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Whispers In The Walls

Chapter 1: The Worst Partner Possible

Pairing: Draco Malfoy x F!Reader

Type: Series

Genre: Fluff, angst, romance, mystery

Chapters: 1-10

Word Count: 2,900

Summary: As you begin your sixth year at Hogwarts, your life revolves around academics, ambition, and staying far away from Draco Malfoy—your longtime rival and the bane of your existence since the day you met. When Professor McGonagall assigns a year-long research project on forgotten Hogwarts history, you’re horrified to learn that the pairs have already been chosen—and you’ve been partnered with Draco.

Forced to work together, the two of you uncover a dark mystery hidden deep within the castle’s past. As ancient secrets come to light, it becomes clear that Hogwarts itself may have chosen you both for a reason. Drawn into a web of hidden magic, long-buried truths, and dangerous discoveries, you begin to see a side of Draco you’ve never known. What starts as a reluctant partnership soon becomes something far more complicated in this enemies-to-lovers story filled with mystery, magic, and romance.

Disclaimer: I used to be really into creative writing when I was younger, so it’s been a considerable amount of time since I have written in this style. Feedback/criticism are both welcomed and appreciated!

The moment you step through the giant oak doors of the Great Hall the sounds hit you like a wave. Hundreds of voices echoed beneath the enchanted ceiling, blending into a constant roar of laughter, greetings, and excited chatter. First-years craned their necks to stare at everything, while older students called out to friends they hadn’t seen all summer. The scrape of benches against stone floors mingled with the occasional clatter of dropped goblets and the distant hoot of an owl swooping overhead toward the rafters.

As a sixth-year, the sight and sounds should have been familiar by now. Yet every September, the Great Hall managed to feel magical all over again.

Hundreds of candles floated weightlessly in the air, their flames flickering gently despite the complete absence of wind. The smell was enough to make your stomach growl.

Platters groaned beneath piles of roast chicken, buttery rolls, honey-glazed carrots, and steaming potatoes. Sweet scents drifted from treacle tarts and warm apple crumble waiting at the far end of the tables. Beneath it all lingered the comforting scent of old castle stone, wood polish, parchment, and the faint trace of smoke from the torches lining the walls.

From a distance you spot your best friend, Poppy, sitting at the Slytherin table. Her bright red hair gleams under the shimmer of the floating candles above. There’s an empty spot beside her, which you already knew had been reserved for you. You excitedly bound over to her. “Poppy!” You exclaim.

Her head snaps around and her face beams with joy. She jumps up from the bench and throws her arms in air. “It’s been far too long!” She says as she grabs you intently and squeezes. You squeeze back as a feeling of familiar warmth and belonging settles over you.

The atmosphere was buzzing with anticipation. Everyone at the Slytherin table seemed to be talking at once—comparing summer holidays, speculating about new professors, complaining about upcoming N.E.W.T.s, and exchanging rumors that had somehow spread before the train had even reached Hogwarts. Somewhere down the table, a group of seventh-years were already arguing about Quidditch. Across the hall, nervous first-years sat stiffly in their seats, glancing anxiously toward the Sorting Hat resting on its stool.

As you sit down beside Poppy and begin delving into the decedent feast in front of you, you can’t help but remember six years ago you were one of those frightened first years staring around you in absolute awe. Now it’s like you know every corner of the castle and every ghost likely to drift through one of the walls at the worst possible moment.

And yet, as the candles glimmered above you and the hall hummed with excitement, you couldn’t shake the feeling that this year would be different somehow. Aside from the N.E.W.T.s and the astronomical amount of homework you were going to have to complete.

The castle seemed to be holding its breath, as if it was waiting.

Waiting for something deep within its hidden walls to be awoken.

The next morning is gray and miserable.

Rain lashes against the tall windows of the Slytherin common room, distorting the view of the Black Lake beyond. The water outside is dark and restless, shadows drifting lazily past the glass as thunder rumbles somewhere in the distance.

You sit curled into one of the emerald-green armchairs beside Poppy, the warmth of the fireplace chasing away the chill that seems to cling to the castle after the previous night’s feast. Orange and gold flames dance across the polished stone hearth, their light flickering over the common room’s dark furnishings.

For a moment, you lose yourself in the fire. Something feels wrong. Not dangerous, exactly. Just… different.

The feeling had settled into your chest sometime during the feast and refused to leave. It was as though the castle itself had shifted while nobody was looking.

“I’m so excited that our first class is Transfiguration,” Poppy says, breaking the silence. She tucks a bouncy red curl behind her ear and grins. “We’ll finally start learning non-verbal spells this year. Professor McGonagall said we might even begin conjuring objects out of thin air.”

A small smile tugs at your lips. “It really is exciting, isn’t it?” The smile disappears almost as quickly as it came.

Poppy’s expression softens. “Are you alright? You seem distracted.”

You hesitate. How were you supposed to explain something you didn’t understand yourself? The strange feeling wasn’t fear. It wasn’t anxiety. It was more like the sensation of standing in a room where someone had just left—a lingering presence you couldn’t quite identify.

“I don’t know,” you admit quietly. “The castle just feels—”

“Well, well. If it isn’t Slytherin’s favorite pair of bookworms.”

The voice makes your stomach sink. You don’t need to turn around to know who it belongs to.

Draco Malfoy.

Slowly, you glance over your shoulder.

There he stands with the same infuriating smirk he always seems to wear. The firelight catches in his pale blond hair, making it almost glow against the dark stone walls.

The smug expression on his face suggests he believes he’s just delivered the cleverest remark in Hogwarts history. You strongly disagree.

“Malfoy,” Poppy says flatly, “leave us alone.”

His smirk widens, as you can tell he gets amusement from annoying the both of you. “Awh, come on. I’m only trying to be friendly.” The word friendly sounds so absurd coming from him that you nearly laugh. “You should try having fun sometime,” he continues. “There’s more to Hogwarts than burying your nose in books.”

“With N.E.W.T.s this year?” you reply, raising an eyebrow. “That might be the worst advice I’ve ever heard.”

Draco lets out a dramatic sigh. “There it is. I was beginning to worry you’d become interesting over the summer.”

You roll your eyes. Ever since first year, Draco Malfoy has possessed an extraordinary talent for making himself unbearable. Everything about him seems effortless. The confidence. The arrogance. The certainty that the world will always bend in his favor. Perhaps it comes from being a Malfoy. From growing up with wealth most people couldn’t imagine and a family name that opened doors before he even reached them.

Whatever the reason, he carries himself as though rules are merely suggestions and consequences are things that happen to other people. You have never understood it. And you certainly have never liked it.

“We’re all going to be late for McGonagall’s class, we better get going,” you state. Anxiously just trying to get him to go away.

“Pfft. Whatever,” Draco says with a dismissive laugh.

Yet as he turns to leave, something strange happens. For the briefest moment, his eyes flick toward the fireplace. Toward the flames. Toward the exact spot you’d been staring at moments earlier. And for a split second, the smirk disappears. A look of uncertainty crosses his face. Then just like that, it’s gone. So quickly that you almost convince yourself you imagined it.

The sixth-year students file into Professor McGonagall’s classroom in an expectant hush.

Nothing about the room looks unusual at first—until your eyes land on the neatly stacked piles of parchment arranged across her desk. Too organized. Too deliberate. Like something has already been decided for you.

A faint unease settles in your chest, though you can’t explain why. You take your seat beside Poppy on the right side of the room, setting your materials out in careful order. As you do, your gaze drifts across the classroom.

Three seats remain empty. Crabbe. Goyle. Malfoy. Of course.

The thought barely finishes forming before the classroom door swings open. Draco Malfoy enters like he owns the air itself.

“Apologies for the suspense, Professor,” he says smoothly, voice carrying easily through the room. “We didn’t realize punctuality was being graded today.”

It’s not an apology. It’s a performance. A few students snicker amongst themselves.

McGonagall’s expression does not change. “Detention is, Mr. Malfoy.”

His smirk deepens slightly, as if he’s just been handed an amusing compliment rather than a punishment. “Then I’ll try to be more fashionably late next time.”

He glances briefly around the room as he walks—slow, unhurried, entirely unbothered—like he’s searching for something he already expects to find.

For a split second, his gaze catches on the far corner of the ceiling. Just above the blackboard. You follow it instinctively. Nothing there. And yet— The air in the room feels… tighter, somehow. The moment passes. Draco drops into his seat as if nothing happened. You try to pretend that you didn’t notice it, shaking it off and trying to focus on what could possibly be planned for the year.

McGonagall clears her throat. “As you are aware, your sixth year is intended to prepare you for more an advanced magical study.” She pauses. “To that end, the faculty has approved a year-long research project.”

A collective groan ripples through the class. She ignores it entirely.

“Each pair will investigate a forgotten piece of Hogwarts history. You will conduct research, gather evidence, and present your findings at the end of the year.”

At that, a few students perk up. Poppy included. Others look horrified.

Then McGonagall adds information that changes everything, way too casually, “The pairs have already been selected.”

Whispers ignite instantly.

“They have been chosen specifically to encourage cooperation between students who may not normally work together.”

Your stomach drops. Poppy’s hand finds yours under the desk, squeezing tightly onto the little hope that you two end up being paired together.

McGonagall begins reading names. Most pairs draw mild reactions—shrugs, amused murmurs, and the occasional laugh.

Then you hear your name. Your heart stops for a split second.

“—and Draco Malfoy.”

The classroom is silent. Then laughter, scattered and immediate. Your head snaps up. Your stomach tightens for reasons that have nothing to do with Professor McGonagall.

Across the room, Draco looks equally appalled. “You cannot be serious!” he exclaims before he can stop himself.

“Quite serious, Mr. Malfoy.”

You raise your hand before being called on. “Professor, there has to be some kind of mistake.” You say it as politely as possible, not trying to sound rude.

“I assure you students, there is no mistake.”

You stumble over your words not trying to sound combative. “But, Draco and I can’t work together, it just won’t go well.”

“On the contrary,” Professor McGonagall replies calmly, “that’s exactly why you should.”

Draco lets out a disbelieving laugh. “She’s right Professor, this is a terrible idea.”

“May I finish announcing the names of the pairs now?” She asks noticeably annoyed with the backlash.

As she finishes reading the pairs, you can barely hear her over the racing thoughts in your mind. All you can think about is how badly this is going to turn out. About how your entire sixth year is going to be spent with someone you’ve hated from the first second you had met.

As the lesson comes to an end you pack up your stuff slowly. Students start filing out of the classroom. You notice Draco making his way to Professor McGonagall’s desk. Poppy leans in and says quietly, “Maybe you can talk to her and ask her to change your partner.”

You nod in agreement. “I’ll meet you in the common room.” She nods back with a soft yet encouraging smile before following the other students out of the classroom.

You meet Draco at Professor McGonagall’s desk.

“I’d like a different partner, Professor,” Draco demands.

“So would I,” you add.

Professor McGonagall looks up from her papers over the top of her glasses. You can tell she is no mood to compromise. “No,” she says assertively. The answer was so immediate neither of you know how to respond.

“Professor—“

“No.”

“But—“ Draco tries.

“No.”

Draco folds his arms in disgust. “So you’re forcing us to work together for the whole year?”

“I did nothing but assign you an academic partner Mr. Malfoy, what you do with that is completely your choice.”

You and Draco exchange frustrated glances. For perhaps the first time in your life, you agree with him about something.

Professor McGonagall hands you each a piece of paper that contains the details of the project.

“You will meet weekly, submit progress reports, and conduct all research together.”

“And if we refuse?” Draco asks.

Professor McGonagall’s expression sharpens and she stands from her desk, leaning closer to the both of you. “Then you both will fail the course.” The words land heavily.

You don’t doubt that she means it, and from the looks of Draco he doesn’t either. He turns sharply and starts walking to exit the classroom, mumbling under his breath on the way out. Probably something about how his father will be hearing about this. You sheepishly go to collect your things and do the same.

The corridor outside the classroom is quieter than it should be. Not empty—Hogwarts never really is—but quiet in the way that makes every footstep feel deliberate.

You don’t make it far before Draco speaks “You’d better not slow me down.” It’s said casually, like a passing observation. But there’s an edge underneath it— and it’s unmistakably condescending.

You stop walking. Slowly, you turn to face him. “Me?” You snap. “That’s rich coming from you.”

Draco tilts his head slightly, as if you’ve said something mildly interesting rather than insulting. “I’m simply setting expectations,” he replies. “People tend to underperform when they’re emotional.”

A short, humorless laugh escapes you. “Right. Because you are famously the picture of emotional stability.” That earns you a look. Not anger. Something worse—amusement. Like you’ve confirmed something he already believed about you.

“You misunderstand me,” Draco says calmly. “I don’t expect you to keep up emotionally.” He steps closer now, just enough to make the space between you feel intentional. He’s looking deep in your eyes, making sure to hold eye contact. Probably some kind of intimidation tactic. And unfortunately, it’s working. You can’t help but to feel cornered. “I expect you to keep up intellectually.” The words land cleanly. He backs away and continues walking down the corridor.

You feel your jaw tighten in anger. You pick up your walking pace to catch up to him. “You think I can’t handle a simple school project?”

He turns to look at you as you both keep a steady pace, smirk plastered on his face. You can tell he enjoys getting under your skin. “I think,” he says, voice lowering slightly, “that people like you are very good at effort… and very bad at perspective.” That stings more than it should.

People like you. Like you’re part of a category he’s already filed away. You straighten and stop in your tracks, doing your best to stand your ground and not let him see your true emotions. “And people like you,” you shoot back, “are very good at acting like everything is beneath them when they’ve never actually had to struggle for anything in their life.”

He stops immediately and turns around to face you. For the first time, raw emotion flickers across his face. Something that is sharper than anger. “You assume a lot,” he says quietly.

There’s a pause. The corridor feels colder than it did a moment ago. Then Draco exhales through his nose, almost like he’s bored again—but his eyes don’t fully match it.

“Let’s make this simple,” he says. “We meet, we work, we finish. No distractions. No wasting time. No unnecessary commentary.”

“You mean no talking unless it benefits you,” you say smugly.

A faint smile tugs at his mouth. “If that helps you focus, yes.”

You stare at him. There’s something infuriating about how composed he is. Like nothing you say can actually unsettle him. Like he’s already decided how all of this ends.

“Fine,” you say sharply. “But don’t expect me to do your work for you just because your last name opens doors.”

He takes a step toward you, bringing forth once again that intentional closeness. But he’s closer this time, his face within inches of yours looking down on you. You had never noticed before how much taller he was. It’s obvious he’s trying his best to make you feel small. His smirk returns—but it’s thinner now and more controlled. He looks you up and down before finishing, “I don’t need doors opened for me, I prefer ones other people don’t notice are locked.”

The words hang in the air a moment too long. Something about them feels l like they meant more than the conversation should allow. Then he turns away as if he suddenly decided that the exchange is already over. “Tomorrow,” he adds over his shoulder. “Library. Don’t be late.”

“Ironic coming from the person who was just late to class,” you think to yourself. You want to throw out a sarcastic comment, but you bite your tongue. Because just like that, he’s gone down the corridor.

You stay standing there for a moment longer than you mean to. You can’t help but dwell on the sense of impending dread for the months ahead of you.

The argument should’ve made things clearer, but all it did was make them more confusing. If anything, it feels like it’s the first time you’ve ever actually heard Draco Malfoy say something without fully understanding what he meant.

Whispers In The Walls

Chapter 10: Echoes Across The Lake

Pairing: Draco Malfoy x F!Reader

Type: Series

Genre: Fluff, angst, romance, mystery

Chapters: 1-10

Word Count: 3,000

Summary: As you begin your sixth year at Hogwarts, your life revolves around academics, ambition, and staying far away from Draco Malfoy—your longtime rival and the bane of your existence since the day you met. When Professor McGonagall assigns a year-long research project on forgotten Hogwarts history, you’re horrified to learn that the pairs have already been chosen—and you’ve been partnered with Draco.

Forced to work together, the two of you uncover a dark mystery hidden deep within the castle’s past. As ancient secrets come to light, it becomes clear that Hogwarts itself may have chosen you both for a reason. Drawn into a web of hidden magic, long-buried truths, and dangerous discoveries, you begin to see a side of Draco you’ve never known. What starts as a reluctant partnership soon becomes something far more complicated in this enemies-to-lovers story filled with mystery, magic, and romance.

Disclaimer: Feedback/criticism are both welcomed and appreciated! Want to be added to the taglist? Let me know!

The Great Hall gradually emptied around the two of you, the hum of conversation fading as students drifted toward their common rooms. The candles overhead burned low, casting the stone walls in a warm golden glow.

"You know," you said as you and Draco stepped out into the Entrance Hall, "I think this is the first week we've gone without sneaking around."

He glanced sideways at you, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. "I'm disappointed in us."

"Really?"

"Well..." He slipped his hands into his pockets. "Slightly."

You laughed, shaking your head.

The castle had felt...normal lately. The Quidditch victory was still the talk of the school, and students buzzed with excitement as the next match drew closer. The journal hadn't changed. No mysterious clues had appeared. No whispered warnings echoed through the corridors. For the first time since the beginning of term, it almost felt like the two of you were simply students. It was nice. Refreshing in a way.

More than once, your mind wandered back to the Quidditch match. Not because Slytherin had won. Because, after weaving through half the Gryffindor team with impossible precision, he'd looked straight at you. Even now, remembering it made warmth creep into your cheeks.

You'd told yourself afterward that you were imagining things—that there had been thousands of people in the stands and he couldn't possibly have picked you out. Yet when he'd found you after the celebrations, it had quietly erased every doubt. You smiled to yourself. The memory no longer felt embarrassing. It simply felt...nice.

The journal hadn't changed. No mysterious clues had appeared. No whispered warnings echoed through the corridors. No hidden passageways demanded to be explored beneath the cover of darkness. For the first time since the beginning of term, it almost felt like the two of you were simply students. You hadn't realized how much you'd missed that.

The constant knot of anticipation in your stomach had finally begun to loosen. You no longer found yourself glancing over your shoulder whenever you rounded a corner or expecting the journal to produce another cryptic message every time you opened it.

Instead, you'd fallen into something that felt startlingly ordinary. Studying together. Walking to meals. Trading sarcastic remarks across the Slytherin table. Finding him waiting outside your classes without either of you acknowledging that he'd clearly gone out of his way to be there.

Somehow, without either of you meaning to, spending time together had stopped feeling unusual. It had simply become...expected. Comfortable. The realization caught you slightly off guard. There had been a time when walking beside Draco Malfoy would have made every muscle in your body tense, waiting for the inevitable insult or smug remark. Now the silence between you felt effortless. You no longer worried about filling it.

"So where are we going?" You asked.

Draco shrugged. "Thought we'd take a walk."

"Seems good enough to me."

The evening air greeted you as you stepped outside. The last traces of sunset painted the sky in soft shades of amber and violet, reflecting across the still surface of the Black Lake. A gentle breeze carried the scent of damp earth and distant pine as you followed the winding path along the shoreline. Neither of you seemed to be leading anymore. Your steps naturally settled into the same pace, shoulders brushing every so often as the path narrowed before drifting apart again without either of you commenting on it.

"You've been smiling more," he observed suddenly.

You looked over at him. "I have? You've been paying enough attention to notice?"

His ears tinged faintly pink. "I notice things."

"Oh?"

"Don't sound so surprised."

"I wasn't aware you watched me that closely."

"I don't." A pause. "...Often."

You couldn't help laughing. The blush climbing higher on his cheeks was almost enough to make you laugh again. He rolled his eyes, though a reluctant smile appeared anyway. For someone who always seemed to have the perfect retort, he had an amusing habit of becoming flustered whenever he accidentally admitted he cared.

You found yourself smiling again. Maybe he was right. Maybe you had been doing that more lately. The two of you wandered farther from the castle, the sounds of Hogwarts growing distant behind you. Only the gentle lapping of the lake against the shore broke the quiet.

Then Draco stopped walking. "Who..." he said quietly.

You looked up. His attention wasn't on you anymore. He was staring across the lake. Following his gaze, you noticed movement beneath a stand of ancient trees on the opposite bank. At first, they looked like little more than shadows. Then one shifted. Dark cloaks. Four...no, five figures stood gathered together, partially hidden beneath the overhanging branches.

Your smile faded. "...Do you see that?"

Draco gave the slightest nod. "I do."

The figures weren't students. Not at this hour. One lifted a lantern, briefly illuminating the silver trim embroidered along the edge of a cloak.

Your stomach tightened. "It’s the men," you whispered.

Without another word, Draco gently caught your hand. "This way."

He guided you behind a cluster of thick hedges near the water's edge. Through the leaves, you had a narrow view across the lake. You crouched low beside him. Neither of you dared move. The wind shifted. Most of the voices were lost over the water, but every so often, a sentence carried clearly enough to reach you.

"...they've stopped searching."

Another voice answered. "For now."

A pause.

"They've grown...close."

“...progressing faster than Eleanor and Cassian ever did.”

You exchanged a glance with Draco. The words were barely audible. Your pulse quickened.

Another one spoke, lower this time. "That’s what makes them dangerous."

“...the seal won’t hold forever...”

“...before the eclipse.”

"...if either of them remembers—"

You and Draco exchange a curious glance. Not learn, remember.

The breeze died again, swallowing the next several sentences. Frustration prickled at you as the voices became little more than indistinct murmurs. Then the wind returned. The sentence vanished into the night. You leaned forward ever so slightly, trying to hear. Across the lake, one of the cloaked figures slowly turned their head. Your breath caught. For one terrifying moment, it felt as though they were looking directly at you.

Draco's hand found yours instinctively, giving it a firm squeeze. “Don't move.”

You hardly breathed. The Keeper scanned the shoreline for another long moment before turning back toward the others.

“...the journal...”

You snap your neck to look at each other but Draco’s already looking, eyes wide.

"...should've destroyed it years ago..."

