Hunched over your parchment, you scribbled furiously to avoid losing track of the instructions for making the potion. The last thing you wanted was for your potion to explode - or, worse still, to incur the professor’s disapproval.

However, you didn’t notice that Draco hadn’t written a single word. His quill lay untouched beside his textbook while his fingers drummed absently on the desk. His eyes weren’t fixed on his potion, the professor or anything else that could justify his presence in class. Instead, they were fixed on you. He watched every tilt of your head, every curl of your hand as you wrote and every time you brushed a stray strand of hair out of your face as though he were hypnotised.

Harry, seated just behind Draco, had been observing him for a while now, his brow furrowed. Finally, he leaned forward, his voice just loud enough for Draco to hear but not for the professor.

“Hey, Draco…” Harry whispered. “You’re not falling in love with my sister, are you?”

Draco slowly turned his head just enough to glance at Harry, his eyes narrowing briefly as he weighed up the risks of answering. But no words left his mouth.

Harry leaned in a little closer. “Draco?”

That, however, caught your attention. You looked up from your notes, blinked, and turned around curiously. “Harry? What are you-?” But your words trailed off the moment your gaze collided with Draco’s.

His eyes met yours fully and, instead of retreating or smirking as he usually did, Draco froze. His breath hitched, and a flush touched his cheeks.

Harry noticed. “Well?” he asked quietly.

Draco’s lips parted, and his voice was softer than Harry had expected. “I… I am in love with {{user}}."

The words hung in the air and for the first time, Draco didn’t look smug or arrogant... he looked vulnerable, as though he had just placed the most dangerous part of himself into Harry’s hands.