Shadows of Fate

Chapter 17: A Fiery Kiss

Draco took a deep breath as he approached the Library. The flames flickered in the fireplace, casting shadows on the stone walls. The echoes of laughter and chatter from within were a stark contrast to the turmoil in Draco's heart.

Pushing open the door, he scanned the room for Harry. Spotting him across the room, Draco steeled himself and made his way through the sea of students. However, as he drew near, Harry seemed oblivious to Draco's presence, engrossed in a conversation with Ron and Hermione.

"Pottah," Draco tried, his voice steady.

No response. Harry continued talking with his friends, effectively ignoring Draco. The Gryffindor seemed to be dancing around the truth, avoiding eye contact.

Feeling a mix of frustration and confusion, Draco tried again. "Harry, we need to talk."

This time, Harry's green eyes briefly flickered towards Draco, a guarded expression in place. "Not now, Malfoy. We're in the middle of something here."

Draco's jaw tightened, but he nodded, masking his disappointment. He decided to bide his time, recognising that pushing the issue in front of Harry's friends might not be the best approach.

As the evening wore on, Draco noticed that Harry continued to avoid any one-on-one interaction. Whether by purpose or circumstance, Draco couldn't tell. The tension between them simmered beneath the surface, but the playful banter that had defined their interactions was conspicuously absent.

As the Library emptied and the clock ticked towards curfew, Draco found himself alone with Harry for a fleeting moment. Seizing the opportunity, he approached Harry, his tone softer this time. "Harry, we really need to talk. Can we find a quiet place?"

Harry sighed, running a hand through his messy hair. "Fine, Malfoy. But make it quick."

The two of them slipped out of the Library and into a deserted corridor. The ambient light from the floating candles cast a soft glow, illuminating the uncertainty etched on both their faces.

"Alright, Malfoy. Talk," Harry said, folding his arms.

Draco took a deep breath, gathering his thoughts. "Look, about the Yule Ball and the kiss with Pansy..."

Harry cut him off with a scoff. "Save it, Malfoy. I get it. You were just proving a point, right?"

Draco frowned, frustration bubbling up. "No, Potter. It wasn't just about proving a point. I needed to—"

Harry rolled his eyes. "Save the excuses, Malfoy. I've got better things to do."

He turned to leave, but Draco grabbed his arm, desperation in his eyes. "Harry, please. Just listen. It's not that simple."

Harry yanked his arm away, irritation evident. "No, Malfoy. It's simple. You're a prat, and I shouldn't have expected anything more."

As Harry walked away, leaving Draco alone in the corridor, the weight of missed opportunities and unspoken truths hung in the air. The tension between them lingered, but now it was accompanied by a bitter taste of regret.

Draco stormed through the dimly lit corridors, frustration coursing through his veins like wildfire. He couldn't let things end like this—not when he felt this burning need to lay everything bare. He had to confront Harry about the tangled mess between them.

Spotting Harry ahead, Draco quickened his pace, catching up to him just before he reached the entrance to the Gryffindor common room. Without a word, Draco grabbed Harry's arm and yanked him into a secluded alcove, away from prying eyes.

"What the fuck, Malfoy?" Harry exclaimed, stumbling against the stone wall.

Draco's eyes bore into Harry's with an intensity that left no room for evasion. "We're not done talking, Pottah."

Before Harry could protest, Draco pressed him against the wall, his body flush against Harry's. The air between them crackled with unresolved tension, and Harry's eyes widened in surprise.

"What the fuck are you—?" Harry began, but Draco cut him off with a fierce kiss. It was a clash of lips and emotions, a battle that had been brewing for far too long.

When Draco finally pulled away, he stared into Harry's flushed face, his voice low and demanding. "You can't just dismiss this, Harry. There's something between us, and you damn well know it."

Harry's breath hitched, caught off guard by Draco's unrelenting approach. "Malfoy, I don't—"

"I kissed Pansy to prove a point, fine," Draco interrupted, his tone heated. "But it was about proving something to myself. I needed to see if I could... feel something. I've spent so much of my life following expectations, adhering to the pure-blood ideals ingrained in my family. But I've never really allowed myself to explore my own desires, my own feelings."

A mix of confusion and vulnerability flickered in Harry's eyes, and for a moment, Draco glimpsed the raw truth beneath the Gryffindor bravado. He pressed his forehead against Harry's, the words spilling out with a desperate honesty.

"I'm not just some game, Harry. I'm not a pawn in your endless battles. I need to know where we stand because this..." Draco gestured between them, "is driving me mad."

Harry's gaze softened, the walls around him crumbling. "Draco, I didn't mean to—"

Draco silenced him with another searing kiss, this time tinged with desperation and longing. When they broke apart, Draco whispered, "Talk later. But don't you dare walk away from this, Harry Potter."

As Draco released him, Harry stumbled backward, his cheeks flushed and his eyes wide. Draco turned on his heel, leaving Harry in the alcove, his thoughts a whirlwind of conflicting emotions.

Back in the Gryffindor common room, Harry entered with a dazed expression. Ron and Hermione exchanged knowing glances, and the room buzzed with whispered speculation.

Ron nudged Harry, smirking. "Merlin, Harry, what did Malfoy say to you?"

Harry ran a hand through his hair, a mix of frustration and desire written on his face. "Nothing, Ron. Absolutely nothing."