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(Y/n)'s POV

The school year passed by quicker than any of us could have anticipated, each moment was a surreal experience that I wished I could hold onto just a little longer. Although I struggled with homesickness at first, the ache of missing home subsided into a deep-rooted affection for this place.

Hogwarts was unlike anything I had ever known, a realm where magic thrived in every corner, and the very walls seemed to whisper secrets of ancient spells and forgotten tales. The friendships I built—Harry, Ron, Hermione, and a few others—became the highlights of my days, illuminating even the dullest of lessons and moments.

I loved my classes, each one a new adventure filled with wonder and discovery. The professors, with their unique quirks and vast knowledge, brought the subjects to life in ways I had never imagined. From Professor McGonagall's stern yet fair demeanor to Hagrid's warm, boisterous laughter, every lesson was a step deeper into a world that felt like home.

The magical atmosphere of Hogwarts itself was intoxicating; the flickering candles in the Great Hall, the portraits that moved and spoke, and the whispers of enchantment that lingered in the air made every day feel like a page from a storybook. It was so different from my previous school, where the mundane routine had often left me feeling lost and disconnected. Here, I quickly recognized it as a refreshing change; I felt a sense of belonging, as if I had finally discovered where I was meant to be.

Initially, Quidditch was a nerve-wracking experience, a whirlwind of emotions that left me breathless. The thrill of the game was hard to enjoy at first, especially when Draco seemed ready to collide with everyone during the later matches, his competitive spirit igniting a fire in the stands. My heart raced every time Harry fell or nearly fell from his broom, the fear of injury mingling with the exhilaration of the chase. However, as the season progressed, I became enthralled by the sport, eagerly attending every match featuring Slytherin or Gryffindor, my cheers blending with the roars of the crowd. The excitement of the games, the team spirit amongst the fans, and the sheer spectacle of the players soaring through the air became a cherished part of my Hogwarts experience.

As the days turned into weeks, my connection with Hermione grew stronger, shaped by our mutual commitment to learning. We often found comfort in the library, surrounded by the scent of old parchment and the soft sound of pages turning. Among the towering bookshelves, we would lean in close, our heads almost touching, as we tackled the challenges of our studies, each of us covering for the other's shortcomings. She also never brought up my relationship with Draco, though I could feel the unasked questions hovering in her thoughts which I'm sure grew significantly the day we all saved Buckbeak. Draco wasn't exactly subtle, he grabbed my hand, threatened Harry when he had his wand on me, and was there in general. I seriously doubt he would have done any of that for anyone else, and I'm certain Hermione realizes that too.

Harry had successfully passed his potions exam, a victory I had a hand in, and in his excitement, he pulled me into a tight hug. The world spun around me as he lifted my feet off the ground, laughter echoing through the hall. And just like Hermione, he chose not to mention or question me about the day with Draco and Buckbeak. I suspected it was because he was weary of the truth—after all, to some, ignorance is bliss. I became completely aware of his crush, and I found it sweet and perhaps it's something I would have pursued if Draco hadn't gotten his claws in me first. Harry seemed like the ideal choice, a smart and comforting choice that wouldn't leave me in a pit of depression, but there was something about Draco that
I couldn't let go of no matter how much I might try. His claws are deep.

Ron and I didn't share the same bond that I had with Harry and Hermione. There was an unspoken tension whenever I walked the halls with Draco, a subtle discomfort that seemed to linger in Ron's demeanor whenever I was around. But, despite this, he always managed to show kindness during our brief interactions, a testament to his good character.

Then there's the matter of the curse which had been placed on me. No one could pinpoint who had brought this misfortune upon me or why it had happened. And although the year was coming to a close, I knew this wouldn't be the last time I hear of it.

And now, I have saved the best for last, Draco Malfoy, the one who had initially been nothing more than an irritant, a persistent thorn in my side. Over time, however, he became the person I cared for the most in this place. Despite the truths I had uncovered about myself on that day in the woods, I chose to maintain our little arrangement. With every kiss we shared, every hug, and every moment of laughter, I felt as though I was driving a blade deeper into my own heart, fully aware that one day it would be pulled free, unleashing a wave of hurt and tears. So I cherished the moments we had now, knowing eventually one of them would be the last. Unless he changes his mind and does eventually want to pursue a relationship, but that is a hope I was too scared to hold onto.

The evening had finally come, it was my last night at Hogwarts until the new school year begins months from now. I found myself sitting in front of the crackling fireplace, its warmth caressing my body and face as I waited for someone I knew would come. After all, we had a date.

As time passed, the space beside me soon filled. A familiar scent of sweet apple and vanilla drifted through the air, engulfing my senses. "Sorry for the wait," Draco said, settling onto the couch with an effortless ease. He stretched his arms wide along the back of the couch, one casually resting behind me. "Pansy wouldn't stop talking," he added with a weary sigh. "She tends to get a bit clingy as the end of the year, as if she's afraid I'll forget about her over the summer. Which if I'm being entirely honest, I wouldn't mind, but don't even get me started on the flood of letters I'll be getting to ensure I won't." He rubbed his eyes, a trace of fatigue in his appearance.

"I hadn't been waiting long." I leaned back a bit, letting my head rest against his arm. "Sounds like she's got a crush on you," I teased, my tone light and playful. Jealousy was something I didn't care to experience with him; if I did, I'd have to deal with at least half the girls in our class and that was a headache I wasn't interested in.

