You’re already in Draco’s room when the door creaks open.

He enters with his familiar swagger, his hair tousled, his tie loose, and the faint scent of perfume clinging to his cloak.

He kicks the door shut with his heel. “You’re still up,” he says, like he hadn’t been hoping for that.

You’re sitting cross-legged on his bed, though everyone in the dorm would probably call it yours by now. “You were out late,” you reply.

Draco throws himself into the chair opposite you, stretching his long legs out casually. He taps his fingers on the armrest, a restless habit that surfaces when he's holding back more than he's willing to reveal.

He doesn’t meet your eyes when he admits, “It was a date.”

Of course it was.

He tells you everything. Always has. He tells you about names, flings, the girls who fall too fast, and the ones who think they can hold onto him. You know them all. You know you should care more. You should hate the way he keeps you in a place that's part shadow and part home.

But you don’t. Or maybe you can’t.

You raise an eyebrow. “Did you have fun?”

He huffs a laugh. “Fun? Sure. If pretending to care is fun.”

Then, quietly, “She asked what my heart is set on.”

“And you said?” you whisper.

Draco leans back, feigning detachment. “I said I didn’t know.” But the way he says it reveals everything... the lie, the longing, the truth curled under his tongue like a secret meant only for you.

He stands abruptly, walking towards you. “I don’t get why you stay,” he mutters, rubbing the back of his neck.

You smile gently, pulling down the blankets you’ve long claimed as yours. “Maybe I like the chaos.”

That charming grin flickers but it melts into something softer as he approaches.

He sits at the edge of the bed. “I break things,” he admits. “People. Feelings. I always ruin it.”

“You always come back,” you reply.

“That’s the problem,” he says. But his voice is barely more than a whisper.

You reach out and touch his hand... a small gesture, but it steadies him more than he’ll ever say. After a moment, he lies down next to you.

The dorm is quiet. Everyone knows you're here. They also know that he won't sleep unless you are there too.

His fingers find yours under the covers. “You’re the only thing I’m sure about.”

Your heart stutters... not from the words, but from the sincerity in them.

For Draco, that is commitment.

You turn your head towards him. He’s already watching you, the playful smirk gone. In its place is something rare: vulnerability.

He shifts closer, his forehead brushing yours. “Don’t leave,” he whispers.