"...the castle wouldn't allow—"

"...we cannot allow history to repeat itself."

Another gust scattered the final words across the lake.

"...not this time."

The meeting appeared to be ending. One by one, the cloaked figures extinguished their lanterns. Darkness swallowed them. Within seconds, they had disappeared into the trees as though they'd never been there at all. Neither of you spoke immediately.

Only once several moments had passed did Draco quietly exhale. You turned to him expecting him to have the right words to say. He kept his eyes fixed on the opposite shore. His jaw was tight. The comfortable evening you had set out to enjoy suddenly felt like a lifetime ago. Somewhere in the darkness across the lake, they had confirmed two things neither of you could ignore. They knew who you were, and they’re still actively trying to stop you.

And whatever was coming...it would happen before the eclipse.

Neither of you moved. The ripples on the Black Lake slowly settled, erasing the last trace of where the lantern light had danced across the water. Draco's hand was still wrapped around yours. Neither of you seemed to notice.

Finally, you swallowed. "...Did we actually hear that?"

He let out a slow breath through his nose, his eyes never leaving the opposite shoreline. "I wish we hadn't."

The words hung between you. You looked back toward the trees where the Keepers had disappeared. It was impossible to tell where they had gone now. The darkness had swallowed them completely.

“They definitely haven’t stopped keeping a close eye on us.” You remarked, hugging your knees close to your chest.

“I figured they’d back off if we tried to go back to normal for a while. Make it seem like we were disinterested.” He runs his hand through his hair.

“Men in a strange cult like group that are protecting a Hogwarts secret are likely smarter than that.” You retort.

A quiet scoff escapes him. "I suppose I was giving us too much credit."

"No," you say, your eyes drifting back to the opposite shore. "I think you were hoping."

Draco doesn't answer immediately. After a moment, he nods once. "Maybe."

The admission surprises you. Draco rarely admitted when he was wrong, and even more rarely admitted when he'd been optimistic. You watch the reeds sway along the edge of the lake. Finally, Draco pushes himself to his feet, brushing the grass from his robes before offering you a hand. "We're not going to learn anything else sitting here."

You look at his outstretched hand before slipping yours into it. He pulls you effortlessly to your feet. For a brief moment, neither of you lets go. The lake stretches silently behind you, as calm as ever, betraying nothing of the conversation you'd just overheard.

"We should head back," Draco says quietly. "If they've finished their meeting, there's no telling how long it'll be before they start moving around the grounds."

You nod in agreement, though your thoughts remain fixed on the fragments you'd heard carried across the water.

"Before the eclipse."

“The seal won't hold forever.”

"If either of them remembers..."

As you and Draco begin the walk back toward the warmly lit silhouette of Hogwarts, one unsettling thought refuses to leave you. They weren't simply watching to see what you would do next. They were waiting. The only question was...for what?

The castle gates creaked softly behind the two of you, shutting out the cool evening air. Inside, Hogwarts felt almost unnaturally warm after the chill by the lake. The Entrance Hall was nearly empty now, except for a handful of portraits murmuring amongst themselves and the distant echo of footsteps somewhere above.

Your footsteps carried you across the worn stone floor. Draco finally glanced sideways at you. “What are you thinking about?”

You gave the truthful answer. "I keep thinking about what they said."

"So do I." A silence stretches between you.

The staircases ahead shifted lazily into new positions with their familiar groan.

"They weren't talking like we were students," you murmured. "They were talking like..." You frowned.

Draco finished the thought quietly. "...like we've already done this."

The words settled over both of you. Neither of you knew why they felt true.

“What do you think they meant about remembering?” As if the castle was answering the question for you, you suddenly had an urge to turn towards the staircase.

Draco frowned. "I thought you were going to the dungeons."

You stopped. "So did I." You looked up at the staircase. It led toward the fourth floor. You had no reason to be going there. Yet something inside you insisted you should. A strange pull settled in your chest. Almost...Recognition. You frowned harder. "I don't know why I walked this way."

Draco studied you for a long moment. "...Neither do I."

He looked past you. "I was just about to tell you that the staircase usually moves before you step on it."

You blinked. "What?"

"It..." He shook his head. "Forget it."

"No, what?"

He stared at the stairs. "I knew it wouldn't move."

"...How?"

"I don't know."

Neither of you laughed. You slowly climbed the staircase anyway. Not because either of you expected to find anything. Because turning around somehow felt...Wrong. The corridor at the top was empty. Moonlight spilled through the tall windows, painting pale rectangles across the stone floor. You walked several paces before your breathing caught.

"...Draco."

He stopped beside you. "What?"

You were staring at one particular stretch of wall. "I've..." Your fingers brushed the cold stone. "I've stood here before."

"I don’t think we’ve ever been on this corridor."

"I know." Your voice came out barely louder than a whisper. "But I know..." You closed your eyes. Just for an instant—A flash. Warm candlelight. Students rushing past. Laughter echoing down the corridor. The banners weren't the same. The suits of armor looked newer. Someone beside you—A boy. Silver-blond hair. Not Draco. Not exactly. Older clothes. His hand brushed yours. The feeling vanished as quickly as it came. You gasped softly, opening your eyes. The corridor was empty again.

Draco was already staring at you with heavy concern. "What just happened, are you alright? You look like you’re about to pass out."

You swallowed. "I..." You hesitated. "It wasn't a memory. It felt..." You searched for the word. "...borrowed."

Draco's face had gone pale. He slowly lifted one hand to his temple. "I think..." He looked at you. "I think I did too."

"What did you see?" He was quiet. "A corridor."

You stared. "This corridor?"

He nodded once. "But it wasn't..." He looked around. "...like this."

Neither of you spoke. Because for the first time since finding the journal... Neither of you felt like you were uncovering someone else's story. It felt as though pieces of it...Already belonged to you.



The realization settled between you, quiet and unnerving. Almost instinctively, you turned back toward the stretch of wall where you'd stopped. It looked entirely ordinary now. Cold stone. Faded tapestries. A suit of armor standing motionless beneath an arched window. Nothing about it should have felt familiar. Yet your chest tightened as though you'd returned to a place you hadn't seen in years. Without thinking, your fingertips brushed against the stone. The instant they did—A sharp breath caught in your throat. Laughter. Not yours. Not quite.

The corridor flooded with warm candlelight for only the briefest heartbeat. Students hurried past carrying armfuls of books. Robes brushed against your shoulders as though you stood in the middle of the crowd.

Someone said your name. Not your name. Another one. Softly. Affectionately. "Eleanor." The vision vanished. You stumbled back a step.

Draco caught your elbow before you lost your balance. "Hey." His voice pulled you back. You blinked rapidly, trying to steady your breathing. "It’s okay, I’ve got you."

You opened your mouth. Nothing came out. "I..." You pressed a hand against your temple. "Someone..." Your heartbeat thundered in your ears making it hard to get a grip on the reality around you. "I heard someone."

He frowned. "What did they say?"

You closed your eyes, trying desperately to pull the sound back before it slipped away. "It was a name."

"What name?"

"...I don't remember." Even as you said it, frustration twisted in your stomach. You had known it. You were certain of it. For one perfect moment, it had felt as familiar as your own. Now it was gone.

Draco was still watching you with quiet concern. "I heard something too."

"You did?" He nodded. "It wasn't words."

"What was it then?"

"A feeling."

His answer surprised even him. He looked away toward the window overlooking the grounds.

"I knew..." He frowned. "I knew someone was beside me, I could feel them." He shook his head slowly. His voice was quieter now. “It felt like you.”

Neither of you realized you had begun walking again. Your footsteps echoed softly through the corridor. "I don't understand," you admitted.

"Neither do I."

"But it felt..." You struggled to explain something that barely made sense inside your own head. "...important."

"It did."

The silence returned. Not because there was nothing left to say. Because there was too much. As you descended the next staircase, you found yourself studying the portraits lining the walls. Every face. Every frame. Every stretch of ancient stone. You weren't looking for clues anymore. You were looking for recognition. And, every so often... Something looked back. Not literally. Just a strange pull in your chest. A portrait of an unfamiliar witch made you pause for no reason you could explain. A cracked stone archway felt oddly comforting. Even the scent of old parchment drifting from a nearby classroom stirred something you couldn't quite reach. You caught yourself slowing.

Draco noticed immediately. "What?"

You glanced around the corridor.

"I keep expecting to know where I'm going."

He stared. "...I've been feeling the same thing."

The admission sent another chill through you. Neither of you had spoken the thought aloud until now, yet somehow, you'd both been carrying the same strange feeling since leaving the lake.

Draco studied you for a long moment. The color had drained from your face, and your eyes seemed distant, as though part of you was still searching for something just beyond your reach.

His expression softened with concern.

"Come on," he said quietly, placing a gentle hand around your forearm. "Let's get you back to your dorm. You don't look well."

You opened your mouth to protest, but the dull ache building behind your eyes made the effort feel pointless.

"We can figure this out tomorrow," he continued. "Right now, you need some rest."

You nodded, too mentally exhausted to argue, and allowed him to guide you toward the dungeons. Neither of you spoke as you walked. The silence no longer felt companionable, but contemplative. Both of you were lost in thoughts you couldn't quite make sense of.

Neither of you noticed the castle responding. Far above, somewhere deep within Hogwarts, ancient stone shifted with a low, almost imperceptible groan. It wasn't loud enough for wandering students to hear, nor distinct enough to draw attention. But beneath your feet... The floor trembled ever so slightly. A single, steady pulse. Almost...Like a heartbeat.

Authors Note: hope you enjoyed chapter 10! it’s a bit short. sorry for the delay, i’ve been really busy with school recently. i will be continuing this until the end, just bare with me as i navigate my studies.

Whispers In The Walls

Chapter 9: A Different Kind of Chase

Pairing: Draco Malfoy x F!Reader

Type: Series

Genre: Fluff, angst, romance, mystery

Chapters: 1-10

Word Count: 5,200

Summary: As you begin your sixth year at Hogwarts, your life revolves around academics, ambition, and staying far away from Draco Malfoy—your longtime rival and the bane of your existence since the day you met. When Professor McGonagall assigns a year-long research project on forgotten Hogwarts history, you’re horrified to learn that the pairs have already been chosen—and you’ve been partnered with Draco.

Forced to work together, the two of you uncover a dark mystery hidden deep within the castle’s past. As ancient secrets come to light, it becomes clear that Hogwarts itself may have chosen you both for a reason. Drawn into a web of hidden magic, long-buried truths, and dangerous discoveries, you begin to see a side of Draco you’ve never known. What starts as a reluctant partnership soon becomes something far more complicated in this enemies-to-lovers story filled with mystery, magic, and romance.

Disclaimer: Feedback/criticism are both welcomed and appreciated! Want to be added to the taglist? Let me know!

Since you and Draco had decided to lay low for a few days until you found out more information about the strange men that had threatened you, life almost had seemed to turn back to normal. You were back on a regular sleep schedule, attending classes, studying for N.E.W.T.s, and hanging out with Poppy every chance you got. It felt refreshing to take a break from all of the stress of the mystery.

It was strange how quickly you settled back into your familiar rhythm. The corridors filled with the usual chatter between classes, students complaining about essays they had put off until the last minute, Peeves causing chaos wherever he could, and the comforting smell of fresh bread drifting from the Great Hall every evening. For the first time in what felt like forever, you found yourself laughing more than you were looking over your shoulder.

Almost. Every now and then, your eyes would linger on an unfamiliar face for a second too long. Every shadow in an empty corridor still made your heart skip. And whenever you passed the route that you and Draco would take after curfew to get to the secret passage, you couldn't help but glance at it before forcing yourself to keep walking.

“Lay low,” you'd remind yourself.

No secret passages. No late-night investigations. No sneaking around with Draco. As much as neither of you wanted to admit it, the warning had worked.

The library was unusually quiet that afternoon. You were buried beneath a mountain of books for Advanced Charms when someone dropped into the chair across from you.

“Looks like you’ve easily found your way back to your natural habitat,” Draco drawled quietly.

You didn't even bother looking up. "I never imagined you'd voluntarily spend your free time in a library."

"I'm here under protest. My father insisted good grades build character."

“Yeah...” You peered up at him over the top of the pages of your book. “Character was never your strongest subject.”

He placed a hand dramatically over his chest. “You’ve wounded me.”

“And somehow you’ll survive.”

He smirked at you from across the table. Silence settled between you again as you returned to your studying. You could feel his eyes watching you.

Without lifting your head, you sighed, “Is there something I can help you with?”

"I have a question."

"Should I be worried?"

"Probably not."

That wasn't reassuring coming from him. You looked up. His expression was oddly hesitant. Not nervous exactly, just uncertain.

"You know Gryffindor's playing Slytherin tomorrow."

"I've heard."

"It should be entertaining." He said eagerly.

"You fly, don't you?"

"I do."

"As in..."

He looked mildly offended. "As in I'm one of the Chasers."

You blinked. "You've never mentioned that."

"You never asked."

"So why are you telling me now?" You ask curiously.

For just a moment, he looked almost awkward. "I thought..." He rubbed the back of his neck. "...you might want to come."

Your eyebrows lifted. "To the match?"

"If you haven't anything better to do." The attempt at sounding casual fooled absolutely no one.

"You want me to come watch you play?"

"I wouldn't phrase it quite so embarrassingly. I'm beginning to regret asking."

A grin tugged at your lips. "So, you are asking?"

He sighed dramatically. "Yes, I am."

You folded your arms. "Say please."

His eyes widened. "You cannot be serious."

"Oh, I absolutely am."

"I invited you, that should be enough."

"It isn't."

He stared at you for several long seconds. "I have faced Hungarian Horntails with less dignity."

"You've never faced a Hungarian Horntail."

"No, but I imagine this is comparable."

You simply waited. Finally—"...Please."

You blinked and raised a hand to your ear. "I didn't quite hear that."

His jaw dropped. "I refuse to repeat myself."

"Then I guess I’m busy."

Draco pinched the bridge of his nose. "...Please come watch the match."

You couldn't help laughing. "I'd love to."

His expression relaxed immediately, though he tried very hard to hide how pleased he looked. He paused before adding more quietly, "It would be... nice having someone in the stands who's cheering for me instead of hoping I fly into a goalpost."

You looked at him. The teasing had disappeared from his voice. It wasn't a grand confession. It wasn't romantic. It was honest. "You'll have at least one person cheering for you," you said softly.

His eyes met yours. "Good."

Neither of you spoke for a few seconds. The library suddenly felt much smaller. Until—

"AHEM."

Both of you almost jumped out of your chairs. Madam Pince stood beside your table with narrowed eyes. "This is a library."

Draco looked genuinely confused. "We've been whispering."

"You've been smiling."

"...Is that prohibited?"

"It becomes suspicious after five consecutive minutes."

You quickly bit back a laugh. "Sorry, Madam Pince."

She gave the two of you one last skeptical look before gliding away.

The moment she disappeared down the aisle, Draco leaned closer. "I believe she thinks we're plotting something."

"We usually are."

"...That's actually a fair point."

For a heartbeat, the reminder of the mystery settled over both of you. The memories. The journal. The Veiled Wing. Everything waiting for you once this brief return to normal was over.

Draco noticed your expression change. "We'll figure it out," he said quietly.

The certainty in his voice eased the knot in your stomach. You nodded.

"But not today." He smiled.

"You have to prepare for the important task of admiring my exceptional flying."

You rolled your eyes. "I'll be judging it critically. And you'd better not lose."

He stood from the table, "I don't intend to."

As he started toward the library doors, he glanced back over his shoulder. "Oh, and one more thing."

"What?"

"If anyone asks..." He smirked. "...you're only there because Poppy made you."

You laughed. "And if Poppy asks?"

"I'll deny everything."

With that, he disappeared through the doors, leaving you shaking your head. Somehow, despite the danger waiting just beneath Hogwarts' ancient stones, despite the unanswered questions and the men who had warned you to stop digging, life had found a way to feel ordinary again. You knew it wouldn't last. But as tomorrow approached, you found yourself thinking less about hidden truths and more about a certain Slytherin Chaser who was pretending he didn't care whether you came to watch.

The rest of the afternoon passed in a blur of parchment, quills, and half-finished notes. Though if you were being honest with yourself, very little of your attention had stayed on Advanced Charms. Every few minutes your mind drifted back to the conversation in the library.

“You'll have at least one person cheering for you.”

You frowned at your textbook. It wasn't that you regretted saying it. It was the fact that you meant it. Entirely.

The next morning, you found Poppy exactly where you expected her to be. She was perched on the windowsill outside Herbology, balancing a pumpkin pasty on one knee while hurriedly finishing an essay that was due in precisely six minutes.

"You're going to get crumbs all over your parchment," you observed.

Without looking up, she brushed the page with the side of her hand. "There."

"...You brushed more crumbs onto it."

"It adds personality."

"I don't think Professor Sprout grades personality."

"She should."

You laughed, leaning against the stone beside her. For a moment, neither of you spoke. Students streamed past on their way to class, filling the corridor with conversation.

You cleared your throat. "So..."

Poppy's quill stopped moving. You immediately regretted beginning with so as it made the question feel suspicious. She looked up slowly. "...What?"

"I was just wondering...if you wanted to go to the Quidditch match with me today. I figured it might be fun."

Silence. Poppy blinked once. Then twice. “You want to go to a Quidditch match?”

“...Yes.”

“The last one you got dragged to you brought a novel and read the whole time. You didn’t even know who won.”

“The novel was right at the good part... and I heard about it afterwards.”

She narrowed her eyes. “Who’s playing?”

“Gryffindor.”

“...And?”

“Slytherin.”

"And this has absolutely nothing to do with a certain blond Slytherin you've been spending an alarming amount of time with?"

You blinked. “No.”

She tilted her head. “You’ve just overnight developed a love for sports.”

“Just thought it would be fun for us to get away from schoolwork for little while. Refresh our minds.”

“Hm.” She sets aside her essay and folds her arms. “So, Draco invited you to come?”

Your stomach dropped. You thought you had been doing a good job at being nonchalant. “No, he didn’t.”

“I’m not buying it. Last term you described Quidditch as, and I quote, 'organized aerial chaos.'"

“It still basically is.”

“But now you just desperately want to watch Slytherin play?”

“I never said I was desperate. I was just asking.”

She smiled knowingly. "You like him."

Heat rushed to your face. "I tolerate him."

"You tolerate him enough to voluntarily watch him fly around for two hours."

"I'm supporting... Hogwarts athletics."

Poppy burst into laughter. "Hogwarts athletics?"

"It sounded better in my head."

She hopped down from the windowsill.

"So, let me get this straight...Draco Malfoy invited you to his Quidditch match and—”

You cut her off. "He merely... suggested I attend."

"And you didn't just tell me that because..."

"I knew you'd react exactly like this."

"You were absolutely right. When are you going to realize you can’t get away with lying to me?" She looped her arm through yours as the two of you began walking toward Herbology. "You know this means I have front-row seats to watching you pretend not to care every time he scores."

"I won't even look at him."

"You'll only look at him."

"I'll watch the Quaffle."

"You don't even know which one the Quaffle is."

You hesitate. "...The red one."

Poppy's eyebrows shot up. "...I actually wasn't expecting you to know that."

You smiled smugly. "I've learned things."

“No, you’ve been studying the logistics of the game so that you know what’s going on today.”

You both couldn’t help but to laugh. Maybe Poppy was suspicious. Maybe she saw far more than you wanted her to. But for the first time since everything with the mystery had begun, the conversation wasn't about hidden wings or ancient secrets. It was about something wonderfully, embarrassingly normal. And somehow that felt exactly like what you needed.

Match time arrived with clear skies and a crisp autumn breeze that swept across the castle grounds. The entire school seemed to be heading in the same direction. Students poured out of the front doors in waves, scarves in house colors wrapped around their necks as conversations buzzed excitedly around you. Green and silver banners fluttered from the towers opposite flashes of scarlet and gold, and somewhere ahead someone had already started chanting Slytherin's victory song—only to be drowned out by an equally loud group of Gryffindors.

Poppy nudged your shoulder as the two of you followed the crowd down the winding path. "I forgot how much Hogwarts treats Quidditch like a national holiday."

"You mean a civil war."

"Essentially."

You smiled, watching first-years race ahead in excitement. It had been years since you'd actually looked forward to coming to a match. The Quidditch pitch rose from the ground ahead of you, towering stands surrounding the emerald field. The three golden goal hoops at either end glinted in the morning sun while dozens of enchanted banners floated overhead, weaving lazily through the sky. The roar of the crowd only grew louder as you climbed the stairs into the stands.

"We should sit somewhere around the middle," Poppy said, scanning the rows. "High enough to actually see what's happening."

"As though either of us knows what's happening."

"You know the red one's the Quaffle now."

"I've expanded my knowledge considerably."

She laughed. "You've become practically an expert."

After weaving through rows of students already waving flags and arguing over predictions, the two of you found two empty seats near the center of the stands. It was almost the perfect view. From here, you could see the entire pitch. The Slytherin team was already circling overhead, warming up with effortless precision. Seven figures streaked through the sky in green robes. Your eyes searched instinctively.

"There," Poppy said before you even spoke. She had noticed him.

Draco flew with an ease that almost made it look effortless, banking sharply around one of the goal hoops before passing the Quaffle cleanly to another Chaser. His broom responded instantly to every movement, as though it knew exactly where he wanted to go before he did. You'd never actually seen him fly before. He looked different. Confident. Relaxed. Like this was somewhere he completely belonged.

"He's good," you admitted quietly.

Poppy smirked. "I wasn't going to say anything."

The whistle shrieked. Madam Hooch stepped into the center of the pitch, broom tucked beneath one arm as both teams landed opposite one another. The stadium erupted.

The commentator's magically amplified voice boomed through the air. "And welcome everyone to today's match—Slytherin versus Gryffindor!”

