted moment but also the lingering excitement of what had almost happened. You quickly gathered yourself, smoothing out your clothes and trying to regain composure. The footsteps grew louder, and you both knew it was time to make a swift exit. With one last meaningful look, Harry gave a small, almost apologetic smile before you both slipped away into the labyrinthine stacks of the library, seeking refuge from the unwelcome interruption.

As you parted ways to avoid detection, the promise of what might have been hung heavily in the air, leaving both of you with a mix of longing and anticipation for what the future might hold.

Harry’s fist collided with Draco’s face in a sudden burst of anger and defiance. The impact sent Draco stumbling backward, his surprise quickly morphing into a mix of pain and fury. The library’s atmosphere shifted from one of tense anticipation to chaotic confrontation.

Draco’s eyes blazed with indignation as he wiped the blood from his split lip. “How dare you!” he spat, his voice laced with rage. “You have no right to touch her!”

Theodore and Mattheo, momentarily stunned, quickly regained their composure. Theodore’s smirk faded as he stepped in front of Draco, his own anger boiling over. “You think you can just waltz in here and act like you own the place?” he sneered.

Mattheo, still holding a mocking grin, was quick to chime in. “Looks like Potter’s got a bit of a temper. How amusing.” You moved to stand between Harry and your brother, your voice trembling but determined. “Please, just let him go. This isn’t helping anyone.”

Draco, rubbing his jaw, shot a venomous glare at Harry. “You think this is over? You’ve just made things worse for yourself.” His voice was low and menacing, filled with the promise of retribution. Harry, breathing heavily, glared back at Draco. “I’m not afraid of you or your threats. Let’s settle this somewhere else, away from here.” You could see the frustration and desperation in Harry’s eyes, a reflection of your own turmoil. “Harry, please. Let’s just go before things get worse.”

The tension in the library was palpable, each of you caught in a complex web of emotions and conflicting loyalties. Draco, Theodore, and Mattheo seemed ready to pounce, but the realization that the situation was spiraling out of control was clear to all. With a final glance at you, Harry reluctantly stepped back, his anger still simmering but controlled. “Fine,” he said through gritted teeth. “Let’s go.”

As you and Harry made your way out of the library, your brother’s furious eyes followed you. The confrontation left a bitter taste, but it also solidified the resolve between you and Harry. The path forward was uncertain, but the bond between you had been tested and, despite the chaos, had grown stronger.

Outside the library, the cool night air felt like a welcome release, and Harry’s hand found yours again, offering a comforting squeeze. The events of the night had only intensified the feelings between you, leaving both of you with a mixture of relief and anticipation for what lay ahead. But not until Mattheo had the last words in your defense. 

Mattheo’s voice cut through the chaos, his frustration evident as he tried to intervene between Draco and Harry. “You’re such an asshole!” he shouted, his anger palpable. The library’s peaceful ambiance was now a battleground of shouts and clashing spells, and the situation seemed to escalate by the second.

Draco and Harry were locked in a heated struggle, their spells and curses lighting up the library like a chaotic light show. Theodore was trying to separate them, but his efforts were in vain as the two continued their relentless battle. The intensity of their fight was palpable, each movement fueled by a mix of personal vendettas and raw emotions.

Mattheo, seeing that his attempts to break up the fight were futile, resorted to threats. “I’ll tell Father about this!” he roared, his voice filled with menace. “You’ll regret this!”

Despite Mattheo’s threats, Harry and Draco were too caught up in their conflict to heed his warnings. The air crackled with magical energy, and the sounds of spellcasting and grunts of exertion echoed through the library’s aisles.

Amidst the commotion, you felt a mix of panic and determination. You stepped between the combatants, your voice rising above the din. “Enough! This has to stop!” you shouted, trying to grab their attention.

But your words were lost in the chaos. It was clear that neither Draco nor Harry was willing to back down easily. The library’s tranquility was shattered, and the once-serene study space was now a scene of conflict and anger.

Realizing that a more drastic approach was needed, you tried to summon your own magic, casting a powerful barrier between the two fighters. “Stop it now!” you commanded, your voice filled with authority. The barrier shimmered with a protective light, momentarily halting the duel and forcing both Harry and Draco to take a step back. The sudden ceasefire gave everyone a chance to catch their breath, but the tension was far from resolved.

Mattheo, still seething with anger, glared at you. “This isn’t over,” he warned, his voice dripping with venom. “I’ll make sure of it.” With a final, furious look at Draco and Harry, you turned to lead Harry away from the scene. “Come on,” you said urgently. “We need to get out of here before things get worse.”

Harry, still breathing heavily and with a look of determination in his eyes, followed you out of the library. As the two of you exited into the night, the cold air felt like a balm against the heated emotions of the confrontation. The events of the night had left a mark on both of you, but the bond between you had been tested and strengthened in the face of adversity. The path ahead was uncertain, but together you faced it with a renewed sense of resolve and connection.

The scene in the library had reached a fever pitch of chaos and confusion. Despite your desperate attempts to intervene, the fight between Draco and Harry had become almost uncontrollable. Each spell and curse seemed to add fuel to the fire, and even with your friends and Professor Snape now involved, the confrontation continued to spiral out of control.

Professor Snape's authoritative voice cut through the tumult, commanding the situation with a chilling firmness. “Hospital, now,” he ordered, his tone brooking no argument. His presence brought a semblance of order to the chaotic scene, and he quickly took charge, guiding Draco and Harry toward the hospital wing.

