Chapter 1: The Opportunity
Draco Malfoy had no interest in the Hogsmeade trip. It was a beautiful day, but the last thing he wanted was to join the throngs of excited students. He could already picture them, laughing and mingling, their faces painted with the illusion of normalcy. Draco didn't feel normal. He hadn't for a while.
There was a time when Hogsmeade had been his playground—an opportunity to show off, to remind everyone that he was above the rest. But now, it was just another place to avoid. He didn't need it. He didn't need anyone. The other students would be gone for the day, and the silence would be his to enjoy.
But there was another reason he had stayed behind. The truth was, he couldn't shake the feeling that Harry Potter would do something. Potter was never predictable, but Draco could always count on him to be a nuisance. His presence had a way of irritating Draco to no end, and this was no exception. He'd overheard rumors that Harry was involved in something bigger than usual, especially with the recent resignation of Professor Lupin, and that made Draco uneasy. He didn't know why, but Harry Potter seemed to attract trouble, and Draco couldn't help but want to keep an eye on him.
So, as the students flooded out to Hogsmeade, Draco stayed in the dormitory, pacing in the empty room. He hadn't seen anyone else around, and he knew he was safe from interruption. It was the perfect opportunity to get some peace and figure out how to track Potter.
---
Meanwhile, Harry Potter was seated on his bed, idly twirling his wand between his fingers. He had a quiet afternoon ahead of him, with no pressing schoolwork. The other students were gone, and Harry was alone in the Gryffindor tower, an almost rare occurrence.
It wasn't complete peace, though. His mind kept drifting back to Draco Malfoy. It wasn't like Harry hadn't had his fill of Malfoy's insults, sneers, and challenges over the years. He had. But something was different now. After everything that had happened—the battles, the rivalry, the sheer weight of their history—Harry couldn't shake the feeling that it was time to put an end to the constant tension between them. He wasn't sure why, but he felt like if he didn't act, it would eat at him forever.
As he sat on his bed, staring out of the window, an idea struck him. Harry glanced at the Marauder's Map on the bed beside him, his finger tracing the many dots across the school. There he was—Draco Malfoy, alone in the Slytherin dormitory. The other students were at Hogsmeade, and Draco was the only one left. Harry knew this was his chance. It wasn't exactly something he wanted to do, but the constant bickering between them had to stop. It had been 3 years of snide remarks and back-and-forth insults, but what had it gotten them? Nothing.
Harry scribbled a quick note, the urgency in his hand steady despite the doubt that crept up. Harry attached the note to Hedwig's leg, watching the owl take flight into the cold afternoon air. He felt a mix of anticipation and dread. He had no idea how Draco would respond, but he knew if he didn't try, things would only get worse.
---
Draco sat on his bed, idly looking up at the ceiling. He hadn't expected the day to be this quiet. It wasn't peaceful, though. It felt like the calm before something terrible happened. That's when he heard the tap-tap-tap.
He turned his head sharply. It couldn't be. He got up and walked to the window, his stomach twisting in a knot. Hedwig. Harry Potter's owl. Draco's jaw tightened as he opened the window. What was Potter playing at? Draco never received letters from Harry Potter. They had no reason to communicate. So why now? Why would Harry suddenly want to talk?
Hedwig perched on the windowsill, and Draco took the note from her leg. He could feel his pulse quicken as he unrolled the parchment.
Draco,
I know you're not a fan of me, and I get it. But we can't keep this going. I'm not asking for anything more than a chance to talk. I'm sick of the constant fighting. Just come to the Shrieking Shack tomorrow night at midnight. No wands, no magic. Just talk.
— Harry
Draco read the letter once, then twice.
What in the bloody hell was this? Talk? Draco snorted derisively. Harry Potter, of all people, wanted to talk? The same boy who had been a thorn in his side? And the Shrieking Shack? Was Potter insane? After what happened recently? Draco had figured out that it was Potter who had helped his friends Ron and Hermione when Draco and his friends were teasing them. He knew that Harry wasn't supposed to be at Hogsmead and could easily rat him out…but then he would have to give details and…
Draco crumpled the letter in his fist. He couldn't let it go. He couldn't just ignore it either. He had to respond. Potter wanted to talk, and Draco wasn't about to let that slide.
Potter,
Are you out of your mind? You think I'm just going to show up and talk with you? Like that's going to solve anything? You're as arrogant as ever! Don't bother waiting. I'm not coming!
— Draco
Draco looked at the letter, then at Hedwig, who seemed to stare back at him with patient eyes. He released the letter to the owl and watched her fly out into the crisp air. He wasn't ready to end things, not like this. Whatever Harry wanted, it would take more than a letter to get him to change his mind.
Draco returned to his bed, lying back against the pillows. He would think about it, but he wasn't going to give in easily. Potter's tricks wouldn't work on him. Not now. Not ever.
But something gnawed at the back of his mind. Harry Potter might not be so easy to ignore forever. Draco gets up and paces around his room, the crumpled letter from Harry still tight in his hand. His mind raced with the same thought—What the hell does he want from me?
He had already decided that the last thing he wanted to do was meet Potter in some secluded place like the Shrieking Shack. That was just asking for trouble. Yet, despite the frustration burning through him, there was something else there, too. A flicker of curiosity. Why had Harry even bothered?