Cheers exploded from every section of the stadium. "The captains shake hands—rather reluctantly—and..." Madam Hooch released the balls. "...they're off!"

Fourteen players shot into the air at once.

The Quaffle was snatched almost immediately by a Gryffindor Chaser, who sped toward the Slytherin hoops.

"They're fast," you murmured.

"Really fast," Poppy replied.

The pace was almost impossible to follow. The Quaffle darted between players as Beaters sent Bludgers hurtling across the pitch. One narrowly missed a Ravenclaw spectator, earning startled laughter from the crowd before curving harmlessly back into play.

Then Draco intercepted. He swooped beneath the Gryffindor Chaser, stole the Quaffle cleanly with one hand, and accelerated down the field. The Slytherin section exploded.

"Oh!" You exclaimed before you could stop yourself.

Poppy looked sideways. "What?”

“He nearly fell off his broom."

"He clearly didn't.”

“He recovered."

"You sound impressed."

"I'm... objectively evaluating his flying."

"Objectively."

Draco feinted left. The Gryffindor Keeper followed. At the last second he threw right. The Quaffle sailed cleanly through the far hoop. The green stands erupted.

"Slytherin scores!"

The noise was deafening. Without realizing it, you'd risen halfway out of your seat with everyone else.

Poppy noticed. "So much for objectivity."

You sat back down. "I got caught up in the atmosphere."

"Mm-hm."

The game continued at a relentless pace. Back and forth. Goal after goal. Gryffindor answered quickly. Then Slytherin again. The crowd gasped every time a Bludger came dangerously close to knocking someone from their broom. At one point, Draco twisted nearly upside down to avoid one, drawing an appreciative roar from the stands.

You caught yourself smiling. "He enjoys showing off," you muttered.

"I think someone enjoys watching him show off."

"I heard that."

"I wanted you to."

As the match wore on, the score remained close. The Seekers had almost disappeared from sight, tiny figures scanning the skies far above the stadium. You had nearly forgotten about them.

Until—"There!" The commentator shouted. "I think both Seekers have spotted the Snitch!"

Every head tilted upward. Two tiny figures suddenly dove from opposite ends of the pitch. The stadium collectively held its breath.

"They're diving towards it!"

The golden Snitch flashed briefly in the sunlight. It zigzagged wildly toward the lower end of the stadium. The Gryffindor Seeker was closer.

"So that's the Snitch?" You asked.

"The little gold blur," Poppy answered without taking her eyes off the chase. “It'll end the match."

The crowd screamed. The Gryffindor Seeker stretched out a hand—Missed. The Snitch shot sharply sideways. Straight across the pitch. For just a heartbeat, your attention drifted downward. Draco had paused near midfield after the whistle signaling the Seekers' chase. He looked up toward the stands. Toward you. His eyes found yours almost instantly. Even from this distance, you recognized the familiar, almost imperceptible smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. Small and quick. Like a secret shared across an entire stadium. Without thinking, you smiled back. Then he gave the tiniest nod before turning his attention back to the match.

Beside you, Poppy slowly turned her head. "...Did he just smile at you?"

You kept your eyes fixed firmly on the pitch. "I don't know what you're talking about. I'm watching the game."

"He smiled...at you."

"You can't possibly know that from this far away."

Heat crept into your cheeks. Before Poppy could tease you any further—"The Snitch!"

The stadium erupted. Both Seekers rocketed across the center of the pitch, neck and neck. The tiny golden ball darted toward the Slytherin goalposts before suddenly shooting upward. The Slytherin Seeker pulled sharply into the climb. The Gryffindor Seeker followed a fraction too late. Higher. Higher. Then—The Slytherin Seeker thrust an arm forward. His fingers closed around something that glittered brilliantly in the sunlight.

"I've got it!" He exclaimed.

The commentator practically screamed. "Slytherin has caught the Golden Snitch! Slytherin wins!"

The final whistle echoed across the grounds. Green and silver exploded throughout the stadium as the Slytherin stands erupted into deafening cheers. Students leapt to their feet. Scarves waved overhead. The Slytherin players circled the pitch triumphantly while the Seeker held the tiny Golden Snitch high above his head. Draco threw both arms into the air, laughing as one of his teammates nearly tackled him off his broom in celebration. You found yourself laughing too. It was impossible not to. The excitement was contagious.

"I forgot how entertaining Quidditch is," you admitted.

Poppy wasn't looking at the celebrating team. She was looking at you. "You've got that look."

"What look?"

"The one."

"I don't have a look."

"The 'I accidentally like someone and I'm trying very hard not to admit it' look."

You groaned. "I came here to watch Quidditch."

"You came here because Malfoy invited you."

"He suggested it."

"Right...I forgot the minor details."

Poppy grinned as the victorious Slytherin team landed on the pitch below. "So..." She bumped your shoulder. "...Think he'll come looking for a certain someone after the celebrations?"

You tried to hide the flutter of anticipation that settled in your chest. "I doubt it."

But you weren't nearly as certain as you sounded.

The celebration on the pitch only seemed to grow louder. The Slytherin team had barely touched the ground before they were swallowed by a sea of green and silver. Students flooded through the gates surrounding the pitch, cheering, clapping teammates on the back, and trying to congratulate anyone wearing a Slytherin uniform. You and Poppy lingered in the stands for a few moments, waiting for the worst of the crowd to clear.

"I forgot how impossible it is to leave after these things," Poppy said, peering down at the mass of students bottlenecked near the exits.

"They're celebrating like they've won the Quidditch World Cup."

"They might as well have."

The two of you laughed before finally joining the slow-moving stream of students descending the stone steps. By the time you reached the bottom of the stands, it was nearly impossible to see more than a few feet in front of you. Students squeezed past one another in every direction. Someone bumped your shoulder. Another nearly stepped on the hem of your robes.

"I've lost all sense of direction," you muttered.

"We just follow the crowd," Poppy replied.

"That sounds dangerous."

"It probably is."

Across the pitch, Draco barely heard a word his teammates were saying. Someone had shoved the Golden Snitch into the Seeker's hands for another round of photographs. Another teammate was enthusiastically recounting the final minutes of the match. Draco nodded absentmindedly at all the appropriate moments. His attention was somewhere else entirely. His eyes swept across the stands.

Where are you? He'd seen you. Just before the Seeker caught the Snitch. You'd smiled at him, he was almost certain you had. The thought had stayed with him through the entire celebration. Now...you were gone. He frowned. The stands were emptying quickly. Students poured down the staircases toward the exits. Without really thinking about it, he excused himself from the group.

"Malfoy!" one of the Beaters called. "Where are you going?"

"I'll be back."

"You've got a victory photo!"

"I'll survive missing one."

He didn't wait for another question.

You and Poppy had just reached the path leading back toward the castle when someone wearing enormous green-and-silver face paint crashed into another student directly in front of you. The entire crowd stalled.

"Brilliant," Poppy sighed. "We're trapped."

The line crawled forward a few inches before stopping again. You glanced back toward the pitch. Most of the players were still surrounded by students asking for congratulations. You couldn't make out any individual faces anymore.

"He probably has hundreds of people talking to him," you thought aloud.

Poppy gave you a sideways look. "Who?"

You immediately regretted saying it. "No one."

"Mm-hm."

Draco pushed through another group of celebrating students. "Sorry...Excuse me...Coming through."

Someone clapped him on the shoulder. "Brilliant match, Malfoy!"

"Thanks."

Another stopped him to congratulate him on his goal. He thanked them without slowing down. His eyes continued scanning the dense crowd for any sign of you. Red scarf. Not you. A group of Hufflepuffs. Not you. He walked farther around the perimeter of the pitch. Still nothing. His stomach tightened slightly.

You hadn't left already...had you? No. You'd said you'd come. Surely you wouldn't disappear without—"There you are!"

A sixth-year Slytherin grabbed his arm. "We've been looking everywhere for you mate!"

"I've been..." He looked over the student's shoulder anxiously scanning, but still not seeing you. "...busy."

"The captain wants the whole team."

"I'll be there in a minute."

"You said that five minutes ago."

"I know."

The student raised an eyebrow. "...Who exactly are you looking for?"

"No one."

"...Sure."

Draco hurried off before he could hear another word.

The crowd finally began moving again. You and Poppy made it another twenty yards before the flow of students split in different directions.

"Should we head back?" Poppy asked.

You hesitated. Your eyes drifted back toward the Quidditch pitch one last time. You weren't sure why. Maybe you had expected...no. That was silly. Draco would still be celebrating with his teammates. He certainly wasn't thinking about whether you'd already left.

"...Yeah," you said quietly. "We should go."

Draco jogged up the staircase leading into the Slytherin stands two steps at a time. The rows that had been overflowing with students less than fifteen minutes ago now sat almost empty. A forgotten scarf fluttered in the breeze. Someone had left behind a paper bag of sweets. But there was no sign of you. He stopped halfway up the stairs. For the first time all afternoon, genuine worry crept into his expression.

Had he imagined seeing you? No. Impossible. He knew he hadn't. He'd looked right at you. You'd smiled. A familiar voice interrupted his thoughts.

"Lost something?"

Draco turned. Theo Nott stood a few steps below him, arms folded with an infuriatingly amused smile.

"No."

Theo looked around the nearly deserted stands. "So you're searching empty seats... for no reason."

"I'm stretching my legs."

"By sprinting through the stadium after winning."

Draco exhaled through his nose. "I don't have time for this."

Theo's smile widened. "You're looking for her."

Silence. "I don't know who you're talking about."

"The girl you’ve been hanging around."

Draco didn't answer. Theo chuckled. "You've got it bad."

"I've got nothing."

Theo started back toward the pitch before pausing. "I think I saw her heading toward the castle a few minutes ago."

Draco's head lifted immediately, a glimmer of hope dancing in his eyes. "You did?"

Theo's grin became almost unbearable. "So, you were looking for her."

Draco realized his mistake a second too late. Theo laughed. "I'll see you at dinner, Malfoy."

Without another word, Theo disappeared down the stairs. He stood there for only a heartbeat. Then he turned toward the castle. If you hadn't left yet, maybe just maybe, he could still catch up to you before you disappeared through Hogwarts' front doors. He took off at a brisk pace down the path leading away from the Quidditch pitch, weaving around clusters of students still animatedly replaying the match.

"You should've seen that dive!"

"I swear the Gryffindor Keeper never even saw the pass coming!"

"Malfoy's goal was brilliant."

Normally, he would have basked in the compliments. Today, he barely heard them. His gaze swept over every face he passed. Not her. Not her. Not—A flash of familiarity. His heart jumped before the student turned around, revealing someone else entirely. He let out a quiet breath through his nose.

“Come on...” He thought to himself.

You and Poppy had nearly reached the stone bridge connecting the grounds to the castle. The excitement from the match had settled into comfortable conversation.

"I still can't believe you actually enjoyed yourself," Poppy teased.

"I didn't say that."

"You admitted Quidditch was entertaining."

"I said that match was entertaining."

"A distinction without much difference."

You smiled. "Maybe."

Poppy bumped your shoulder. "So--"

You cut her off. "You're going to ask why Draco looked at me."

"I was actually going to ask whether you noticed how you couldn't stop smiling after he scored."

You looked away. "I wasn't paying that much attention."

Poppy gave you a look that practically screamed liar.

Before she could say anything else, someone behind you called your name. Both of you turned.

Draco was jogging toward you across the bridge, his Slytherin robes still dusty from the match. The top button of his uniform undone, and his platinum hair—normally immaculate—had been tousled beyond saving by the wind. A faint flush still lingered across his cheeks from the exertion, and a few stray strands had fallen across his forehead. He looked nothing like the perfectly polished Slytherin you were used to seeing in the corridors. He looked effortless. Real. For some reason, it suited him. More than it probably should have. You quickly tore your eyes away before he noticed you'd been staring.

For a second, none of you spoke. He looked noticeably relieved. "You disappeared," he said, out of breath. Only now did you realize just how hard he'd been breathing. His chest still rose and fell a little faster than normal, evidence that he'd been hurrying all the way from the pitch. A faint sheen of sweat caught the afternoon sunlight at his temples. It occurred to you that he hadn't even bothered changing out of his Quidditch robes before coming after you.

A ridiculous thought crossed your mind. “He looks... good.” You frowned internally. “No. He looks tired.” Then your eyes betrayed you, lingering for the briefest moment on the sleeves rolled just enough to expose his forearms as he absentmindedly pushed his hair back. “...Perhaps both.” You blinked hard, mentally scolding yourself. “Get a grip.”

You blinked. "I..." You glanced toward the crowd behind him. "We were just walking back."

"I know." He ran a hand through his already-disheveled hair, only making it worse. "I went back to the stands and around the pitch, and then someone said you'd already left."

Poppy's eyes slowly moved from Draco...to you...and back again. A very knowing smile began to spread across her face.

"So," she said brightly, "you were looking for my friend."

Draco froze. "No."

Poppy raised an eyebrow. "You just told us you checked the stands."

"I happened to be nearby."

"You circled the entire stadium nearby?"

A faint pink crept across the tips of Draco's ears. "I merely wanted to know whether she..." He stopped himself.

Poppy waited. "Whether she...?"

"...enjoyed the match." He finished.

You couldn't help smiling.

"You chased us halfway back to the castle to ask that?"

"I was already walking this direction."

"Walking? You’re practically out of breath.”

“...Mostly walking.”

Poppy looked between the two of you before sighing dramatically. "I've suddenly remembered."

You frowned in confusion. "Remembered what?"

"I promised Professor Sprout I'd return a book that I borrowed."

"No you—”

She cut you off and stepped backward, grinning widely. "I'll meet you in the Great Hall." Before either of you could protest, she leaned closer to you and whispered just loudly enough for Draco to hear, "Try not to flirt too obviously."

Your eyes widened. "Poppy!"

She laughed all the way across the bridge, disappearing into the stream of students heading toward the castle. Silence settled between you and Draco.

He watched Poppy leave before muttering, "...I liked her better when she thought I was insufferable."

You laughed. "Oh, she still thinks you're insufferable."

"That’s comforting."

The two of you started walking toward the castle together, falling into step almost automatically. For a minute, neither of you spoke. The afternoon sun cast long shadows across the path, and the roar of the stadium had faded into a distant hum behind you.

From the corner of your eye, you caught another glimpse of him. Without the polished composure he usually carried, there was something unexpectedly rugged about him. The windblown hair, the sleeves pushed back from his forearms, the lingering flush from the match—it all made him seem less like the impeccably put-together Draco Malfoy everyone at Hogwarts knew and more like someone who had just poured every ounce of himself into something he loved. It was... unfairly attractive. You immediately wished your brain hadn't supplied that observation. He'd be absolutely unbearable if he ever found out.

Finally, you looked over at him. "So..."

He groaned. "What?"

"You won."

"Yeah, I was there."

"You played well."

He glanced sideways. "You mean that?"

"I do."

His expression softened in a way you hadn't seen before. "Thanks for coming."

"You asked."

"I wasn't sure you actually would."

"I’ve kept all my promises thus far."

"I know." He smiled to himself. "I still kept looking for you before the match started."

"You did?"

"I wanted to make sure you'd found a decent seat."

Your eyebrows lifted. "You could see us from the pitch?"

"Eventually. And then..." He hesitated, almost sheepish. "When I looked up after the Seekers spotted the Snitch..." He looked at you. "...I saw you smiling."

You felt warmth creep into your cheeks. "I was."

"I wasn't certain."

"You looked like you were having the time of your life out there."

A quiet laugh escaped him. "I was."

There was no arrogance in the admission. Just simple honesty. "I've been playing since I was little," he continued. "Everything else disappears when I'm flying."

You looked at him for a moment. "I think I understand that."

He tilted his head. "How?"

"You looked..." You searched for the right word. "Free."

He was quiet. No one had ever described Quidditch to him that way before. Not exciting. Not competitive. Free. He looked ahead again, a small smile lingering on his face. "I think that's my favorite compliment anyone's ever given me."

Neither of you noticed the figure standing in one of the castle's tall windows overlooking the bridge. Watching. Waiting. The moment you disappeared beneath the archway, the figure quietly stepped back into the shadows.

Normal life at Hogwarts had returned. Or at least, it wanted you to believe it had.

Authors Note: Hope you enjoyed chapter 9! <3 Word heavy, it’s just a lot of dialogue. Also might start including more switches between “you” and Draco’s POV! Let me know what you think!

Whispers In The Walls

Chapter 8: Butterbeer and Breathing Room

Pairing: Draco Malfoy x F!Reader

Type: Series

Genre: Fluff, angst, romance, mystery

Chapters: 1-10

Word Count: 5,150

Summary: As you begin your sixth year at Hogwarts, your life revolves around academics, ambition, and staying far away from Draco Malfoy—your longtime rival and the bane of your existence since the day you met. When Professor McGonagall assigns a year-long research project on forgotten Hogwarts history, you’re horrified to learn that the pairs have already been chosen—and you’ve been partnered with Draco.

Forced to work together, the two of you uncover a dark mystery hidden deep within the castle’s past. As ancient secrets come to light, it becomes clear that Hogwarts itself may have chosen you both for a reason. Drawn into a web of hidden magic, long-buried truths, and dangerous discoveries, you begin to see a side of Draco you’ve never known. What starts as a reluctant partnership soon becomes something far more complicated in this enemies-to-lovers story filled with mystery, magic, and romance.

Disclaimer: Feedback/criticism are both welcomed and appreciated! Want to be added to the taglist? Let me know!

The corridor inside Hogwarts feels different on the way back from the secret passage. Not physically—it’s still stone and torchlight and shifting shadows—but something in it has changed. The castle no longer feels like it is simply holding secrets. It feels like it is aware you’ve brushed against them. You and Draco walk in silence at first. Not the usual silence—sharp, argumentative, filled with unspoken challenges. This one is quieter. Like neither of you trusts what the other might say now that you’ve both seen what you’ve seen.

A torch sputters overhead as you turn a corner. Draco’s footsteps are slightly ahead of yours, then level with them again without comment. He hasn’t said anything since telling you that you needed to leave. Neither have you. You reach the junction that leads toward the upper staircases—toward the dormitories.

And that’s when you see them. Two figures stand just beyond the bend in the corridor. They’re not students. They don’t move like students. They don’t react like professors either. They simply are there, as if they’ve always been part of the architecture and only now decided to become visible. One of them steps forward slightly, robes dark enough to drink in the torchlight. The other remains half in shadow. “Out late,” the first says mildly.

Their voices are calm. Almost conversational. Draco stops immediately beside you. You don’t miss the way his posture shifts—not defensive exactly, but alert in a way that says he’s already recalculating every possible outcome.

“We were returning from the library,” you say quickly. A simple explanation that’s both believable and safe.

The second figure tilts their head slightly, as though considering you rather than your words. “After curfew,” they note.

It isn’t a question. Draco’s tone is smooth when he speaks, but there’s an edge beneath it now. “We lost track of time.”

A pause. The first figure lets out something like a quiet hum of acknowledgment. “Missed curfew is unfortunate,” they say. “But not uncommon.”

Their gaze drifts—briefly—to Draco. Then back to you. “We will overlook it this time.”

The words should feel like relief, but they don’t entirely. There’s something carefully placed inside them. A weight that doesn’t belong in a simple warning. Draco seems to sense it too. You can tell by the way his hand flexes once at his side, then stills again.

The figure continues, still calm. “Given your standing at Hogwarts… and your companion’s… well-known tendency to attract trouble, we will consider this an isolated lapse in judgment.”

Your stomach tightens slightly at the phrasing. Companion. Not his name, not student, but companion.

The second figure finally speaks, softer than the first. “Do try to avoid repeating it.”

There is no warmth in it. No threat spoken aloud, but it lands like one all the same.

A silence follows—just long enough to feel intentional. Then the first figure steps back half a pace, already retreating into the corridor’s shadow.

“Good evening,” they say politely.

As if nothing has happened. As if this is the end of it. As if you have simply been caught wandering too late and nothing more.

They turn, but just before they disappear fully into the dark, the first figure adds—lightly, almost absentmindedly, “Some doors are left closed for a reason.” Then they are gone. Their footsteps fade.

The torchlight around you flickers normally again. You stand frozen for a moment longer than you should because nothing about that interaction was normal.

Draco breaks the silence first, voice low, “…That wasn’t a prefect.”

You don’t look at him right away. “No, they knew where we had been,” you add quietly.

Draco’s gaze stays fixed on the empty corridor where they vanished. “Yeah,” he says. Another pause—heavier now, sharper. "And they weren’t really worried about curfew.”

That sits between you both. Cold, clean, and intentional. For the first time since all of this started, the mystery you’re uncovering doesn’t feel like something buried in the past. It feels like something that noticed you looking.

“Come on,” Draco says. “We better get back to our dorms.”

As you enter the Slytherin common room, the air feels comforting. A sense of relief washes over you and it’s almost as if you can leave what happened in the corridor, in the corridor. The room is empty. Only the low crackle of the fireplace breaks the silence. Green light from the lake beyond the windows drifts across the stone floor, shifting softly with the movement of the water outside. Every armchair sits abandoned. Every book left on the tables belongs to someone long asleep. For the first time all night, you realize just how exhausted you are.

Draco doesn’t immediately head for the boys’ dormitory staircase. Instead, he stops near the fireplace. You pause beside him. For several moments, neither of you says anything. Both of you are still listening. Waiting. Expecting the men to emerge from the shadows. But nothing happens. Only silence.

Draco stares into the fire. “No staff of Hogwarts threatens students like that over being out after hours.”

“They didn’t even take house points.”

“Exactly.”

The realization settles heavily between you. If they had truly cared about school rules, the conversation would’ve ended with detention. Instead, they had issued a warning. A very specific warning.

You lean against the back of a nearby armchair. “Who do you think they were?”

He exhales slowly. “I’ve been trying to figure that out since they disappeared.” He pauses for a moment. “I think they’ve been following us.”