He gave a half-smile, a hint of mischief in his eyes. "Well, I don't feel the same way." As he said this, he leaned in and kissed me. The arm I had been resting on shifted to support the back of my neck, while his other hand gently cradled my face, pulling me closer. Despite us agreeing to never again kiss in the common room, a place so open to everyone— I found myself leaning into him, surrendering to the moment, feeling the gentle pressure of his lips as they moved against mine.

As time went by, we eventually parted ways, and I caught him glancing past me, his eyes quickly scanning the room. "If you're so worried about being seen, maybe this wasn't the ideal spot for that," I whispered, prompting him to shift his attention back to my eyes.

"I needed my goodbye," he mirrored my soft tone, his hand that had been cradling my face now moving to my hair, gently tucking a stray strand behind my ear, "You've been so busy with that idiotic group of yours, I've hardly had any time with you today, let alone this week." He removed his hold on me and created distance once again, but his knee still brushed against mine.

"Let's cut out the name-calling," I scolded him, shaking my head in disapproval.

He responded with an exaggerated eye roll. "My mistake," he said, though it was clear he didn't mean it.

"Sure, your mistake," I replied with a wry smile, turning to face him directly. "Since we're here. There's something I've been wanting to talk to you about." My heart rate picked up significantly as the anxiety over what I wanted to ask him surfaced.

"What is it?" He asked, curiously eyeing me.

I took a deep breath, bracing myself for the moment. Like ripping off a bandage, I went for it. "What makes you think you're not cut out for a relationship?"

"Why are you asking?" he retorted, his tone defensive.

"I'm only curious," I answered, striving to keep my voice calm.

"I just don't believe I am," he said with a dismissive shrug. "And my father wouldn't approve."

"Of me?"

"Of anyone," he clarified, his eyes drifting away. I bit my lip, grappling with the silence that followed, feeling as though I hadn't truly received an answer. "(Y/n)," he broke the tension with a long sigh that carried my name, "What we have is fun, but when it comes to a relationship, you deserve to be with someone far better than me."

"Would you really be okay with that? With me finding someone new? Doing all that we do with another person?" I questioned, holding my breath as I waited for his response. The thought of him moving on filled me with dread, borderline making me sick. So if he claimed he was okay with it, it would feel like another twist of that cursed knife, revealing that he didn't care as deeply as I had hoped.

He bit the inside of his cheek, his gaze locked onto mine, a mixture of emotions swirling in his eyes that I couldn't quite decipher. There was a flicker of something—was it regret? Longing? Or perhaps a hint of anger at the very idea of me being with someone else? I could feel the tension in the air, thick and suffocating, leaving just the two of us suspended in this moment of uncertainty.

"I don't know," he finally said, his voice barely above a whisper. The vulnerability in his tone sent a shiver down my spine. "It's not that simple." He ran a hand through his hair, a gesture I had come to recognize as a sign of his inner struggles. "I mean, I want you to be happy, but the thought of you with someone else, it makes me...angry." He spoke as if he was struggling to comprehend it.

I felt a flicker of hope ignite within me. "So, you're saying you wouldn't be okay with it?" I pressed, my voice trembling slightly. "You wouldn't want me to move on?"

He sighed, his shoulders slumping as if the very idea was a burden he couldn't bear, "Why do we have to talk about this right now?"

"I just wanted to clarify where we stand." My eyes drifted down to our knees, which were still touching.

"That night in your room, I laid everything out and told you what I couldn't give you, and it isn't about you, so please don't take it that way. There are reasons that you wouldn't understand. So can we just please leave it at that?" His voice was a soft plea, a heartfelt wish to close the subject.

I raised my eyes to meet his, feeling the intensity of his gaze. "Yeah, we can," I responded, knowing that prolonging this conversation would only complicate things further.

(Lowkey experienced this once, all we did was makeout here and there but he insisted we never date. He was my first love and it sucked ass, and goes to show situations like this do happen. For the plot of he book it's obviously going to become something more but when it comes to real life, REALIZE YOUR WORTH BABES AND LEAVE IF THE SITUATION ISN'T WHAT YOU REALLY WANT. Hope can be a devastating illusion.)

💚🐍

"The years always go by so fast, I can't believe it's already over," Hermione sighed with a hint of sadness to her tone as she walked in-front of me on the train, her luggage trailing behind her. Harry and Ron were already heading into a compartment not far ahead, their laughter echoing down the narrow corridor.

"Before we know it, graduation will be here," I replied, a chuckle escaping my lips, lightening the mood.

As I passed a compartment, I felt a pair of eyes on me and I turned to see Draco lounging casually, his hand resting against his mouth as he pretended to listen to whatever his friends were saying. A bittersweet smile formed on my lips, a wave of sadness washing over me at the thought that this might be the last time I would see him for months.

I moved out of his line of sight just as he seemed ready to smile back. A few steps later, I heard the unmistakable sound of a door sliding open behind me. "Maxime," he called, and I turned to see him approaching, a small object held out in his hand. "This is for you."

I reached for the item and discovered it was an origami heart. The moment my fingers brushed its delicate folds, he took the chance to pull me into a tight hug. It caught me by surprise at first, but I reciprocated it, "I'll miss you," he whispered softly, his breath warm against my ear.

"I'll miss you too." I whispered back. Then, just as quickly, he stepped back, retreating into his compartment and casting me one last lingering look before the door closed.

Once I settled into my own compartment, I carefully unfolded the origami heart. It revealed a drawing of me, vibrant and full of life, with him leaning in to kiss my cheek.

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