The Gryffindor common room glowed with the warm flicker of the fire, its shadows crawling up the stone walls like restless hands. Outside, the castle slept, but inside, three friends sat awake, caught in the kind of silence that felt heavier than words.
Harry stood just past the portrait hole, still cloaked in the remnants of adrenaline and secrecy. The invisibility cloak bunched in his hand, useless now. His chest was tight, his throat tighter.
Ron's eyes locked onto him from across the hearth, blue, hard, unblinking. Hermione sat beside Ron on the sofa, clutching a book to her chest, confusion etched across her face.
"Harry," she said softly, cautious. "What's going on?"
Ron didn't move. His voice cut across hers, low and certain."I know where you've been." He repeated.
Harry felt the bottom of his stomach drop. He wanted to deny it, to shrug, to toss off some careless lie about sneaking to the kitchens or walking off a nightmare. But Ron's gaze pinned him in place, and Harry knew it wouldn't work. Not this time.
Hermione frowned, glancing between them. "Ron—"
"Ask him, Hermione," Ron interrupted, still staring at Harry. His voice wasn't loud, but it carried an edge sharper than any yell. "Ask him who he was with."
Hermione turned to Harry, eyes wide with dawning realization. "You weren't—oh, Harry. You weren't with Malfoy? Like Ron said?"
The name hit the air like a curse.
Harry flinched. His silence was answer enough.
Hermione's hand flew to her mouth. "Harry…"
Ron leaned forward, forearms braced on his knees. "So it's true. You've been sneaking out to meet him." His voice trembled, just slightly, but his expression was solid stone.
Harry's throat went dry. "Ron, I-"
"Why?" Ron demanded, cutting him off. His fists clenched against his knees. "After everything he's done to us, after years of him spitting in your face, in our faces...why him?"
The fire popped loudly, filling the void Harry couldn't. He felt the weight of Hermione's stare, sharp with both worry and curiosity.
"Because he's not who you think he is anymore," Harry said finally, the words rough but steady. "Because he's more than just… Malfoy. And because when I'm with him, I don't feel like I'm choking on everything else."
Ron's laugh was short, bitter. "You're telling me you trust him? That snake?"
Harry's temper flared, his own voice rising. "I'm telling you I know him better than you think. Better than you ever wanted to."
Hermione's voice cut through, urgent and careful. "Please, stop. Both of you." She reached out, a hand on Ron's arm. "Harry's not saying this to hurt us. Just...let him explain."
Harry's fists unclenched. He met Ron's glare head-on. "We don't hate each other when it's just us. We don't pretend. He's not the Malfoy you know, Ron. He's-" He faltered, searching for the right words. "He's just Draco. And he understands what it feels like to be trapped in everything people expect you to be."
Ron's jaw tightened. "So what? You kiss him and suddenly all is forgiven?"
Hermione gasped. "You kissed him?"
Harry winced, running a hand through his hair. "I didn't mean to-...no, that's a lie. I did mean to. And he kissed me back."
The silence that followed was suffocating. Hermione's eyes darted between them, unreadable, as though she couldn't decide whether to scold, comfort, or retreat.
Ron, though, was trembling now. His voice cracked, but the words tumbled out anyway."You don't get it, Harry. It's not just about him. It's about you. Watching you run off to him, trusting him, giving him something you've never even-" He stopped, swallowing hard. His fists clenched again. "You don't even see it, do you?"
Harry frowned, taken aback. "See what?"
Ron shot to his feet, pacing in front of the fire. His shadow leapt across the walls, agitated, restless. "Merlin, Harry! You're blind. You think I care because it's Malfoy. And yeah, I do... I hate him, I always will. But it's not just that. It's-" His voice broke again, and he raked a hand through his hair. "It's because I've been standing next to you all these years, and you've never once looked at me the way you're looking at him."
Harry froze. His mind blanked, heart slamming against his ribs.
Hermione's lips parted, shock written across her face. "Ron…"
Ron turned, eyes blazing with something rawer than anger. "I like you, Harry. More than I should. More than I've wanted to admit, even to myself. And now I have to sit here and listen to you talk about Malfoy- Malfoy, like he's the one who finally makes you feel alive?"
The words hung heavy in the air, vibrating with truth.
Harry opened his mouth, closed it again, lost. His thoughts scrambled, tangled between Ron's confession and the lingering thought of Draco.
"I-Ron, I didn't know." His voice came out hoarse, thin.
"Of course you didn't," Ron snapped, though the venom in his tone faltered. His shoulders sagged, and for the first time that night he looked less furious than he did hurt. "Because you were never looking at me."
Hermione stood, stepping carefully between them, one hand raised toward Ron, the other brushing Harry's sleeve. Her eyes shimmered with sympathy and fear all at once. "This isn't the way, you two. Not like this."
Ron took a shaky breath, rubbing his face with both hands. "I can't-" He broke off, shaking his head. "I can't sit here pretending it doesn't matter. Because it does. Because you matter, Harry."
The fire cracked again, the sound sharp in the silence.
Harry stared at Ron, his chest aching, torn between the warmth of Draco's secret comfort and the raw honesty burning in Ron's eyes.
And in that fragile moment, he realized the war he thought he'd left behind wasn't over. It had just shifted, moved inside him, into the hearts of the people he loved most.