The common room suddenly feels less comforting. Draco sinks into one of the armchairs. For once, he looks genuinely unsettled. Not frightened. He would rather choke than admit to fear. But unsettled. Which is somehow more alarming.

“They definitely know about what we’ve been up to.”

Your mind races through every secret meeting. The trip to the library, the Astronomy Tower, every conversation in empty corridors. Had someone been there? Watching? Listening? Waiting? The common room suddenly feels less comforting.

The fire pops softly. Then Draco leans forward, elbows resting on his knees. “The part that bothers me most isn’t that they found us.”

“What bothers you then?”

His eyes meet yours. “They weren’t surprised.”

You think back. The men had appeared almost as if they’d expected this moment. Expected someone to uncover the passage. Expected someone to start asking questions. Expected you.

“They’ve done this before,” you realize.

Draco nods. A chill crawls up your spine. Students before you. Students before them. People who got close to the truth. People who received the same warning. You suddenly think of Eleanor and Cassian. The names in the journal. The students who seemingly vanished from Hogwarts history.

Before tonight, the mystery had been exciting. The secret passage. The journal. Forgotten history. Now there are real people attached to it. People actively protecting whatever happened. People willing to threaten students to keep it buried. For a while, neither of you speaks. The fire continues to burn low.

Draco looks toward the green-lit windows overlooking the Black Lake before speaking again, his voice softer than before. “They wanted us scared.”

You follow his gaze. “Did it work?”

He considers the question. “…A little.”

The admission catches you off guard. Draco notices. “Don’t look so shocked.”

“I wasn’t expecting you to admit it.”

Draco rolls his eyes and stands from the chair. The movement startles you from your thoughts.

You study him for a second. “So what now?”

He finally looks at you. “Now we sleep.”

“And tomorrow?”

"Listen." His voice lowers again. "Until we know who they are...we trust no one." His expression hardens . "No one."

You nod slowly. Even Poppy. The thought stings. She was your best friend. If this secret society had existed for generations, there was no telling who had been brought into it—or whose families had been protecting it long before they ever arrived at Hogwarts. The idea makes your stomach turn.

Draco’s eyes meet yours. "We lay low for a few days.”

"You?"

"I know." He sighs dramatically. "It's mad to think that I’ll be able to stop myself from getting in trouble."

You can't help it. A small laugh escapes.

For a brief moment, neither of you moves. For the first time since the corridor, some of the tension eases. Just enough to breathe. Just enough to remember that despite everything the two of you are still here. Still searching for the truth. Still standing on the same side. And somehow, as the firelight dances across the empty common room, that realization feels more significant than either of you is willing to admit.

“I just think it might get them off of our back for a while. They’re expecting us to not listen to their warning, to full force keep moving forward. If we take a minute to get more information about this whole thing, maybe it’ll give us the upper hand.” Then Draco gives a small incline of his head toward the girls’ staircase. “Try not to get kidnapped before breakfast.”

You let out a quiet laugh. “I’ll do my best.”

“I’d appreciate that.” His tone is dry, but there’s something genuine beneath it.

You catch it. He knows you do. Without another word, you turn toward your dormitory. Halfway to the stairs, you glance back. Draco is still standing exactly where you left him, watching the fire instead of climbing to bed.

As if, despite everything he’d just said, sleep is the last thing on his mind.

Morning light spills across the dorm in uneven strips, catching dust in the air like suspended gold. You wake slowly. Not rested—just pulled upward out of sleep you clearly fell into too late and too heavy. For a moment, you don’t remember why your body feels like it’s been carrying something all night. Then it comes back in fragments. Crystal spheres. Burned stone. Silence that wasn’t empty. Two figures in a corridor that smiled like warnings. Your eyes open fully. The bottom of the canopy that covers your bed is familiar and unchanged, it almost brings a sense of peace over you.

A knock at the door cuts through the haze. It opens before you fully sit up. Poppy steps inside, already mid-motion like she’s been moving all morning and has no intention of slowing down now. Her expression shifts when she sees you—just slightly.

“You’re still here,” she says, half-observing, half-judging. “Good. I thought you might’ve disappeared into whatever nightmare schedule you and Malfoy are running on.”

You sit up a little more properly, brushing hair from your face. “What time is it?”

“Late enough that I’ve already done half my day,” she replies, then exhales as if she’s deciding whether or not to continue. “I just finished meeting Crabbe for our research project.” That pulls you in more fully. Poppy watches your reaction carefully, then continues, almost casually. “He mentioned Malfoy.”

Your fingers pause slightly at the edge of the blanket. You don’t speak, but something in you already tightens. Poppy doesn’t seem to notice—or maybe she does and chooses not to acknowledge it directly. “He said he was looking for you,” she adds.

In a pause, the rest of it forms without her having to say it clearly. The way Draco would have gone to the library first. Then the common area. Then the corridors. The way he would have asked without asking—casual at first, then sharper. The way he would have stopped being Draco Malfoy for a moment and just become someone trying to locate you. Because of last night. Because of what you saw. Because of what you both now know is watching you. You realize, distantly, that you had slept through all of it.

Poppy continues speaking, but her voice feels slightly further away now. “Crabbe said he looked… irritated. Not in his usual way. More like—” she searches for the word briefly, then shrugs. “Like he didn’t like not knowing where you were.”

That lands heavily more than anything she’s said so far. Your gaze drops slightly as you process it, though your expression doesn’t fully change on the surface. Because it isn’t just concern that he’s showing, it’s urgency. And underneath that, something else you haven’t let yourself name yet.

Poppy is still talking about Crabbe’s confusion over Draco’s behavior, but you’re only half-catching it now. Poppy finishes with something like, “Anyway, I figured you’d want to know he’s been roaming around like that since early morning.” You finally meet her eyes again.

And in that moment, you understand something very clearly—not as spoken information, but as fact that your mind has already assembled for you. Draco isn’t just looking for you because of curiosity. He’s looking for you because last night didn’t end when you walked away from the corridor. It ends for him when he confirms that you’re safe. And until he does that, it hasn’t ended at all.

Draco finds you before you find him. It happens in one of the quieter corridors just off the main staircase—where the light is thinner, and the portraits watch more than they speak. You’re still half-awake in the way that comes from too little rest and too much thinking. Every sound feels slightly delayed, like the castle itself is moving a fraction behind you. Then you hear footsteps approaching you quickly. They have a certain amount of intention behind them. You barely turn before he’s there.

Draco stops so abruptly it’s almost like he ran into something invisible. For a second, he just looks at you. Not your usual exchange. Not sarcasm or argument or controlled indifference. Just looking. His expression tightens immediately—something sharp breaking through whatever composure he had been holding onto all morning. You open your mouth slightly, but no words come out fast enough to interrupt what happens next. Draco closes the space between you and suddenly pulls you into a hug. It isn’t careful or polite, it’s immediate—like a decision made too late to be reasonable and too important to stop.

For a second, you go still in complete surprise. Your hands don’t know where to go, caught between instinct and disbelief. Draco’s grip tightens just slightly, as if he needs to confirm you’re actually there and not another memory the castle is revealing. After a moment, your body relaxes—just slightly. Your hands lift, uncertain at first, then settle lightly against him. Not pulling away but also not pushing closer. Just… there. A grounding point. Draco doesn’t let go immediately. And in that silence, something shifts—not spoken, not defined—but unmistakably real.

Draco steps back only far enough to look at you properly. His hair is disheveled, his robes are a mess, and there are dark circles underneath his eyes. The stress of the morning seemed to have really taken a toll on him. His hands remain on your shoulders, as though letting go completely would somehow allow you to disappear again. "What happened?" He asks, searching your face. "Why didn't you come to breakfast?"

"I..." You blink, still trying to catch up with the fact that Draco had just hugged you. "I overslept."

He stares. "You... what?"

"I overslept, last night must’ve done more of a number on me then I had thought.”

He lets out a single, humorless laugh. "I've known you for six years and I don’t think you've ever overslept once."

"I suppose there's a first time for everything."

His jaw flexes. Instead of making one of his usual sarcastic remarks, he closes his eyes for a brief second, dragging a hand over his face. "You really frightened me." His admission lands between you with surprising weight.

His jaw tightens again. “I thought—” He stops but doesn’t finish. You understand what he was meaning despite the fact. The two mysterious men. The corridor. The way they spoke like warnings wrapped in politeness. The way they looked at you like you were something being measured. Draco steps closer without seeming to mean to. “I thought something had happened to you,” he says more quietly now. “After last night… and then you not being anywhere in the castle—” His voice cuts again, like he’s annoyed with himself for letting it slip this far. “You don’t disappear like that,” he adds, sharper, as if trying to regain control of the moment. “I thought they took you,” he says, low enough that it’s almost lost against your shoulder. “Or worse.”

There’s something unsteady in his voice now that he doesn’t bother hiding. Plain honesty that he didn’t manage to filter in time. The shock starts to fade, slowly, and what replaces it isn’t discomfort. It’s awareness. You notice how long he must have been searching for you. How last night didn’t leave either of you alone.

“I do owe you an apology, I didn’t mean any harm.” The guilt started hitting you. You didn’t mean to sleep in but also didn’t think of the repercussions it would have. You had really stumbled upon something serious now and the two of you are in this together.

“I think,” he says the panic finally lifting from his face. “We both deserve a break.”

“A break?” You question.

“Yeah, let’s go to Hogsmeade. I think we have both earned a couple of butter beers.”

“In the middle of the day?”

"Yeah, you slept half of it anyways. Might as well have some fun the rest." A faint smirk tugs at one corner of his mouth.

You can’t help but to let a small laugh escape from you. For the first time since your encounter with the strange men the night before, the knot in your stomach loosens. You smile at him and reluctantly nod. “Fine, let’s go.”

The moment you pass through Hogwarts' front gates, the castle seems to loosen its grip on your thoughts. The towering stone walls shrink behind you with every step, their countless windows glinting beneath a pale autumn sun. Somewhere high above, owls circle lazily over the battlements, while the giant squid occasionally disturbs the otherwise glassy surface of the Black Lake.

The path is busier than usual. Students spill down the winding trail in small groups, their laughter carrying easily on the cool breeze. Fourth-years race each other down the hill despite repeated warnings not to run. A pair of Ravenclaws argue animatedly over something in a textbook they insist on bringing with them. Several Hufflepuffs have somehow convinced themselves that tossing fallen leaves at one another is a perfectly acceptable way to spend the afternoon.

It feels... normal. Wonderfully, reassuringly normal. You hadn't realized how much you'd missed ordinary conversations that didn't revolve around hidden passages, disappearing students, or ancient journals.

A crisp breeze sweeps across the hillside, tugging at your robes and carrying the scent of damp earth, pine, and woodsmoke from the village below. The first hints of autumn have painted the trees surrounding the castle in warm shades of amber and crimson, and every gust sends another shower of leaves tumbling lazily across the path. You breathe a little deeper.

Beside you, Draco walks with his hands tucked into the pockets of his dark coat, his pace noticeably slower than usual. There isn't the sense of urgency that has followed the two of you since all this began. No constantly scanning corridors. No listening for approaching footsteps. No whispered theories exchanged every few minutes.

Every so often your shoulders brush as the path narrows. Neither of you moves away. It happens so naturally that after the third or fourth time, neither of you seems to notice anymore. You glance sideways at him.

The tension that's been permanently etched across his features these past several days has softened. His posture is less rigid, and although his expression remains thoughtful, there isn't the same guarded look behind his grey eyes.

He catches you looking. "What?"

You quickly face forward again, not able to come up with anything witty to say. "Nothing." You resist the urge to smile.

The conversation fades as easily as it began. Comfortable silence settles between you once more. It surprises you how easy silence has become. When the two of you first began investigating together, every quiet moment had been filled with suspicion. Someone always had another sarcastic remark waiting. Another challenge. Another reason to prove the other wrong. Now, silence simply means neither of you feels obligated to fill it.

As the village grows closer, the rooftops of Hogsmeade emerge between the trees. Thin curls of smoke drift lazily from crooked chimneys into the cool afternoon sky. The scent of fresh bread, cinnamon, and burning logs reaches you long before the buildings themselves. For the first time in what feels like forever, you find yourself thinking about something other than the mystery.

You wonder if Honeydukes has your favorite chocolate frogs back in stock. You wonder whether Zonko's has invented another ridiculous prank that will inevitably be banned by Filch. You wonder if Butterbeer will taste as good as you remember. It's strange how comforting those thoughts are.

You hear Draco exhale beside you. Not a sigh. More like someone unknowingly releasing tension they've been carrying for far too long. Without thinking, you glance toward him. He's looking ahead at the village. There's the faintest hint of a smile. Small enough that you might have missed it a month ago. Not anymore. Somewhere between late-night sneaks, secret passages, and arguments that somehow became conversations, you've learned to recognize the expressions he tries so hard to hide. You don't point it out. Instead, you simply enjoy seeing it.

The two of you cross the small stone bridge leading into the village, watching the water beneath it sparkle in the afternoon light. A group of younger students hurry past toward Honeydukes, practically bouncing with excitement. One nearly bumps into Draco before muttering a rushed apology and darting away again. He merely steps aside. No sarcastic comment. No irritated glare.

You raise an eyebrow. "You're unusually forgiving today."

"I considered tripping him."

"You did not."

He watches the younger student disappear into the crowd. "I decided today was too nice a day to ruin."

You look at him for a moment. "You're full of surprises."

"So I've been told."

The corner of his mouth lifts again. Just a little. You realize then that this is the first time you've seen him genuinely relaxed since the journal found its way into your hands. And somehow, seeing him smile feels just as rewarding as uncovering any secret hidden beneath Hogwarts.

Eventually, you continue down the street until the familiar wooden sign of The Three Broomsticks comes into view, swinging gently above the entrance. The windows glow amber against the cool afternoon, and through the glass you can see students crowded around polished wooden tables, mugs raised as laughter spills into the street each time the door opens.

Draco holds the door open before you can reach it. You pause. He notices you just staring at the door. "What?"

"You've become oddly polite today.”

"I was preventing the door from hitting you."

"How noble."

"I have my moments."

You smile as you step inside. Warmth immediately wraps around you. After the crisp autumn air outside, the tavern feels almost impossibly cozy. A roaring fireplace dominates one wall, filling the room with flickering golden light that dances across dark wooden beams overhead. The rich scent of butterbeer, cinnamon, roasted meat, and fresh bread hangs pleasantly in the air, while enchanted candles float lazily above the crowded tables. The windows have begun to fog from the warmth inside, softening the world beyond the glass into watercolor shapes of autumn color. Madam Rosmerta greets you with a warm smile before disappearing behind the bar.

You find an empty table tucked into a quiet corner near the fireplace. The chairs creak softly as you sit. For a while, neither of you says anything. You simply watch the room around you. A group of third-years excitedly compare the sweets they'd just bought from Honeydukes. An elderly wizard snores gently in the corner beside the fire, his hat tipped over his eyes. Two witches laugh over a game of exploding snap, narrowly avoiding a small burst of sparks. It's peaceful. Ordinary. Exactly what both of you needed.

A pair of steaming Butterbeers arrives a few moments later. You wrap your hands around the warm mug before taking your first sip. The familiar butterscotch sweetness spreads through you instantly, chased by a pleasant warmth that settles in your chest. You hadn't realized how tense you'd been until now.

Draco watches you over the rim of his own mug. "Worth the walk?"

You nod immediately. "Definitely."

"I knew it would be." He leans back in his chair, looking far more relaxed than you've seen him in days.

The shadows beneath his eyes are still there from too many late nights spent chasing clues, but they're softer now. For the first time since you met him in the Astronomy Tower weeks ago he doesn't look like someone carrying the weight of a mystery. Just a sixth-year student enjoying a Butterbeer with someone whose company he's begun to look forward to.

You realize, somewhat unexpectedly, that you're doing the same. Neither of you feels the need to rush back to Hogwarts. Neither of you mentions the two men. The journal remains tucked safely away in his dormitory. The hidden passage can wait. Today isn't about unanswered questions. It's about remembering that life still exists outside of them.

Outside, students continue wandering the streets of Hogsmeade beneath a sky streaked with pale autumn clouds. Inside, the fire crackles softly beside your table. You lean back in your chair, letting its warmth soak into your tired muscles. Across from you, Draco catches your eye. For a brief moment, neither of you speaks. Neither of you needs to.

The silence isn't empty anymore. Somehow, over the past few weeks, it has become one of your favorite parts of being around him.

The afternoon slips away without either of you noticing. At some point, the Butterbeers turn into a late lunch. The late lunch turns into wandering conversation. Conversation turns into simply watching the world go by from your quiet corner beside the fire. For a few precious hours, the mystery stays exactly where you left it—back at Hogwarts. Neither of you reaches for it. It feels... nice. Dangerously nice.

You only realize how much time has passed when the light pouring through the windows begins to change. The warm gold of afternoon gives way to the soft amber of early evening, stretching long shadows across the wooden floor.

You glance outside. "Oh no."

Draco follows your gaze. "What?"

"The sun."

He looks through the window before checking the old brass clock mounted above the bar. "...We've been here for nearly four hours."

You blink. "That can't be right."

"I wish it wasn't." You both laugh.

For a moment neither of you moves. The fire crackles softly beside your table, and somewhere across the room Madam Rosmerta laughs at something one of the older witches has said. It feels strangely difficult to leave. As though stepping back outside means stepping back into everything waiting for you at Hogwarts.

Eventually Draco stands, slipping a few Sickles onto the table. "We should go.”

You nod. "If we're late to dinner, people might actually start wondering where we've disappeared to."

"Yeah, I had enough people searching the castle for you today."

A sheepish smile finds its way onto your face. "I suppose one search party is enough."

"I'd certainly appreciate keeping it that way."

The evening air is cooler than it had been earlier. The warmth of the Three Broomsticks lingers only briefly before the autumn breeze settles around you once more. Lanterns lining the streets flicker to life one after another, their soft golden glow reflecting off the cobblestones as shopkeepers begin closing their doors for the evening.

The village feels calmer now. Families stroll home carrying parcels wrapped in brown paper. A pair of first-years hurry toward the castle, comparing the sweets they'd bought from Honeydukes. An elderly wizard tips his hat politely as he passes.

The path leading out of Hogsmeade opens before you, winding gently uphill toward the silhouette of Hogwarts. The castle looks different at this time of day. The setting sun paints the ancient stone walls with shades of gold, while the windows reflect the sky like scattered pieces of glass. Beyond it, the mountains are beginning to disappear beneath a thin veil of evening mist.

Neither of you hurries. There is no need. The comfortable silence that had settled between you earlier returns once again. Somewhere along the walk, your hands brush as your arms swing naturally at your sides. Then again. Neither of you comments. Neither of you intentionally changes course. You simply continue walking shoulder to shoulder. You find yourself studying the path instead of the castle ahead.

A few weeks ago, walking beside Draco Malfoy would've been the last place you imagined yourself. If someone had suggested the two of you would willingly spend an entire afternoon together you would've laughed. Probably rolled your eyes. Definitely called them insane. Yet here you were. Not because you had to be. Not because of the journal. Not because of the mystery. You'd stayed at the Three Broomsticks because neither of you had wanted the afternoon to end. The realization catches you off guard.

"So."

Draco's voice pulls you from your thoughts. "So?"

"I'm assuming you're going to tell everyone I spent the afternoon buying you Butterbeer."

"I hadn't planned on it."

"Hm."

"I was actually thinking of telling them you held the door open for me."

He groans dramatically. "My reputation...it'll never recover."

"I imagine the Daily Prophet will have something to say."

"Former menace displays basic manners."

You laugh. "I'd read that article."

The two of you continue up the hill, your laughter carried away by the breeze. By the time Hogwarts' gates come into view, the castle no longer feels quite as heavy as it had that morning. The mystery is still there. The journal still waits. The mysterious men are still somewhere within those ancient walls.

But for one afternoon you had remembered who you were before all of it. And somehow, as you pass through the gates beside Draco, you realize something else. The day hadn't simply been a break from the mystery. It had become one of your favorite memories. Not because of where you went. Or what you drank. Or even because you'd escaped the castle for a few hours. It was because, somewhere between the walk to Hogsmeade and the walk back being beside Draco had started to feel less like circumstance and more like home.

Authors Note: Hope you enjoyed chapter 8! <3

Whispers In The Walls

Chapter 7: Forbidden Magic

Pairing: Draco Malfoy x F!Reader

Type: Series

Genre: Fluff, angst, romance, mystery

Chapters: 1-10

Word Count: 4,050

Summary: As you begin your sixth year at Hogwarts, your life revolves around academics, ambition, and staying far away from Draco Malfoy—your longtime rival and the bane of your existence since the day you met. When Professor McGonagall assigns a year-long research project on forgotten Hogwarts history, you’re horrified to learn that the pairs have already been chosen—and you’ve been partnered with Draco.

Forced to work together, the two of you uncover a dark mystery hidden deep within the castle’s past. As ancient secrets come to light, it becomes clear that Hogwarts itself may have chosen you both for a reason. Drawn into a web of hidden magic, long-buried truths, and dangerous discoveries, you begin to see a side of Draco you’ve never known. What starts as a reluctant partnership soon becomes something far more complicated in this enemies-to-lovers story filled with mystery, magic, and romance.

Disclaimer: Feedback/criticism are both welcomed and appreciated! Want to be added to the taglist? Let me know! :)

You and Draco had agreed to meet again the next night. You decided to give yourself a day of rest to catch up on sleep and other schoolwork that you had to complete. With the journal's newest instruction pointing you back in the direction toward the hidden passage behind the boar statue, there was little debate about what came next. If the answers to The Veiled Wing lay buried within those memories, then the two of you would simply have to venture deeper than you had before.

You spent the next day in a blur. You endured Charms, stumbled through Herbology, and spent the afternoon buried beneath towering stacks of N.E.W.T. revision notes in the library. Every so often your concentration drifted, your quill hovering motionless above your parchment as your thoughts wandered back to the previous night. To the journal, the hidden passage, and Draco's memory.

