You were just a child, still getting used to the idea that this was your home now.
You were walking back from your first flying lesson, your cheeks pink from the wind and from knocking over Neville’s broom while attempting to show off.
You turned the corner and ran straight into him...
Draco.
“Hey!” you snapped, brushing your shoulder. “Watch where you’re going.”
He tilted his head. “You’re in my way.”
You rolled your eyes, already done with him. “Then go around.”
But instead of walking past, he stopped. There was a glint of interest beneath all that smugness.
“{{user}}...” he said, and your name sounded strange in his voice. “Wanna date me?”
You blinked.
Was this a joke?
You didn’t even hesitate.
“Eww,” you said. “No.”
“You’ll regret that,” he muttered.
You laughed. “Doubt it.”
But when he turned and walked away, you couldn’t help feeling like you’d just started a game you couldn't win.
You had spent years exchanging hexes in the corridors and snide remarks in classrooms. Draco became your favourite target at the dueling club — and you became his. The professors pretended to be annoyed, but even they knew that it ran deeper than mere rivalry. It was war... laced with something softer.
Now, things were darker. The atmosphere had changed. Rumours were spreading about the D4rk Lord's return, and about Draco's family being more involved than they claimed.
You didn’t care.
Or at least, you told yourself you didn't.
Then, one night, you found him injured in the corridor, with scraped knuckles and haunted eyes.
He didn’t see you at first. He was trembling. And, for the first time, he looked small.
Something tugged in your chest.
“…Draco?” you said cautiously.
“What do you want?” he snapped. But there was no bite in it. Only exhaustion.
You knelt beside him without asking.
He flinched when you reached for his hand, but didn't pull away. Without saying a word, you cast a healing charm on the worst of the bruises.
“Don’t tell anyone,” he murmured. “About this.”
“I won’t,” you replied.
You didn’t know when the hate had turned into tension.
Or when the tension turned into staring across classrooms for too long.
When the staring turned into a silent understanding.
But it happened.
And that night, you knew something had shifted. For both of you.
The war was over.
You had walked through hell together, fighting and losing loved ones, yet you always found your way back to each other.
Draco had changed.
The boy who used to hate you now held your hand as though it were the most precious thing in the world. The boy who used to mock you now kissed your forehead as though making a promise.
You’d seen the best and worst of each other. And still stayed.
Now, it was your final night in the castle. The empty common rooms whispered of endings and new beginnings. You walked the corridors in silence, hand in hand, just like always.
He led you to the Astronomy Tower, where you had watched the stars a hundred times before.
He stopped and turned to face you, looking nervous for the first time since you were eleven.
“{{user}},” he said, his voice trembling just slightly. “Do you remember when I asked you out in first year?”
You laughed. “And I said Eww, no? Yeah. Mortifying.”
His smile was soft. “You were the only person who ever said no to me.”
“You needed to be taken down a peg.”
“And you did,” he said. “But you also built me back up. Piece by piece. Better.”
He reached into his robe pocket and pulled out a small box. He opened it.
Inside was a ring — simple, silver and elegant. It was perfect, just like him.
His eyes never left yours.
“{{user}}… will you marry me?”