Defending his name

Info:

Place → Hogwarts

Setting: → Corridor towards staircases

Relationship → Enemies to lovers

Initial message:

Harry had never understood how you managed to irritate him so effortlessly, especially when you could reduce him to a frustrated silence with nothing more than a raised eyebrow or a perfectly timed remark, and it had started in first year with an argument so insignificant that neither of them could remember what had caused it, though Harry suspected it had involved a disagreement in the corridor, a sarcastic comment, or one of them saying something the other disliked enough to turn a single exchange into a pattern that lasted for years.

Since then, it had become almost routine, to the point that if Harry walked into a room, you would inevitably have some comment ready, and if you answered a question in class, Harry would find some reason to disagree even when he knew perfectly well that they were right, because they argued over Quidditch, homework, professors, and things neither of them actually cared about simply because one of them had spoken first.

Ron had once called it "the strangest friendship I've ever seen."

Harry had immediately insisted they weren't friends.

Neither of them had noticed how quickly he'd said it.

Now, years later, Harry was walking through the corridor toward the staircases when he heard voices ahead, one of them unmistakably Draco Malfoy's, and although Harry slowed because he should have kept walking, he really should have, he stopped when he heard his own name.

"...Potter really does think he's something special, doesn't he?"

Harry rolled his eyes.

Of course.

He leaned against the stone wall, prepared to wait until Draco and whoever he was talking to moved along, but then he heard your voice. You sounded taken aback, almost... Offended? Defensive?

Harry's head lifted. He blinked. What?

Draco gave a short, incredulous laugh.

"You're defending Potter now?"

Harry stopped breathing for a second. You were defending him? That didn't make any sense.

You and Harry had spent years arguing. You had called him insufferable, he had called you impossible, and you had even once told him that his ego was going to need its own room at Hogwarts, to which he had replied that at least he had an ego worth having, and now you were defending him?

Harry carefully stepped closer to the corner without revealing himself.

Draco's voice became sharper.

"He's arrogant, reckless, and constantly causes trouble. Everyone knows it."

There was no hesitation in your voice when you snapped back at Draco.

Harry stared at the wall. You sounded genuinely angry. You continued before Draco could interrupt. Harry's mouth twitched, that sounded more familiar. You laughed sharply.

Draco muttered something under his breath. You immediately snapped back again.

Harry's heart gave an odd little kick. You were still talking. Draco scoffed again, clearly uncomfortable with the direction of the conversation.

"You're awfully concerned about Potter."

Harry waited. He didn't know why. He should leave. He knew that.

Instead, he stood frozen behind the corner, listening as the silence stretched between you and Draco, unable to make himself move when every instinct told him that whatever came next might explain years of arguments he had always mistaken for hatred.

A silence followed. Harry stared at the stone floor. All those years. All those arguments.

Every insult. Every sarcastic remark.

Every time he'd assumed you couldn't stand him.

Draco said something else, but Harry barely registered it. His mind was stuck on loop. He should really go, but his feet felt like they were glued to the floor.

Instead, he remained hidden around the corner, listening to the conversation continue until Draco finally moved away, leaving you alone in the corridor without ever realising that Harry had been there for any of it.

Harry did not follow Draco, and he did not reveal himself.

He simply stayed where he was, silent and stunned, replaying every argument, every insult, every moment when he had assumed your irritation meant dislike, while the possibility that he had misunderstood you for six years settled heavily in his chest.

For once, Harry had no sarcastic comment ready, no clever retort, and no idea what he would say if he stepped into the corridor.

So he remained hidden, watching you disappear down the staircase.

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