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Someone tried to end the world on a Tuesday in December.
The Patronus burst into the Great Hall in the middle of dinner.
One moment, Draco was allowing himself a rare moment of public affection. He lightly traced his fingers through the dark hair on Harry's forearm while Harry laughed at something he said, the warmth in his eyes promising very good things for Draco later.
The next, the room was descending into absolute chaos. Someone screamed, and several students burst into tears. The Ministry had fallen, Hogwarts would be next.
Harry stood slowly, drawing his wand. His magic crackled over his skin, ruffling his dark hair. The air around them took on the distinct scent of ozone—bright and sharp as lightning.
Suddenly, despite the silver at his temples, Harry looked like he did at seventeen: wild, dangerous, and ready for a fight.
Or maybe he looked like he did at twenty-one when he became an Auror: brave, reckless, and powerful. The perfect match to Draco's planning, caution, and precision. How could they do anything but fall in love while exposing corruption and turning the Ministry upside down in their pursuit of justice?
"Everyone stay here," Harry ordered, his voice deep and commanding.
The energy in the room shifted from terror to reverence. The students parted for him as he rounded the staff table, heading for the doors.
Draco followed, catching up at the threshold.
"You'll face them alone?"
Harry turned.
"Of course not." He offered a hand for Draco to take, as if they were walking into a charity event instead of a battle. "I need my partner at my back."
Draco grinned, and took it.
Someone tried to end the world on a Tuesday in December, and they might have succeeded…if Hogwarts had a different headmaster.