Chapter 13: Expectations and Choices

The next morning, the castle felt unusually quiet. Perhaps it was the gray light filtering through the tall windows, or the hush of students still recovering from yesterday’s gossip. I moved down the corridor toward the Great Hall, my bag swinging at my side, and tried not to notice the occasional sideways glance. Draco was already waiting near the Slytherin table, his posture relaxed but alert, as if he could feel the tension in the air before it reached me. When our eyes met, a small smile lifted his lips. “Morning,” he said, voice low enough that only I could hear. “Morning,” I replied, sliding into the seat beside him. The scrape of chairs and chatter of the hall seemed to fade the moment I was near him. We talked quietly through breakfast, sharing notes about upcoming assignments and the occasional teasing remark about classes neither of us was thrilled to attend. It felt easy- comfortable- but the world outside us was far from quiet. Whispers still followed. Heads turned. Eyes lingered. “People will never let this go, you know,” I said softly, glancing toward the edge of the hall where some first-years were clearly trying to catch a glimpse of us without being obvious. Draco reached out and brushed a stray strand of hair from my face. “Let them talk. We know the truth.” I smiled, feeling the warmth of him again, and for a moment, I allowed myself to forget everything else. But even in that moment, a flicker of doubt appeared�"an echo of Pansy’s warning from earlier in the week. He’ll choose his world eventually. “Draco…” I hesitated, lowering my voice. “Can I ask you something… personal?” He raised an eyebrow, curious. “Of course.” I took a deep breath, nerves fluttering in my stomach. “Your parents… if they knew about me… being a Muggle-born… and being in Gryffindor… do you think they’d… like me?” For a moment, his face didn’t change. Then a shadow crossed his features, and he looked down at his hands, fingers curling over each other. “They… wouldn’t approve,” he admitted finally, voice tight but calm. “They have… certain standards. And a Gryffindor Muggle-born… that’s not exactly what they’d want.” I studied him, my heart tightening. “Draco,” I said gently but firmly, “you can’t let them decide who you care about. You need to stand up for yourself-for what you want, who you want. They can’t control you.”

He blinked at me, the faintest surprise in his eyes, then let out a small, almost-laughing sigh. “You make it sound so easy.” “It’s not,” I admitted. “But if you don’t… you’ll always wonder. And I don’t want either of us wondering about this.” Draco looked at me for a long moment, his expression softening. Finally, he nodded, a quiet determination settling into his posture. “You’re right,” he said. “I… I won’t let them dictate this. Not anymore.” I smiled, squeezing his hand. “Good. Because I’m not going anywhere.” By mid-morning, our small bubble had to confront reality. A group of Gryffindors passed our table, whispering loud enough that we caught the fragments.

“-Malfoy…”

“-with her…”

“-never thought… how?”

Draco’s hand tightened over mine, and I could feel the tension ripple through him. “Ignore it,” he said, protective. We returned to our work in silence, but the unspoken promise between us was stronger than ever: no matter what the castle said, no matter who judged, we would face it together. After Charms, we retreated to our usual spot in the library again. It had become our sanctuary, a place where the world’s whispers couldn’t reach us. I leaned back in my chair, tucking my legs under me, and watched him carefully as he scribbled notes. “Do you ever think about the future?” I asked quietly. Draco looked up, brows furrowed. “Sometimes,” he admitted. “But… right now, the future can wait. I’m not going anywhere.” I felt a warmth spread through me, something steady and certain that I had only just begun to understand. Here in this quiet corner, with parchment, ink, and the soft scrape of quills around us, nothing else mattered. And as Draco reached across the table to lace his fingers through mine again, I knew that whatever threads the castle tried to pull, whatever whispers tried to unravel us, we’d hold fast. Together.