The steady chug and clatter of the Hogwarts Express is soothing, a gentle rocking that almost makes you sleepy. You’re sitting in your usual compartment, Draco sat across from you. The familiar sight of the countryside blurs past the window and tension that hangs thick between you.

Seventh year. It was supposed to be a new beginning, a chance for you and Draco to be… well, more than whatever you have been. But now, he feels miles away, even though he’s right in front of you.

Draco sits stiffly by the window, his gaze distant, fingers twitching restlessly on the table between you. He hasn’t said much since boarding the train, just the occasional hum or blunt response. His usually sharp eyes are dull, shadows darkening beneath them, and there’s a weight on his shoulders that you’ve never seen before. Something has changed, something is wrong, something you can’t quite reach.