You quickly forced yourself back to your work each time, reminding yourself that there would be plenty of time to think about all of it later. Right now, you had exams looming over your head, and unlike mysterious magical journals, N.E.W.T.s had very little patience for distraction. Dinner time came before you even knew it.

The warm glow of the Great Hall was almost take your mind off of your impending meeting with Draco as you sat down at the Slytherin table. Conversation buzzed all around you as plates filled themselves with roasted chicken, buttery potatoes, fresh bread, and steaming vegetables.

As you reached for a bread roll, your gaze wandered almost instinctively down the Slytherin table. There in the distance you see the unmistakable pale blond hair. Almost as though he could feel you looking, he glanced up. Your eyes met. Neither of you smiled or waved. Draco simply gave the smallest incline of his head. A silent question. Still on for tonight?

You lowered your eyes for a moment before looking back at him and giving an almost imperceptible nod. I'll be there.

Just as quickly, both of you returned your attention to your dinner. Anyone else would have missed the exchange entirely. Unfortunately...

"Stop it."

You looked up at Poppy who sat across from you. "Stop what?" You questioned casually.

"You've looked at Malfoy multiple times since we sat down."

"I was looking past him."

"To what?"

"...The wall."

Poppy glanced down the Slytherin table and folded her arms. "So."

"So?"

"Tell me about this project."

You reached for your pumpkin juice. "What about it?"

"What are you actually researching?"

"Hogwarts history."

"I know that already, I am too."

"What more is there to say?"

Poppy narrowed her eyes. “What could possibly be so interesting that you have Malfoy excited to do historical research?”

You hesitated. "We've found... a promising lead."

"On what?"

You opened your mouth, but nothing came out.

Poppy's smile widened as if to signal that she knew she was onto you.

"We're still trying to verify everything." You continued.

"What is everything?"

"I..." You searched desperately for an answer that wouldn't reveal the journal, the hidden passage, The Veiled Wing. "We can't really discuss our findings yet."

"You can’t discuss something with your best friend?"

Before you could invent another excuse, a familiar drawl interrupted from behind you. "Because," Draco said smoothly, "if we told everyone our conclusions before we'd actually finished the assignment we’d be breaking the rules. McGonagall specifically said we could share our research at the end of the term.”

Both you and Poppy looked up. Draco stood beside the table with one hand tucked into his robes, wearing the sort of relaxed confidence that suggested he'd been there for at least a few seconds.

Poppy blinked. "And why," she asked cautiously, "are you down here?"

He looked mildly offended. "Believe it or not, Poppy, I actually require a drink." He lifted the empty goblet in his hand. "The pumpkin juice appears to have deserted my end of the table."

Poppy glanced down the table. "There are literally three pitchers sitting right there." She lifted a hand and pointed.

Draco followed her gaze. "...How unfortunate."

You bit the inside of your cheek to stop yourself from smiling. He hadn't come over looking for pumpkin juice. He'd come because he'd noticed you were struggling. Draco turned back to Poppy as though the conversation hadn't skipped a beat. "As for the project, your friend has already answered your questions."

"No, she really hasn't."

He sighed dramatically. "It's dreadfully boring, actually. Old manuscripts. Contradictory records. Endless arguments over ideas."

Poppy looked between the two of you. The explanation was perfectly dull. Almost too dull.

"So why," she asked slowly, "do the two of you keep setting up secret nightly meetings. I don’t even have to ask to know you’re probably seeing each other again after curfew.”

Draco didn't miss a beat. "Because spending hours in the library with your friend is surprisingly intolerable."

You looked up at him. "Excuse me?" You hissed at him, making sure to add extra attitude to your voice. You were picking up on plan to act as if you still had a deep hatred for one another.

"I figured if anyone was going to suffer through deciphering centuries-old handwriting," he continued with a shrug, "it might as well be someone equally insufferable."

You scoffed. "That's real funny coming from the boy who's had two detentions this term."

"And yet," he said, a smug smile tugging at the corner of his mouth, "you keep agreeing to meet with me." For a split second, neither of you spoke. The implication of his words hung between you. Then, realizing how that sounded, Draco recovered with practiced ease. "For the project," he added quickly.

"Obviously," you replied.

Poppy watched the exchange in silence. Then she slowly smiled. "...You two have gotten much better at this."

Your stomach dropped. "At what?" You asked.

She gestured vaguely between the two of you. "Whatever this is.”

For the briefest moment, you and Draco exchanged another glance. Neither of you had an answer.

Draco folded his arms. "We've matured is all."

You raised an eyebrow at him. "You called me insufferable less than thirty seconds ago."

"Exactly," he replied. "Six months ago I would've used much stronger language."

You couldn't stop the laugh that escaped you. Poppy noticed. She pointed accusingly between the two of you. "You laughed."

"I was laughing at how ridiculous he is."

Poppy let out a dramatic sigh. "This is exactly what I'm talking about."

"And that would be…?" You asked.

"You two used to spend every conversation trying to hex each other."

Draco looked thoughtfully at you. "I could insult her if it'd make you feel better."

"Draco, you already have." You peer up at him.

"I could do it with more enthusiasm this time though.” He grinned.

"Tempting," you deadpanned.

Poppy groaned. "See? That's the problem! You're joking with each other. Not at each other.”

Neither of you answered. The silence spoke louder than either of you intended. Finally, Draco started to turn himself away to head back to his end of the table.

"Well," he said lightly, "I should return before my friends decide I've actually befriended a couple of losers like you."

“I’m not sure they’d notice.” You reply smugly.

A faint smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth. "Don't worry," he said. "I'll be back to making your life miserable shortly."

"I'm looking forward to it." A sarcastic edge is hidden in your tone.

For the briefest moment, his eyes met yours again. The expression was subtle enough that Poppy wouldn't have understood it. After curfew.

You gave the slightest nod. Don't be late.

His smirk deepened almost imperceptibly before he turned on his heel. "Good evening, Poppy."

Poppy blinked. "...Good evening?"

Without looking back, Draco lifted a hand in acknowledgment as he made his way back to his end of the table.

Poppy waited until he had taken his seat. Then she turned to you with narrowed eyes. "...Alright."

You sighed. "What now?"

She leaned across the table until you had no choice but to meet her gaze. "I don't know what happened between you two..." Your stomach tightened. "...but whatever it was," she continued, "it's weirding me out."

You forced a shrug. "It's just the project."

Poppy smiled knowingly. "Mhm." She picked up her fork. "And I'm the next Minister for Magic."

You opened your mouth to protest. Nothing came out. Poppy grinned victoriously. "No response? Thought so."

You spent the last hour in your dormitory pretending to organize your notes, though most of them were already memorized. Every creak in the hallway outside made your head snap up, every passing footstep tightening something in your chest until it finally—finally—went quiet. Only then did you confirm it was safe enough to leave.

The castle at night felt different now. Less like a place you were sneaking through… and more like something that was letting you pass. You didn’t even feel the need to use the Disillusionment Charm. You moved quickly through familiar corridors, slipping past suits of armor and sleeping portraits until the boar statue came into view at the end of the hallway.

And then you saw him. Draco was already there. Leaning against the stone wall like he’d been standing there longer than he’d admit, hands half-tucked into his robes. His tie, however, was another story—loosened in a frustrated knot that looked like it had already lost a fight. “You’re late,” he said immediately.

“I’m not late,” you replied. “You’re early.”

“I’m punctual.”

You rolled your eyes, but before you could say anything else, he tugged at his tie again with a sharp exhale. It only made it worse. “Bloody thing—” he muttered, trying again, the knot refusing to cooperate.

“You’re going to strangle yourself before we even get into the passage,” you said.

“I’ve survived worse.” He shot you a look. “Are you going to help, or just critique?”

You stepped closer before you could think better of it. The space between you narrowed quickly—too quickly. The air suddenly felt tighter. Draco stilled as you reached for his tie, your fingers brushing his collar as you worked the knot loose.

For a moment, neither of you spoke. It was ridiculous how something so simple could feel so loud. “There,” you said quietly after a beat, fixing it properly and smoothing the fabric down.

Draco didn’t move right away. “…Thanks,” he said, though it came out slightly less sharp than usual, a tweak of genuineness behind it.

You took a step back, clearing your throat as if that hadn’t just happened. It hadn’t meant anything. It shouldn’t have meant anything. But you couldn’t stop your mind from still lingering on it anyway. On how close he’d been. How he hadn’t pulled away.

You glanced at him. “Earlier.”

Draco raised an eyebrow. “What about earlier?”

“At dinner,” you said. “With Poppy.” A pause. Then you added, more carefully, “When you said I was insufferable.”

His expression flickered—just slightly. “…What about it?”

You studied him. “Did you really mean that?”

The question hung there longer than it should have. Draco looked away first. “…You’re still insufferable,” he said. “But,” he continued, slower now, “not in the way I used to mean it.”

You narrowed your eyes. “That’s not an answer.”

“It is,” he replied. “Just not the one you want.”

You scoffed. “That’s comforting.”

Silence settled between you again—different this time. He cleared his throat, stepping away toward the boar statue as if distance could reset the moment.

“Are we doing this or not?” He asked.

You stared at him for half a second longer. Then nodded once. “Yeah.”

You and Draco tapped the stone of the boar’s tusk together. The passage groaned open. Cold air poured out like it had been waiting. Without another word, you both stepped inside.

After the two of you made your way down the stairs and into the corridor, you noticed that it felt different immediately. The walls no longer just shimmered with memory-light—they refracted it.

And there, suspended along the passage like floating stars, were the crystal spheres. Hundreds of them. Each one orbiting slowly in place, turning lazily as though something unseen was keeping them aloft.

Draco’s grip tightened slightly on his wand, Lumos lighting the way. You swallowed harshly. “Which ones are we supposed to touch?”

Draco glanced at the journal. “I think it chooses for us.”

“That’s not reassuring.”

He ignored you and stepped forward first. The moment his hand neared the closest crystal sphere, it stopped moving. Then it split open in light.

The memory didn’t feel like falling this time. It felt like arriving somewhere you shouldn’t be.

It placed in a corridor outside the library. Late afternoon light spilling through tall windows, dust drifting through it like suspended time. And you. Your stomach tightens as you realize it’s now your turn to have a vulnerable memory be forced into the light.

In the memory you watched yourself, although you remember it clearly. You were very still. Almost too still. A stack of books lay scattered at your feet, one of them split open like it had been dropped mid-page. Your hands were clenched at your sides so tightly your knuckles had gone pale. You were breathing too fast. Trying not to. Trying not to let it show.

A professor’s voice echoed faintly from somewhere down the corridor—calling your name, distant and unconcerned. But you didn’t answer. Because if you opened your mouth, you weren’t sure what would come out. Your eyes burned. You weren’t crying yet, but close enough that it made your throat ache.

“I can’t—” your voice broke sharply, and you pressed your tongue against your teeth like you could force it back into place. A shaky inhale. Then another. You bent down quickly, gathering the books too fast, too messy, like speed could fix the fact that your hands were trembling. “I can do this,” you whispered, but it didn’t sound like confidence. It sounded like desperation.

And then, very quietly your control slipped. Just for a split second. Your shoulders dropped. Your head tilted down. And the expression you had been holding for years—carefully arranged, carefully maintained—finally cracked enough for the weight behind it to show through. Not loudly. Not dramatically. Just honestly.

The memory shattered. The chamber snapped back into silence. Draco was staring at the sphere that had just been revealed. His expression had changed. Something in it had gone still in a different way than before—less analytical now. Less detached.

“You—” he started. Then stopped.

You swallowed. “It’s just a memory, we knew that we’d end up seeing more of these. We agreed to remain professional about it.”

“I’m not here to make fun of you.”

Your straightened your posture. “Then what were you going to say?”

“…I didn’t think you were like that,” he said slowly.

You frowned. “Like what?”

His jaw flexed faintly, like he didn’t particularly like how honest he was about to be. “I’ve spent years thinking you were this… perfectly put-together person,” he admitted. “Annoyingly so. I used to think it was effortless for you.”

Draco’s eyes didn’t move from yours. “I used to find it irritating,” he added, almost under his breath. “Like nothing ever got under your skin. Like you didn’t have moments where things—” he paused, searching for the word, “—fell apart.”

Silence settled between you. Then, quieter he said, “That’s not what I just saw.”

Your breath caught slightly despite yourself. Draco exhaled, looking away for a moment as if giving you both space to exist inside the truth of it. “You’ve just been good at hiding it,” he said finally.

The words weren’t cruel. That was what made them worse. Because they weren’t said like an accusation. They were said like an observation he couldn’t unsee. And now that he had seen it...he wasn’t looking at you the same way anymore.

The remaining crystal spheres around you pulsed faintly, as though reacting to the shift. “The memory of mine that you saw was connected to this one. When I was…” he paused choosing his words carefully.” Noticing you in the library that one night, that’s what I was thinking. Jealous of the fact that you seem like you always have everything figured out, always one step ahead.”

There was silence, as you didn’t know to respond at first. “I think the castle might be trying to bring us closer together on purpose.” You get the courage to meet his eyes.

A beat of silence settles between you both, heavier than the faint hum of the crystal spheres. One of them flickers—soft blue—casting fractured light across Draco’s face. He looks almost irritated by it, like even the magic is listening too closely.

“That’s absurd,” he says at last, but there’s less certainty in it now. “A castle doesn’t engineer emotional dependency.”

“And yet,” you reply carefully, “it has already led us here together. Multiple times.”

His jaw tightens slightly at that, as if he doesn’t like how accurate it sounds. The spheres pulse again—closer now. The air feels subtly warmer, as though the room itself is leaning in.

Draco steps away, running a hand through his hair. “Even if that were true, it would still be irrelevant. We’re not—” He stops, cutting himself off before whatever he was going to say has a chance to land.

You almost snap at him, but instead you say it softer, “Not what?”

He exhales through his nose, sharp. “We’re not bound together by anything.”

Neither of you moves. A silence stretches—different from the earlier ones. Then one of the crystals flares brighten, and a thin thread of light arcs between two of the spheres on opposite ends of the chamber. It doesn’t touch you, but it might as well have—because Draco’s eyes snap to it immediately. It’s as if the castle was being witty by immediately proving Draco wrong and finding a way to connect both of your corresponding memory spheres.

The light holds for a moment longer than it should, trembling like a living thing, before dimming back into its slow pulse.

Draco looks at the space it occupied, then at you—really looks, like he’s trying to decide whether to dismiss it or admit what it suggests.

When he speaks again, his voice is quieter. “If this is deliberate… then it isn’t just trying to make us work together.” He pauses. “It’s trying to make sure we choose to.”

That lands differently. He seems to realize it the moment it leaves his mouth, because his expression shifts—something guarded snapping back into place too late. Almost like he’s already said too much.

“Let’s keep going.” He reluctantly sighs, almost accepting the fate of the both of you that was just uncovered. The sphere closest to him pulsed faintly, as if recognizing the shift in intent. Draco reached out to touch it. The crystal didn’t hesitate this time. It split open instantly, as if it knew exactly what to show you next, and was anxious to do so. The corridor around you dropped away suddenly in fragmented pieces like a broken jigsaw puzzle.

Hogwarts was wrong. That was the first thing you felt as the memory started to develop. The air was too thick. Too electrically charged. Like the castle itself was trying to hold something back, but failing to keep its composure. You were seeing it from above—like a memory that didn’t belong to one person, but to the stone itself. The corridor below was packed with students. Voices murmuring, lots of chaotic movement, the feeling of confusion.

And fear. Way too much of it.

Then a flash of light—bright, violent, wrong. It wasn’t a spell you recognized. It cracked through the corridor like thunder forced into a narrow space, ricocheting off stone and glass in unpredictable bursts. Students screamed violently, the sound piercing your ears. Some tried to run but didn’t make it far enough. The memory fractured rapidly after that—too unstable to hold its shape cleanly.

You had seen enough. Broken glass suspended midair. A shattered section of wall where the magic had gone out of control. A group of older students and a professor attempting to contain something that had already spiraled beyond them. And the name that flickered through the chaos like a dying thought: The Veiled Wing.

A section of Hogwarts where something had been practiced that should never have been allowed. Forbidden magic—unstable, experimental, uncontained. And it had failed miserably. The memory stuttered violently.

A final image burned through before it collapsed. A corridor lined with bodies being hurried away under cloaks and silencing charms, the people involved seemingly trying to erase what had happened even as it occurred.

Then—Nothing.

The memory doesn’t fade cleanly. It clings to you in fragments—burned stone, screeching light, the violent snap of magic turning wrong in mid-air. The Veiled Wing had not looked like a secret then. It had looked like a place collapsing under the weight of its own ambition.

Even now, standing back in the present, you can still feel the aftershock of it deep in your bones. The corridor around you is too quiet. The crystal spheres have gone dim, as though even they refuse to echo what you just saw. The air tastes faintly metallic, like something has been scorched out of existence and never properly replaced.

You realize your hands are clenched. You peer over at Draco and realize his are too. He’s still facing the space where the memory ended, jaw tight, shoulders rigid in a way you haven’t seen before—not his usual controlled posture, but something strained beneath it. Like holding himself together is suddenly a conscious effort.

Neither of you speaks at first. There isn’t an easy way to acknowledge what you had just witnessed.

Finally, Draco exhales, slow and uneven, as though he’s forcing air back into his lungs. “So that’s what they’re hiding,” he says quietly.

His voice isn’t sharp. That’s the unsettling part. You swallow, your throat is achingly dry. “They didn’t just suppress knowledge.”

He doesn’t look at you yet. “No.”

You pause briefly. “They buried it.”

The word lands heavily between you. Your eyes flick back toward the now-dormant spheres. “Students were taught that magic there was supposed to be safe.”

Draco lets out a short, humorless breath. “They were taught wrong.”

Silence again—but heavier. Less curious, more real as you both are slowly coming to terms with the situation. You glance at him properly this time. His expression has changed. The arrogance, the edge, the constant readiness to argue—it’s still there, but pushed far beneath something else. Something colder. Something almost angry. Not anger at you. At what you both just saw.

“This is why it’s sealed,” you say softly, more to yourself than him. “Not just because it’s forbidden. Because it failed.”

Draco’s eyes flick briefly toward you at that. “Failed?” He repeats.

You hesitate. “It went too far. They couldn’t control it.”

A muscle in his jaw tightens. “No,” he says, quieter now. “They didn’t stop it in time.”

That correction matters more than it should. You look at him, really look—because there’s something in his voice now that doesn’t match the Draco you knew at the start of this year. Something stripped back. He turns away slightly, pacing once across the corridor like he needs movement to keep from freezing in place.

“They let it continue,” he says, more to the room than to you. “They let students practice it. Staff supervised it. They probably called it something bloody ridiculous like research advancement—” His voice cuts off abruptly. He stops walking. For a moment, he just stares at the floor. When he speaks again, his tone is lower. “And then they erased it after it backfired to keep up their gloriously perfect reputation.”

The words hang there. You take a cautious step closer. “Draco…”

He shakes his head once, sharply, like he’s rejecting something he hasn’t fully formed yet. “I understand why they hid it,” he says. “I do. But understanding it and agreeing with it are not the same thing.” His words have a strange weight, because it sounds less like an argument and more like a line he’s drawing for himself.

You don’t respond immediately. Instead, you watch him because for the first time, he doesn’t look like he’s trying to win anything. He looks like he’s trying not to break under the fact that he understands.

The silence stretches again, but this one doesn’t feel empty. It feels like something has shifted into place between you both—irreversible, uncomfortable, and newly shared.

Finally, Draco speaks again, quieter than before. “We should leave this place,” he says. Then, after a pause that feels like it costs him something. “Before we find out anything else they were willing to do.”

Authors Note: hope you enjoyed chapter 7!! the rest of the story is coming together, slowly but surely. i started writing this on impulse, so it’s taking some time to really build out the mystery details to make it make it sense to the readers. thank you for your continued support!! <3

Whispers In The Walls

Chapter 6: More Than Partners

Pairing: Draco Malfoy x F!Reader

Type: Series

Genre: Fluff, angst, romance, mystery

Chapters: 1-10

Word Count: 4,080

Summary: As you begin your sixth year at Hogwarts, your life revolves around academics, ambition, and staying far away from Draco Malfoy—your longtime rival and the bane of your existence since the day you met. When Professor McGonagall assigns a year-long research project on forgotten Hogwarts history, you’re horrified to learn that the pairs have already been chosen—and you’ve been partnered with Draco.

Forced to work together, the two of you uncover a dark mystery hidden deep within the castle’s past. As ancient secrets come to light, it becomes clear that Hogwarts itself may have chosen you both for a reason. Drawn into a web of hidden magic, long-buried truths, and dangerous discoveries, you begin to see a side of Draco you’ve never known. What starts as a reluctant partnership soon becomes something far more complicated in this enemies-to-lovers story filled with mystery, magic, and romance.

Disclaimer: Feedback/criticism is both welcomed and appreciated!

The next morning arrived far too quickly. You had barely made it back to the Slytherin common room before dawn. By some miracle, you made it to your bed without waking anyone. Unfortunately, that miracle only lasted until morning.

"Wake up."

You groaned and rolled over. A pillow hit you square in the face.

"Ow!"

"Good. You're alive."

You pulled the pillow away from your face and squinted up at Poppy. She was standing over your bed with her arms crossed and an expression that suggested she had been waiting for this moment for several hours.

Immediately, your stomach dropped. In all the excitement of sneaking around Hogwarts with Draco Malfoy until nearly sunrise, you'd forgotten one very important detail. Poppy slept in the bed directly across from yours. She knew that you had been out all night.

"Oh no," you muttered.

"Oh yes."

You sat up slowly, regretting the decision almost immediately. Poppy pointed at you. "Where were you?"

"What are you talking about?" You try your best to play it off as if nothing happened.

