𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐏𝐥𝐚𝐜𝐞 𝐖𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐓𝐡𝐞𝐲 𝐆𝐨

𝐗𝐋𝐈

"I don't think we can do that..."

"Why not?"

"There's already such thing as a potion that heals a damaged mind," Draco told me, pointing to a page in his textbook. "Dr Ubbly's Oblivious Unction."

"Oh," I sighed, "I just hate seeing everyone so sad in the common room."

Draco put a shaking hand over mine and caressed the back of my palm with his thumb.

"I know, Harry. There's a lot of potions out there, but not one for everything."

"How will we even know what ingredients to use to make it work, anyways? The ingredients in other potions are all so... random," I complained.

"They're not random," Draco scoffed, "You just have to know the purpose of them, and then mix them together with precision."

I sighed again and leaned back in my chair. I gazed longingly out the window of our dorm, wishing to be outside in the fresh air with Draco.

June was approaching quickly, leaving Draco and I only a few weeks to figure out our assignment.

Looking back, I do wish we had made some advances sooner, but at the same time, that would have meant less quality time with Draco and coming to terms with our feelings towards each other.

My gaze fell onto Draco's hand atop of mine. I could feel the vibrations causing my own hand to feel uncomfortably shaky.

"Dose it hurt?" I asked.

Noticing my line of vision, he too looked down at what I was referring to.

"Always, a little," he said softly, "But not much at the moment."

I nodded mutely.

"I'm sorry," I said.

"What for?" Draco asked, sounding almost worried for me.

"Your pain. You're always in pain. And it's partly my fault."

Draco gave me a perplexed and concerned look, one that shown most visibly in the corners of his mouth.

"How is this your fault?" he asked, loudly.

"Most of your punishments came from things that I did. Or rather, things that I caused you to do," I explained. I could hear my voice waver, but I would not cry.

Draco only rolled his eyes at me, as if what I had said were something so witless as to not even be correctly understood.

"The things I did, Harry, were completely on my own accord– hey, listen," he insisted as I tried to interrupt, "You may have been involved, yes, but when could you not involve yourself?"

"I know..." I tried to argue, "But those choices you made were done for me! You lied for me. You threw your wand in the battle to me."

"Yes!" he shouted this time, but not angrily, "Don't you see? I would never have suffered the punishment if it had not been for you! I wouldn't have risked myself like that for anyone else!"

"Exactly! That's my point!"

"That is not the point!" He banged his open palm on the table. "The point, is that I care for you! The point is that I love you!"

There it was. Those three words. Those three meaningless words that I heard so little before. The words that I never thought Draco could ever say.

He was calmer now, breathing heavily in desperate gasps of air. His eyes no longer held concern, or even anger. Only a sadness this time. A sadness—I realized—that came about from the fact that it had already been over a minute since Draco said those words and I still hadn't spoke yet.

"You love me?" I felt lame at my reply.

"Painfully. Yes," he breathed.

"Actually?"

"Of course. You are so loved, Harry Potter."

A tear ran down his cheek, but I didn't know why. I said something. I didn't know what else I could say. I felt at a loss.

Of course I knew what he needed to hear, and I had known for a while that I did, indeed, love him back. But I had said those words far fewer times than I had ever heard them. Not with the meaning, at least.

"I love you," I whispered, only it came out more of a squeak.

Draco looked as if he wanted me to repeat myself, speak up, but he knew what I'd said, even if he couldn't hear it.

He held out his hand to me—the same hand that had hit the table moments before—for me to take in my own.

I did, and he tugged on it, so I stood up. He pulled it around the table, so I stood in front of him. He me tugged downwards, towards himself, to bring me onto his lap.

I followed limply, rested my head atop his shoulder and wrapping my arms and legs around his body.

We stayed in the same position for a long while, neither one of us wanting to shift or make any form of movement.

Eventually, my mind turned back to our potion, and I couldn't turn it elsewhere.

"Draco?"

He mummed in my ear.

"I want to make a potion to make you better."

He lifted his head up to look at me more clearly. The look he gave me asked me to explain farther.

"What if," I began, "we made a potion to repair your nerves? Make the pain and shaking go away."

"Harry," he shook his head, looking down to his lap, "I'm not convinced that that's possible."

"But no one's tried!"

"Harry. Something like that would probably take weeks, months even. Plus, for something so specific, the ingredient list would be overly complex."

"I want to try," I said, certainly.

"This is Mediwizard stuff! We would never figure it out!"

I gave him my most defiant look possible in that moment. I let my most inner Gryffindor shine from my core out my skin and stood my ground.

Sure, it would be hard. It was specific. It was complex. But so were most potions, right?

Besides, Draco's practically a genius. He's just as good as Hermione, and he had Severus Snape by his side when he was still living and teaching.

"I'll do it alone then," I said, "You can either help out or leave me to it."

Draco rolled his eyes again, shaking his head in defeat.

"We have to work together, Harry. It's Slughorn's rules."

"Well then?"

He took a moment to respond, looking at me as of to wish me dead, but I could tell that it was all a lie.

"Fine. I'll help," he said flatly, "But if this doesn't work," he held up his pointer finger, "I'm ratting you out to Slughorn."