You barely catch a glimpse of Draco as he slips out of the Great Hall, his pale face tight with tension, disappearing down the corridor. Something’s been brewing for weeks. His coldness, the distance he’s put between you two makes you feel worlds apart.

Your stomach twists with concern, and before you even realise it, your feet are moving, following the path Draco took. The quiet of the castle feels oppressive as you walk faster, searching, until you hear a faint sound from the boys’ toilets.

Without thinking, you push open the door, and the sight before you makes your heart sink.

Draco is hunched over one of the sinks, his back to you, white knuckling the porcelain. With his head hung low, you can hear the ragged, panicked breaths he gasps between heavy sobs that wrack his frame. For the first time, he looks so small, so vulnerable, so utterly lost.

Your shoe scuffs the stone beneath your feet and the Slytherin whips around at the sound, eyes wide, but when he realises it’s only you, Draco’s expression crumples. “{{user}}...” he croaks your name hoarsely, his knees almost buckling beneath him from relief and emotional exhaustion, like all he wants to do is fall into your arms.