Draco threw the crumpled letter onto his desk and sank into the chair, staring at it, then at the window. The pale light of the late afternoon filtered through the curtains, but Draco's thoughts were too clouded to focus on the stillness of the room.
---
The owl had come back, and he had seen the crumpled note. Draco's response was predictable—hostile, dismissive, cutting. Yet, part of Harry had known it would be like this. He sat at his desk in Gryffindor Tower, pen in hand. He had read Draco's response several times, his brow furrowed as he tried to come up with the right words. Part of him wanted to ignore it, to let Draco stew in his own bitterness, but Harry couldn't shake the feeling that he had to try.
He'd just lost Sirius. The loss still felt like a weight on his chest, and the grief threatened to drown him if he let it. Sure, Sirius wasn't truly gone but he might as well have been. Wormtail got away. There was nothing Harry could do. The one thing he could control, the one thing he could maybe make a little easier, was his relationship with Draco Malfoy. The constant tension, the fights—it was exhausting. If he could somehow stop the animosity between them, maybe it would make everything else a little more bearable.
It wasn't just about Draco, though. It was about him too. He had always felt like he was fighting something, fighting someone, and the thought of having one less battle to wage, one less person to be at odds with, was strangely appealing. Harry loved being at Hogwarts but after 3 years of SOMETHING happening every year—he didn't need this petty rivalry anymore.
Still, Harry couldn't shake the unease gnawing at him as he finished the letter, his hand hesitating over the parchment. It seemed so impossible, so futile, that part of him almost didn't believe it would work. What if Draco didn't even bother to respond? What if all of this was for nothing?
He couldn't think like that. Not now. Not after everything.
Harry took a deep breath and sealed the letter with a quick flick of his wand, then turned to Hedwig, who had been sitting patiently by his side. "I'll need you to take this to Draco, alright girl?" he murmured softly. Hedwig hooted in agreement, her amber eyes bright with understanding. Harry reached into his drawer for a treat and fed it to her, running his fingers gently through her feathers. She had been with him through everything—through the worst of it—and he was grateful for her steady presence.
He attached the letter to her leg and watched as she fluttered out of the window, her wings disappearing into the night sky.
---
Dracos gut clenched when Hedwig flew in, landing softly on the desk with the new note. Draco took the letter and opened it slowly. He sat down on his bed, his fingers trembling slightly as he stared at the parchment in front of him.
Draco,
I don't expect things to change overnight, but I'm not giving up on this. The fighting, the bitterness—it's never going to end unless we do something about it. I'm not asking for forgiveness, just a chance to talk.
Think about it.
— Harry
He hadn't expected Harry Potter's letter to arrive so quickly, nor had he expected the words inside to make him feel this conflicted. Every inch of his body screamed to ignore it, to crumple it up and pretend it had never happened.
But he couldn't. Not this time.
He was being asked to change. The word echoed in his mind as his fingers hovered over the parchment.
Why now, Potter? The question gnawed at him, but Draco wasn't ready to deal with the answer. There were too many things at play. His family's expectations were a constant weight on his shoulders, and the idea of showing any weakness, any….. it was something he could barely stomach. It wasn't something he could put into words. He pushed it away, refusing to even acknowledge it.
I don't expect things to change overnight, but…Draco clenched his jaw. Potter was persistent, that much was true. The words swirled around in his mind, and as much as he hated to admit it, a small part of him wondered if there was any point to this.
But that thought was quickly dismissed. He wasn't going to make this easy for Potter, not after all these years.
He folded the letter, shoving it into his desk drawer. No promises. He would think about it, but that was all. It wasn't going to be easy to undo everything, and Harry had to know that. He began his response on fresh parchment.
Potter,
I'll think about it. But don't expect me to suddenly change my mind. This isn't as simple as you seem to think.
— Draco
Draco handed the letter to Hedwig, watching as the owl took off again, disappearing into the sky. His father's face flashed in his mind, his mother's worried eyes. They'd expect him to turn his back on this. To continue the feud, to never admit the truth: he didn't know what to do. He didn't know if he could change.
Unable to stand the frustration building inside him any longer, Draco pointed his wand and yelled "Confringo!" A small explosion erupted from one of the nearby desks, sending a few bits of debris flying across the room. His breathing came faster, the pressure in his chest dissipating slightly with the explosion's loud pop. He felt some of the anger and frustration drain from his body, but it wasn't enough.
He hadn't even meant to hit the desk, but now, the mess only seemed to add to the chaos swirling inside him. Draco moved to the window, staring out into the grounds, trying to shake off the gnawing feeling in his gut. He didn't know what to do. He didn't know if he could trust Potter. He didn't know if he could afford to.
---
Harry's eyes flicked to the window as Hedwig returned with Draco's reply. He quickly opened it, reading over the few lines Draco had sent back.
I'll think about it. That was all he needed to hear. Harry sat back, feeling the weight of Draco's words. It wasn't a yes, but it wasn't a no either. There was still a chance.
And with that, Harry knew it was up to Draco now. He wouldn't push further. He had said all he could say. Harry just stared out the window, his thoughts swirling. Would Draco come around? Would he even acknowledge the letter? And if he did... what then?
Was this the right thing to do? Or had he just made things worse?
He wasn't sure, but all he could do now was wait.