"You weren’t in bed at curfew, where were you?" Her question was sharper this time.

"I was a couple minutes late, so what?" You shrug it off lightly.

"No, don’t you lie to me, you didn’t come back until after five o'clock!" You winced at this remark. Apparently, she had been watching the time. Poppy threw her hands in the air. "Do you have any idea how worried I was? You told me in the common room that you were going to bed!” The irritation in her voice was genuine, but underneath it was concern. That made you feel slightly guilty.

"Sor—" You start to apologize ready to give in to her interrogation.

She cuts you off. "No. Absolutely not. Explain yourself first."

You sighed. "There isn't much to explain."

"Another lie?” She shakes her head in disapproval. “You cannot be serious.”

"I am being serious Poppy."

"You vanished after our last talk in the common room and returned at sunrise." Poppy narrowed her eyes. "Was it Malfoy?"

Your head snapped up immediately. "No." The answer came far too quickly.

Poppy's expression immediately turned smug. "It was Malfoy."

You pause slightly, trying to think of something clever to say. "He didn't make me do anything." The moment the words left your mouth, you realized your mistake.

Poppy blinked. "I never said he made you do anything."

You closed your eyes. ‘Brilliant. Absolutely brilliant.’ You thought to yourself.

When you opened them again, Poppy was staring at you like she'd just solved a complicated Arithmancy equation. It was as if a light bulb appeared over her head. "You were with him."

You rubbed your temples. "We were working together."

Poppy barked out a laugh. "Working?"

"Yes, on our research project." You keep your composure the best you can, trying your best not to let her see right through you. But you aren’t sure that it’s working.

"There wasn’t time during the daylight hours to do that? You had to do this after curfew instead?"

"He had detention late, so we just decided it was best to conduct more research after he was finished."

"Research doesn't usually violate at least twelve school rules."

You thought about the hidden passage, the moving stones, the ancient memory, and the fact that neither of you had technically been allowed anywhere near any of it. "Sometimes it does."

Poppy looked unconvinced. “You expect me to believe that you voluntarily spent an entire night alone with Malfoy discussing historical research?"

When she said it out loud, it did sound ridiculous. You looked away, avoiding eye contact with her. "Poppy, I don’t know what else you want me to say." You admit. It’s the first full truth you’ve told this morning.

Poppy stared. Then she slowly sat down on the edge of your bed. "You like him, don’t you?"

You nearly choked. "What?"

"You do. I can sense it."

"Poppy, that’s ridiculous." You groaned and buried your face in your hands. This conversation was somehow worse than risking the possibility of being caught by staff after curfew.

“There’s no other explanation for this behavior. The girl I’ve known since my first day at Hogwarts would’ve never thought twice about sneaking out after hours. Now all of a sudden, you’ve been paired with Malfoy for a couple of days and you’re prancing the halls with him in the middle of the night?”

"I was not prancing." You almost snicker at your awful rebuttal.

"That's the part you disagree with? You realize that doesn't help your case."

You dropped your hands and glared at her. "For the last time, I don't like him."

"Then why are you defending him?" She crosses her arms in front of her chest.

"I'm not defending him."

"You’ve literally been defending him this entire conversation."

"Because you're acting like he dragged me out there against my will." You’re increasingly growing frustrated.

Poppy's eyebrows arched. "And he didn't?"

"No." You blurted out the answer almost immediately.

Poppy's smirk widened. "There it is."

"There what is?"

"The fact that you're suddenly very concerned with making sure that I know Malfoy isn't the villain in this situation." Her smirk is deeply immersed in her lips. She knows she’s onto something, and frankly so do you. You opened your mouth, but nothing came out. Annoyingly enough, she had a point. Poppy leaned back against one of the bedposts. "You know what I think?"

"I have a feeling you're about to tell me regardless of what I say.”

"I think you've spent years expecting him to be exactly who everyone says he is."

You frowned. "What does that mean?"

"It means every time he opens his mouth, you expect him to be insufferably arrogant."

"He is insufferably arrogant." You confirm.

"See? That." You rolled your eyes at her, but Poppy ignored and continued. "But now that you've been forced to spend time with him, you're finding out that he's slightly more complicated than that. You might have experienced the soft side of Malfoy. And...” She shudders dramatically, “liked it.”

You hated how close that sounded to the truth. "He's not complicated, and there’s nothing soft about him."

"Mm-hm."

"He's both annoying and obnoxious."

"Mm-hm."

"He's responsible for most of my stress right now."

Poppy nodded thoughtfully. "And yet...you willingly spent the entire night with him."

You groaned. "I hate this conversation."

"I can tell.”

"Can we stop having it?"

"No." She said persistently.

You threw yourself backward onto the mattress and stared at the canopy above your bed. For a moment, neither of you spoke. Then Poppy's voice softened. "Just be careful." You glanced over at her. The teasing expression was gone. "I mean it," she said, making meaningful eye contact with you. "You're my best friend. If you're sneaking around the castle after midnight chasing whatever it is with Malfoy, that's your choice. Just don't let yourself get hurt by him.”

Her sincerity caught you off guard. Your chest tightened slightly. "I'm fine."

"For now." Poppy stood and grabbed her bag that was sitting on the floor beside her bed.

"But if I find out he's responsible for getting you wrapped up in his trouble, I'm hexing him."

Despite yourself, you laughed. "I'll let him know."

"Please do."

She headed toward the dormitory door. “Now get up and get ready or we’ll be late for Potions.” She slammed the door shut behind her.

By the time you made it down to the dungeons for Potions, you were running almost entirely on stubbornness. The cold stone corridors did little to wake you up. Neither did breakfast. In fact, the only thing keeping you conscious at this point was the fear of embarrassing yourself in front of Professor Snape. The classroom was already beginning to fill when you entered. You slid into your usual seat beside Poppy. Unfortunately, your usual seat happened to face the row occupied by Draco.

You noticed him immediately. He was sitting between Crabbe and Goyle, looking significantly more awake than any person who had been wandering the castle until sunrise had a right to be. Annoyingly, he looked perfectly composed. His blond hair was neatly arranged, and his robes were immaculate. Meanwhile, you felt as though you had been hit by a Bludger. It wasn't fair.

Poppy followed your gaze and gave you a disapproving look. You immediately realized that you had been staring, and you snapped your attention away.

Crabbe's voice suddenly carried across the room. "Hey Draco, want to switch ingredients with me?" There was a childlike playfulness in his voice that resonated with that of a mischievous toddler.

"No." Draco replied flatly.

Goyle looked over, clearly confused by the exchange he had just heard. "What do you mean, no?" He butted in.

Draco didn't even glance up from the textbook in front of him. "I mean no." There was more assertiveness behind his words this time.

Crabbe blinked. "You always switch ingredients with me."

"Not today."

Goyle frowned at his response. "Why are you acting so weird?"

Draco finally looked up at them. "Because every time one of your brilliant ideas gets us caught, I end up in detention."

Crabbe and Goyle exchanged a perplexed look. "Since when do you care?" Crabbe scoffed.

Draco's expression remained perfectly neutral. Calm and cool. It envied you how he was capable of doing that. "I don't."

"You just said—"

"I said, I'm not interested."

You watched him from across the room. Something about the conversation felt strange. Normally, Draco would've been the first person encouraging whatever nonsense Crabbe and Goyle had planned. Now he looked genuinely uninterested. As if his mind was somewhere else entirely. You couldn’t help but to almost feel proud of him for avoiding possible detention.

‘Is he doing that because of... me?’ Your mind starts to drift. Almost immediately, his eyes lifted across the room straight toward you. As if to see if you had noticed what he had just done. You quickly looked down at your parchment. A second later, Poppy kicked your ankle beneath the table.

"Ouch."

"You were staring."

"I was not."

"You absolutely were."

You glared at her. "I was listening."

"Mm-hm."

A few moments later, Professor Snape swept into the room. The classroom immediately fell silent. "Today," Snape drawled, "you will be brewing the Draught of Peace." Several students groaned. Snape's dark eyes swept over the room and immediately the groaning stopped. "Begin." He ordered.

The room erupted into movement. You and Poppy immediately started sorting ingredients. Across the classroom, Draco appeared to be doing the same thing. For approximately thirty seconds, you got to focus on your own work. Then you felt it, a strange sensation that you were being watched. You glanced up and sure enough, Draco was looking at you again. This time, when he noticed you'd caught him, he picked up a bundle of powdered moonstone and held it up questioningly. Positioning his eyebrows in a way that asked, What do I do with this?

You frowned, confused again at what he was possibly asking. Then you remembered. Moonstone comes before the syrup of hellebore. He was asking which order the instructions went in. The moron hadn't been paying attention. Trying not to laugh out loud, you subtly held up two fingers to signal it’s the second step of the potion. Understanding flashed across his face. He gave a tiny salute with the spoon. You nearly snorted into your cauldron.

Beside you, Poppy slowly lowered her knife. You focused very hard on slicing your ingredients. "Poppy, don't start."

"I just watched Malfoy ask you for help from across the classroom."

"He forgot the instructions." You shrugged.

"And you knew exactly what he meant."

"We've been working together."

"Only for a couple of days."

You sighed. Poppy looked personally offended. "I've known you for six years."

"What does that have to do with anything?"

"If I held up moonstone at you from across a room, you wouldn't know what I meant."

You opened your mouth and then paused. "...Maybe not immediately."

"Exactly." Poppy pointed dramatically across the classroom. "My case rests."

You rolled your eyes. Unfortunately, when you looked up again, Draco had caught the exchange. He raised an eyebrow. You mouthed, don't. You were hoping with everything in you that he didn’t make the situation worse, but you should’ve known better with him. His expression immediately became far too amused. A second later, he exaggeratedly looked over both shoulders as if checking whether anyone was watching before giving you an obnoxiously innocent smile.

Your face warmed intensely. ‘Idiot,’ you thought to yourself.

Poppy made a choking sound beside you. You looked over at her. She was staring at the two of you as if she'd just discovered something growing at the bottom of a cauldron. You rolled your eyes and returned your attention to your potion. Poppy physically shuddered. "Oh, that is vile."

"What is?"

"The fact that I'm watching this happen in real time."

"Watching what happen?"

"You and Malfoy becoming..." She paused, visibly searching for a word and looking increasingly horrified. "...friendly."

The last word came out as though it physically pained her. You snorted. "We're not friendly."

Poppy gave you a flat look that quickly changed into distress. "I don't know if I can come to terms with this."

"You are being dramatic."

"I am not. I’ve spent the last six years watching the two of you argue over literally everything and now he's making faces at you across Potions."

You glanced toward Draco. Unfortunately, he chose that exact moment to look up. The smug grin immediately returned. You quickly looked away. Poppy let out another disgusted noise.

You buried your face in your hands. Poppy shook her head. "This is awful."

"Why does this bother you so much?"

"Because if you and Draco Malfoy actually start getting along, then the entire natural order of Hogwarts is collapsing."

You grinned. "That's a bit farfetched."

"Is it?" Poppy gestured wildly around the classroom. "Next thing you're going to tell me is that Snape enjoys sunlight and Longbottom has suddenly become good at Potions."

You couldn't help laughing. Poppy slumped in her chair. "I need this research project to end before my best friend starts avoiding me to spend time with Malfoy." She says his last name as if it’s a dirty word.

Your stomach did an annoying little flip at the thought of more alone time with him. Poppy caught your expression immediately. Her eyes widened. Then she slowly lowered her head onto the table. "Oh, this is worse than I thought."

You threw a scrap of parchment at her. She didn't even look up.

The end of Potions came like a blessing. Snape dismissed the class with his usual enthusiasm—meaning none at all—and the room emptied in a rush of robes, relieved chatter, and the faint smell of burnt ingredients. You were halfway through packing up your things when Poppy nudged your arm.

“Please tell me we are leaving before anything else strange happens,” she said.

“I don’t think anything strange is scheduled,” you replied.

Poppy gave you a look that suggested she did not trust you in the slightest. You slung your bag over your shoulder and followed her toward the exit. Unfortunately, you didn’t make it far out of the classroom.

“Wait.”

The voice stopped you mid-step. You didn’t even have to turn around. Poppy, however, did. “Of course,” she muttered under her breath.

Draco was leaning casually against the stone corridor just outside the classroom. As if he had been waiting there on purpose. Which, knowing him, he probably had. His eyes landed on you immediately. “We need to go over the next step of the project...alone.” He glares at Poppy.

Poppy let out a slow breath. “Absolutely not.”

Draco’s gaze shifted to her, expression mildly annoyed. “I wasn’t talking to you.” He snapped.

“I know,” she said sharply. “That’s the problem.”

You pinched the bridge of your nose. “Poppy…”

“What?” She said, not taking her eyes off him. “I’m allowed to have opinions.”

Draco raised an eyebrow. “Does she always follow you around like this?”

“Excuse me?” Poppy fumed.

You quickly stepped between them. “Okay. No. Nobody is following anyone. We are all standing in a hallway having a conversation and it’s getting out of hand.”

Draco looked mildly entertained. Poppy looked like she was one second away from hexing him into the next week. He pushed off the wall. “We’re wasting time, we have business to conduct.”

“That’s funny coming from someone who’s late to literally everything,” Poppy said.

Draco replied smoothly, “I wasn't late to Potions today.”

Poppy laughs, “Oh joy, the one time in all of Hogwarts history.”

Poppy opened her mouth but before she could continue and let out another snarky comment you step in again, “Can you two stop!”

Draco’s attention flicked back to you immediately. It always seemed to do that. It was as if you were the only part of the conversation that mattered to him. It was distracting. You hated that you thought it was distracting.

“Poppy,” you hissed, “I’ll meet you back in the common room, okay?”

“No.”

“I just need a few minutes.”

“With him?”

“It’s about the project.”

Poppy stared at you for a long moment. Then her eyes flicked to Draco and then back to you. Then she sighed like she was physically burdened by your choices. “I hate this,” she said.

“I know, Poppy.”

“Fine,” she said, pointing between you both. “Five minutes. Not six. Not whatever time warp you two are apparently living in.”

“Five minutes,” you agreed.

Her gaze lingered on Draco one last time. “If I come back and you’ve convinced her to do something illegal—”

“I won’t,” he said, cutting her off quickly. It was obvious that he just wanted her to leave.

You could tell that Poppy didn’t believe him for a second. She turned on her heel and started walking down the corridor. Then paused halfway. Without looking back, she called, “And I swear, if this ends with either of you in detention again, I am transferring schools.”

Then she was gone. The corridor settled into silence. Just you and Draco standing side by side. For a moment, neither of you spoke. Then Draco glanced down the hallway where Poppy had disappeared. “She’s...dramatic,” he said.

You huffed a quiet laugh. “She’s protective of me.”

His eyes shifted back to you. “Yeah, it’s pretty obvious she doesn’t like me.”

You shrug your shoulders, not knowing how to respond.

“It’s okay,” Draco snickered and straightened his posture with confidence. “Just give her a few days. That’s all it took for you to change your mind.” A wide grin stretched across his face.

You rolled your eyes. "My opinion hasn't changed."

A knowing smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. "You don't glare at me nearly as much as you used to.”

"I've simply learned that glaring doesn't accomplish anything."

A quiet chuckle escaped him as he looked down the corridor for a moment before returning his attention to you. There was something almost amused in the way he studied your face, as if he were enjoying watching you deny the obvious. "You smiled at one of my jokes last night."

"I absolutely did not. I must have been laughing at you, not with you."

"That still counts."

"No, Draco it doesn’t."

He folded his arms, looking far too pleased with himself. The confidence wasn't forced anymore—it came naturally, accompanied by the infuriating smirk that always seemed to appear whenever he thought he'd won an argument. "I think we're making progress."

"On the mystery we’ve uncovered yes, I can agree with that."

"No, on us.”

You shook your head, fighting the urge to smile. "You are unbelievably full of yourself."

"I've been told."

"Repeatedly, I'd imagine."

"Yeah, mostly by you."

For a brief moment, the banter settled into something... comfortable. Not the sharp exchanges that usually left one of you storming away. Just a plain and simple conversation. You weren't sure when that happened. Frankly, it was a little unsettling. Clearing your throat, you steered the conversation back to the reason he'd stopped you.

"So," you said, adjusting the strap of your bag, "what's the plan?"

His expression shifted almost instantly. The teasing remained in his eyes, but the confidence gave way to focus. "I've been thinking about what we found in the passage."

"The memory?"

He nodded. "The journal wanted us to find out about the existence of The Veiled Wing, and we completed that portion. But we still don't know what it was."

"Or why it's been erased." You add.

"Or who erased it."

You frowned thoughtfully. A crease formed between your brows as you replayed everything you'd seen beneath the castle. The hidden chamber, the hundreds of crystal spheres, the memory itself. The missing pieces somehow seemed even larger now than they had the night before.

Draco slid a hand inside his cloak and withdrew the journal, its worn leather cover already familiar to both of you. He opened it with unusual care before turning it toward you. “Here,” he said quietly. “Look.”

Your eyes dropped to the page. A new line appeared beneath the last entry.

Find out why the memory of The Veiled Wing is being suppressed.

Draco cleared his throat. “This must’ve appeared sometime after…” He hesitated, his expression tightening ever so slightly. “…everything that happened last night.” He’s embarrassed to bring up his memory. The one you had accidentally witnessed. He twisted uncomfortably as if a faint flush crept up the back of his neck before he forced himself onward. “I’ve been thinking about it,” he continued. “It didn’t give us another location like before, which probably means we’ve already found where we’re supposed to be.”

His silver eyes flicked back to the page before meeting yours. “I think we have to return to the passage behind the boar statue. We only scratched the surface before we left. If we keep following those memories, eventually we’ll find out why The Veiled Wing has been erased… and once we do, the journal should reveal the next clue.”

The excitement in his voice grew with every word, replacing the lingering embarrassment with genuine determination. It was impossible not to notice how alive he seemed whenever he was unraveling a mystery.

You slowly nodded as the pieces settled into place. “That… actually makes sense.”

“It usually does when I’m the one explaining it,” he replied with the hint of a smirk.

You rolled your eyes. You pause as you take some time to process everything that he’s said, a realization hitting you like a brick. “You realize that means we’ll probably see more of each other’s memories?”

His smirk faded. “Yes,” he answered simply.

You studied him for a moment. “Are you going to shut down on me again?”

Silence settled between you. He didn’t answer with sarcasm. Instead, he looked away, rubbing the back of his neck as though searching for the right words. “I didn’t handle that very well.”

It was so quiet you almost wondered if you’d imagined hearing it. His jaw tightened before he looked back at you. “I’m not exactly used to… people seeing parts of me I’d rather keep buried.”

His admission hung in the cool evening air. “But,” he continued, taking a slow breath, “running away from it clearly didn’t solve anything.” A corner of his mouth lifted. “So, let’s just say it’s a chance I’m willing to take.” His silver eyes held yours steadily now. “Are you willing to take that chance? What if I see one of yours?”

“It’ll be okay,” you confirm confidently.

“And this time… whatever we find in there—about Hogwarts, about The Veiled Wing…” He paused. “Or about each other,” he gave a small, almost reluctant shrug. “We finish it.”

You couldn’t help the smile that tugged at the corner of your lips. The two of you stood there in comfortable silence, the journal resting open between you in his hands as though it were patiently waiting for its next chapter to be written.

Somewhere deep within Hogwarts, hidden beneath centuries of stone and secrets, the memories of The Veiled Wing were waiting.

And this time…

The castle felt as if it knew you were coming to uncover them.

Authors note: Hope you enjoyed chapter 6! <3 Sorry for the slight delay, I’ve been writing out the next few chapters to try to keep this story straight and really figure out the details of the mystery that’s being uncovered. I’ve started a taglist, if anyone else would like to be included, please let me know!

Whispers In The Walls

Chapter 5: The Veiled Wing

Pairing: Draco Malfoy x F!Reader

Type: Series

Genre: Fluff, angst, romance, mystery

Chapters: 1-10

Word Count: 3,500

Summary: As you begin your sixth year at Hogwarts, your life revolves around academics, ambition, and staying far away from Draco Malfoy—your longtime rival and the bane of your existence since the day you met. When Professor McGonagall assigns a year-long research project on forgotten Hogwarts history, you’re horrified to learn that the pairs have already been chosen—and you’ve been partnered with Draco.

Forced to work together, the two of you uncover a dark mystery hidden deep within the castle’s past. As ancient secrets come to light, it becomes clear that Hogwarts itself may have chosen you both for a reason. Drawn into a web of hidden magic, long-buried truths, and dangerous discoveries, you begin to see a side of Draco you’ve never known. What starts as a reluctant partnership soon becomes something far more complicated in this enemies-to-lovers story filled with mystery, magic, and romance.

Disclaimer: Feedback/criticism is both welcomed and appreciated!

The entrance that you just stepped through seals itself behind you. You can’t help but feel a knot forming in your stomach. Anxiety, anticipation, and a small heap of regret all tangled together into one big ball. The smell of damp stone fills the narrow passage. The air is cool and stale, as though it hasn't been disturbed in centuries. You and Draco descend carefully, your footsteps echoing softly against the winding staircase.

Minutes pass. Then some more. The stairs seem as if they’re endless. After several agonizing minutes, you finally break the silence. “How deep do you think this goes?” You ask.

Draco glances back over his shoulder. “How am I supposed to know the answer to that?” Despite his usual sharp tone, there's an edge of tension beneath it.

“You always act like you know everything.”

“I do know everything.” He beams proudly.

You snort. “Yeah right.”

“If you don't believe that we might have to get you back to the surface, the air in this staircase may have damaged your brain.”

“Very funny.”

The banter fades quickly. The deeper you travel, the quieter the world becomes. Eventually, even the sounds of Hogwarts disappear. No distant portraits. No moving staircases. Nothing. Just darkness. Just the two of you, alone together.

Then suddenly Draco stops walking. You nearly walk straight into him. “Hey!” You exclaim.