You reached out to Harry, your voice trembling with concern as you tried to hold onto him. “Harry, please, let me help—” His response was strained but resolute. “Don’t,” he said, his voice edged with pain and exhaustion. He pushed your hand away gently but firmly, signaling his desire to deal with the aftermath on his own terms.

Feeling helpless, you watched as Snape and the others escorted Draco and Harry out of the library. The corridor’s dim light cast long shadows, and the tension hung heavy in the air as they moved toward the hospital wing. You were left standing alone, the aftermath of the confrontation weighing heavily on you. Your friends gathered around, their faces reflecting a mix of concern and confusion. Hermione’s hand found yours, squeezing it reassuringly. “We need to make sure they’re okay,” she said softly, her eyes full of empathy.

You nodded, though your mind was a storm of conflicting emotions. The fight had revealed deep-seated tensions and unresolved feelings, and now, all you could do was hope that the wounds—both physical and emotional—could be healed.  As you made your way toward the hospital wing, you couldn’t shake the feeling of dread that settled in your chest. The night had taken a turn that none of you had anticipated, and the road to resolution seemed fraught with challenges.

The hospital wing's door loomed ahead, and you braced yourself for what lay beyond. The events of the evening had left scars that would take time to heal, but you knew that facing them was the only way forward. With a deep breath, you steeled yourself and stepped into the unknown, ready to support those you cared about and navigate the complexities of the relationships that had been strained by the night’s events.

The next morning, you hadn’t slept a wink. Mattheo found you alone in the common room, your sleepless night evident in the dark circles beneath your eyes. “Didn’t sleep?” he asked gently. You didn’t respond, your whole demeanor blank and distant. He sighed, understanding why you were silent and why you hadn't spoken to Theodore, Blaise, or Enzo.

“Look,” he continued, “I tried to tell your brother it was a bad idea. Even Pansy would agree with me. We were all against it—knew how you felt about Potter. And though everyone might think otherwise...” He paused, waiting for you to meet his gaze. When you finally did, your eyes glassy and weary, he added, “I’m genuinely glad to be the first to hear that you and Potter are together.” His smile was warm, sincere, and offered a small beacon of comfort.

“But... what about Draco?” you asked, your voice tinged with uncertainty. Mattheo raised an eyebrow, immediately understanding who you were referring to. “Draco? Forget him. We’ll figure something out. If we need to keep your relationship a secret, so be it. I just want you to be happy—me, Theodore, everyone else.” His words were sincere, and you hugged him tightly, your face pressed against his chest.

“Finally, the peepsqueak is awake,” Theodore’s voice cut through the moment, a smile on his lips. He looked relieved to see you up. “Where were you?” you asked, feeling a mix of exhaustion and curiosity. “In the hospital wing. Harry’s been given a day off. He wants to see you.” Despite Theodore’s attempts to sound upbeat, you could sense the undercurrent of concern in his tone. A sigh escaped you, unsure if you were ready to face Harry. But Mattheo’s reassuring squeeze and the silent nod of support convinced you to go.

Harry sat on the hospital bed, Hermione at his side while Draco slept nearby, his presence barely acknowledged. “I’m sure she wasn’t…” Hermione whispered, trying to keep her voice low as Draco shifted restlessly in his sleep. “From what you’ve told me, it seems more likely that he set her up. Regardless…”

Harry’s gaze shifted, and he noticed you standing there, looking even more fragile than the night before, a clear sign of the toll it had taken on you. Hermione, who had been speaking, fell silent as Harry’s eyes met yours. 

“If you want to see him, he’s here,” Harry said, his voice carrying a hint of threat. “It would be helpful if you picked him up.” Hermione’s reaction was swift; she slapped Harry gently on his wounded arm, her disapproval evident.  Although you appreciated the offer, you barely acknowledged it. Your focus remained on Harry. “Harry…”

His eyes closed tightly, a clear sign of his struggle to process your words. “Harry… please listen to me,” you pleaded, your voice trembling as you fought back tears. A choked sob slipped through your lips. “I didn’t know anything about it, not even the prank. My brother mentioned something about you, yes… But never in a thousand years would I have thought it would come to this, especially when I was about to confess my love for you…”

His eyelids softened as he listened, his anger wavering. “And the fight... After you were taken away by Snape, Mattheo—strange as it may seem—is on our side. He trusts you with his life, more than...” Your gaze shifted nervously from him to your brother. With a hint of disgust, you added, “More than him.”

Harry paused, a heavy silence settling between you. Hermione nudged him, silently urging him to speak. His brow arched in questioning, “You meant it?” His voice was filled with a mix of hope and disbelief. 

“Yes,” you replied, your voice steady despite the turmoil inside.

“Everything.” 

As you approached quietly, Harry flinched slightly at your sudden presence. Hermione took her cue and left, giving you a reassuring smile before exiting. You settled beside his bed, reaching out for his hand. Though he tried to pull away, the connection was too strong to resist. He loved you, despite everything.

"Harry James Potter," you said softly, using his full name as you leaned in, echoing the intimacy of the previous night. "I loved you from the very first moment. Will you accept this kiss?"

Harry's heart swelled with a mix of affection and relief. A gentle chuckle escaped him as he cupped your face, his smile tender and sincere. "You may, Y/N Malfoy." 

With that, he leaned in, meeting your lips with his, sealing the promise of his love.