Soul Mate - Chapter 7:

Draco paused for a moment, glancing sideways at him.

After all, this isn’t my decision to make.

What he could do at best was to preserve what remained of Slytherin House,

though even that was far from easy.

With that, Draco rose from the long table. He decided to skip Divination that morning,

it wasn’t as if that class had ever been worth his time.

After a moment’s thought, he made his way to the library instead.

Confidence he had in abundance, but nearly a year and a half had gone by

without any serious studying. He wasn’t about to give anyone an

excuse to whisper about his N.E.W.T.s results.

The Hogwarts library was already half full. Most of the students there were fifth and seventh years

staking out spots. Draco walked from one end to the other, levitating books off the shelves as he

went, the floating pile beside him growing steadily higher. Finally, he found an empty table,

sat down, and eyed the tower of reference books with a faintly raised brow.

A mutter or two later, he bent over his notes and began to review.

His quill scratched furiously across the parchment, and his face twisted in mild frustration as he

glared at the ancient runes before him. Brows furrowed,

he flipped through a heavy tome and jotted something down.

What was next? Potions? Easy.

His godfather’s teachings made N.E.W.T.-level work feel like child’s play.

Then Transfiguration? No problem he’d always done well there.

Defense Against the Dark Arts? After half a year of war, he might as well call it his specialty.

Content, or perhaps simply resigned, Draco studied on, surrounded by an ever-growing sea of

books. He didn’t notice time slipping away, nor the fact that every seat in the

library had been taken except for the empty chairs at his own table.

When Harry, Hermione, and Ron came in after lunch, they were greeted by

the sight of a packed library. Hermione frowned slightly,

gathered the books they needed with the boys, and began searching for a place to sit.

Then she stopped short.

What is it? Harry asked, his view half-blocked by a pile of books in his arms.

Over there. Three empty seats. Hermione tilted her chin toward the far left.

Harry and Ron followed her gazeand immediately spotted that

unmistakable flash of platinum blond. In a place as dim and dust-toned as the library,

that head of hair practically glowed. Draco Malfoy sat there, surrounded by a fortress of books,

completely absorbed in his work.

You’ve got to be joking, Hermione! Ron muttered. That ferret’s never going to let us share his table!

Hermione hesitated. Malfoy had sneered at her since first year not just her,

but every Muggle-born in sight. Still, things weren’t the same anymore.

And really, what was so terrible about sharing a table?

You’ll never know unless you ask, she whispered.

Ron groaned but followed her as she approached.

Hermione stopped by Draco’s side and spoke softly.

Sorry to bother you, but… would you mind if we sat here?

Draco didn’t even lift his head. A low hum of assent escaped him before he turned another page.

Hermione gave Ron a small smile of triumph. Ron, however, insisted on keeping his distance,

dragging her to the seats across from Draco. Harry sighed, set down his books carefully,

and took the spot beside him instead.

As he opened one of his own books, Harry glanced at Draco’s pile,

mildly surprised at how serious he looked. But then again,

Malfoy had always been second in their year—just behind Hermione.

Maybe it wasn’t so surprising after all.

Still… his parents’ trial was tomorrow. And yet, here he was,

studying as if nothing in the world could touch him.

Harry said nothing. It wasn’t his place to ask.

He pulled out a parchment and began taking notes.

Time drifted quietly by.

It wasn’t exhaustion that finally pulled Draco from his books, but hunger sharp,

insistent hunger. He frowned, lifted his head to check the clock, and nearly jumped in his seat.

Across the table sat Hermione Granger and Ron Weasley.

He blinked once, then again. Not illusions. Real, living Gryffindors.

He turned his head slightly, and of course there was Harry Potter, right beside him,

glancing up from his book at the same moment.

For a long second, the two simply stared at each other.

Hermione and Ron, sensing the strange tension, both looked up.

They caught the moment just as Draco tore his gaze away,

eyes flicking to the clock on the wall. Half past five already?

He’d skipped lunch and studied straight through the day. No wonder he was starving.

Draco stood, gathering his things with a lazy wave. The books rose obediently,

floating into the air in a neat column.

Malfoy wait, Hermione said quickly. Meeting his surprised eyes, she pointed to one of the books.

Could you leave that one here? I’d like to read it. I’ll make sure it’s returned later.

Draco arched a brow. The book she wanted floated free from the stack

and landed lightly in front of her.

Thanks, she said.

Don’t mention it, Granger, he replied, wearing that practiced Malfoy half-smile.

Ron gawked. Had Malfoy really just handed her a book without calling her a Mudblood?

Was the sky raining red today?

Looks like time hasn’t done your boyfriend any favors, Granger,

Draco said dryly, catching Ron’s expression with effortless precision.

His voice held that familiar blend of mockery and amusement.

Hermione only shrugged, shooting Ron a warning glare.

You have to understand, it’s not exactly an easy process accepting

someone who used to be your enemy as a friend.

Draco’s smirk lingered as he finally turned to leave.

Malfoy, Harry called after him. Draco paused. About your parents the trial’s tomorrow,

isn’t it? Are you sure you’re fine staying here?

Draco looked back, eyes cool. The trial of a few Death Eaters hardly needs the Savior’s concern.

And with that, he turned on his heel and walked away, graceful as ever, leaving no room for reply.