“Would you watch where you're going?” He snaps back at you.

“You stopped!”

“Because we've reached the bottom, genius.”

You peer around him. Sure enough, the staircase finally opens into a corridor. Your breath catches in your throat. The passage is unlike anything you've ever seen inside Hogwarts. The walls are carved from smooth, pale stone veined with silver that winds through the rock like roots beneath the earth. Ancient runes stretch across the arched ceiling overhead, their symbols glowing faintly in the darkness like dying stars. The silver light pulses softly, almost like a heartbeat, illuminating the corridor in an eerie, dreamlike glow.

The air feels different here. As though this place exists outside the rest of the castle. A chill skates down your spine.

"What is this place?" You whisper. For once, Draco doesn't have a sarcastic answer. His grey eyes scan the corridor ahead.

It stretches farther than either of you can see, disappearing into darkness at both ends. Lining the walls are dozens of stone alcoves carved directly into the rock. Nestled within each one sits a crystal sphere balanced atop a pedestal. Some are no larger than a Quaffle. Others are nearly the size of cauldrons. Each sphere contains swirling strands of silver light that drift lazily within the crystal-like captured starlight. All of them glow faintly from within.

Draco steps forward cautiously. "These weren't described in the journal."

You glance down at the leather-bound book still tucked beneath his arm. "Maybe the journal doesn't tell us everything."

"Comforting."

You roll your eyes. "Must everything be a sarcastic remark with you?"

"Would you prefer blunt and boring?" Draco smirks.

Before you can respond, he reaches out to touch the nearest sphere.

"Draco n—" You're too late.

The moment his fingers brush the crystal, the entire corridor erupts with silver light. Both of you stumble backward. The sphere hums. It’s low at first but it continues to grow louder. The sound vibrates through the stone beneath your feet. Silver light pours from the crystal, spiraling outward in ribbons that twist through the air around you. The runes overhead blaze to life. The walls begin to blur. In a flash, the corridor dissolves. The floor vanishes. For one terrifying moment, you feel as though you're falling. Then everything settles. You are now standing somewhere else. Or rather...watching from somewhere else.

Students flood through enormous hallways around you. The air buzzes with conversation and laughter. Professors in ancient-looking robes that sweep across the polished stone floors stride purposefully through the crowds.

Your eyes widen. The Great Hall stands in the distance, but it isn't the Great Hall that you have come to know. The familiar enchanted ceiling is missing. The walls are rougher. The room itself is noticeably smaller, both older and less refined. It’s as if you're looking at Hogwarts before centuries of additions and renovations transformed it into the castle students know today.

"What the—" Draco mutters. A group of students walk directly through him before he can finish his sentence. He immediately recoils. “Hey!”

The figures continue walking as though neither of you exist as if you’re ghosts. Your stomach flips. "We're not really here."

Another professor walks straight through your shoulder. You don't feel anything. Realization strikes you all at once.

"This isn't happening now."

"No," Draco says quietly. His eyes remain fixed on the scene, unfolding around you. “It’s…the past.” You slowly turn in a circle, both of you are in complete disbelief at you’re witnessing.

The vision shifts. The students fade. The castle stretches out before you. Immediately something feels wrong because this isn't the Hogwarts you've known your entire life.

Attached to the eastern side of the castle stands an enormous structure unlike anything you've ever seen. Towering windows rise several stories high, the glass gleaming beneath the sunlight. Accompanied by a silver roof that almost seems as if it’s sparkling. Elegant bridges arc between its towers and connect seamlessly to the main castle. Delicate spires reach toward the sky. The architecture is breathtaking. Both ancient and beautiful all at the same time.

Yet, it’s entirely unfamiliar to you. It looks older than every other section of Hogwarts and somehow more advanced at the same time. It’s as though it belongs to another era entirely. You find yourself moving toward it without thinking. Draco follows beside you.

Above the entrance, carved into brilliant white stone, are words worn by time. You squint to get a better look. Then your heart skips. It reads "The Veiled Wing."

Neither of you speak. The name hangs heavily in the air. You've never heard of it before. You’ve never seen it on a map, never read about it in a history book, and yet, here it is. Right in front of your face. Undeniably real.

The vision flickers. The silver light begins unraveling around you.

"No, wait—" You try to cling onto it, wanting to find out more, but everything around you disappears.

The corridor snaps back into existence. Silence rushes in. The crystal sphere dims. The runes overhead return to their faint glow. For several moments, neither of you can seem to find the words.

Finally, Draco turns toward you. "You saw that... right?"

"Yes."

"You actually saw that?" He sounds as if he is trying to convince himself by getting confirmation from you.

You stare at him. "Yes, Draco."

"Good." He lets out a slow breath. His shoulders relax slightly before he continues. "For a second, I thought I'd gone mad."

You almost laugh, although you can’t seem to muster it. Instead, your eyes drift back to the sphere. Its faint silver glow has returned, innocent and harmless as though it hadn't just transported you centuries into the past.

"These have to be memories," you say.

Draco follows your gaze. "But whose memories?"

You look down the corridor. There are dozens, if not hundreds of them. An entire hallway filled with glowing spheres waiting silently in the darkness. You feel a sense of uneasiness wash over you. "What if they're…Hogwarts' memories?” The words leave your mouth before you fully process them. But the more you think about it, the more that makes sense.

A castle as old as Hogwarts, if not older. A hidden passage no one knows exists. An entire wing that, for some reason, has been entirely erased from history.

For the first time since the two of you were forced to work together, Draco doesn't immediately dismiss your theory.

Instead, he slowly looks down the corridor. At the countless spheres waiting in the shadows. At the secrets they might contain. And suddenly, neither of you feel like you've discovered just another hidden passage.

You've discovered a forgotten piece of Hogwarts itself.

Draco is still staring down the corridor when he exhales slowly, almost like he's trying to steady himself. “This is…” he starts, then stops. For once, he doesn't finish his sentence. As if he can’t find any words to describe the severity of what both of you had just experienced together. Instead, he looks away from the row of spheres as if unsettled by how many answers they might contain.

“You’re actually quiet for once,” you say softly, trying to break the tension.

“Don’t get used to it.” But there’s no bite in his voice. Only thoughtfulness.

He steps closer to one of the alcoves, slower this time. More careful. Like he’s fully aware, that the next thing he touches may unveil something even more intense.

“Draco,” you warn quietly, “maybe don’t—”

“We have to keep going,” he interrupts as he continues reaching out.

His fingers brush the second sphere. For a heartbeat, nothing happens. Then the crystal flares once again. But this time, the silver light doesn’t pull you into Hogwarts’ past. It pulls you into his past.

The corridor dissolves. And suddenly you’re inside the library, present day. It’s late at night, close to curfew. Warm candlelight glows through the tall windows. The library is long empty. Most of the castle is getting ready to go to sleep. And there you are—at a table tucked between towering shelves—you are sitting alone, nose stuck in a book studying. Head bent over parchment, completely focused, oblivious to everything around you. Your breath catches. Because you recognize this memory almost immediately. Or at least... you think you do. You’ve spent many late nights studying in the library, they seem to blend together.

But then you notice him. Draco is there too. Not across from you, not even near you. Far enough away that it looks accidental to any outsider. But he’s not far enough away for it to be a coincidence either.

He’s sitting with a book open in front of him. Except he isn’t reading, it’s painfully obvious that he’s pretending. Every few seconds his eyes drift toward you. It’s almost like he’s trying not to. Like he’s fighting against himself.

You glance at the real Draco beside you. He doesn’t look at you, he doesn’t even flinch. Which is somehow worse.

In the memory, you stand up to leave, gathering your things in a rush. Most likely noticing how close it was to curfew. One of your books slips from the edge of the table and falls to the floor. You don’t notice and you walk away, heading towards the exit of the library.

The memory shifts slightly. Now it’s just him. He hesitates. Then, after a long pause, he stands up and walks over both quiet and careful to where you had dropped the book. He picks it up and holds it for a second too long. Then, he turns to look at the direction in which you walked away, as if he wants to call after you or make a comment. But he notices that you’re already gone. Too much in a hurry to make it back to your dorm before curfew. He simply places it back on the shelf where it belongs. As if it was never about you noticing what he did, only that the book was returned to its rightful spot.

The vision collapses. The corridor snaps back into place. Silence hits like a wave. Draco is still facing forward, jaw tight, refusing to look at you.

You can’t look at him right away either. Your brain is still processing what you just witnessed.

You decide to be the first to break the silent tension. “That was—” you start.

“Don’t,” he says immediately cuts you off. His voice is sharper now, defensive in a way you haven’t heard before. “Don’t say anything.”

You finally get the courage to look at him. He’s staring at the far wall of the corridor, expression unreadable, but his ears are faintly pink in the glow of the spheres.

“You followed me into the library,” you say slowly.

“I didn’t follow you.”

“You were there.”

A pause. “…Yeah, I was studying, just like you were,” he mutters.

Despite yourself, your mouth twitches. “You were studying? That’s your explanation?”

“Yes.”

“That’s a terrible explanation.”

“I didn’t ask for your opinion.” But there’s no real anger behind it. Just something carefully controlled. Like a part of him has been uncovered that he clearly isn’t used to being seen.

Your gaze drifts back toward the sphere. Then back to him. And suddenly, the way you’ve always thought about Draco shifts slightly—like a picture you’ve been looking at for years that finally reveals a second layer underneath.

He notices you looking at him. “Stop that.” He snaps. “That look.”

“What look?”

“The one where you’re—” he hesitates, visibly annoyed at himself, “—thinking too much.”

You don’t answer. Because you don’t trust your voice. Not right now, not after what you just saw. The silence between you stretches again. But it isn’t the same silence as before. Now it feels heavier, almost electrically charged. As if the corridor surrounding you is listening. And for the first time since you stepped down into this secret passage, you’re not entirely sure the biggest secret in this place is Hogwarts.

It might be him.

After uncovering Draco’s memory, you both decide it’s time to stop and get back to your dorms. The spheres lining the corridor feel different now—less like objects and more like witnesses. You can’t stop yourself from glancing at them, half-expecting them to replay something else you’re not ready to see. The air around you is thick. It feels less like discovery and more like exposure. Neither of you says it out loud, but something has shifted. Something neither of you knows how to name.

“We should go,” Draco says finally, voice low.

You nod too quickly. “Yeah. Probably a good idea.”

The journey back up the staircase is painfully quiet. Draco leads with his wand lit in front of him, the golden glow of Lumos cutting through the darkness and reflecting off his pale blonde hair. Draco doesn’t look back at you once. Not when the staircase narrows, not even when the air grows colder. The silence stretches so long it becomes unbearable.

You clear your throat. “We can meet tomorrow sometime,” you say carefully, “and try to do some research on the The Veiled Wing.”

No answer.

You exhale, trying again. “Or I can do the research while you serve your second, and hopefully last detention, and we can meet after.”

Still nothing.

“You have to talk to me at some point, you know?” you add, quicker now. “We’re in this together.”

Silence. It stings more than it should, and it finally gets under your skin.

“You know ignoring me doesn’t make this go away,” you add. “We’re still—”

“In this together. Yes, I heard you the first time.” The interruption is sharp, but not unkind. Just… tight. Draco doesn’t look at you when he says it, he continues up the staircase.

You let out a breath. “Then talk to me.”

He suddenly stops walking. You almost walk into him again. He doesn’t turn around right away. When he does, his expression is controlled—too controlled. Like he’s rebuilding himself piece by piece after something cracked earlier, and he’s furious that it happened in front of you.

“I am talking to you,” he says.

“That’s debatable.” A flicker of annoyance—familiar, safer—crosses his face.

“Of course you’d argue about phrasing.”

“That’s not the issue here.”

He exhales through his nose, then looks away again, like holding eye contact costs something “You already saw what you saw, what do you want me to say?” That lands.

Silence again. But this one is different. It's less avoidance and more weight. “I wasn’t—” he starts, then stops, jaw tightening. “That wasn’t supposed to be seen.”

Your voice softens without you meaning it to. “I didn’t choose to see it, Draco. It just... happened.”

“I know,” he says sharply. He adjusts his grip on his wand slightly. “…It’s not that I didn’t want you to see it,” he says softer. “It’s that I didn’t plan on you understanding it.”

The confession hangs heavily between you. For once, there’s no sarcasm ready to cover his words. Just him.

You study him. “That’s worse, you know.”

“I’m aware.”

A faint, almost reluctant smirk pulls at his mouth. “You’re very good at pointing out my shortcomings.”

“I have a little bit of practice.”

That earns the smallest exhale of amusement from him—barely there, but real. The tension doesn’t vanish, but it shifts. It’s less defensive now and more honest.

You take a cautious step closer. “So, you were watching me?”

“I was not—” he starts automatically, then pauses. His mouth presses into a thin line, like he’s arguing with himself now instead of you. Finally, he exhales. “I didn’t realize I was doing it at first.”

You decide not to interrupt him.

Draco looks away, running a hand through his hair in a rare moment of visible frustration. “You always look like you’ve got it all figured out,” he mutters. “Like nothing rattles you. It’s irritating.”

“That’s what you were thinking that night in the library?”

“I wasn’t thinking about you,” he snaps defensively, then sighs. “That’s not—” He stops again. For once, Draco looks like he’s choosing his words instead of weaponizing them. “I noticed you,” he says finally, quieter this time. “That’s all.”

That lands harder than anything he could’ve said before. Although, you can tell he isn’t telling you the full truth. It’s as if he’s just trying to get you to stop pressing him further. You search his face, unsure what to do with it. “That’s it?” You ask softly.

He gives a short, humorless laugh. “What, were you expecting poetry?”

“No,” you say, then hesitate. “Just… not that.”

A faint smirk returns, weaker than usual but still there. “Disappointed?”

“Confused,” you correct.

“Good. I’d hate to be predictable.” But there’s no bite behind it now, just a short pause. A shared silence that feels different from before. Silence that feels less like distance and more like understanding. Draco clears his throat and turns away first, as if catching himself. “We should leave before Filch decides to develop new hobbies.”

You follow him without arguing this time. The climb up the rest of the spiral staircase is slower than the descent, every step heavier with what neither of you is saying. When you reach the top, the seal breaks open. The moonlight pours down around you from the courtyard above. As you exit, the secret passage seals itself behind you, stone grinding softly as though erasing proof you were ever there.

When you finally emerge back into the castle corridors, the nighttime feels too bright. Too normal. Draco keeps walking a fast and steady pace. You keep up beside him. Neither of you speak for a while.

Eventually, the familiar corridors of Hogwarts come into view—paintings shifting, distant torches flickering, the castle pretending it has always been just a castle.

The green glow from the Black Lake still filtered through the tall windows as you slipped through the entrance. As you enter the common room you notice how deserted it is. The water outside casting shifting shadows across the stone walls. Every creak of the floor felt impossibly loud. Draco slows near the right hallway that leads toward your dormitories. “This is you,” he says, nodding toward your direction.

You stop and peer down it. “Yeah.”

A pause. Neither of you moves immediately, almost as if you don’t want the night to end.

Then, as if it's being pulled out of him, he adds, “Don’t tell anyone about—” he gestures vaguely, “—any of it.”

“We just uncovered a possible forgotten Hogwarts secret, and you think I’m immediately going to go telling everyone on the grounds?”

“You know what I mean.”

“Yeah, I know what you mean.” You confirm.

As he slowly turns to start walking away you blurt out, “Draco…”

He stops and turns to look at you.

“I had fun tonight with you.”

This comment catches him off guard. You notice a small flicker in his expression, but it’s gone before you can decipher its true meaning. “You have a strange definition of fun.”

You start walking backward toward your hallway, still looking at him. “So, we’re meeting tomorrow?”

Draco hesitates just long enough to make it obvious he’s thinking too much about the answer. “…Unfortunately, I think we have too.”

You smile before you can stop yourself. “Goodnight, Draco.”

For a second, he doesn’t respond. Then, quietly, “Goodnight.”

And this time, neither of you tries to make it anything more than what it is.

Whispers In The Walls

Chapter 4: Beneath The Boar

Pairing: Draco Malfoy x F!Reader

Type: Series

Genre: Fluff, angst, romance, mystery

Chapters: 1-10

Word Count: 2,400

Summary: As you begin your sixth year at Hogwarts, your life revolves around academics, ambition, and staying far away from Draco Malfoy—your longtime rival and the bane of your existence since the day you met. When Professor McGonagall assigns a year-long research project on forgotten Hogwarts history, you’re horrified to learn that the pairs have already been chosen—and you’ve been partnered with Draco.

Forced to work together, the two of you uncover a dark mystery hidden deep within the castle’s past. As ancient secrets come to light, it becomes clear that Hogwarts itself may have chosen you both for a reason. Drawn into a web of hidden magic, long-buried truths, and dangerous discoveries, you begin to see a side of Draco you’ve never known. What starts as a reluctant partnership soon becomes something far more complicated in this enemies-to-lovers story filled with mystery, magic, and romance.

Disclaimer: Feedback/criticism are both welcomed and appreciated!

You remain in the Astronomy Tower, trying to devise a plan—mostly one that prevents the two of you from being caught by wandering professors, prefects, or particularly nosy ghosts.

Draco leans against the stone battlement, looking pleased with himself. "Earlier today, before detention," he begins, "I stole a stack of prefect schedules from Filch's desk."

"You what?" You exclaim.

"Would you let me finish?" He says, clearly annoyed. "The schedules show which corridors are being patrolled and when. This way, we can figure out which routes are least monitored."

You hate to admit it, but it was clever. Highly unethical, but still clever.

"Besides," he continues, "it's not as though Filch was using them for anything productive."

You shake your head. "One day, your habit of stealing things is going to get you into serious trouble."

Draco smirks. "One day, your habit of worrying is going to give you wrinkles."

You roll your eyes.

"Now," he says, pulling the journal back into his hands, "we just need to figure out the first set of instructions."

He flips it open. Almost immediately, his expression changes. The smugness disappears, replaced by confusion. His eyes narrow.

"What is it?" You ask, stepping closer. You lean over his shoulder, trying to see what has suddenly captured his attention.

Before either of you can speak, something begins to happen. Fresh black ink slowly bleeds across the aged parchment. Both of you freeze. The words aren't written by a hand. They appear on their own, letter by letter.

Draco stares at the page. Then he reads aloud. "Find the place where the first secret is kept..." His voice trails off as the ink continues spreading. A second line begins forming beneath the first. You watch in silence. "Seek the sleeping boar beneath the moon."

The final letter settles into place. Then everything stops. The journal falls still once more. The only sound is the wind whistling through the tower's open arches. For several seconds, neither of you speak. You slowly lift your gaze from the page to Draco. He looks just as bewildered as you feel.

"The sleeping boar?" you finally say.

Draco closes the journal slightly, still staring at the words. Then you exchange a worried glance. The first instructions had arrived. Unfortunately, it only seemed to raise more questions than answers.

“I have no bloody idea what this could mean,” Draco says noticeably frustrated after several long minutes of stirring over this quarrel together.

“Maybe it’s some kind of riddle,” you suggest, reaching for the journal. “Most secret passages don’t exactly come with directions and a map.”

“Pity. It would save me from wandering around the castle with you all night.”

You arch an eyebrow. “You were the one who wanted to follow the journal.”

“Yes, but I assumed we’d discover something immediately and I’d be back in my dormitory by now.”

“I’m sure Pansy Parkinson and the rest of your little fan club misses you terribly.”

Draco lets out a short laugh. “Jealous?”

You nearly choke. “Of your little followers?”

“See? You didn’t deny being jealous.”

“Oh, please.”

A smug grin tugs at the corner of his mouth. Unfortunately, it looks annoyingly good on him.

For a brief moment, neither of you speaks. The wind whistles through the open arches of the Astronomy Tower, carrying with it the distant sounds of Hogwarts settling into the night. Somewhere far below, a door slams shut. The castle creaks softly around you like a sleeping giant.

Your eyes drift back to the journal. “Find the place where the first secret is kept,” you murmur. “Then seek the sleeping boar beneath the moon.”

“A boar isn’t exactly a common decoration around Hogwarts,” Draco says. “At least not that I’ve noticed.”

You think carefully. Throughout your years at Hogwarts, you’ve passed hundreds of statues, portraits, suits of armor, and carvings. Gargoyles guarded the staircases. Eagles adorned Ravenclaw towers. Lions stood proudly in countless corners of the castle. But a boar…

“Wait.” You say suddenly.

Draco looks at you intrigued.

“The Hog’s Head.”

“What about it?”

“The sign outside is a boar.”

Draco immediately shakes his head. “The journal specifically says beneath the moon. Besides, are you suggesting we sneak all the way to Hogsmeade in the middle of the night?”

“Good point.”

The two of you fall silent again. Then something occurs to you. “Professor Binns.”

Draco groans dramatically.

“No, listen. During one of his lectures, he mentioned that before Hogwarts was fully expanded, some of the original grounds looked completely different. He said several old courtyards and structures were absorbed into the castle over the centuries.”

“You actually listen to Binns?”

“Someone has to.”

“That’s genuinely horrifying.”

You ignore him.

“If there was once a boar statue on the grounds, it could still be here somewhere.”

Draco’s expression shifts. He doesn’t want to admit it, but the idea has merit. His grey eyes meet yours and something unreadable flickers across his face.

“You don’t like that idea?” You ask, embarrassed with his reaction.

“Trust me,” he says smoothly, pushing himself away from the wall he had been leaning against. “If I had another option, I’d take it.”

“Liar.”

“You think I’m lying?”

“I know you’re lying.”

A smirk spreads across his face. “Confident, aren’t you?”

“Someone has to be in this partnership.”

The two of you descend from the Astronomy Tower, careful to avoid the main staircases. Thanks to the prefect schedules Draco stole, your route takes you through lesser-used corridors and abandoned passages that most people never bothered with.

