The library was nearly empty that evening. Only the quiet turning of pages and the occasional scratch of quill broke the stillness. The rain outside tapped rhythmically against the high windows, a soothing cadence that might have lulled a more relaxed student into focus.
But not Harry.
He sat hunched over a book he wasn't reading, eyes flickering now and then to the far end of the room.
Draco Malfoy.
The Slytherin was seated alone near the Restricted Section, his usual gang nowhere in sight. He had an open book on advanced potions propped in front of him, but like Harry, his attention wasn't truly on it. Every few minutes, his eyes lifted, scanning the room—and lingering just a second too long on Harry.
Harry tried to focus. Tried to pretend like the glances weren't happening. But each one made the weight in his chest grow heavier.
Hermione, seated beside him, finally broke the silence. "You do realize you've turned the same page three times now."
"I'm reading slowly," Harry muttered.
Hermione gave him a look. "And pretending Malfoy's not here is clearly working wonders for your concentration."
Harry scowled. "I'm not pretending. I'm ignoring."
Ron, who had returned with a pile of Transfiguration notes, snorted. "Sure. That's why you've been looking at him like you're trying to telepathically set his hair on fire."
Harry rolled his eyes but didn't argue.
"I think he wants to talk," Hermione said cautiously.
Harry's expression shifted, something unreadable flashing in his eyes. "Yeah… I know."
"And?" she prompted.
"I don't know what I'd say," he admitted.
Across the room, Draco turned a page with exaggerated care. His fingers were tight around the edge of the parchment.
Later that night, as the library emptied out and the shadows grew deeper, Harry lingered behind.
He wasn't sure why. Maybe he hoped Draco would say something. Maybe he just didn't want to go back to the common room and face Ron's suspicious glances.
But when he passed by the Slytherin table on his way out, he paused.
Draco looked up.
For a second, neither of them spoke.
Then Draco, with a dry voice, said, "If you're going to keep staring at me in Potions, at least try to be subtle about it."
Harry blinked, caught off guard. "Says the one hiding behind a book for the last hour."
Draco closed the book. Slowly. Carefully. "I wasn't hiding."
"You were pretending to read a chapter on polyjuice potion. Backwards."
Draco's lips twitched like he might smirk—but didn't. "Fine. Maybe I was avoiding you."
Harry looked at him closely. "Why?"
Draco hesitated. "Because I don't know what to say either."
There was a pause. Not tense. Just full.
"I guess," Harry said at last, "that's a start."
Draco nodded. "See you in class, Potter."
As Harry walked away, he wasn't sure if the strange warmth in his chest was hope or trouble.