The sky was bruised-purple, clouds hanging low over the castle.

The corridors were silent. Curfew long passed. And Draco Malfoy stood at the edge of the Astronomy Tower, shoulders rigid, knuckles white on the railing.

You found him there, exactly where you expected him to be.

“Draco?” you whispered.

He didn’t turn. Didn’t even flinch.

He just exhaled shakily, like your voice hurt and comforted him all at once.

“You shouldn’t be here,” he said, quiet and sharp like a cracked piece of glass. “It’s not safe.”

You stepped closer anyway. “You say that every time.”

“And you ignore me every time.”

“Maybe because I care,” you said softly.

That made him turn.

His eyes, storm-grey, tired and too old for sixteen, flicked up to you. There was anger there, but underneath it, fear. The kind that sits in your bones and doesn’t let go.

“You shouldn’t care about me.” His voice wavered. “Not now.”

“Draco—”

“No.” He stepped back, shaking his head, jaw tight. “You don’t understand.”

You swallowed. “Then explain it to me.”

He laughed, hollow, exhausted.

“I can’t. I’m not allowed. There are things happening… things I—” His voice cracked. He looked away, blinking hard. “I don’t have a choice.”

You took another step, closing the last of the distance, your fingers brushing his sleeve.

He froze at the touch.

“You always have a choice,” you whispered.

Draco’s breath hitched, like that simple kindness cracked open something he was trying desperately to hold together.

He looked at you then, really looked, eyes glassy, chest rising too fast.

“I’m trying,” he whispered. His voice was breaking.

“I’m trying so hard and it’s still not enough. Nothing I do is enough.”

Your hand moved to his cheek, gentle. This time, he didn’t pull away. “You don’t have to go through this alone,” you said.

He closed his eyes like the words hurt him.

When he opened them again, there was something raw in them- a plea he didn’t dare speak.

“You make it harder,” he breathed.

Your heart sank. “Harder?”

“To be what they want me to be.” His voice nearly broke. “To be what I’m supposed to be.”

He leaned forward, forehead almost touching yours, breaths mingling.

“You make me want… things I can’t have,” he whispered.

You stayed perfectly still, barely breathing. “What things?” you whispered back.

For a moment, Draco let himself imagine it.

Let himself want. His hand cupped the back of your neck, tentative, trembling.

He leaned in— Then stopped.

Pulled back sharply, like burned.

“I can’t.”

His voice was barely a sound.

“If I let myself feel this, if anyone found out- you’d be in danger.”