Moonlight spills through the tall windows, painting silver patterns across the stone floors. Portraits snore softly in their frames, and distant suits of armor occasionally shift with metallic groans.

At one point, you nearly slip on a worn section of staircase. Before you can catch yourself, a hand closes around your wrist. Firm and steady. You glance up. Draco immediately releases you.

“Try not to break your neck,” he says.

You blink. “Was that concern?”

“Don’t be ridiculous.”

“Sounded a lot like concern.”

“It was self-preservation.”

You laugh. “How exactly does me falling affect you?”

“Because if you get hurt, McGonagall will probably drill me to explain what happened. And I don’t feel like dealing with that.”

You roll your eyes. “Of course. Heaven forbid you experience an emotion.”

“Dangerous things, emotions.”

“Clearly.”

Draco shoots you an amused look before turning another corner. “You know,” he says, “for someone who’s supposed to hate me, you smile an awful lot when you’re around me.”

Heat immediately rises to your face. You’re glad that it’s dark so that he most likely can’t see that you’re blushing. “I do not.”

“You just did.”

“I absolutely did not.”

“You’re doing it right now.”

You look away before he can see your reaction. His soft laugh follows you down the corridor. And somehow, that’s even more irritating than usual.

Nearly an hour later, after searching several courtyards and dead ends, frustration begins setting in.

“This is pointless,” Draco says. “There are hundreds of statues in this castle.”

“We haven’t checked everywhere. Don’t be so quick to give up, you’re the one that pushed so hard to look into this deeper.”

“We practically have checked everywhere. And I’m not giving up, I’m—“ As if to prove his point, he turns sharply around a corner and freezes.

You nearly walk straight into him.

“What—”

Then you see it.

Nestled within a forgotten courtyard hidden between two ancient sections of castle wall stands a weathered stone statue.

A boar.

Unlike the polished decorations elsewhere in Hogwarts, this one looks ancient. Its surface is worn smooth by centuries of rain and wind. Moss crawls along its stone back. Cracks split through its pedestal.

Most strangely of all, you’ve never noticed it before.

“How long has that been there?” You whisper.

Draco slowly pulls the journal from inside his robes.

At that exact moment, clouds drift away from the night sky. Moonlight pours into the courtyard and falls directly across the stone boar. The journal trembles in Draco’s hand. Neither of you speak.

“You go first,” you nudge him forward.

“Scared, are we?” he chuckles softly.

“N-no.” The word comes out sharper than you intend.

“It’s alright.” He smirks down at you. “I’ll be the man. Lead the way and protect you from all danger.”

“Shut up and walk, would you?”

His grin widens, clearly pleased with himself, but he obeys all the same, stepping toward the boar statue. You follow closely behind. As you reach it, moonlight still pours down over the stone, as if the courtyard itself is waiting.

“Well…” Draco breaks the silence. “Now what?” He says it like the castle is supposed to perform the rest of the magic on command.

You don’t answer. Not right away. Instead, something pulls at you. A strange, quiet urge—like gravity tightening in your chest. Before you can think better of it, your arm lifts on its own and your fingers brush the boar’s tusk.

“What are you doing…” Draco asks, clearly thrown. “One second you were afraid to come near it, and now you’re petting it?”

“Just do it,” you say quickly.

The words come out sharper than you intend.

He blinks at you. “What? Why?”

“Draco.” You lower your voice into a warning whisper.

His brows draw together, irritation and confusion mixing, but after a beat he exhales and steps closer anyway—less because he agrees, and more because he wants you to stop behaving like you’ve been enchanted.

He places his hand beside yours on the tusk of the boar.

A couple of seconds go by and you can tell he’s growing impatient. “This is—“ Just as he’s about to make some snarky comment, the entire wall lets out an ugly groan.

You both step back simultaneously in horror. Centuries of dust fall from the stones around you. The sound is deafening. Stone grinds against stone somewhere deep within the castle walls, as if a giant mechanism long forgotten has suddenly lurched back to life.

“What did you do?” Draco asks.

“What did I do?” you hiss. “You were touching it too!”

The boar’s eyes begin to glow with a faint silver light. Both of you immediately retreat backward another step.

“That doesn’t seem safe.”

“No, really?” Draco deadpans.

A loud crack echoes through the courtyard. The pedestal beneath the statue splits down the middle. For one terrifying moment, you think the entire thing is about to collapse. Instead, ancient runes begin illuminating along the stone base. They spread outward like veins of moonlight, crawling across the courtyard floor and disappearing into the castle wall behind it.

You and Draco exchange a look. Neither of you says what you’re both thinking. This is real. Not a prank. Not an enchanted journal playing tricks. Not a made up story by students. Real.

The runes reach the wall. A deep rumble shakes the ground beneath your feet. Slowly, impossibly, a section of stone begins to move. Dust explodes into the air as the wall slides inward several feet before shifting to the side. The opening reveals complete darkness. Neither of you move. Neither of you breathe. The passage beyond is narrow and ancient, carved directly into the bedrock beneath Hogwarts.

A spiral staircase disappears into the blackness below. You stare at it. Then at Draco. Then back at the staircase.

“Well,” he says quietly.

“Well?”

“You wanted a secret passage.”

“No, I wanted proof that the journal wasn’t a hoax.”

Draco gestures toward the opening. “I think we’ve surpassed proof.”

You can’t argue with that. A cold draft rises from the darkness below. It smells of damp stone, old parchment, and something else. Something ancient. The hairs on the back of your neck stand up.

Draco steps closer to the entrance and peers down the staircase. For once, he doesn’t immediately charge ahead. Even he seems unsettled.

“Do you think anyone knows about this?” You ask.

“If they do, they’re keeping it very quiet.”

The thought sends a chill through you. Hogwarts had been searched, mapped, explored, and lived in for centuries. Students found secret passages every year. Fred and George Weasley had practically made a career out of it. And yet neither of you had ever heard a single rumor about a hidden staircase beneath a forgotten boar statue.

Your gaze drifts back to the journal in Draco’s hands. Fresh ink is bleeding across the page once again.

“Draco…” You say worried. He looks at you and notices your attention is on the journal.

A new message has appeared.

The first secret has awakened.

Below it, another line slowly forms.

Descend and bear witness to what was forgotten.

Draco reads the words aloud. His voice is unusually serious when he speaks. He looks back into the chamber. “We should turn around.”

You look at him in surprise. “You want to stop?”

“No.” His grey eyes remain fixed on the darkness below.

“I just think this is the point where sensible people stop.”

A nervous laugh escapes you. “And are we considered sensible people?”

Draco glances sideways at you. “If we were, we wouldn’t be standing outside a hidden staircase in the middle of the night.”

You smile. “Exactly. This is what you wanted, after all. You said that if we find something after one try, we continue.”

For a moment, neither of you moves. You can tell that he is thinking all of this over in his head, resonating with the last words that you spoke. Then suddenly, he pulls out his wand. “Lumos.” Warm light spills across the stone steps. He takes the first step downward before looking back at you. “Are you coming?”

You glance one last time at the moonlit courtyard above. At the secret entrance. At the journal clutched tightly in his hands. “It’s better than staying up here and possibly getting caught. I know someone had to of heard all of that ruckus.” He smiles in triumph. Then you follow him into the darkness. The wall begins sliding shut behind you.

Either of you were too distracted to notice the final line that has appeared in the journal.

Those who seek knowledge must accept what follows.

Whispers In The Walls

Chapter 3: Starlight And Secrets

Pairing: Draco Malfoy x F!Reader

Type: Series

Genre: Fluff, angst, romance, mystery

Chapters: 1-9

Word Count: 3,550

Summary: As you begin your sixth year at Hogwarts, your life revolves around academics, ambition, and staying far away from Draco Malfoy—your longtime rival and the bane of your existence since the day you met. When Professor McGonagall assigns a year-long research project on forgotten Hogwarts history, you’re horrified to learn that the pairs have already been chosen—and you’ve been partnered with Draco.

Forced to work together, the two of you uncover a dark mystery hidden deep within the castle’s past. As ancient secrets come to light, it becomes clear that Hogwarts itself may have chosen you both for a reason. Drawn into a web of hidden magic, long-buried truths, and dangerous discoveries, you begin to see a side of Draco you’ve never known. What starts as a reluctant partnership soon becomes something far more complicated in this enemies-to-lovers story filled with mystery, magic, and romance.

Disclaimer: Feedback/criticism is both welcomed and appreciated!

You approach Poppy, who is sitting in your usual spot in the common room. She's curled up in one of the emerald-green armchairs beside the fireplace, textbook balanced on her knees. The flames cast a warm glow across her freckled face as she glances up from her reading.

You plop down into the chair beside her and release a long sigh.

"Your meeting with Draco went just as we assumed, huh?"

"You can only imagine," you reply.

You conveniently leave out the details. There was no need for Poppy to know that Draco had somehow convinced you to sneak through Hogwarts after curfew. Besides, you'd rather keep this entire mystery to yourself until you know it's real. If it turns out to be nothing more than one of Draco's ridiculous theories, you'd never hear the end of it.

"Did you guys decide on a topic?" Poppy asks, closing her book and turning her attention toward you.

"Um..." You stumble over your words, struggling to come up with something believable to say. "We have a couple of options, but we haven't really settled on a particular one yet." The lie feels awkward coming out of your mouth.

Poppy narrows her eyes slightly. "Oh? Since when are you vague about schoolwork?"

Your stomach drops in horror. She’s onto to you already. "Since my project partner is Draco Malfoy," you answer quickly. "Getting a coherent thought out of him is practically impossible."

Poppy considers this for a moment before nodding. "That’s true."

You silently thank your quick and clever response.

"At least you made some progress." She presses a hand to her forehead, rubbing her temples dramatically. "I practically had to do all the work. Crabbe is the equivalent of a dunce."

You laugh. "That's not very nice."

"It's very accurate."

"Did he contribute anything?"

Poppy lets out an exaggerated sigh. "He suggested researching dragon dung."

You stare at her with a blank expression. "Please tell me you're joking."

"I wish I was."

The two of you dissolve into laughter.

As your laughter fades, your gaze drifts toward the windows overlooking the dark Hogwarts grounds. Beyond the glass, the castle towers disappear into the night sky.

“So,” Poppy says suddenly, snapping you back to reality. “Are you meeting with him again tomorrow?”

You hesitate for half a second too long, your mind scrambling for something—anything—that doesn’t give you away. She has no idea you’re actually meeting him tonight.

Her eyes narrow slightly. “Why are you acting so strange?”

“I’m just exhausted, sorry,” you say quickly, forcing a small, tired smile.

It isn’t entirely a lie. Just not the full truth.

Poppy studies you for a moment longer before her expression softens. “It’s okay, I understand.”

Relief loosens something in your chest. You give a small nod and push yourself up from the chair, smoothing out your robes as casually as you can manage. “I’m just going to get ready for bed,” you add lightly.

Poppy hums in acknowledgement without looking up from her book that she suddenly reopened. “Don’t stay up too late.”

“I won’t,” you lie smoothly. “Don’t you stay up too late either!”

You turn before she can see the way your expression shifts, walking toward the staircase with measured calm. Each step feels louder than it should, your heartbeat picking up the closer you get to the dormitory hallway.

The moment you’re out of sight, you slow just slightly—just enough to make sure no one is watching. Because you’re not going to bed. Not even close.

Tonight, you’re going to the Astronomy Tower.

The castle feels entirely different after curfew.

You stand just outside the entrance to your common room, your wand clutched tightly in your hand. This is a terrible idea. At least, that's what the nervous knot in your stomach keeps insisting. You've never snuck around Hogwarts after hours before. Not once in your entire six years. The thought had never even crossed your mind before.

You have always been the student who followed the rules, who earned professors' approval, who never gave them a reason to give detention or deduct points from your house. Yet somehow, here you are, preparing to break one of the oldest rules in the castle because Draco Malfoy had insisted the Astronomy Tower was the only place safe enough to talk. The thought makes your pulse quicken.

Taking a deep breath to steady your nerves, you raise your wand. You focus on your intent, as this charm is cast silently and only requires a sudden flick of your wand. A strange chill washes over your skin as the charm settles. You glance down and watch your body shimmer briefly before taking on the color and texture of the stone wall behind you. You're still visible if someone looks closely enough, but in the dim light of the castle at night, you blend into your surroundings remarkably well. It helps, but only a little. It’s more comforting than not having anything at all.

You slip into the corridor, moving carefully. The usual noise of Hogwarts—the laughter, conversations, and footsteps that fill the castle during the day—has vanished. The silence feels almost sacred. Torches flicker in iron brackets along the walls, their golden light casting long shadows that dance across ancient stone. Every sound seems amplified. The soft tap of your shoes. The rustle of your robes. The nervous beating of your own heart.

Moonlight streams through towering arched windows, spilling silver pools across the floor. Dust drifts lazily through the beams, and for a moment the castle feels more like a forgotten cathedral than a school.

As you pass, portraits slumber inside their gilded frames. An elderly witch snores loudly in one painting while a group of medieval knights have abandoned their portrait altogether, likely wandering somewhere else in the castle. One wizard cracks open an eye as you hurry by, but your Disillusionment Charm appears to be doing its job. He simply frowns at the seemingly empty corridor before returning to sleep. You exhale slowly, trying your best to calm your nerves. *‘One disaster has been avoided,’* you think to yourself.

The higher you climb, the quieter the castle becomes. Narrow spiral staircases twist upward through ancient towers. Your hand trails along rough stone walls that have been worn down by centuries of students. The air grows cooler with every step. Outside the windows, the grounds stretch beneath the moonlight.

The Black Lake gleams like polished obsidian, reflecting fragments of starlight across its surface. Beyond it, the Forbidden Forest rises as a dark, endless sea of trees. The wind stirs their branches, making them sway like giant shadows whispering secrets to one another. Somewhere in the distance, an owl calls.

You nearly jump out of your skin when a suit of armor suddenly rattles nearby. The sound echoes through the corridor. You freeze in your tracks, being absolutely certain to not move a muscle. For several agonizing seconds, you remain perfectly still, convinced that Filch, Professor McGonagall, or half the staff of Hogwarts is about to appear around the corner.

Although, nothing happens. The castle settles once more. You release the breath you hadn't realized you were holding and continue climbing. The Astronomy Tower feels impossibly far away. Every staircase creak makes you nervous. Every dark corridor seems to hide the possibility of getting caught. Yet beneath the anxiety is something else entirely.

Excitement.

Because despite all your attempts to deny it, there is a thrill in doing something forbidden. Almost in the, it’s so wrong it’s right, kind of way. A thrill in knowing that at the top of the tower, Draco is waiting, possibly ready to disclose some groundbreaking information about the journal.

Finally, after what feels like an eternity, you reach the heavy wooden door leading to the Astronomy Tower. You glance over your shoulder one final time. The corridor behind you is completely empty. So still that you can almost see the air encompassing it.

You slowly push the door open, careful enough to be as quiet as possible. Cool night air immediately rushes over you, carrying the scent of rain-soaked stone and distant pine from the mountains surrounding Hogwarts. Above, the sky stretches endlessly, filled with thousands of stars scattered across black velvet. The castle's spires gleam silver beneath the bright moonlight. Far below, Hogwarts is peacefully sleeping.

Leaning casually against the battlements, as though sneaking around after curfew is the most natural thing in the world, stands Draco Malfoy.

The wind catches his pale hair as he turns toward the sound of the door opening. It blows it into his eyes, and he quickly raises his hand to brush it out of the way. The moon is reflecting off of it, almost making it seem as if it’s glowing.

His eyes find you immediately, despite the Disillusionment Charm. Of course they do. He is waiting for you after all.

You grasp your wand tightly, careful to steady your still trembling hands. You simply remove the spell in the same way you cast it.

A smirk tugs at the corner of his mouth. Now that he can see you clearly, the sense of stress and anxiety is plastered all over your face. You’re radiating it. "Relax," he says lazily. "You look like you're expecting the entire faculty to jump out and arrest you."

Your cheeks suddenly turn warm. Considering this is your first time sneaking around the castle after hours, he's not entirely wrong. But you hate how well he can read you. “Not everyone is a professional rule breaker.” You reply as you cross your arms in front of you. “Some of us actually value our reputation, you know?”

His smirk widens, “Right so, that’s exactly why you’re here with me in the Astronomy Tower after hours?”

“I clearly didn’t have much of a choice, you practically insisted.”

“The word no exists, and yet... here you are,”

You open your mouth to speak only to realize that you can’t come up with a good response. He’s right, and you hate to admit that even if it is only to yourself. You’ve let curiosity get the better of you. And although it may be silly, you can’t shake the feeling that there really may be something real here.

For a moment, neither of you speak. You make your way to the battlements and stand beside him, leaning up against it and looking out into the night sky. The soft wind grazes across your face, comforting your nerves. You have never realized how calming Hogwarts was after hours.

“Hey,” he breaks the silence and tilts his head slightly toward you, “the Disillusionment Charm worked well for you.”

“Obviously.” you reply sarcastically. “I just nearly had a heart attack when the portraits moved.”

Draco rolls his eyes. “But the important part is that you didn’t get caught.”

“That doesn’t mean I wasn’t terrified doing it.”

He shakes his head, “You worry too much.”

You stare at him in disbelief, “You’re the one that told me to use the charm.”

“Exactly. I can tell how paranoid you are. I knew you’d be incapable of sneaking around anywhere without it.” Draco snickers.

“I’m obviously not incapable.”

“All I’m saying is that you looked extremely nervous walking through that door.”

“I did not look nervous,” you fight back.

“You practically screamed nervous.”

“Whatever, I did not.” You fold your arms in disgust at his taunting.

“Don’t get flustered, your concern is kind of cute—”

You freeze. Draco freezes too. Neither of you know how to react. The words spilled from his mouth so effortlessly. It was as if he wasn’t even thinking before he blurted it out. Slowly your eyebrows raise in shock. “Did you just—“

“No idea what you’re talking about.” He quickly denies. He seems flustered and annoyed with himself. “Let’s get to work, I have a boatload of information to tell you about this journal. And we need to get started, we’re just wasting time.”

“I’m not sure that you can just dismiss that so easy,” you’re enjoying watching him squirm.

He groans dramatically and turns away from you. You both fall silent again. You can’t help but feel a small smile tug at your lips. Someone that had been mean to you as long as you had known each other just complimented you, and it was completely genuine. Could it be possible that you... liked it?

Finally, after what seems like hours as the two of you stand surrounded by uncomfortable awkwardness, Draco speaks quietly. “I didn’t think you’d come tonight.”

“What? Why is that?” You genuinely question, curious as to why he would think such a thing.

He shrugs his shoulders. “This isn’t exactly your sort of thing.”

“Sneaking around after hours?”

“No, meeting me.”

His answer catches you off guard. For once, there’s not an ounce of teasing in his voice. Nothing but a simple statement.

You swallow hard, “I agreed to come.”

His eyes remain fixed on the horizon out in front of you. “People don’t always do what they say.” This statement feels heavier than it should, as if there’s a hidden deeper meaning.

Before you can tell him that you’ve accepted that the two of you have to complete this project together, he pushes himself away from the battlement, and his familiar arrogant demeanor takes back over.

“Anyway,” he says, “congratulations on surviving your first criminal adventure.”

You scoff, “Criminal? That’s a heavy word choice.” You turn around and lean your back against the battlement to face him.

“Yeah, that’s a pretty important detail. It’s against the rules, therefore its criminal.”

“It was at your suggestion.”

Draco grins, “Fair point. Admit it though...” amusement dances around in his eyes, “you had fun.”

You open your mouth to argue but slowly close it again, realizing that it's of no use. Irritatingly enough, he’s... right. The thrill of it was fun.

The grin is still spread wide across his face as if he knows what you’re thinking. “Okay, enough chit chat. I have information to tell you, and then we’ll go over the first plan of action.”

‘Plan of action. What have I gotten myself into?’ You think to yourself.

“So... you’re telling me that neither of these students are in any other traceable Hogwarts records?” You almost can’t believe how ridiculous this sounds.

“Yes, the only surviving existence of them is within this journal.” He raises up in his right hand with the journal firmly grasped between his fingers.

“Draco...” you try to calculate your words in a way that doesn’t sound insulting. “I’m pretty sure that means that someone made this up.”

His expression sharpens immediately, like you’ve just said something personally offensive. “No,” he says flatly. “It doesn’t.”

You sigh, rubbing your temple. “Just think about it. Two students supposedly attend Hogwarts, write a detailed journal about a secret discovery, and then—what? They just vanish from every record except the one conveniently sitting in your hands?”

He flips a page in the journal with deliberate calm, ignoring your tone. “That’s exactly what makes it worth investigating.”

“You’re missing the point,” you press. “People don’t just disappear from Hogwarts history. Not without someone noticing. Not without portraits, house records, class registers—something.”

Draco finally looks up at you. “They do if someone made sure they were erased.”

The words land heavier than you expect. You blink as they process in your mind. “Erased?”

He taps the edge of the journal with one finger. “There are gaps in the castle’s record-keeping. Whole years where things don’t line up properly. And before you say it—no, I’m not suggesting some childish conspiracy. I’m suggesting deliberate magical interference.”

You cross your arms. “That’s a very dramatic way of saying you don’t want to admit this could just be a fake story.”

A faint smirk tugs at his mouth. “And that’s a very you way of saying you don’t want to admit it could be real.”

You glare at him. He continues anyway, unfazed. “Look at the writing style. It isn’t modern fabrication. The ink composition alone suggests it’s at least hundreds of decades old. And the enchantments bound into the pages—”

“You can tell that just by looking at it?” You cut in.

“I can tell that because I’ve actually been paying attention.”

That earns him a look. Draco exhales through his nose, slightly annoyed now, but he still hands the journal toward you. “Here. Read it properly.”

You hesitate before taking it. The parchment feels… wrong in a way you can’t immediately explain. Not cursed—just old. Heavier than it should be, like it remembers too much.